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bi-writes · 2 months

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hmm im thinking about it being the first night simon stays over, and you show him how to take off his makeup. (18+)

he looks tired. you stand in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher with the remnants from dinner. you don't want to spend time washing the full sink, you just want to sit next to him and soak up the warmth of him--you had missed him, and all you want to do is curl up next to him and nuzzle your face into his mask and finally get him into your bed, under your covers.

he's never slept over. he's always been adamant about that. always lacing up his boots after the movie, kissing you through the mask after a warm date, tucking you in when you get too tipsy and leaving water by the bedside table. he always goes, and even if he comes back in the morning, he always makes sure he does not stay over.

even when he fucked you the first time--he waited until you fell asleep, and then he left, and he came back in the morning with breakfast, but you knew he went home because he smelled fresh and he was wearing different clothes.

but tonight, he's staying. because you finally asked, and how could he say no to those pretty eyes? to that sweet little pout?

the distance, he was always trying to maintain it. but it was useless. you are not temporary. there is no end date. he can't keep letting you linger at arm's length.

you're soft and sweet, and your cunt is the same, and when he isn't thinking about being cock-deep in you, he's dreaming of your soft voice and your pretty smile and the tender way you kiss him and the way you hug. the all-encompassing, enveloping way you put him at ease. his rage builds, and one look at you, and it is gone.

as if it never mattered in the first place. as if it was never there at all.

so he agreed to stay. his bag sits heavy in your bedroom, clean clothes inside, and his toothbrush is in the same holder as yours in the bathroom. he lingered on it when he had put it there; two versus one. he never wants to see his toothbrush alone ever again.

he blinks awake when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. he's still wearing his army fatigues, black cargo pants and his windbreaker, the skull balaclava tucked under his long sleeve to hide any skin. his holsters are still around his thighs, but they are empty, and his vest is on the floor by the door, where his boots are. he feels your warmth even through the layers, and he leans towards it without thinking.

you kiss the side of his head, cupping under his chin gently.

"tired, simon?" you coo softly. "'s alright. we should get you in bed. been a long day."

"mm...olright," he murmurs, and you look up at him as he stands, and he towers over you, making you feel small, but safe. he's a bear, and he's yours, and he's staying.

you take his hand gently, and he follows you. you stand side-by-side in the bathroom, and you smile at him in the mirror as he unzips his windbreaker, revealing the hoodie underneath. his eyes meet yours, and he winks, and you smile wider, especially when his hand falls, smacking your ass nice and firm.

"wot, luv? somethin' funny, yeah?"

you shake your head and laugh, and then you reach for the headband in the drawer, slipping it over you as you prepare to wash your face. you slip a few products out onto the counter, and your mouth goes dry when simon grips his mask from the back of his head and pulls it completely off.

he is so handsome. his nose is crooked; he's broken it a few times, that's for sure. there's a scar deep across his face, jagged over his lips, and you've felt it when you've kissed him before, but it's jarring to see it. there's a few more across his other cheek, along his forehead, and you break out into nervous giggles as you meet his dark eyes. the eye-black around his eyes has shifted with the fabric of the mask and with sweat, but he still looks hot.

really hot.

you swallow hard and turn the sink on, wetting your hands. simon reaches to do the same, and you watch as he brings his wet hands up and starts to wash his face. immediately, the eye-black just smears, and he has to move more over the sink as he continues to wash.

"simon?"

"'s olright. just takes a few minutes for it to come off."

you smile, "here, i...let me help."

he turns the water off, wiping his face on his sleeve, and you giggle when he looks into the mirror and realizes all he's done is smear the black across his cheeks. he laughs with you, deep and gravelly, and you reach into the drawer and pull out two bracelets made of absorbent fabric.

"give me your hands," you say softly, and he does, and you slip the bracelets over his wrists. "keeps the water from running down your arms."

"fuckin' annoyin' when it does that," he grumbles, and you smile. you reach across the counter, opening a small jar.

"it's called double cleansing. you take this balm--" you get a dime-sized amount onto your finger and you put it into his hand, "--and then you rub it into your hands until it becomes...kinda oily. it'll take off all of...that--" you motion to the black streaks along his face.

"oi, are y'on the piss?" he laughs, "it'll take it oll'off?"

you giggle and nod, "yeah. try it."

he rubs his hands together, warming up the balm, and then he reaches up and massages it into his face. you watch, biting back more laughs, when he realizes how much easier the eye-black moves, coming off onto his hands. when he washes it off, it's nearly gone, and then you give him a dollop of face wash to help rinse the rest away. he dries his face on a towel, grinning in the mirror, and you hug his arm gently as he takes the bracelets off.

your eyes meet again in the mirror, and he smooths his hands down your waist, moving you in front of him, leaning over your and putting his face into your neck. he warms the skin there with soft kisses, and you laugh, buzzing with delight.

"you're so beautiful, luv," he growls in your ear, and you close your eyes.

"you're...y-you're beautiful, too, simon."

"yeah? come off it."

never. you'll never come off whatever high you're on now. you reach up and hold onto him, as much as you can grab, and you close your eyes as you kiss, his lips on yours, something hot in your chest and something soft in your insides.

you hold onto him tighter. you will not let go.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts

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thekissofaphrodite · 5 months

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Maroon

Clarisse La Rue X Daughter of Iris!Reader

Summary: A lipstick mark resulted in a rather hasty rumour about you and clarisse.

Warnings: Kissing? Cursing :P (Remind me if I missed one)

Author's note: I wrote this at exactly 1 in the morning with no shame, but im here to serve since we don't have anough Clarrise FFs🫡

——

You two always ended up like this.

With your legs wrapped around Clarisse's waist, your red lipstick smudge with marks and kisses along her neck, and Your polished nails tangled on her soft curly hair.

Apparently, You noticed this pattern happening everyday. Clarrise coming to you to ramble about a her supposed 'bad day' , then, you comforting her, caressing her cheeks until it turns out into a hot makeout session Inside of her cabin.

you and clarrise would get multiple violation warnings from chiron, but little to none from Mr. D who even had the nerve to point out one of your hickeys.

It was another day in camp half blood, and your job was to teach younger campers how to handle a sword.

"Hold the sword properly— No no no. Not like that Jerry—"

"MY name's Gary—"

"Same thing"

" Grip it tightly, and swing it to your opponent, now there's a trick, you can maim so that they lose their focus and then you can attack...." While you kept teaching the children who looked at you with their puppy eyes, Clarisse watched you from afar, Her lips curled into a soft, patent smile. Of course, you caught her eyes and winked, leaving her blushing madly.

It wasn't even 2 minutes before five of the kids you were teaching started giggling to each other and whispering coherently.

You looked back at them with your browser raised.

"Is something funny?" You asked.

"Nothing!"

——

"You're gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous," Clarrise whispered as her lips trailed down your neck, A soft moan escaped from your lips as you caught a small smirk gracing her lips.

Her face was full of lipstick marks, including her neck that almost looked like a graffiti wall with your maroon lipstick staining her neck.

"Please give me more—"

You gasped and flinched as you heard three loud knocks on the door.

Clarisse, who was kissing the valley of your breasts shot a look to the door, She muttered a string of curses under her breath and immediately stormed after the one who dared to interrupt her and her lovely girlfriend...But no one knows that you two were in a relationship.

"No, NO! Clarisse-"

Before you could even grab her, she swung the door open, Her eyes glaring at the person with rage.

But, surprisingly. No one was there, You were greeted by the cool midnight breeze.

Clarrise muttered another string of curses before slamming the door shut and cupping your cheeks, Kissing you passionately again.

At that moment, you coulve sworn you saw a familiar silhouette hiding from the distance peaking at you and clarrise, brushing your thoughts aside. You kept kissing her until you reached her bed bunk.

——

The next day was a mess.

Campers looked at you like you were some prey. Something was odd.

as you sat at the mess hall, trying to scan the crowd for your friends but they weren't there.

As soon as the Ares girl stepped into the mess hall, you immediately knew why people stared at you two, One of clarrise's half siblings decided to play a prank on her but instead caught you two in a rather...private moment.

As you watch clarrise's half sibling smirk, your eyes catch the sight that everyone sees.

The Scarlet Mark of your maroon lipstick on her neck.

A/N: Hey loves!! This is a short clarisse FF since I wrote this in a rush (don't ask why) :P, Since we don't have more of Dior's clarrise I decided to write this one!! <333 I hope you like it, and don't be afraid to submit a request!!

#clarisse la rue #percy jackson #clarrise pjo #disney plus #clarisse la rue x reader

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arminsumi · 8 months

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🔞 playtime w enemy!gojo

g. satoru — さとる

NOTE: i think abt this idea all the time n i just thought id gift u all a piece of mean nasty enemy gojo lusting for u

WARNINGS — ignore errors pls, smut, he's mean he's a jerk but he kinda feels for u, blood mentions, fighting, m*sturbation, he jerkin it to a pic he snapped of ur defeated face 🫠 sexual tension, impact play (slapping n spanking), dirty talk, namecalling (sl*t, wh*re, b*tch, freak) and nicknames (bunny, sweetheart, baby), dirty talk, unprotected sex, taboo sex (fucking ur enemy) creampie, it's nasty im ngl, god kink thing??? he rlly cums n goes 🧍‍♀️, hairpulling

just... just enemy!gojo...

enemy!gojo kissing you like he's trying to kill you. you can feel this murderous rage on his lips after you fuck up his heroic plans.

and enemy!gojo fighting you like he's trying to get in your pants 🥴 he hates you so much, but let's be real he's in fucking denial and needs you so bad. after fights, he's cooped up in his bedroom jerking off to the memory of all those positions he put you in. ("ooh, well aren't you flexible?" he teases when he literally puts you into a full-nelson. "hey, if this whole villain business fails for you then you can be my personal pornstar.")

his whole body feels like it's on fire when you're throwing fists with him. he shakes not from exhaustion or pain but just pure sexual desire. he gets so upclose and personal with you, you're sure it's on purpose. when you're limp and defeated, he takes a victory picture :( grabs your jaw and says "smile for the camera! aw, pretty lil' loser. you're so photogenic!" and you know when he gets home, he's gonna jerk off to that.

he can barely take your martial arts seriously, because you're so fucking tiny and weak in comparison to him. enemy!gojo likes to remind you of that, when he has you on your knees with your nose dribbling blood.

"aw, sweetheart, you're so fucking weak it's kinda turning me on."

he's got a fistfull of your hair, forcing your head to tilt back so violently yet when you look up at him, you can't help but feel this raw sexual tension and primal need to kiss him and worship him.

"f—fuck you, gojo — y-you're a freak. you think you're god... but you're a monstrous freak."

he's looking at you. and you're not sure if that's a murderous look or a pure lustful look — is he gonna kill you or fuck you? in his mind, though, the idea of killing you long faded away; you're his favorite enemy. what would he do without you? fighting with you is just the best, he gets to joke and tease and flirt and pester you and see you enjoying it wholeheartedly.

"bunny, look how cute you are, bleeding for me."

when you try spit your blood at him to retaliate, he's considering pulling his zipper down and stuffing your stupid mouth full of his cock. now that would put him on a power trip like nothing else.

then imagine the day this needy, desperate man actually snaps. and you snap. and the both of you fuck like bunnies. panting and feral. he couldn't say no when you started begging on your bruised knees for him to just fuck you already, just split you open on his cock.

his thrusts are primal. he's mocking you, voice so venemously attractive.

"wh—what would your friends think now, huh? think they'd still trust you knowing how willingly you spread your fuckin' legs for me? you damn slut. 'seen the way you look at me, gets me hot every time. you don't have any fucking idea what you do to me, do you? ha—ahhh that's so good... that's so fucking good..." his voice is usually so composed even when fighting, but when he's balls deep fucking up your guts so passionately then his voice becomes strained.

and he loves hearing your cute dirty talk, but you've got such a small voice he thinks it's cutely pathetic.

"f-fuck, g-g—gooojo ~ ! fuck me like you hate me."

he chuckles, "oh, baby. i don't have to fake it. i hate you so — fucking — much — ahhh — damn bitch, making my life so hard the least y-you could do is let me have this pussy once a week."

"a-anything for you."

his heart flutters. why? you're his enemy he reminds himself and makes his thrusts meaner and harder until you can't form a coherent thought. he relishes in your screaming moans, and there's no end to the teasing. as soon as he notices something he comments on it.

"ooh, look at that little pussy cream for me. who's it creaming for? who? that's fucking right, me. yeah stay like that and take my cock."

"o—h my god, nnn ~ !" you squeal, feeling almost too good with your threatening orgasm.

"ah-ah, there's no god but me, baby. i'm the one making this pussy freak out. ooh... think you're right, i do have a god complex. why don't you indulge in it? yeah? c'mon, baby i'm your god."

"y—you're m-my g–god, satoruuuh ~ ! ow!"

he plants a hard slap to your face. you're no stranger to his mean slaps, in fact you've joked to yourself about being his favorite bitch to slap. but that one in particular hurt, and you loved it.

"don't say my fucking name like we're friends, you freak. f—fuck... you like that, don't you? yeah? little freaky bitch likes getting slapped? mmm that's cute. kinky litttle fucking whore, let's see how hard this pathetic pussy can cum."

he pumps his cock into you at such a mean angle that you completely lose yourself, babbling obscenities and trembling in his strong hold. you couldn't free yourself from his grip even if you wanted to; he's the strongest, after all.

you get a good idea of how strong he is when you fight and sneak off to fuck.

the way he presses down on your back, the way he bullies his cockhead so deep that it feels like he's in your tummy, the way he pulls both your arms back with a rough tug like you're a ragdoll — just his fleshlight that he can move on his cock himself however he likes because he's so much bigger than you.

"gonna cum, my little slut gonna take it? yeah? good. that's what i like to fucking hear — oh fuck — ahhhah cumming — hah fuck that's good — that's — mmm — that's my fuckin' girl."

he plants rough spanks to your ass, groaning so deeply and holding you so close against his body that you feel like you're one with him.

"ooh, fuck..." he pulls out hastily, zipping himself up. forehead and abs beading with sweat. "thanks, love playtime with you. now get the fuck out of my sight." he sounds so sweet and venomous that you can't tell if he's joking, but then you remember a cold hard fact;

gojo satoru is your enemy.

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chococolte · 2 years

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☼ — osculatus solem

my take on sagau/cult au zhongli, reactions to first meeting you/as a worshiper + reactions to being your lover

word count. 4.2k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationship, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au shit, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. im sorry if tense is weird im kinda dumb lol

Zhongli has waited for you for six-thousand years.

It wasn’t until he was faced with you that he realized how cruel the wait was. Six-thousand years of patiently waiting had never felt like grueling punishment until he realized what he was deprived of. Like a man starved, he had grown used to the numbness of constant hunger— he found it almost comforting, as he had lived his entire life malnourished. He lived unaware of what it was like to have a full stomach.

Your presence is primeval. It emanates, and it overwhelms all else. When Zhongli looked into your eyes for the first time, he finally felt complete. He was finally where he was meant to be. Finally with who he was meant to be with.

The scripture had described you in detail, but there were only so many words, so many different ways to speak of you. None of them could compare to how you looked in person, standing in front of him.

Your eyes hold all the knowledge in the world. Constellations and stars shine within them, a myriad of stellar tapestries formed within the small reflective surface of your eyes. Past, present, and future dance inside, moving according to your design. You see all. You are all. Everything that is, and everything that will be, is you. Every burgeoning bud, blooming flower, roaring wave, and colossal beast; you are every death, there in every mournful cry and scornful glare; you are every mortal life and every god.

You are the sun that brings warmth to Teyvat, the moon that caresses its tides, and Zhongli wants nothing more than to worship you for it.

Zhongli was not always your devout worshiper. He was once, like all of his temperament, rebellious and spiteful. He refused to believe that all of his victories in battle had simply been part of your design. Just a single thread in your grand tapestry.

His triumphs were his, and his alone. He won by his own virtue, will, and vigor. He won by his own hand, spear, and stone. You did not aid him in his wars. You did not save anyone worth saving. Zhongli watched his allies die, slip through his fingers like grains of sand— and he would never thank you for what he endured. He promised himself that if ever faced with you and your faux benevolence, he would demand answers from you. You owed him that much. A recompense for all the hardship and injury he had sustained.

Zhongli, in his youthful hubris, did not care who heard his blasphemy, and whether they thought it distasteful or not. He was the god of war, and would allow no being to silence his voice. Zhongli bathed in his rage, wallowed in it; he would not allow himself to believe what others so easily indulged in. Ignorance led way to arrogance.

Guizhong had always been of the opinion that you were a kind, gentle god. She argued that your light could not be quantified, nor labeled; just because you did not act in ways he could see, did not mean you did not act at all. You breathed life into the abandoned, the lost— you embraced those without a home, without purpose. You forgave and you pardoned, and you rained down fury on those wicked and vile.

Zhongli had long grown used to her arguments. Every victory of theirs, despite the tight grip on his weapon and the ichor on his blade, was attributed to you— your grace, your blessings. By your grace you allowed them one more day, by your blessings you allowed them one more triumph. Zhongli thought her pitiful; you had done nothing to deserve her kindness. She worshiped you, and what had you given her in response to her devotion?

Guizhong died in his hands, and he had nothing to show for it. Helplessness ate it's way at him, through his flesh and bone. What was left was nothing more than a husk, a parody of a god. What was once anger at authority transformed into righteous anger at the one who made him. You allowed him his victories, to parade around with pride and vanity; you gave him your blessings, benediction and approval, and yet you let the one who meant the most to him die. The one who worshiped you above all else.

Why did he live over her? He did not appreciate you. He did not worship you. He made no offerings, nor did he pray. He did not believe in your salvation, neither did he ordain your will. But he was the one left behind with the sorrow and the guilt, and Guizhong was the one turned to dust. Why was he chosen?

Zhongli knew that asking questions was meaningless. You would not deign to answer. Maybe it was to be expected. Why would an Almighty God answer to a lower being demanding answers far beyond their comprehension? Why should you have to explain yourself, when you saw all? Zhongli was merely the god of Geo. You could take even that from him.

You were the God of All. The Primordial One. No being had authority over you; not even one of the Seven.

It was only in the light of Guizhong's death that Zhongli had finally begun to understand her perspective. He might’ve been alone, but that did not make you cruel. It did not mean you were unable to be kind, tender and loving. You loved as much as you breathed— the world was showered in your love for it, in the wind that caressed its people and the sea that fed them. Your love was in its bountiful harvests and its gentle rain.

You loved just as any other, but Zhongli had long refused to see it.

He started small. Gestures of devotion hidden underneath many layers of misty glass, only clear to those who looked hard enough. Zhongli had postured to those still with him that he no longer minded if they worshiped you in his presence. If he was feeling particularly daring, he would join in and mutter a small word or two of thanks. Perhaps he thought of it as a way to make up to Guizhong after so many years of his disapproval.

Though he may have found it unbearable at the beginning, he soon began to pray to you in times of need. He looked for you when he found himself in need of counsel, forgoing the people around him. He made offerings in your name when there was a drought or a shortage, praying for your guidance. Even if he did not initially believe that you would truly respond, the comfort it brought outweighed the logistics. If there was no one else he could turn to, he still had you— and you would never forsake him.

Zhongli started to find your answers in the strangest of places. An arrangement of flowers in some botanical garden of some odd scion, the conversation of two orphan boys that shed a new perspective; a tale that seemed almost catered to him told by a storyteller at a tea house. Perhaps he was imagining things— he surely would have thought so a millennium earlier. But were they truly coincidences, if they only happened after he had prayed and offered at his altar for you?

If it was the Zhongli of old, he would have said yes. But the Zhongli of new knew better now: it was you, speaking to him through indirect means. You answered his prayers and accepted his offerings. You forgave him for what he had done and the things he had said in the past.

Liyue was modeled after what Zhongli believed you favored the most. Its jagged cliffs, jeweled karsts, cuihua forests, and vibrant plant life; sculpted and molded to fit your tastes. He sometimes daydreams of showing you his life’s work— would you like it? Would you tell him he’s done a good job, that he had done enough to please you? If you found it distasteful, would you tell him why? Even if it meant tearing the land asunder and usurping the earth that tethers it to its place in the sea, Zhongli would change whatever it is you dislike immediately.

Even if the problem was himself. He would happily bow his head, whisper one last plead for forgiveness, and take his own life. If it was your will, there is nothing he wouldn't do.

When Zhongli meets the Traveler for the first time, he is frozen in place. His heart drops to his stomach as he sees the gleam of your existence in their eyes. It's you. You're here, in front of him— he wants to kneel and worship you the way he's always wanted, but…

Why is it them, and not him?

Zhongli knows he shouldn’t be jealous. It’s a blessing in the first place to meet you like this. It's a blessing to know that you're real. But he can’t stop himself from lying awake at night, thinking of what it would be like if he was the eyes through which you experienced this world.

It’s an ugly feeling. A twisted, nasty feeling. It leaves him feeling bitter in the morning and sick whenever he sees the Traveler walking through Liyue’s streets. He assists them on their quest, because you are there with them— watching him through their eyes. He hopes to leave a good impression, to assure you that there is no problem with him; perhaps, that is why you did not choose him? Because he was faulty in some form?

Hours upon hours of self-reflection spent in dark, locked rooms. Zhongli stays there, looking in mirrors, searching for reasons why. He looks at his mortal form and wonders: is this why? Did you want him to serve you as the Geo Archon for longer? Why not him?

Was he not enough? Was Liyue not enough? You are never wrong, never incorrect— the problem lies with him. But no matter how long he looks, he can't find the reason. He's better in every way. Better in his devotion for you, better in his worship— he would kneel until his knees turned raw and skin gave way to bone, he would pray and sing your praises until his throat bled. He built Liyue with earth and stone, and cracked the land until it was worthy enough of a formation, molding it with his hands to please you. He had changed himself until he was deserving of your forgiveness, until he was worthy enough to worship you.

The voice in the back of his head tells him it was because he once hated you. Once, when he was a fool and a heathen, he spat on your good name, derided it with disgust. Zhongli thought you forgave him for the sins of his past. He thought you still loved him despite it. He thought he had purified himself long ago, but perhaps he still had some rot left to root out. What part of him wasn’t perfect? What part of him wasn’t enough for you?

Zhongli knows he’s only being ungrateful. You’ve done enough for him. Who is he to demand more?

REVERENTIA ; first meeting/as a worshiper

Zhongli did not know what to do with himself when his eyes laid on your figure for the first time.

You were beautiful. Resplendent and illustrious. When you spoke, crying out so timorously, he shuddered involuntarily. He clasped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to steady his breathing, but your voice was infectious. His heart felt heavy in his chest as you looked at him with wide eyes.

Nothing could compare to your stare, to the life that swirled within your eyes.

Zhongli knelt, then, his head hitting the floor. His shoulders trembled with tension as he kept them taut and straight, keeping his posture as poised as possible.

His first words to you: "Welcome home."

Whether your reaction was volatile or not, Zhongli is at your beck and call. He waits on you hand and foot, staying by your side and keeping close. He acts as your shadow, following your orders, even simple commands, as if the result of his failure will be death. Zhongli is aware that your current form is weaker, mortal in nature; but when you ascend once more, he wants to be known as the one who never doubted you, never thought of you as lesser because of your current circumstances.

Zhongli, despite his worship of propriety, is still prone to decadence. His hands as he helps you dress linger for far longer than they should, brushing against the soft skin of your shoulders. The tips of his gloves burn from where they've touched you, and you notice him wearing them less and less often, now.

In Zhongli's eyes, you are never wrong. You stand at the pinnacle of righteousness, justice and light; anything you say is gospel. He commits all of your opinions, even of the littlest, pettiest things, to memory. His personal thoughts on the matter are meaningless, now— if you dislike it, then it's bad. Simple as that. If you find something enjoyable, then it's good. If your concept of morality is twisted and murky, then he will morph his own to match it; there is no internal struggle, no hesitation in his thoughts and behavior. Your will is all that matters.

When in your presence, Zhongli is perfect. He is courteous, gentle, and benign. He never does anything without your explicit permission. He brews you tea, and tells you anything you wish to know. He worships you with so much vigor it's hard to deny him.

Outside of it, he is barely hanging on by a thread.

Zhongli doesn't know how he lived without you before. He feels vaguely sick even thinking of going back to when you were not present. Just a moment without you is hellish. Every step away from you is like walking on scorching coal. It is an agonizing pain, one slow and tortuous.

He has never felt such pain before. The mere thought of leaving you by your lonesome sends him into a frenzy powered only by his desire to stay by you. He is willing to tear anyone apart should they stand in between him and his god. He can't leave, not when he isn't worthy of your forgiveness yet, not when you're so fragile in your current form.

Every night he rests only barely. Every morning he rises with relief, knowing that once more he is allowed to bask in your company.

Perhaps he's still driven by his insecurity, by the idea of you thinking him unworthy of you.

Zhongli speaks of your grace and elegance, of the light you inspire; he tells you how long he's worshiped you, how long he's loved you.

He tells you of his devotion, of the offerings he's left at your gilded altars, jewels and the finest riches. Zhongli brings them directly to you, now, with an uncharacteristic bashfulness.

He tells you of the wars he's fought in your name, of the blasphemers he's slaughtered— though, conveniently leaving out that he used to be one. Zhongli hopes you're proud of the things he's done in your name, that you will finally embrace him, utterly and wholly.

In the dark of the night, when doubt and searing loneliness so clearly bite at his mind, Zhongli walks to your room. He never dares to walk inside, always conscious of your privacy— but he kneels outside your doors with muted footsteps, only the soft echo of ruffling fabric to accompany him.

He mumbles into the gelid floor unintelligible prayers. He listens for your breathing, for assurance you're still within reach. His unrest is barely abated each time.

When he is particularly nervous, he stands by your doors until morning light, shoulders trembling with unease until you rise from your slumber.

Zhongli is fearful. His muscles are tense as he whispers pleadings that you stay, that you at least say goodbye, should you leave again. He fears one day he will awake and you will be gone.

He fears that he will be left alone again, once more without the tenderness of your guidance. Back to when he had thrown you away, when he only knew of bloodshed and the weight on his shoulders.

You freed him from his self-imposed shackles, whether knowingly or not.

Only when he's assured you're safe will he allow himself peace and serenity.

Only then, will he finally rest in the only paradise he wishes for: being by your side for eternity.

VENUSTUS ; as your lover

Zhongli has always loved you. By virtue of your holiness and sacred being, he has always loved you as his god. As his guiding hand and light, sculpting him into the Archon you want him to be; into a believer worthy of worshiping you.

Faced with your luminous presence, finally able to see what he has only imagined before, Zhongli's love for you only grows. It unfurls like a blossoming glaze lily, petals perfect and serene.

He would never dare presume that his feelings are returned. As his God, you are above him in every way— you are above him in every breath, every step you take. In every slight movement of your fingers, you establish the bridge between you. The line he should never cross.

You are above him. He is beneath you.

Whether it is intentional or not, Zhongli knows his place. He is grateful to be where he is, blessed enough to stand beside you in any capacity. To know that you exist would've been enough, but to care for you personally— to be the one with whom you spend the most of your treasured time with; that is an honor worth dying for.

Zhongli has played with the idea of being your consort before. Of being yours, utterly and entirely. He never lets the thought stay for long. Shame begins to eat at him all too quickly, twisting his stomach into knots of guilt and remorse. He's embarrassed more than anything; of having the gall to dare to imagine himself ever being so important to you.

The thought would've never crossed his mind before, the mere idea laughable. You were untouchable. Above even The Seven, above Celestia. You had not shown interest in any individual for a millennium, and it would be no different now.

But Zhongli knows you now. He's felt the brush of your touch, the zephyr of your breath when he leans in too close. He's felt the warmth running through your veins, the warmth that leaves him flustered, even when you've only touched him for a moment.

The thoughts come more often, now. More vivid. More apparent. You cradle him in your arms, whispering soft words of loyalty and love. You hold his hands in your own, intertwining your fingers, and tell him how you have come to love him. He is special. He alone is yours; no one else.

It terrifies him.

Zhongli is nothing more than your worshiper. He is your servant. He may have been a god, but now he is just your tool. He is content with that much. He should be content with that much. But his heart wants more from you, more than you've deigned to give him.

It wants your love. Your attention. His heart yearns to be special to you; to be the sole holder of your affection.

It's a selfish desire. A nasty one. One that he wishes he could remove, exorcise out of him like a spirit. But every attempt to carve it out of him only leaves him bleeding, and it hurts more to pretend like it doesn't exist. It burns him from the inside out, a fiery jealousy that roars whenever he sees you with another.

It should be me, his heart trembles. It should be me, his heart weeps.

Zhongli is terribly flustered when you begin to show signs of reciprocation. Small things like careful touches, honeyed tones, and words of favor. You compliment him more often, go out of your way to do things that please him; brushing and running your fingers through his hair, listening to him spin tales of old. He is aware that you must know everything already, but you look at him with such big eyes of wonder and interest he can’t help but go on.

He’s barely able to speak when you admit to him your feelings. His heart beats fast in his ears like war drums, his heartstrings tightening as if nocked by an arrow.

It's an uncharacteristic moment of timidity for the wise ex-archon. He's stammering over his words, barely able to keep up his façade of calm. Is that something you truly wish to do? With him?

You assure him— I want this, you say— and Zhongli allows himself to believe you. He follows you when you lead him by the hand into the palace of your heart. He cradles it softly in his hands, gentle and delicate. Zhongli swears to never hurt you, to never let another harm you in any way; but he still fears, still doubts you.

It should be expected for you to have multiple consorts. Multiple lovers, all equally vying for your attention. Zhongli should be happy that you have any interest in him at all— but the thought of being second to another in your heart makes him sick.

Venti, the verdant bard, does nothing but drink. He wastes away his woes in bottles of wine and bourbon; surely, you will not choose him over Zhongli? Ei lorded over her people and took their freedom away. Her reasons do not matter. All for an eternity unreachable by mortals and gods, she attempted to trespass upon your domain. Surely, you will not choose her over him?

The thoughts are foolish. Nearly sacrilegious in nature. He has no control over you; no place to demand that you only love him. But Zhongli has spent thousands of years worshiping you— is it wrong of him to believe himself better than the rest? Venti does not worship you in the way he does, with such fervor or zeal. Ei may pray or rest her eyes beneath your statue, but she has not spoken good of your name like he has, hasn’t hunted blasphemers like he has.

She’d rather her servants deal with them, whenever they so rarely come. Zhongli deals with them personally, knuckles clenched around his blade.

In every way that matters, he is better. As such, he shouldn’t fear, shouldn’t worry of when you will inevitably grow bored— he should enjoy the moments he has with you, the brief time when he is all that you have. When he is still all that you want.

Fear still grips his throat with its tiny, intangible hands. Even if he severs its wrists, it continues to thrive; to suffocate him with its pervasive thoughts.

He must prove himself, it echoes. Or else he'll be deserted. Discarded when another proves themselves his better.

Zhongli won't let himself be thrown away. Whatever he must do to please you, he will do.

Until his mortal form wears down to nothing but dust and bone, until his only coherent thought is how wonderful it is to worship you— until you have no need for anyone else.

Whatever your command is, he will follow. As long as he alone stands in your heart, as long as he alone can kiss the dirt off your feet, he will be content.

He only hopes that he can love you as you deserve.

Zhongli’s zealous behavior worsens to an obscene degree. He never falters in his fervent, almost fervorous veneration— it becomes excessive, almost actorly. Though his obsequiousness appears inflated, it is entirely genuine; he fawns a tad more obviously, smiling with dazed eyes when you kiss his cheeks or lips.

This has always been how he feels. He's only unrestrained, now. And even still, he hides the deeper parts of his worship, the servile and fanatic in him that wants to drool at your lap. It's hard to stop himself every time you sit on your throne to immediately drop to his knees.

Zhongli is happy to give and never receive. He is pleased with being yours, though it never clicks in his mind that the same is applicable to you.

You are not his, but he is yours. If you call yourself his, Zhongli melts. His face blossoms red and it permeates his cheeks for hours afterward. His hands slightly shake and he has trouble standing still in the immediate aftermath. All he wants to do is kneel, and say I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—

If you'd like it, Zhongli would let you do whatever you want with him. Tear him apart with your bare hands, and shred him of any sense; it matters not as long as it's you.

You are everything, your love is everything. Even the softest of your kisses and touches have him breathless and numb, and anything else only serves to make him fall deeper into you.

Only with you is he easy to fluster. Anyone else, and he'd have punished them long ago, if not tore out their eyes for having seen him in such a state.

But it's you. You could crush his heart in your hands, leave him heartbroken and bitter, and Zhongli still would not find it in himself to hate you.

You are the lifeblood that runs underneath Teyvat’s cracked earth, the soft undercurrent that ties it together— and, if only you'd let him, Zhongli would worship you for it.

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itskattkm · 5 months

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Day & Night

Mabel (Finestkind) x G!P Reader

Warnings: life crisis, bruises, smut, bad writing because of translation

A/N: hello my dears. Here a Mabel short story. Maybe making a part two. The requests I had got are in work :) So this is my first try of some spice in English and I could cry in pain. The translation is so bad. And I need to stop changing perspective so often. It’s getting confusing right? Hope you guys can still enjoy

Part 2, Part 3

I remembered as if it was yesterday when I kept an eye on Mabel after she was beaten up by these damn dealers. I didn't know much but what I knew was that things didn't go as they should. So before Charlie took Mabel's car to take care of some things, I got the call to watch out for Mabel until he would be back.

I leaned against the wall when I looked through the small slit in her cardboard at the window. The sun seemed to go down. I sighed softly. What situation did I find myself in again? How many times had I asked myself this when it came to Mabel. For a very long time I thought that we were friends... although I knew deep inside that we never were. I was just like a lost puppy... someone who would follow her wherever she wanted to go. Someone who would do anything to pray for her. Someone whose feelings were obviously not reciprocated. Someone... who was self-evident.

I looked over my shoulder back at her. As if frozen, she sat at the end of her bed and stared at the dark floor. I could feel her pain... her fear. What should you say to someone who was beaten up by dealers a few hours ago? Was there anything right to say?

As I knew Mabel, it was probably raging in her thoughts. Accusations. Shame. Disappointment. She hated the life she came from. I never knew anyone who had longed for a different life like me. At that time, I thought this was something that had connected us. Or did I just try to look longing for things that weren't there? For things that would connect us in any way?

I turned around and walked to the small dining table to take one of the chairs. When I now picked up one of the older wooden chairs and placed it in front of Mabel to sit im front of her, I got her attention. But I only got this because I had made noises that weren't there before.

I slowly sat down opposite her, looking down at the pack full of swabs and the alcohol bottle. I took out one of the swabs and moistened it with the alcohol.

I carefully lifted Mabel's chin with my hand. My eyes were now on her lips. The laceration on her lip had opened again. I didn't know if my attempt to take care of her injury made sense. Whether it did anything at all. But I couldn't stand here any further, wait for Charlie's return and drown in silence.

"You fumble too much on it... it opens again and again" I whispered gently before I dabbing her wound and only got a soft hiss from Mabel when she consumed herself because of the burning.

Again, a sigh escaped me. I threw the cotton wool aside. I wondered how long I would have to suffer. Would it ever be over?

"Thank you..."

The words and the me making me feel goosebumps tone in her voice brought me back. I looked with a mix of worry and sadness in her dark eyes, slightly smeared eyelashes ink emphasized her aura. Her left eye was decorated with yellow bruised spots that slowly turned purple.

I lost myself in the darkness of her eyes. Asked me if she could ever see how much was hidden in my eyes? Every time I looked at her, I had the feeling that I knew what was going on in her. How she felt.

My heart was bleeding and although I knew that my presence and the attempt to sit or just be there for her would not change anything , I couldn’t help it. I hesitantly raised my hand and fixed her bangs, with an almost trembling hand I tried to wipe a strand to the side to see her face better. I didn't want to hurt her. I was afraid of getting so close to her at all.

Now I could admire her injured face in full costume. Why is my heart bleeding all the more to see her in such a state? Why did I find her even more beautiful? Why couldn't these feelings disappear?

The burning of my eyes brought me back from a so-called trance. I didn't smell any of these feelings. Never.

"You are very strong... never forget that," I whispered because I didn't know what else to say. Her eyes pierced me. This time I didn't know what I could see in it. Gratitude? Security? Or maybe it was nothing at all?

But they seemed so gentle. So gently that I had to fight with the urge to somehow tell her my feelings.

Almost a year passed after this incident.

Mabel and Charlie have been still a couple. Charlie and Tom had now built a new bussines with the Finestkind. The crew still had hard jobs... yet they were independent and very important... not on the criminal path.

It was again one of those nights when I sat on the scaffolding of the bridge and just watched as the sea and the sky became one in the dark.

Never before had I felt so lost. So lost from my path.

It was the stormy days when I was here at the pier and watched the raging sea. It should remind me that I was alive... that there had to be a reason for all this. That there was a story for me that I didn't know anything about yet, but when would all this come? When would I feel free. When would I feel important?

"It's one of those days again?"

a voice too familiar to me spoke.

I looked to the side, Mabel slowly approached the terrain and looked out into the distance in which the lights of the Finestkind could already be seen.

Then my heart sank. I knew she was here to pick up Charlie. It wasn't a prescribed path that should lead her to me... No... but to Charlie.

I looked at the ship.

"I guess" I said because I didn't know if Mabel was really interested in how I was doing and what I was doing. Most of the time I was the one who asked and listened, I mean… I cared.

"How's it going with college?" I asked her

Mabel nodded and had this beautiful wide smile on her lips as she looked out to the ship. From the side I could she her dimples and beautiful side profile.

"It was definitely the right decision," she said.

I smiled because of her happiness. Of her her joy...

"I'm happy about that," I said and looked back at the ship. As it got more and more windy, Mabel had hooked her arm in mine and laughed slightly "you have to stop being up here in this weather. It's dangerous"

I grinned. Was this a concern? Was she really interested? This sentence warmed my heart in so many ways. The fact that she knew how many times I was here... that alone gave me hope.

"But at those times it looks the most beautiful out here!" I shouted when a stronger gust of wind hit us.

Mabel shook her head "you really have to stop falling for the things that could kill you"

I looked at her thoughtfully.

What did she mean by that?

Suddenly the horn of the finestkind sounded. Mabel grabbed my arm more firmly and pulled me with her to leave the scaffolding of the bridge together.

When we arrived downstairs and watched the boys docking, my heart began to race. As soon as Charlie had left the ship, Mabels loosened her grip around my arm and she landed in his. He put his arms around her narrow waist and kissed her for a long time.

How much I wish I could have been Charlie. How much I wanted to give her my love and everything else in the world... how much I wanted this from her. The other boys greeted me with hugs. Tom laughed dry

"Y/N if you continue like this you will become our lighthouse" a laugh escaped me and I boxed into his shoulder.

"Beauty and death at the same time... I say," Mabel joked. I grinned and gradually began to understand. "What do you think... are we still going to the bar?" Charlie asked.

More months passed after that day. It was a day like almost any other.

I didn't go to the community college like Mabel, but I had studied online. In the summer season, Mabel actually began to spent most of her time with me on the grounds of the bridge. We learned together. Waited until the boys would come back.

It became our thing. Now I knew that Mabel came here not only because of Charlie... but also because of me.

"How are things going?" I asked her because she was exceptionally quiet today. She looked into the distance and said "I'm not sure..."

I knew this look. Pain. Longing. So I counted one and one together. Things between her and Charlie seemed to have changed.

The boys haven't come back for a long time now. They were on a almost one month long "trip" if I could call it that.

I followed her gaze, a fisherman to date, I indeed imagined that difficult.

"Do you have time tonight?" Mabel asked me with this self-confident strong tone. I looked back at my laptop

"Probably why?"

"I could use some help..."

She began to pack her things and looked down at me. The wind blew slightly through her hair, she looked at me with a grin to which I could never say no.

"So?" She Hacked after I was just staring at her. I shook my head slightly to wake up.

"Yes... yes, of course. When should I come over?" I asked her

"I'll come to you... in about an hour..."

I nodded and watched her go down.

Maybe we were friends after all.

Later in the evening I was just cooking food.

One hour became two... and two almost three. It has now been 11 o'clock at night. I was tired and would still have to do some tasks.

Just when I was about to change, it suddenly knocked on my door. Confused about the late time, I went to the door and opened it. Immediately Mabel entered my apartment slightly out of breath with a wide grin.

Confused, I locked the door behind her and looked after her. She put her shoulder bag on my dining table and said

"Sorry, I'm late..."

I laughed dryly and looked at the clock

"Three hours..."

Mabel continued to grin as if she was in a “that interested me at least now mode”. She took off her leather jacket and looked at me "it's not a bad thing"

I walked past her to drink a glass of water in the kitchen "it's not like I would have liked to have done something else instead of waiting here and worrying a little".

Mabel followed every movement of Y/N with a cheeky yet gentle smile.

"You were worried?" She asked in a teasing tone. Surprised by the sound, I looked at her nervously "of course... it's dark outside and you didn't even send me a text"

Mabel laughed slightly as she walked closer to Y/N "You could have texted me too..." she whispered and looked at her urgently.

Y/N felt a heat in herself that was difficult to control. In order not to respond to Mabel's last words, I said nervously "you wanted my help... what exactly?"

Mabel came closer and held the eye contact for unusually long "did I want that?" She whispered.

Slightly confused, I looked at her and didn't quite understand. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what.

Suddenly Mable slowly put her hand around my waist and said "I meant rather... that I need you tonight"

The place where she touched me sent a wave of goose bumps to the rest of my body. Were those signals? Did I understand the situation I was in right now?

She got closer and closer to me and I didn't even think about moving at all. Her eyes moved back and forth between my eyes and lips. Her face was only centimeters away when her lips slightly brushed mine.

"How much do you want me y/n?" She whispered.

My heart beated hard against my chest.

As if attracted by a siren, I lean in. Next, I felt her soft lips on mine.

The lips that I wanted to feel for so long. To taste.

Mabel grabbed my neck and kissed me back deeper as she slowly led us into my bedroom.

There she pushed me down on the edge of my bed before she made herself comfortable on my lap and started kissing on my neck. Her hips moved into mine. My member immediately started to get hard. This seemed to please her because she rubbed herself more and more firmly on it as she held my neck tightly and kissed me passionately.

I was breathing heavily. Held her hip that was moving back and forth in my hands when I began to breathe heavily. I kissed her back hungry. My lips brushed hers over and over again when I tried to hold back.

"Don't hold back... show me" she whispered seductive. I pressed my nails into the fabric of her hotpants before kissing her hard and then bit on her lower lip to pull it slightly. Mabel gasped slight in surprise of the intense feeling and was overwhelmed by the fact how good y/n felt.

She kept grinding on y/n lap. She felt the big and hard bump in y/n pants and wanted to feel it so bad... wanted to touch it so bad. So she opened y/n pants and observed how rapid the breathing of y/n became.

Both looked down when Mabel freed y/n hard cock. Suddenly it felt like time had stopped. Very slowly she took him in her hand became aware of the size and felt the warmth he radiated. Y/N swallowed hard when she could watch Mabel hold her hard cock in her hand. Her hand was warm and it just felt so good. Both raised their heads and their eyes met. Mable's gaze wandered between Y/N's eyes and lips.

Y/n put her hand around the back of Mabel's head and pulled her closer. She kissed her slowly, breathed heavily and groped herself slowly with her tongue. Mabel escaped a slight moan when she returned this kiss and her tongue hit y/n. She grabbed her cock more firmly and began to move her hand up and down very slowly. Y/n felt all the pleasure coming over search. These touches. That's all she had always longed for.

Mabel observes satisfied the effective she exercised on y/n when she breathed heavily into her neck and tried to hold back her moans.

But she felt and could see how harder y/n always became. She wondered if the pain was with pleasure. She looked down at the pink tip as she slowed down her firm movements and stroked her thumb over her tip. Mabel herself felt an unbearably good pulsation inside of her when she saw some white liquid coming out of y/n cock.

Her heart was racing like crazy. Oh how much her body screamed for y/n. The things she wanted to do with her. She slowly began to kiss her neck. Her tongue strokes slightly over y/n pulse. She now moved her hand a little faster. But didn't want to take y/n too far because she wanted to feel her inside of herself.

She breathed heavily against y/n neck as she started to grind on her thighs while she gave you a probably long-awaited handjob.

"Do you have condoms?" Asked Mabel with a raspy voice. Y/n held tight Mabel’s waist. She breathed heavily when she said "Night table... top... top drawer"

Mabel nodded and reached for y/n jaw before she kissed her deeply and her tongue explored her mouth. She had some condoms herself, of course, but she preferred to use y/n... especially since this was a size that was clearly not comparable to that of Charlie and that in a good sense.

When her lips loosened, she let go of her hard limb. She began to take off y/n sweatshirt and shortly afterwards y/n helped Mabel get rid of her clothes.

Mabel slowly pressed y/n into the mattress so that she was laying on her back.

Mabel leaned over her as she began to kiss her passionately and rubbed her wet middle over the erection of y/n.

Y/n moaned and turned around so that Mabel was now under her. She kissed her jaw, throat and neck before she slightly bit into it and made Mabel escape moan.

She places herself between Mabel's legs. Their naked bodies touched each other and y/n struggled with an almost painful erection. She felt Mabel's warm and moist vagina. With her tip, she brushed Mabel's clit and breathed heavily as Mabel's grip solidified around y/n shoulders.

With full passion, y/n looked into Mabel's dark eyes before she bent over her chest and began to kiss her left breast. Mabel's grip demanded herself in y/n hair when she arched her back in pleasure and moaned. Y/n took time to taste her warm and gentle skin. In a teasing way she brushed her lips above the sensitive skin of Mabel's breast before teasing her nipple.

"Y/n..."

Gasped Mabel heavy. A shiver hit down y/n spine. How long did she want to hear Mabel call her. Taste and touch her body. She slowly kissed her nipples. And moved her tongue around it in circle movements. Everything y/n did robbed Mabel of her mind.

Mabel stretched out her arm and opened the top drawer of the bedside table to look for the condom.

That was a signal for y/n that Mabel wanted more and needed it. With hot and wet kisses y/n covered Mabel's neck and whispered Husky "don't be so impatient Mabel..."

Mabel shivered and chuckled slight before locking eyes with y/n and whispered seductive "just do what I'm telling you to do...".

She caressed y/n stomach... moving her hand slowly down to your hard cock "...please"

She added.

You nodded and let her put the condom on your hard cock.

You shivered when her hands touched you again and rolled over the condom in the most sensual way you could have imagine.

You spread her legs more before burying your face in the crook of her neck. Slowly you penetrated into her. Her walls are tighter than you could ever have imagined.

Some sounds left Mabel as you continue to slowly go deeper. You had reached for the lacquer when Mabel pressed her nails into your back and moaned as you extended her further. After a few moments, you both breathed harder. Mabel put her legs around your hip and whispered "deeper".

You did her that favor and fill her completely with your length in the next moment.

A loud moan caught her and for you it was like music. You finally got what you wanted. What you had longed for. Mabel. In your arms. Connected to each other. You would never be able to let her go again. She was what kept you alive... what motivated you every day even if it was so hard.

I held her hip tightly as I began to move slowly. Mabel's breathing became more and more intense. She moaned almost evenly and called my name.

I began to bump harder, had a firm grip around her thigh when I breathed heavily against her lips. She stretched out her head. Put her arms around my neck to be able to kiss me. Her tongue brushed my lips as she whispered “...y/n”.

I felt how she became more and more tighter with excitement. I felt a soft end with every new and faster push that made her moan more. I knew... that I had found the spot... and it wouldn't be long before she would have her orgasm.

"Y/n!" She shouted, totally intoxicated. Your body was shaking. With every push, she came closer to the feeling of pure satisfaction.

I kissed her hard before I buried my face back in her neck and whispered "your mine now..."

736 notes · View notes

clbrq · 5 months

Text

YOU’VE DONE IT NOW—C. BROCK

warnings: ANGSTY, cussing, disloyalty, crying, anger, alcohol consumption. im in the mood to get mad and cry so while i write for wannabe have this. inspiration from @sucker4colby <3

-/-

“Look, don’t stress, I’m sure everything’s fine.” Katrina’s comforting voice spoke from next to in front of you, a concerned look on her face, contradicting her words.

“Yeah, right.” You huffed, pacing back and forth around your room, your phone clenched tightly in your hand as the endless sound of ringing blared out into the room.

No answer, again.

“I swear I’m gonna kill him.”

Katrina sighed, raising from the bed to walk over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “While we wait for a reply, let’s go back down to your party. It’s your night, remember, fuck Colby.”

Agreeing with her half-heartedly, you followed aimlessly behind her as she led you back downstairs to the bustling party at your boyfriend’s house. It was the launch of your new brand, something you had been working on for years, but also your birthday. You had been lucky enough to share the day with two important things and got to spend it with your loved ones.

Except the one who pushed you to have a huge party in the first place.

Colby never missed your special moments. Whether it was hitting a milestone of followers on your social media, or even getting out of bed on a hard day—he was there. But, today, of all days, your ‘so-called boyfriend’, was a no-show. He hadn’t messaged you all day, and wasn’t next to you when you woke up—leaving you confused and suspicious as to where he was.

And you were rageful.

Making your way into the kitchen, full of your drunk friends, laughing and having a good time—you couldn’t help but feel jealous. This was supposed to be a great night, but you were riddled with anger and sadness. But, you knew the cure.

Finding yourself a small shot glass and a bottle of vodka, you knocked back as many shots as you could handle before a warm hand and a chuckle pulled you from your binging.

“Girl, slow down.” Kris’ smiling face regurgitated one onto yours as she spoke, “You’re gonna black out.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.” You replied, a cheeky, drunken grin plastered on your face, sparking another giggle from Kris’ lips.

“Hey, where’s Colby at? I haven’t seen him all night.” Kris questioned, her eyebrows furrowing towards you.

“Neither,” You laughed in disbelief, “You wanna dance?”

Attempting to query your words, she failed as you dragged her towards a crowd of dancing people, all enjoying the music and the drinks. Your body instantly fell into the beat of the music as you swayed your hips to the beat, screaming the lyrics as loud as you could. Finally, you were forgetting about your M.I.A boyfriend.

Oh, that wouldn’t last.

Just as you were beginning to have fun, a rough arm dragged you from your drunken dancing frenzy and into a quiet room. Sam and Katrina stood in before you, worried and shocked locks on their faces.

Your heart dropped.

“What?” You demanded, sensing something was wrong.

Not saying a word, Sam handed you his phone which portrayed a picture that sent chills down your spine and caused your stomach to drop. Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook with anger.

Colby, shirtless, with his arm loosely hung around Stas’ shoulders—both of them posing in a mirror at her house, smiling and standing extremely close.

Shoving Sam’s phone back towards him, you stormed out of the room and towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. Gripping the counter, tears fell from your eyes swiftly as the anger bubbled deeply inside your stomach as picture of your boyfriend with another woman on your special night flashed in your mind.

Releasing a shaken breath, you ran a hand through your hair as your chest heaved quickly—you’d never felt rage like this before. How dare he, so much for a being a good boyfriend.

Loud knocking on the bathroom door followed by a worried voice soon arrived, “Yo, are you okay? Open the door.” Sam.

Swinging the door open, you were met with the blonde boy’s concerned face standing before you, “Are you alright?”

“Do I look it?” You snapped, the fury inside you begging to be released, “I’m sorry, I’m fine. Just get me a drink and don’t let me near my phone.”

Realising he couldn’t convince you otherwise, Sam nodded as you brushed past him and towards the kitchen once more.

And that’s how you spent your special night. Drinking and on the verge of tears, sat by yourself and wallowing in your jealousy and despair on your birthday.

When bedtime arrived and everybody had gone home, you curled up in Colby’s bed, tears slipping freely from your eyes as your disloyal boyfriend never left your brain. Jealousy burned in your chest as the thought of them kissing or flirting etched itself into your mind even while you dreamt. You never wanted to speak to either of them again.

The next morning, your chest hurt. You woke up with a heavy heart, feeling nothing but depressed and pitiful at what you’d witnessed. You didn’t want to do anything, or see anyone—you just wanted to wallow in your sadness all day. But, you knew your friends wouldn’t let you do that.

Rising from your bed, empty still, you slowly made your way down the stairs, your head pounding due to the many drinks you consumed last night. You looked tired and sullen as you walked into the kitchen, not caring about your appearance due to your state of mind.

Just as you approached the room, rage bubbled inside you as Sam and Katrina sat at the kitchen island with the two people that ruined your night. Stas and Colby.

“Oh my god, that was the funniest part of the night, I swear.” Stas giggled as she looked at Colby, a bright smile on her face.

Rolling your eyes, you wondered towards the cabinets for some painkillers to cure your headache, when suddenly your presence was made known.

“Oh, hey, girl.” Katrina’s voice was heard as you knocked back the pill with some water, “How you feeling?”

“Amazing!” You replied sarcastically, faking a smile as the room fell silent while you grabbed your breakfast.

As you turned around to walk back up the stairs, Colby rose from his seat and walked towards you, “Baby, can we tal—“

“Sit the fuck down, Brock, don’t even try it.”

Your words shocked him as you walked past him like he was nothing, not even looking him in the eyes. But, before you could make it very far, a strong grasp stopped you from moving.

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Stas’ irritated expression filled your vision as she spoke.

A laugh rumbled from your chest, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” She snapped, “He was only trying to fix things.”

“Yeah, fix things that got ruined because of you.” You spat, trying your hardest to contain the anger inside you but it was becoming unbearable.

“Oh, please, Y/N. It was one night, grow up.”

That was it.

Slamming your plate aggressively on the counter top, you swiftly tied your hair up as you prepared yourself, “Say that again.” You pushed, advancing towards her.

Your friends quickly jumped up in shock, “Woah, woah, woah, let’s just calm down.” Colby panicked, placing a hand on your arm to move you backwards.

“Get your fucking hands off me.” You growled, seething beneath him.

“Y/N, please calm down, and let’s just talk please.” Colby pleaded as Katrina moved Stas into another room.

“Okay, let’s talk!” You started, condescendingly, “So, how was your night with another woman? On my birthday, and the big launch of my brand. At the party you practically forced me to have.”

Silence.

“Still wanna talk?” You pressed further, making direct, intimidating eye contact with Colby as he stated back at you, worriedly, “That’s what I thought.”

“Y/N..” He whispered, his eyes practically begging you to forgive him.

“Shut up.” You snarled, “I’ll pack my stuff, and I’ll be out by midday. So, go enjoy your time with Stas over there, and I’ll consider coming back when her brand launches.”

“B-But, she doesn’t have a brand?” Colby spluttered, looking like a child who had been told off.

“Oh, what a shame for you then.”

—

heyyyyyyy

finally one where you don’t forgive him:)

sorry it’s been a while i’ve been having trouble with my phone so all my apps deleted LMAO

merry christmas to those who celebrate it! hope all of your days, xmas or not, are going amazing!

love you all :)

@cam1ly

@samandcolby-ownme

@paymal7

@morchilluv

@iwanttoberich420

@peachhiz

@reem6806

@lovely-red2

@ilymusic27

@nanascupid

@xosugardoll

@m-maxie-ie

@theyloveniqueeeee

@whicked-hazlatwhore

@camille-1019

@mattheoriddlemarcuslopez (sorry couldn’t find your other account)

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soldier-poet-king · 2 years

Text

manchild uncle CONTINUES to cause problems, he apparently send a VERY NASTY lengthy text to my mother and aunt (his sisters) filled with swearing bc they ‘sided with’ his wife when he was publicly berating her in front of the whole family over literally nothing yesterday and im just. OH BOY OH BOY when my nonna finds out things will either 1) explode bc she is too catholic and old for this shit and maybe he’s FINALLY crossed a line in her mind 2) nothing will happen bc he’s the specialest baby and apparently needs to be coddled like glass and TRULY i hope it’s the former im SO GODDAM TIRED OF HIS SHIT.....every single grandchild is insanely more mature than him. including the 11 yr old.

unironically come correct or get corrected re: BASIC HUMAN DECENCY AND MANNERS

#franposting #my father and uncle are all like. oh no u cant do that to my wife #im sitting here like. WHAT THE FUCK HAVE I BEEN SAYING ABOUT THIS MAN FOR YEARS #i dont swear in front of my family bc they dont like it. i dont have an issue with it. but their preference is fine #SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN #my dad already got into a physical fight with him when i was a toddler apparently #truly he is. so coddled. such a manchild. needs to go to fuckin therapy or bootcmap or both #and hes babied bc hes the youngest of my nonna's children and the only boy #and uwu had anxiety as a teen. like bitch i have SO MANY mental illnesses #and im 10000x more emotionally mature and less CASUALLY CRUEL than you #and im fightin for my life out here against my brain which is constantly trying to kill me #i am so small and a strict non violence advocate #BUT I AM SO FULL OF RAGE #i maybe. over did it today. im in so much muscle pain from being angry at the gym #but hot DAM im just. let me out of here. let me LEAVE

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caelivir · 11 months

Text

rayne ames relationship hcs (part ii)

— WARNING: creepy behavior from a guy but that’s it

— author’s note. i feel like the author’s note from when i posted this doesn’t apply anymore, but anyway, this is part two but isn’t actually because i lost the first part when i accidentally deleted my account… again im so sorry. ALSO!! the writing is a little different bc i’m cringing rereading my old stuff. (how did u guys let that slide)

— HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU TO @mikadzukis FOR SAVING MY OLD HCS I AM INDEBTED TO U!!!!

rayne ames loves dates with you. he loves them.

but he especially loves picnic dates

you introduced him to the idea on one of his days off

you promised it wasn’t going to be draining because you knew being a visionary is a taxing job

so he agreed

and he loved it

spread across the red and white checkered picnic blanket are plates of grapes, cheese, and sandwiches. two goblets of iced tea rest on top of a wooden board so they can remain balanced.

rayne’s large hands support his weight as he leans back onto the blanket. the half-blonde cranes his neck to stare up at the leaves. rays of sunlight peek through slivers of space between them. a butterfly flutters its wings above him.

“rayne!” you call for his attention.

your lover hums as a reply before directing his eyes toward you, offering his full attention.

“i made something for you.” you speak, grabbing for another basket on the blanket. you lift up the cover, reaching carefully inside it. you pull out a cake platter and set aside the lid that protected the dessert residing on it.

“it’s a cake!” you continue with a smile. “this is the first time you’ve been off in a while so i thought i could make a cake to celebrate! i even decorated it with some bunnies!”

a small grin grows on the visionary’s face. he pushes himself up. rayne takes the platter out of your hand and gently places it on a free board on the blanket. you’re caught in surprise as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. his head finds warmth in the crook of your neck.

“thank you.” he whispers.

rayne’s protective of you

he knows you’re capable of fighting your own battles, but there are certain situations where he just had to take care of it

if someone’s saying things about you or harassing you, he isn’t going to tolerate that

the entirety of easton knows not to mess with you, because messing with you means messing with rayne, and no one wants to put themselves through that

he’s already scary enough as is so all it takes is a couple of threats for the person to leave cowering in fear

you wait outside of the café as rayne uses the restroom. people of all ages each other as they navigate their ways theough marchétte street. one of them approaches you, but it’s not rayne.

“so what’s a fine thing like you doing alone here in the street.” a guy smirks, trailing his eyes up and down your body. you shift uncomfortably. he’s definitely a few years older than you and inches taller than rayne. a single line cuts through his right cheek, indicating his level of magic.

you swallow down an anxious gulp before speaking. “i’m with my boyfriend.”

“tell me gorgeous,” the man’s hand travels down the path of your jaw. you’re disgusted by his touch. “does your boyfriend like to share?”

“i really think you should go.” you respond firmly, shoving the grimy hand away from your face.

the guy chuckles, raising his hands in defense. “no need to get aggressive, sweetheart! i just want to know!”

“and who the hell are you?” a familiar deep voice says from behind you. you turn around to discover rayne, and your eyes light up at his appearance. you’re well acquainted with the detachment and chilling coldness of rayne’s gaze, but now, there’s a fire behind them.

rage.

he’s pissed.

recognition becomes evident in the man’s face, and it dawns on him that he just messed with a divine visionary’s lover, but before he can retreat, rayne steps in front of you. he yanks your harasser down to your level. you don’t know what the half-blonde says, but it’s clear that it sparks fear into the features of the other man. once rayne’s finishes with him, he apologizes profusely before running away in the opposite direction.

the anger behind rayne’s eyes fade; they soften when he finds your gaze. “are you okay.”

you grin. “yeah, now that you’re here.”

rayne lets you wear his robes

whenever you hang out in his dorm, your first instinct is to go through his closet and take them

when you first did it, he was going to protest

but you looked so cute i. them that he decided to let it slide

you especially like wearing them when you nap

though you wearing his robes does pose some problems for him from time to time

“you’re late,” orter points out from his seat at the table. his fingers slide the frame of his glasses up his nose. “and where’s your visionary robe?”

rayne strolls past the desert came, not bothering to answer for his actions. he didn’t want to admit—especially to orter of all people—the reason behind his missing robe.

this morning, just as he was almost ready to leave for the divine visionary meeting, rayne realized that he was missing his robe. the half-blonde searched ever crevice of his dorm but to no avail. rayne sighed, reaching the conclusion that you accidentally took it.

yesterday, he had to run a quick errand while you were napping. upon his return, rayne discovered that you had left. you scribbled a message on a notepad, explaining that you didn’t want to keep intruding. you were probably too tired to realize that you had his war robe in your possession.

rayne could waste any more time making a trip to your dorm. it was a bit of a distance from his. the best decision at the moment was to let you have it and attend the meeting without it.

that is how he ended up in this situation, late and stuck sitting next to ryoh.

“y/n has your robe, don’t they?” ryoh teases in a whisper. for some reason, ryoh had discovered rayne’s relationship with you. whenever the two visionaries crossed paths, his senior never fails to mention you.

the sword cane doesn’t respond. “that’s a yes, isn’t it?” ryoh continues with a shit-eating grin. he pokes the arm of the boy next to him

rayne inhales. gods, he was not going to hear the end of this.

whenever you and rayne are apart due to his job as divine visionary, you communicate through letters sent by owls

he talks about the places he’s at and shit talks the people he doesn’t like

you tell him about you classes and how things are back at the academy, especially things going on within the adler dorm

and you occasionally give him updates on finn because you know deep down rayne cares about him

an owl lands on the sill of the open window of rayne’s temporary room. the animal clamps down on an browned envelope placed in its beak. rayne approaches the bird, and it drops the letter into his hands before flying off.

the mattress of the bend sinks under rayne’s weight when he sits on it. he unfolds the piece of parchment in his hands unsealing the envelope. his eyes scan down the letter that reads:

dear rayne,

how’s your trip? i hope nothing’s gone bad. things back at easton have been the same as usual, but it’s not that fun without you here.

classes are boring, but that’s nothing new. i might rip my brain out. i’ve been baking to try and cope. by the way, when you get back, you have to try this cheese tart i made. i had your brother and a friend of his try them. they seemed to like it a lot. i don’t know the name of the kid yet, but he wants me to make cream puffs next time. he says they’re a lot better than cheese tarts so you’ll have to try those too.

speaking of finn, he’s doing extremely well. he’s making lots of friends which is really nice to see. he always seems nervous to talk to me though. am i intimidating or something. i don’t think i am. unless you’ve been saying some things about me then i think we’re gonna have a problem…

gods, i miss you so much. come back soon. i’ll be waiting for you always. take care of yourself and don’t stress too much. i love you.

- y/n

p.s. please get me a souvenir. thank you! i love you, again.

rayne stands up, finding a sheet of paper and a quill. he pulls out a chair by a table. a slight smile flashes on the visionary’s face as he writes back to you—his home.

#anime #manga #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle x reader #rayne ames #rayne ames x reader #rayne x reader #from kor ; ♆

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catcze · 7 months

Note

dad! wriothesley x mom! reader. mr rizzley as a father to his adorable lil twin boys. one day while reader was at work he decides to giev them a tour in the fortress of meropide and then reader finds out and scolds wriothesley:)) basically just a fic full of domestic and fluff🫶

AWWWGASHJD 🥺 That's literally so adorable ?!?! Damn, now I've got the visiomn of Wrio cradling one of his twin boys in each of his arms while they cling to his shoulders stuck in my brain aaAAAAAAAA

「 CWS : 」 Reader is called 'Mommy', etc. but no pronouns or mentions of readers biology are explicitly mentioned !! Also i didn't have the chance to mention the kids' looks, but in my mind im imagining your kids to look like mini Wriothesleys lmao

Wriothesley knows he's in for one of your long-winded lectures when you find out. He knows you're gonna chew his ear off, and that he'll sit through it and give you his whole attention like a good husband, but in the same way that he can't resist it when you ask him of something, he can't resist when his kids beg him for something either.

"Daddy, daddy!" Thomas yells right into his ear, making him wince. "What's that over there?" Thomas points one of his short arms at the entrance to the pankration ring's elevator, eyes glittering with curiosity. Sitting on his opposite arm, cradled to his chest just like his brother, Edward shares the same look.

"That? Oh—" He stutters for a second, wincing internally. He can just tell how much you're gonna tack on to your lecture later if you find out he brought your kids into the pankration ring. "That's... daddy's old workout place. Nothing cool to see there, bud. Haha. Hey, do you guys wanna see what Miss Sigewinne is up to—"

"Let's go there daddy!" Edward exclaims, trying to jump up where he sits, making Wriothesley quickly have to brace himself to not fall. "We wanna see where you practice beating up bad guys!"

"It's... Let's— Uh."

"Let's go daddy!" Thomas says, gripping his collar and tugging it as if to try to lead him there like a horse.

In unison, they chant: "Let's go let's go let's go!"

And Wriothesley can do nothing but sigh and let his kids tug him where they want him to go.

By the time he's getting back into the elevator to head back to the administrative area, he can say he's a little winded. Just a little, mind you. His kids, however, are bursting with life after they'd damn near forced him to show them every single nook and cranny of the fortress.

Oh he's in for such an earful later.

As Thomas and Edward continue to chatter to him about how cool the fortress is, how nice the people are and how awesome they think their daddy is (that last part makes him smile; makes him puff his chest out just a little bit more) Wriothesley nods along with each thing they say. Adds in a little bit where he needs to, corrects a couple details, but generally lets them prattle on about what they've seen.

"I wish mommy could've come with," Thomas says with a pout, and Edward nods. "I bet mommy has a lot of stories about this place, too."

"Haha—" Wriothesley laughs, but it's a little strained. "Y— ahem, yeah, mommy's been busy with work today, so how about we don't mention the tour today, hm? I'm pretty sure that mommy's gonna be super tired at home so we shouldn't—"

The elevator doors open then, and there you stand, eyes narrowed and arms crossed over your chest. Staring into his very soul.

"—make a lot of noise. Hi, sweetheart."

Your boys, however, all but jump for joy at your appearance, hopping out of their father's arms to run and cling to your legs. "Mommy! You're here!" They both cheer, grinning brightly. And for a moment, your cold rage at your husband is tempered as you crouch to their level, offering them a small smile.

"Hey, beetles," you coo, as they grab one hand each and clutch it tightly. "You two have fun running 'round the fortress with daddy the whole day? I bet you two saw lots of sights."

"We did!" they say excitedly, and in a blur of words and exclamations, they both try to tell you all about the things they've seen with their dad. You let them talk for a bit, smiling and nodding, before you gently interject.

"Sounds like you two had quite the day with daddy. Let's go back to his office— I have some snacks that Miss Sigewinne laid out for us."

They cheer once more like the little boys that they are, releasing your hands as they run back in the direction of Wriothesley's office, barely slowing their steps when you yell, 'Be careful!' behind them. Then you turn to the man himself the glare back on your face as he grins a little sheepishly at you.

"Before you start!" He says, holding a hand out placatingly, "I didn't plan to give them the whole tour. I was just gonna bring them to the cafeteria, then they got curious and... well... you know how they can get. "

You just sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. Because you do know how they get, and you know that Wriothesley can never say no if they ask nicely enough. It's one of his greatest weaknesses.

"Just— Please tell me you didn't bring them to any of the more dangerous places, please?"

And he has the audacity to snort. "Okay. I won't tell you then, sweetheart."

"Wrio!"

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #wriothesley #genshin impact

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seeingivy · 8 months

Text

donuts

megumi fushiguro x f!reader

content: IMPLIED MANGA SPOILERS, hormonal pregnant reader, dad!megs, gojo being a dad to megumi

an: dad gojo this, dad gojo that. WHAT ABOUT DAD MEGUMI. anyways im sick and I am 90% sure I have covid but alas I spit this out before I study. it's like a reward.

recently, megumi has been letting things happen.

and by recently, he means two years ago, when his little star boy was born. or even at large, five years ago, when he met you, his sun. an fellow sorcerer who he easily fell for, like it was something inevitable. something necessary, involuntary even - like it was the air he breathed or his heart beating.

and since then he’s been letting things happen. he’s been letting gojo come around - so that he can spend time with ash. so that ash can have a grandfather, not that megumi would ever say that out loud.

he lets nobara and yuuji spoil him rotten, lets maki teach him self-defense (which is just swatting at this point), and yuuta explain the rules of chess to him for hours even though ash barely has coordinated motor functions.

he lets things happen. especially when ash asks him, the pouty face that he’s entirely gotten from you pressed on his face. like today, when he feels a little fist tugging on the end of his shirt.

“yes, ash?”

“i want donuts.”

megumi squints, like he’s questioning him. every bit his son, ash has fully inherited the full breadth of megumi’s dna - dark hair, green eyes. but every one of his expressions, those are all all you.

“ash.”

“yes?”

“do you want donuts or does mommy want donuts?”

ash stands there for a few seconds, deep in thought, before answering.

“sticky wants donuts!”

megumi sighs, picking him up and dragging him out of the room with him, to find the culprit of this entire plot - you. that deliberation means that ash was trying to remember what it was you had told him. and truly, only you would use his unborn daughter against him.

he finds you splayed on the couch, a heating pad pressed into the small of your back, as you talk, directed down to your stomach to tsumiki. or sticky, as ash calls her since he can’t pronounce all the syllables just yet.

“megs?”

“yeah?”

“i thought of a name for her.”

megumi leans against the counter, half turned away from you, where he watches gojo and ash snuggled up on the couch, ash excitedly explaining the plot of his current favorite movie to gojo. gojo’s all too absorbed, though he does get offended every time ash says that elsa is cooler than him. and even more offended that when gojo calls elsa pretty, ash says that elsa would never like him.

“well. ash is our little star boy. his name is perfect for him. and you’re my blessing so megumi is perfect for you. but our little girl-”

you reach forward for his hand, placing it on top of your teeny tiny bump, which just started protruding, as you squeeze his hand.

“she’s precious. she’s our only girl and, and she’s so gentle already. ash was a little heathen, always kicking and excited in there. but she’s so soft, i already know she’s special. she should have a name that reflects that.”

megumi reaches up, cupping the side of your face, where tears are now sprouting out of your eyes. one of megumi’s favorite things about you being pregnant, besides the disgusting concoctions you eat because of your cravings, is this. your out of whack hormones that have your lip jutting out, that little whiny, cute pout he fell in love with on your face at all times.

“what’s the name, sweetheart?”

“tsumiki.” you whispers.

you look up at his green eyes, wide and filled with an emotion that you can’t quite discern. and you can feel the immediate panic at the reaction and try to backtrack as fast as you can. surely, he’s simmering with rage under there.

why would you name your daughter after his dead sister?

“megs. i-i just thought it would be nice because i never got to meet her and i know she was special to you. i’m not saying she’s replacing her, but i just-”

megumi puts his hand on your mouth, his finger brushing across your soft lips, as he pushes you into his embrace, hugging so hard he’s sure even the baby, tsumiki, must be feeling it. he holds you there for a while, not saying much, as his hands rub into the small of your back.

and you wait for it, because you know megumi like the back of your hand. touch first, words second. and right on cue, minutes later, you hear it, the soft whisper on your skin that makes your cheeks burn.

“my tsumiki would have really loved you, you know that?”

you look up from the conversation you were having with tsumiki - telling her that she always has to side with you and ash instead of megumi - to find him standing there, glaring at you.

“hello, love of my life.” you say, tapping the spot on the couch next to you.

megumi takes the seat, trying to hide the smile on his face, as he gives you a suspicious look. he places a kiss to your temple before placing his hand over your bump, something he does every time he walks into the room. it’s his way of saying hello to her.

“sweetheart.”

“yes, megs?”

“ash is telling me that sticky wants donuts.”

“stickyyy does want donuts. and ash does too.” you respond, giving him your best smile.

“you know, if you want something from me, you don’t have to use my son and my unborn child against me to get it.”

“how dare you bring tsumiki into this. she wants donuts, that’s why i’m craving them. take it up with her.”

ash crawls into the space between you two, resting his head in your lap and his legs in megumi’s as he reaches forward to tickle his sides, eliciting a screaming laugh from ash who is begging him to stop. you smack megumi’s hands off, running your hands through ash’s dark black locks as he calms down and looking at megumi. you pinch ash’s side a little, giving him a non-discrete wink.

“daddy. I really want donuts.”

“oh im sure you do ash. i’ll go get them” megumi responds, swinging his legs off and standing up.

“can i come?” ash asks, excitedly wrapping his hands around his knees.

“buddy. it’s nap time. you have to sleep.”

ash juts his lower lip out, mustering the frowniest face he can, as his little green eyes look up into megumi’s. and of course, he immediately gives in, because he can never say no to his little star boy.

“fine. get your shoes.”

ash turns excitedly to you, giving you a grinning smile.

“did i do good, mama?”

“perfect, star boy. just like i taught you.”

ash excitedly runs off as megumi gives you a soul crushing glare, which you pointedly ignore. the two of them shuffle out of the apartment, the smile spreading across your face as you watch megumi swing ash onto his back to close the door.

an hour later, megumi walks into his apartment to find you, yuuji, nobara, and gojo on his couch. the three of you are crouched over the table and he can see that your face is all pink, surely from crying.

ash runs into the apartment, taking turns giving everyone a big hug, before climbing into gojo’s lap, and reaching up to play with gojo’s hair. megumi sets the box of donuts down and takes the seat next to you, wiping the wetness away on your cheek.

“hi y/n.” he whispers.

“h-hi megs.” you whisper back, interlocking your hands with his to squish.

he smiles as he reaches for the box of donuts, equipping you with the maple bar he knows you’ve been craving, as he watches you nearly inhale it in five seconds.

“god. you’re like a vacuum.” nobara says, a horrified look on her face.

“s-not me. miki.” you respond, now pounding through your donut.

“are you really blaming it on your unborn daughter?” nobara asks.

“she blames everything on her. yesterday, she made me come all the way out here just to hand her the remote because it was too far away. claimed that the baby really wanted to see me at that second.” megumi deadpans, earning laughs from the group of them.

“she did.” you respond, defensively.

megumi leans his arm against the back of where you’re sitting, twisting one of your locks of hair in his fingers. he looks over at the table to find an array of colorful ribbons on the table, which he’s sure is the culprit of your crying since the baby section at target always works you up.

“what’s that?” he asks.

“nobara and yuuji gifted us a ribbon set for the baby. we can use it when tsumiki’s hair gets long, do little ponytails in her hair and put cute little ribbons in them.” you respond.

megumi can feel his throat constricting at the thought of it, the wave of emotions that have been resurfacing lately reaching his cheeks. he gives gojo a look and you a kiss on the cheek, before he stands up and heads to the kitchen, focused on brewing a cup of coffee for himself.

you frown as you watch him walk away, nobara and yuuji halfheartedly asking him if he’s okay as he waves them off. you turn to gojo, giving him an inquisitive look, as gojo places ash in between nobara and yuuji.

“is he okay?” you whisper.

“let me talk to him first.” he responds, giving you a reassuring smile. you watch gojo run off behind him, the two of them leaning against the counter as they talk in hushed voices.

“it’s the ribbons isn’t it?” gojo asks, watching ash play rock paper scissors with an overly enthusiastic yuuji from afar.

megumi doesn’t respond, instead focusing on stirring the spoon through the coffee he freshly brewed.

of course, it’s the ribbons.

after gojo took tsumiki and megumi in, megumi made it a point to not ask gojo for much. a facet of his childhood stubbornness, of course. though gojo was more than willing to throw his money in any direction, megumi was in no part receptive to that. except in april, when tsumiki’s birthday came around.

after watching her stare at ribbons in windows as they passed, complimenting strangers on the train on how pretty ribbons looked in ponytails, megumi made it a point that when he could, he would buy them for her. god forbid, she would never get them for herself.

so he asked gojo, awkwardly knocked on his door well after bedtime and shyly asked. and of course, gojo never disappoints, buying every color, array, fabric of ribbons for tsumiki to wear in her hair to school now. and he watched her do it a hundred times - the satisfied smile she gave herself in the mirror every time it fell perfectly before walking away.

and the thought of watching his daughter, being the one putting the ribbons in her hair and getting that little smile on her face, is too much for megumi at the current moment.

“don’t ask dumb questions, gojo.” he responds.

he turns around to face the same way as gojo now, watching the four of you have the most intense rock paper scissors battle he’s seen yet. granted, you’re all letting ash win but trying to predict his moves gets more difficult as time goes on.

“did y/n tell you what we’re naming her?” megumi asks.

“no.”

“tsumiki.” he responds, not missing the soft smile on gojo’s face.

gojo smiles, squeezing megumi’s shoulder. one of the nice things about megumi becoming a father is that he finally understands gojo’s frustrations. of what it feels like to see your kids in pain and not being able to do anything about it.

“not my idea, by the way. all y/n.”

gojo focuses in on you, on how you look over and give megumi a big smile which he returns, before focusing back on ash.

“i guess these things always have a way of working themselves out, megumi.”

“what do you mean?”

gojo inhales, twisting his sunglasses in his fingers before placing them in his pocket.

“tsumiki always had a way of reading your mind. every time you and i would argue, she was always the one who soothed you down and not me. i-i was never really good at that. and you lost her but you got y/n. and she does it for you now. ash does too. i-it just worked out megs, that’s all.”

and megumi looks over - at his sun, his star boy, and soon to be the most precious thing he’s ever had. and he knows that gojo is right. That he’s been letting things happen lately, because that insurmountable heaviness that’s been on his chest for years has finally been lifted. that it’s there, but he can breathe through it now.

not that he would ever tell gojo. he'll just enjoy a donut with his coffee instead.

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