WENCLAIR + TEXT POSTS

Jealousy/possessiveness hcs for Scara in each era

Pairing: Scaramouche x Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, hickeys, suggestive

Kabukimono gives you lots of freedom. He's far too innocent to imagine others having indecent thoughts about you. He likes having your attention on him, don't get me wrong, but he won't actively try to get it. When he gets it, he's happy and he'll show you and tell you just how you make him feel at the moment. Likes to hold your hand because it makes him warm inside, not to show you off. Depending on how many betrayals he's been through, he'll get more insecure and dependent on you. His touches linger longer, his hugs get tighter, there's a questioning glint in his eyes - will you betray him too? You just have to keep distracting him from such thoughts and trust me, with your mere presence you're already doing something.

Fatui harbinger Scaramouche is the worst. He's quick to anger and thinks the worst when he sees you talking to anyone that isn't him, especially when they're male. In no time he's next to you, pulling you to him harshly and glaring at the one who had your attention. He will force himself into the conversation and this way he takes control of it and can end it easily any minute. If someone touches you and he sees it, he isn't above showing everyone you're his by kissing you, tongue and all. By the time he's finished with you, the unfortunate soul is usually gone and if not, a few biting insults from him do the trick. Loves to mark you on visible places and encourages you to not cover it. He's once thrown a fit when he saw you covering them with a scarf so unless you want to deal with grumpy annoyed Scara, just do what he wants.

Wanderer likes to remind everyone you're his every now and then. He has his moments when he get insecure and needs to give you at least a little mark but overall it's a big progress in comparison to his Fatui harbinger days. Reassurance goes a long way for him, as now your words will replay in his head whenever he feels unreasonably possessive over you. He's more mature now although if he's having a bad day, he can get unreasonably jealous. If that happens, please remind him of your love for him, show him with your actions that you won't leave him and he'll give you a night you won't forget anytime soon.

the end, the end, the end. / hayakawa aki x gn!reader, spoilers, angst, hurt no comfort, mild sexual content, minors dni. word count: 3.1k

Aki spent his entire trip to Hokkaido thinking about you. When his thoughts begin to wander like this, he isn't given much of a choice; you occupy every space in his mind. Each stream of consciousness always seems to lead right back where he left it — You. 

Hokkaido is cold, empty, and manages to suck the life out of everything it touches. The sky is a certain shade of melancholy blue and twilight. It's the kind of atmosphere that causes him to slip into his usual routine of drowning in old, tired memories and his own reflections. His heart and his brain don't spare him much pity these days. 

Frost creeps at the edges of the windows. A veil of snow falls incessantly and swirls with the wind, obscuring any semblance of a view, leaving him only able to see what lingers in the back of his mind: graves made of polished stone, loaded guns, failed attempts to quit smoking, forgetting how to say a prayer because it's been too long. Getting cold feet, and trying to live an honest life, even though you know it's far too late for that. 

The expedition to kill the Gun Devil is coming soon, creeping closer, and Aki's got one arm, half a heart, and way, way too many regrets. This is the moment he worked so hard to get to, this is the big crescendo his entire life has been building towards, and now look at what's become of him. All he can do is reach up, brush his fingers over the stub where his arm used to be and wonder how the hell things got this far, this bad. Did the world do this to him, or did he do this to himself? 

So weak, so soft-hearted — He can't fight like this. He'll end up making more contracts with devils just to stand a chance. Sacrificing more of himself, even though there isn't much left of him to give. 

He's not prepared; honestly, when was he ever prepared? From the moment he became a devil hunter, putting himself on this path, he always imagined he was settling for an unreachable goal. But now, he's come face to face with the end, with everything he thought he wanted and… God, he just can't do this. 

Life is so damn fragile. Aki has been walking this thin line between life and death, living on the borrowed time he takes for granted. With all of his shitty decisions and past mistakes, he should be lucky he got this far. But if he goes through with this, when he goes on this mission, he's really going to die, isn't he? 

There's a letter sitting on his coffee table back home. One he meant to send before he left, but never did. A letter he mulled over again and again and again, read hundreds of times, rewritten even more so. 

Handwritten in pen with shaky letters, sentences constantly interrupted by scribbles over mistakes. The paper is see-through where tears have fallen and bloomed out over the page, stained with the dark ashes flicked from one too many cigarettes. It's sealed with a stamp, tucked neatly into an envelope. Addressed to you. 

Hey.  I'm leaving. I won't be coming back. Don't try to look for me.  I'm sorry for everything. You don't have to forgive me.  Take care of yourself.  I love you. Goodbye. 

I love you. Those words are particularly messy. Nearly unreadable, but still tangibly there. Aki isn't sure if they simply aren't true or if he just wants them to not be true. 

Did Aki ever love you? No, he wrote those words out of mere obligation, that's all. Because I love you is what you say to someone when you're speaking to them for the last time, when you're never going to see them again, and you want to leave them with something good. 

Because I love you is what you tell someone after you've spent nights lip-locked, kissing each other 'til sunrise (No, he was drunk, you were drunk, it doesn't count). I love you is what you whisper to someone when you're about to drift off, holding them in your arms close to yourself, like they'll disappear once you let go (He was exhausted, he didn't mean to say it, the words just slipped out — It doesn't matter, you were asleep, anyway).

Aki felt his heart twist into unknown shapes when he wrote those words. Crushed, chewed up, spat out, his teeth stained red with blood. I love you consumes him from the inside out, all the way down to the core. The thought of it alone is enough to hurt, to make his chest ache. 

Aki didn't love you, but he could have. Aki didn't truly love you, because he has only one arm to hold you, half a heart to love you, and dwindling time to spend beside you. Aki didn't love you because he thought it'd be easier not to, but now he thinks he might have only made things harder. 

How do you stop loving someone when you never said you did? Everything was supposed to be fake, you were supposed to be momentary. Now, you're forever imprinted into his timeline. Your soul is felt in his veins, in his lungs as he breathes, deep in between the structure of his ribs. 

Aki finds himself wishing that one day, you'd wake up and realize you hate him. You'll despise his existence and look at him like you want to destroy him. It's alright, who can blame you? This is how things are supposed to be. Go on and say it. 

You'd do what he's been terrified to: you'd tell him to leave, beg him to go far away from here and forget about you. In the end, it will be what's best, so you never have to see him again. So you don't have to live with the weight that he's going to die and it won't be peaceful. Instead, it will be worthless, hollow. 

Maybe then, maybe if you hated him, all of this would be so much easier. If you stopped staring at him like he's irreplaceable, like he is everything to you. If you didn't cry on his shoulder and hold him tightly when he comes home from a mission half-dead. 

If you never lived and blossomed in what remains of him, flowers to fill his throat, soft petals in his dying heart — Perhaps then, he'd find it easier to run from you. 

How do you manage to swallow down the things you never said, when you know that if you do, they'll go unspoken forever? Those words — I love you — will die pitifully alongside you, buried beneath the soil with your body. It doesn't matter; he never had the right to say them in the first place. The memories of lingering touches and quiet moments will be the only traces. 

Aki could have loved you, and that's the problem. That's the worst part of it all. Aki could have loved you, and you could have been his, but he could have never been yours. 

Aki is a hopeless tragedy. He is crimson blood that never stops spilling, deep purple bruises that never fully heal. And he belongs to no-one but this horrible system, to hunting devils until his body is spent and they've taken every last thing from him. The one thing he refuses to let them have is you. 

He promised to himself this: to keep you as far away from devil hunting as possible, by any means necessary. Even if he has to lose you in the process. You can't experience the same horrors as him, you won't. At least then, if he loses you this way, he will have finally lost someone of his own accord. At least he finally has a choice. 

You can't save him. No-one can, not even himself. Not even whatever God he decides to send his prayers to, in hopes there's someone out there to take pity on him. It's far too late to try and pick up the pieces. Aki belongs to this life for as long as it'll allow, until it decides to swallow him whole. Until hell decides it's ready to take him. 

You can't keep him forever, but you can have him on fleeting nights, during brief moments of solace. He comes home from work exhausted and weary, but willing to give you what's left of him. You chain smoke cigarettes on the balcony together, late into the night. Standing shoulder to shoulder, although it never feels close enough. Aki smokes each one down to ash, the nicotine soothing the ache, finally shutting up his brain. 

When you met, you were just two people looking for a vice, trying to find something, someone who's anything like those cigarettes. You wanted someone who would make you forget about the emptiness, Aki wanted someone who would make him feel whole. 

He kisses your lips 'til he can't breathe, so that his tongue no longer aches with the weight of all those words left unsaid. He makes love to you until sunlight is creeping through the blinds, everything hazy, tender, impossibly close, so he can feel something besides nothing at all. 

He savors these moments, drowns in every press of your warm hands on his cold skin. Your fingertips trail down his back, along his spine. Between his shoulder blades, then over his chest, tracing every scar he's ever tried to hide, and his body shivers at the touch. His hands tremble when he holds you; they weren't made for this. His breath comes in ragged gasps. Aki shouldn't do this — His touch is utter decay, enough to stain you with his existence — and he knows it, but he can't stop. 

The addiction courses through his veins, settling in the cavity of his chest every time he looks at you. His head is fuzzy, with fluffy cotton clouding his thoughts. He feels it bleed over whenever he gazes down at you under him, skin soft like silk, limbs sprawled out like a fallen angel. A sin worth sacrificing everything for. 

It's selfish. It isn't like him to do this, to act in this way. How could this happen, what has he done? His story was never supposed to go like this. It's hopeless, and he has left you doomed to suffer. But even so, he adores you, as much as a man who's going to die in a few years, months, weeks, possibly can. 

Over and over again, he falls for you, stumbling into the same temptation. A moth drawn to a flame, and when he catches alight, it burns, but it's beautiful. As he turns to ash, with his last breath, he will whisper to the world, It was worth it. 

He can't help himself, because the way his name falls from your lips sounds more divine than the way anyone else has ever said it. Aki seems to have the most meaning when you're the one to utter the syllables. Hayakawa doesn't sound like just another horrible, heavy weight he has to bear when it's spoken from your mouth. His very existence is more precious to you than it is to the world. 

Aki didn't love you, and you weren't together, but you were something, weren't you? Your circumstance wasn't just a hookup or a mere distraction anymore. You meant something. You meant more to him than his own stupid life ever did. Something, whatever that might mean to this fucked up situation, but something. 

When he loops back to the beginning, Aki knows there's a thousand excuses as to why he never sent that damn letter. He was scared, he thought it sounded stupid, he couldn't figure out what he'd say when he handed it to you. And most of all, he wasn't ready to say goodbye. He'll be ready eventually, he told himself. There will come a day when he's strong enough to let you go. Turns out, Aki is a whole lot weaker than he thought he was. 

So he delayed it, delayed it, delayed it. Pushed it back further and further. Once again, selfish. Just one more night with you, then he'll send it. Give him one more day, one more rising sun. One more kiss, one more chance to hold you close. Then, then, he'll be ready. 

Every postponement is just another letter he has to crumple and re-write. Aki has to find a sense of closure somewhere. If he slips the letter in your mailbox, runs as far as his legs will take him, will he be able to stop himself from turning back? If he knocks on your door, places the tear-stained envelope in your open hands, and presses his lips to yours one last time, will he even be able to pull away? 

When he gets back from this trip, he'll see you again, and he knows it's going to hurt. In another universe, things didn't unfold like this. He was going to leave you, he was going to disappear. Now, it's nothing but knowledge he has to live with. You'll cup his face in your hands and wipe the tears from his eyelashes. You will never know. 

There's only a matter of time before Aki is called for his last mission. Then, he's going to be forced to say goodbye, and it doesn't matter if he's ready or not. He doesn't want to die. Of course he doesn't want to die, he's utterly terrified. What will it be like, what's going to happen to him? Will his life be snuffed out, like his cigarette pressed into the ashtray, or will it linger like a curse, his ghost to haunt you? 

Hopefully not. Aki always longed for a death that was quick and painless, one that he wouldn't know was coming. The kind of ending everyone longs for, he supposes. For a brief moment, he wonders: would a death beside you feel better, or worse? Wishful thinking. As if he'd ever have a choice in the matter. As if, in this pathetic life he's led, he'd ever be lucky enough to die that way. 

Aki can't choose how he departs. He'll never be able to, but whether or not he leaves you of his own choice, like he intended, is up to him. 

So, he'll write the letter. He's going to let himself have one more night with you, and then, that will be enough. You'll wake up to an empty bed, to him gone, and an envelope on your nightstand. He'll have his last chance to say everything he wants to say. 

I'm leaving on the expedition to defeat the Gun Devil. I am certain I won't be coming back. This is goodbye, for me and you.  I'm grateful I got to meet you. I don't deserve you, I don't think I ever deserved you. I wish there's some reality out there where I did.  Remember to throw out all of my belongings. Move away from this place, if you have to. The money from my will should be enough to live on. I want there to be nothing left to remind you of me.  Smoke one last cig, for my sake. Then quit. Wash the sheets until they no longer smell like me. Don't read the newspaper the morning after. I don't want you to see my name in the obituaries. Forget about me, in every way you can, in every sense of the word. For your own good.  I love you. I've always loved you.  Hey, I know it's going to hurt. I'm sorry. But take care of yourself, for me. Please.  In the life after this one, I'll come and find you, okay? 

Hokkaido is cold, so cold. Aki has come to deeply know the way the cold numbs everything, from the knuckles of your bony fingers down to the end of your toes. The way winter envelops you, the way it takes you. But it doesn't numb what you feel inside: the aching love-sickness, nor the burning home-sickness. His body is freezing, a chill twists up his spine, but his heart won't settle, his brain won't quit. 

Thankfully, he is nearly done here. He'll head home tomorrow morning. You'll be waiting for him at the station, when he gets off his train. You'll hug him, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, his arm around your back, and he'll wish you'd never let go. There's both pain and comfort to be found in that. 

Aki will forget about everything for a moment all too short. Then, he'll leave behind the letter. He'll fight the Gun Devil, he'll get blown to bits. And when his flesh and blood is smeared across the sand, he knows the last thing he'll be thinking about is if you're okay. 

Are you watching the news right now? I hope you aren't. Are you safe? Don't worry, by the time you return to the beach, the waves will have washed away the last of me. 

Aki can imagine, if you were watching, you'd end up running to him. Always running after him, while he's trying to run away from you. You'd hold his body, lace his weak fingers with your own. His grip is cold and loose. Through his eyes slowly growing dim, you'll see your own reflection, and even though it hurts, Aki will smile at you. Your arms are a bed of roses, perfect to die in. Blood welling at his tongue, he'll kiss you, for one last time. You'll taste it on his lips. 

He should get some sleep. Without you, it won't be a proper sense of rest. But his thoughts will stay silent, at least, for a little while. 

I will love you, even in ruin. You'll live, you'll heal, you'll do the things we always wanted to do but never could, and then, for once, I'll be happy.  The memories of me, the way my voice sounds, the way my touch feels — They'll all fade, slowly, eventually.  If I had more time, I would have spent it all beside you. Your hand in mine, until I'm nothing but bone. 

Aki shuts the curtains and crawls into his make-shift bed. The sheets feel chilly. Shadows dance on the wall, his eyes burn, his breath is sharp. Sleep comes in restless intervals, accompanied by scattered dreams. Some are more like nightmares, but some are dreams of something better, something warmer. A reverie made of dripping honey and soft snow, of a clear sky filled with stars and a heart cleansed from all its regrets. Dreams of where this loop always leads back to — Dreams of you. 

THANK U FOR THIS MATEPIECE 🐜🦟🦟🕺✨🕺🫶💪🫶

Like a Moth to the Flame

Series: Avatar: The Last Airbender Pairing: Zuko x Reader Genre/Content: Not Safe For Worms - Stress relief sex, fuckbuddies, temperature play/inappropriate use of firebending, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, no pronouns really but Reader-chan has AFAB equipment Word count: 4610

Summary: You are with the Gaang at Zuko’s family’s abandoned vacation home on Ember Island. Sozin’s Comet is due to return in three days’ time. The entire squad is stressed, especially Zuko. You approach him that evening in an attempt to help him alleviate some of his tension. 

A/N: So uh, I’ve been in kind of a slump as of late, and the pandemic shit didn’t help, even though it granted me all this free time. Thank you ATLA for rekindling my old flame for Zuzu though uwu it’s a 15 year long crush, and hooo boy I’m glad I did this. I’ll be interested to see what y’all think ;;; I hope you enjoy. Read on my AO3, or continue reading below.

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— 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋.

ending #1 to heart to heart and a branch from do you love me?

SUMMARY. holding on hurts, letting go hurts. regrets just seem to trail after you like a shadow but ultimately, you have made your decision — this is it. (right?) (3.2k+ words)

CHARACTERS. zhongli, ganyu (briefly), guizhong (implied/mentioned).

GENRE. angst, bittersweet breakup, lovers to exes (but it’s so obvi you still love each other).

CW. one use of a pet name, a breakup scene, repeated apologies, reader experiences a headache. + read the alt text on zhongli’s header for an extra summary!

THOUGHTS. this was long overdue, but thanks to those who waited! this was such a ride… 3,000+ words just to write a breakup scene?? indeed, that might be a sign to buckle up (maybe).

✰ main masterlist. // series masterlist.

Cold, so cold.

The night breeze was already nipping at your skin moments before but as you mustered the courage to hesitantly face your lover, it felt as if the goosebumps on your arms had all turned into thorns that began to prick at you slowly.

But you just couldn’t bring yourself to meet ZHONGLI’s gaze, not yet.

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rating record of ragnarok characters /10, because i can.

DISCLAIMER: i’m only rating the characters based off what the manga & anime has portrayed. i’ve done little to no research on these people themselves, which is why i don’t condone anything immoral that they’ve done. this was written before the release of chapter 73+

a/n: i think i wanna do this for every anime + genshin & val. PLS WATCH IT & LMK IF YOU GUYS LIKE IT. also i dont care abt grammatical and/or punctual errors, this is a shit post

MANGA SPOILER WARNING!!

THOR: first of all, he’s so fucking hot. his smile caught me so off guard tho, i kinda just stood there watching the screen, baffled. not much character to him, he’s just hot. 7/10

LU BU: i’m chinese, i literally feel so happy when i see chinese characters. biased, but definitely a plus. he, just like thor, has little to no character. first character i called hot, is hot, but there are hotter characters. (what, i am not talking abt hermes wdym?) 7/10

HERMES: 10/10. no explanation. my man right there. i literally scream & cream every time i see him. why is he so fine. not a single panel or clip where he looks bad. pls eat me out, sir i beg. i will serve you. ONE CHANCE. JUST ONE?? i’m in love with him. who needs real men or women when hermes.

GOLL: she is SO ANNOYING. her eng & jp voice are both annoying asl. she’s that one character, that exists in mostly every anime, used to explain background info & battle info on other characters. brunhilde is too nice on her. she reminds me of when i first saw yachi (haikyuu) on screen. yachi, too, was annoying. but i grew to love her🫶. 1/10

BRUNHILDE: SHES SO HOT. ATE. SHE ALDNAHDISKZ. yeah, what else is there to say? 8/10

APHRODITE: she truly lives up to her version in the greek mythology. hottest woman/goddess alive. ate. her boobs, i want to squish them & bury my face in them. WHEN IS IT MY TURN TO HOLD THEM? 8/10

ZEUS: idgaf what anyone says, he’s not hot. not even his younger self. he looks like mirio (mha) turned netero (hxh). love his character tho. the eyes scared me at first. he’s hilarious. 5/10

ADAM: my friend, the one who recommended snv to me, told me he’d be more my type. he was, minus the fact that’s he literally butt fucking naked. nice ass cheeks tho. def pretty boy, his wife is hot too. i want her more😋. his line abt fighting for his children made me cry. should’ve won. i say, let hermes be uncleless & fatherless. 7/10

POSEIDON: he was fs the blueprint for adam. anywho, yk hes fine. SOOO FINE. meowing for him. he doesn’t beat hermes tho. nobody beats hermes. well, look wise at least. it was rlly hard choosing who to root for in this fight. that’s a lie, i was always on humanity’s side. sad he died:( 9/10. -1 for being a little, arrogant, narcissistic, egotistical bitch. 8/10

SASAKI KOJIRO: see, zeus coulda been hot like him at that old age. man aged like fine wine. character was a W. hot, determined, good character, funny. what else can you want from a man? 8/10

HERACLES: disappointed. so disappointed. he looked better in the disney ver. this fight was so boring for me. you’re telling me i’m supposed to watch the fight instead of ogling at hot characters? no. character was okay. 6/10

JACK THE RIPPER: massive L. not supporting a murderer. next. 0/10

SHIVA: hot from the beginning. 4 arms? do what you want to me, sir. 3 WIVES? tengen (kny), is that you bro?😭 anywho, he’s cocky, def my type irl LMAO. i wouldn’t let that slide tho.. his wives are hot too😋 8/10

RAIDEN TAMEEMON: i paid very little attention to this fight. don’t remember his backstory too well (i read this fight not even 24 hours ago btw). not that good looking, not ugly either. i liked his character, upset he took 3 of shiva’s arms. why 3? why not 2? he got 1 arm left. 4/10

BUDDHA: THATS MY GOD RIGHT THERE. ate. i’m not religious, and neither are my family, but they are buddhist, so by default, i am too. i personally think buddhism is the best religion, but we’re not gonna get into that. i have very valid reasons btw. love his personality, love his looks. massive W. ofc he fights for humanity. he’s a walking W. 9/10

ZEROFUKU: precious. definition of deserved better. what made me sad, is how he was written during the fight. he’s consistently hitting, with little to no strategy. his backstory is sad, but his battle exp was written poorly. also the random ass monster possessing took me tf out. 7/10

HADES: fine ass mf. he’s so different from how he’s usually portrayed, both look & personality wise. the first W netflix has pulled. he’s hot and responsible? persephone, we can share him babes. also, the relationship between him & poseidon made me SOB. like actually. hurt so bad i made an angst edit. 9/10

QIN SHI HUANG: first off, i don’t do research on my own ethnicity’s history. i didn’t even know who tf lu bu was. my family knew tho. with that aside, PROUD TO BE CHINESE❗️ he’s so fine. SO FINE. the way his character was written, was wonderful. i loved the fight between him & hades. the tension & the lengths they went to try & win. 9/10

BEELZEBUB: his backstory was so tragic. what i didn’t like, was how they rushed his & lilith’s story. like, they kinda randomly said i love you to each other. i’d love to see their adventures tgt. lilith, leave that emo thing, and come be w me. he’s fine too. i rlly like how they introduced him. 8/10

NIKOLA TESLA: i don’t have much of an opinion on him. very chatty, which i don’t actually mind. i guess we’ll have to wait for more chapters to release before i form an opinion on him. 5/10

ODIN: the hair bro. THE HAIR. i keep forgetting he exists, but i’m not his biggest fan. not bad, but i prefer his sons. i do like the theory of him being a traitor. he looks the part. 5/10

LOKI: honestly, i liked him a lot in the beginning, but now, it’s like he’s kinda on the side. cute & hot. thor is the better brother tho. speaking of, how tf are they even brothers? moving on, i like his personality. i like his shocked, mixed w angry, facial expressions more. 7/10

ARES: the hair again. very stylish, i do like it, but it took me out. walking around looking like a school girl. i don’t like how he tries to be a know-it-all w hermes, when he literally relies on him for info. but that’s my man for you. his expressions are SO WELL. 6/10

ADAMAS: i was awfully confused, at first, when there were 3 older brothers to zeus. usually, it’s just hades, poseidon & zeus. not his biggest fan, his character was rushed. 4/10

BONUSES

JESUS: i was very happy to see jesus. i’m not sure why, i just was. why is he the only character, THAT LOOKS LIKE THEMSELVES? 9/10

LU BU SIMP AGENCY: 10/10. i don’t need to say anymore. W cheng gong. love that man.

FORSETI: what a loser. he was so annoying. 2/10

EVE: mother? mommy? whatever. MEOW. 9/10

SASAKI SIMP AGENCY: love them as well. 10/10. walking Ws all around.

i don’t think i’m missing anyone, am i?

this is just ugh 😩❤️✨🤌🤌🤌

— 「 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐒 | 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐘 𝐌𝐄 」

feat : lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeous, beelzebub + belphegor.

warnings : f. reader, breeding, cockwarming, kind of possessive but not toxic, accidental confessions, sex with feelings, fwb to lovers, pussy job in levi’s.

note : this is like my favourite trope of all time so they got a little longer than i’d normally do i’m sorry :,)

୪ LUCIFER

— the idea was something he’d never really thought about, he was a busy person, but the feelings he’d developed since the beginning of your arrangement were new to him, especially to be feeling them towards a human. he just grew to enjoy your company, not realising that his attachment was growing with it as he gradually became a little more lovesick.

“h-how do you feel so good, every time?” lucifer breathes, a trembling undercurrent to his voice when he draws his hips back, his hands massaging your waist almost soothingly as he feels your tight walls stretch around him. it’s just as slow when he sinks back into you, rolling his hips forward into yours and you watch his lips part, a breathy whine falling from them as he blinks down at you. “f-fuck.” the eldest brother hisses, feeling your pussy flex around his sensitive cock once more and you mumble something affirming back—something that has a gruff curse falling from the dark-haired demon’s lips when he begins a steady pace. your hands grab his shoulders to keep yourself steady, but you pull him closer in the process, watching him lean down to hover just over you—his hair messy and unkempt as it hangs over his face, framing the blush on his cheeks perfectly. you whimper at how good he fills you, your eyes closing in bliss and for a moment you feel his hips stutter when he sucks in a breath, you look pretty, lucifer thinks to himself. his hips jolt forward, watching the way your face contorts in pleasure, needy moans of his name falling from your lips and his head dips towards you, placing a gentle kiss against your cheek and his cock twitches when you look up at him again. “f-feels good, lucifer.” and he rocks his body into yours again, because his name has never sounded better.

୪ MAMMON

— mammon felt a lot, he thought he could do it, just agreed because he wanted to be closer to you and being able to have any sort of relationship with you was good enough for him. it was just sex, but when your pussy felt like it was made just for him he couldn’t help the feelings that came along with it, the ones he thought he could ignore—the ones that followed the late nights and the impromptu visits that became more frequent when he started missing you, he needed you, and he was terrible at hiding it.

“goddamn, t-that’s it, baby—look at me, ya feel s-so good.” mammon groans from above you, holding his bottom lip between his teeth as he sinks his cock into your doughy cunt with another heavy thrust. his hands are grabbing tightly at your hips, keeping you in position as he begins an almost brutal pace, his brows creasing from the overwhelming pleasure. your body feels like it was made for him and the chemistry between you both itself was undeniable, his brothers constantly commenting on the tension between you both as they joked about how smitten with you the second eldest was as he stumbled over excuses. “i wanna be the only one who gets to see ya l-like this, so pretty. i’ll make ya f-feel better than anyone else ever could—shit” mammon grunts, pulling back only to pull you in for a feverish kiss, eagerly, without care while lewd whispers of how tight and perfect you are leave his lips as your cunt continues to squeeze him, feeling him grin against your lips before he wraps you in his strong hold. the silver haired demon exhales shakily, “you make me feel so g-good, mammon.” you sigh and your praise cuts him deep as his pace quickens, feeling you grip the back of his neck to help him hitch your hips impossibly closer to his and he trembles over you. he’s so lost in you—his mind feels foggy, focusing on the needy push and pull of your body and he murmurs your name, grits his teeth, can barely keep his eyes open but he cant look away, not from you when he feels his orgasm suddenly wash over his body just as your walls twitch around him. “f-fuck, baby—shit, i-i love ya, ya know that right? hnghhh—how d’ya expect me t-to resist ya.” a confession slipping from mammon’s lips in a sudden moment of tenderness has his eyes widening in horror as he fucks his load into your cunt, but when he feels you grab him tighter in response—he knows you’ll be okay.

୪ LEVIATHAN

— you’d caught him off guard with the question, ofcourse he’d catch feelings for you, they were there already. he just wanted to be closer to you, and now he felt like he was the main protagonist in some romance manga and now he understood why they couldn’t just confess to their crush, because what if it meant he never got to hear how much better his name sounds from your lips again.

“are you okay, levi?” you whisper and keen, peering at him from where your forehead is against his while levi’s thighs quiver below you at the languid back and forth sway of your hips in his lap. “hnghh—huh, i-it’s nothing! it’s nothing, d-don’t stop, please—“ you’re intoxicating, the feeling of your body against his, your pussy feels like silk as you roll your puffy folds along his cock, his swollen cockhead catching under the hood of your clit as you both twitch and sigh. he looks at you, flushed from his cheeks to his chest, and his mind is so full with conflicting emotions—all while he’s mindlessly helping you rock back and forth along the length of him, feeling you press slow, soft kisses along his cheeks and his lips part to allow another whimper to slip through with a lewd swirl of your hips. “p-please, don’t stop—“ levi grunts, gripping your hips tightly as you continue to grind yourself against him and he feels like he can barely think, he loves how it feels to push against you, he could spend every day like this, watching you thrust and glide your pussy across the length of his cock—he’s in heaven, so much so, he doesn’t realise his hand has moved to intertwine with yours until you give his a reassuring squeeze when he swallows—a little awkwardly at first, the blush across his cheeks darkening before he gathers you even closer, grunting with each greedy swirl of your clit across the intense, sensitive nerves of his cock. “i—i really l-like you—uh, w-when you do that! yeah, when you do that.”

୪ SATAN

— you’d just never really addressed what you both were—you visited his room, fucked him and normally left but it all changed when you fell asleep in his lap one day as his hands traced featherlight touches down your figure, and when he realised he’d been smiling to himself as you slept—he knew he was in trouble.

“s-satan!” you mumble, arching your back to press your chest closer to his, your cunt flexing around his pretty cock when you feel him push deeper, pulling a pleasured hiss from the man beneath you as his jaw clenches, watching him sink back into his chair—the book he was reading long forgotten in favour of his fingers sinking into your hips instead. “it feel good? nghhh—you truly are something else.” satan grunts, his voice low and smooth and the tone has your back curling, something intimate in the way his hips are rolling against yours—your body so ready for the pleasure that you know only he can give you. “feels s-so good.” you babble back and your mind is too cloudy to notice the almost proud smile on the blonde brothers face before he groans, his hands smoothing along the shape of your hips—appreciating every part of you. “let me l-look at you.” he hums, thrusting into you again, his pace a little rougher this time as the sound of skin slapping picks up and he pulls you against his chest more, his fingers curling along your jaw before he curses roughly, fucking into you with practiced thrusts that have you keening. you’re vaguely aware of what’s going on, satan’s cock is smoothing along all of your sweet spots but you don’t expect to feel his lips press against yours softly, a contrast to how ruthlessly he’s fucking into you—this is gentle, feeling his fingers smooth along the side of your cheek before he pulls away just as quickly, mumbling a few praises under his breath and he looks at you, a rush of warmth in his veins due to the fluttering pull of your pussy and the ghost of a grin on his lips “s-so beautiful.”

୪ ASMODEOUS

— the fact he couldn’t do it surprised even him, he was the avatar of lust after all but there was just something about you. something that had him craving you beneath him, to shower you in the praises that fell from his lips and rolled down the curves of your body until he was the only thing on your mind, he craved you.

“oh—you’re so cute. does that feel good?” asmo hums, he really likes the way you look below him, watching you whimper and keen as he feels the saccharine rub of his skin against yours, he feels delirious at your touch—lost in an intense haze of messy kisses and moans as he fucks into you, his hands wandering and squeezing before his palm rests against your cheek. every grind on his hips against yours is teasing, drawing his hips back before he’s rolling them back into yours just as slowly, the head of his pretty cock pushing on something just a little too deep inside of you that’s warm and pleasantly achy and you twitch around him, pulling a dreamy whine from the man above you as he taps his fingers on your cheek, urging you to meet his narrowed, lustful gaze as his lips curl into a smile. “look at you, so needy, you’re even more adorable like this—you feel so good.” asmo always knew your body so well, he was so hypnotised by you, like every move you made below him was enchanting as his free hand trails it’s way between you both, slowly rolling your clit under the pad of his fingers and you cast him a starry eyed glance before he kisses you, and it feels like he’s been shot with a cupids arrow when he emphasises it with another slow roll of his hips, his voice becoming more breathless as he admires you, drunk on sizzling pleasure as your pussy flexes around him again. “i’ll take care of you, just keep your eyes on me, okay? i’m all yours after all.”

୪ BEELZEBUB

— he didn’t really understand the whole agreement. he was just excited he was finally going to be able to fuck you, it felt good and he got to stay to eat with you after so he was happy. you’d became important to him, so he just assumed that you both were dating—always ending up a little confused when you denied any questions from his brother, because isn’t this what couples do? 

“fuck—feels s-so good. you look delicious.” beel grunts from his place facing you, pinning you to the wall with his chest as he fucks into your cunt—your mind foggy from how tightly you’re stretched around his fat cock and his eyes focus on the way you suck him back in, your walls rewarding the delicious stretch by twitching around the blunt head. he groans, the vibrations of his tone rumbling in his chest and you feel tears in your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure, meeting beel’s gaze only to catch him already looking at you with parted lips and pink cheeks. “you’re so cute, hmph—feel like another p-part of me is full when you’re here.“ he exhales shakily, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours while his fingernails dig into your hips to pull you closer, and he grits his teeth as he dumbly pistons his cock into your cunt, his hips driving into yours ruthlessly. he’s fucked out, his violet gaze is hazy and his red hair is wet with sweat as it hangs messy over his forehead, but it frames his face in a way that has you arching against him. beel’s heavy body is so close, pushing you even harder against the wall, fucking every coherent thought out of your mind that isn’t him or his cock and you feel his fat head kiss every part of your insides when his pace grows messy, his hips bucking almost wildly into you and he growls, audible moans of your name falling from his lips mixed with needy grumbles. “g-gonna cum, does it feel good? fuck, nggghh—will you s-stay after this time? don’t wanna s-stop—need more.”

୪ BELPHEGOR

— it wasn’t something you had expected to happen honestly, it just kind of happened naturally in the time you both spent together, napping turning into more than that whenever he came over. only realising when he had to feel his heart race every time he heard a familiar knock on his bedroom door, hoping you don’t see the ghost of a smile on his lips when he reaches to open it knowing you’re on the other side.

you tremble from your place underneath belphe, your body still coming down from your orgasm as the youngest of the brothers groans against your neck, a string of barely audible curses falling from his lips as his cock thickens and throbs inside of you. you shudder when you feel him sink his cock back into your twitching walls, his hips grinding against yours as lewd squelching noises fill the room, a mixture of both your orgasms dripping from the place between you both, soaking the sheets beneath you. “ughhh—feels g-good, so tight.” belphe breathes, a trembling undercurrent to his voice and your mind is too hazy to acknowledge the soft kiss he places on your skin as he finally comes down from his high, plopping his weight on you before rolling onto his side, his cock beginning to soften inside of you. you try to catch your breath, shuffling to blink up at the male but your eyes widen when his arms move quickly to pull you against his chest instead—it feels more intimate this time, and maybe it’s the post orgasm haze that has you nuzzling into him. “belphe? you awake?” you ask, your voice a quiet whisper followed by a huff when you’re met with only silence in response and belphe’s soft breathing, assuming he must’ve fell asleep. but he’s awake—with a softer sort of smile on his lips while the exhaustion in your body has you falling asleep against him quickly, not realising this was belphe’s plan b when he got too nervous to ask you to stay.

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 2

pairings: Capitano, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort; hybrids, unwelcomed courting, kind of female objectification (all in Tighnari's part)

word count: 6.9k+ words

a/n: part 1 can be read here!

Capitano

Fast elegant fingers of a pianist run across the keys of black and white and the violins in the hands of other musicians are there to serve together with the chorus of beautiful voices, selected by Lady Columbina personally. The music infiltrates the souls of the nobles present, filling them with the sense of grandeur and glory, touching even their harsh unfeeling hearts.

The atmosphere of the gathering is gratifying, would’ve even been endearing if not for the stately figures of the Harbingers standing on both sides of the throne, where the Tsaritsa would've been seated had she not decided to refrain from attending it altogether. She has more important matters to take care of, and nine of her most loyal servants can definitely fill in her place on that yearly event.

Sure, this year it is more important since the two Harbingers are missing and the seats stay vacant - it's been the talk of the nation. Who is going to be nominated? Can it be influenced? Will they claim the names today?

Is the mysterious Commander, whose arrival became the topic of multiple speculations, be the one? A fierce warrior many heard of, but almost none saw face to face. The man was believed to be as powerful as the 11th Harbinger or maybe even the 10th! Having an army and an establishment of his own on the farthest line of the Snezhnayan border, he still is under the command of Lord Capitano, which makes it even harder to fish any more information than what is already known to the public.

"I only heard about him. He and his troops are protecting our borders from the monster's invasion in the North."

"Ew, who would've wanted to live in the North! It's much harsher than all the Snezhnaya."

"Shush, the Commander is wealthy and respectful, you can bear some cold."

"What do you imply?"

"The Commander is unmarried, there is no way he isn't, not with a life like this. But it can always be changed, and the woman he takes as wife would be one of the luckiest ones!"

"You are right… Maybe he is actually handsome. Maybe he'd be even willing to buy a whole mansion for his promised one and not take her with him to that awful place. Maybe…"

Maybe, maybe, maybe. It travels through the crowds like a storm in its wake, eventually reaching the Harbingers, who, for the first time after appearing and greeting the already arrived, stop resembling the statues. Eyes shift among the people and each other; some gazes hold interest, some - annoyance. Only Pantalone has an ever present smile on his face, fingers clasped in front of him and sapphire rings sparkle in the ballroom light.

"Looks like Capitano's estimated soldier caught everyone's attention. My, my, how curious and nosy the people can be…"

"I understand the curiosity though," admits Childe, arms crossed to prevent laying even a finger on his blade, that is resting on his hip. "This person sounds like an interesting specimen… I've heard of his talents in both strategy and tactics, and it seems like his strength is a legend. I'd love to spar with him."

"Oh you, thinking only about fights, young man," Pulcinella disapprovingly shakes his head and raises his cane to point in the gingerhead's direction. "I highly doubt our guest will have time to spare, considering the period of time concerning the stay that was mentioned in the letter we received."

"And I believe the majority of that time would be spent with Il Capitano, isn't it right?" Columbina's soft voice must be drowning in the music, but everyone hears her loud and clear.

"..." The Harbinger stays silent and nothing can be read from his body language since he is the only one remaining still in his place, his huge looming figure resembling one of the full-set armor nobles like putting in their halls as a part of interior. Except this one isn't empty.

"So much potential to become my test subject, to be perfected... Yet lost to the lands of Northern regions," Dottore huffs in disappointment, his sharp teeth peaking when he clicks his tongue. "Say, Pierro, can't things be rearranged? I'd happily have our dear border protector as my underling."

The silence between the nine suddenly becomes thick. There is something indescribably tense in the air and only Childe can't understand why some of his colleagues seem to be more interested in how the Captain would react and not the 1st of the Harbingers..

"You know why this can't be rearranged, Dottore," the stare of an icy blue eye would pin everyone to the ground, destroying their will and order to obey, though doing little to scare the Doctor. "And it was favored by the Tsaritsa herself."

The finality of the short statement makes the scientist back down from the proposition he's been bringing up every time the topic touches the Commander, yet ending up the same way as always - with an ultimate rejection.

Three heavy thuds make everyone in the room fall silent. Many heads turn to look at the ceremonial staff hitting the floor the last time and staying still in the hand of a tall, thoroughly dressed man.

"The protector of the Northern border, the glorified and esteemed warrior of Her Majesty Tsaritsa, The Commander has arrived," the master's of ceremonies voice carries like a thunderclap, cutting off the quite leisurely music the orchestra was playing for the dances and entertainment.

The rustle of note sheets is fleeting and not a moment later the musicians straighten in their seats, taking a deep breath. Trumpets boom in a spacious room and make nobles shiver in surprise, some especially susceptible women even lean on their partners for support. The choir and the violins join the triumphant song the brass instruments sing, signaling that the time has come.

Everyone holds their breath as the tall heavy doors leading to the ballroom are being pulled open. Everyone has their gaze glued to a slowly growing gap. Everyone keeps their eyes wide open, afraid that even one blink can cost them missing the legendary sight.

Everyone gasps.

The tall figure enters, posture straight and shoulders squared, confidence evident in every step. Black satin clothes are adorned with golden chains and intricate patterns. The white military coat stayed resting on the shoulders - showing off the position, the closeness to the Harbingers. And then there is the face - a scar crossing the left brow, calm bored eyes, not sparing anyone a glance, which do not fit the other female features of your face.

Yes, the Commander happens to be a woman.

Stopping by the steps leading to the throne, you bow - not kneel, bow, - holding your open palm by the heart and respectfully closing your eyes. Music stops.

“Greetings, my lords. Let Tsaritsa bless you and your mission.”

“Let Tsaritsa bless you and your service to her,” Pierro says, raising his hand. “Lift your head,” which you do, looking him right in the eyes, yet still holding your hand by the chest. “There is time for duties and there is time for entertainment. And tonight, given your rare visits to the capital, I suggest you enjoy the latter.”

“Much obliged, Lord Pierro.”

And with a wave of the older man’s hand, the orchestra starts a new composition, waking up the ones who were in a daze, reminding others they are here for drama.

And the first one to take action is the 11th Harbinger.

“Commander, Sir- I mean, Lady?” The gingerhead is the closest to you out of all his colleagues, having only to descend a few steps to be on your level. “I’ve heard a lot about you, many admirable things. How do you look at sparring?”

“Right in the middle of a ballroom? Quite positively, young man,” your lips twist in a half-smirk, baring a sharp pearly canine. “But I believe the nobles have already had enough shock to take and rumors to create. Maybe another time. Haven’t seen you before though. Are you new?”

“Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, Lady Commander.”

“Ma’am would be enough,” you click your tongue, glancing behind and noticing how slowly, but surely some of the aristocrats are inching towards you, clearly interested in conversation, Well, you are not. “On second thought, starting a duel right now and here doesn’t sound like a bad idea…”

“I’ve always known you are quite insane,” Arlechino butts her way in the conversation, giving you only a small nod as a greeting. You simply glance at her.

“For years I’ve been hearing of my insanity, think of something new,”

“How about, ‘the one who knows no limits’?” Pantalone’s smile is as dazzling as it’s fake and sometimes your hands are itching to strangle the man. Maybe even go all the way out and bite his head off. Literally.

“The only ones who know no limits are the wind and the stupidity. I’m neither. Who I am though,” your gaze travels higher, to the steps closest to the Tsaritsa’s throne, to there Pierro and the first three Harbingers are standing, “is a wife. And I’d like to have a dance with my husband.”

Not many heard your words, but the ones who did, gasp loudly, staring at you with wide eyes. Which get even wider when Il Capitano, a seemingly motionless statue before, turns in his place and, without a pause, steadily descends to you. Now, as you are standing so closely it becomes evident how obviously your outfits match. The chains, the patterns, even the precious stones - everything. Perhaps it is terrifyingly cute. Perhaps it's cutely terrifying.

“Husband,” your smile again, offering him your hand, which he immediately envelopes in his big clawed one.

“Wife,” is the first word the big figure rumbles for the evening, the void of its helmet staring at you. And that’s all you speak to each other, hearing the beginning of another melody and turning to join the dancing pairs.

“...What was that?” Childe voices what’s been plaguing the minds of the attendees. “First the Commander appears to be a woman, and now she is married to the Lord Il Capitano?” He glances at Pulcinella, who joins his side and decides to watch the pair that caused a commotion have their fun. “Do they not use their names?”

“They find no sense in them,” the Rooster answers just the last question. “And,” he lowers his voice and the ginger has to bend down to hear the next words, “I didn’t tell you that, but the Captain really loves calling her his wife. So be quite cautious while seeking a fight with her. You might end up impaled. By either of them.”

Kaveh

With a soft smile you watch a group of children merrily leaving their classroom, interrupting each other in attempts to tell everyone how exciting the lesson was. They do not forget to grin and wave at you, passing by, and you return the sentiment, contently observing their happy faces and sparkly eyes.

Every time this happens, a strange sense of fulfillment overtakes you - supporting and sponsoring Kaveh was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. The greatest architect of nowadays is offering his guidance to the young generation, teaching them everything about beauty and practicality, helping them to develop their own creative vision, and at the same time boosting the confidence of kids of all ages. And you couldn’t be prouder of him.

Him, who meticulously prepares for every single lesson. Him, who is oh-so-gentle with his words and precise in his speech. Him, who teaches both Sumeru citizens and people coming from abroad. Him, who is as passionate about it, as he is about his designing job, telling you every single detail of how the lessons went on your way home or over the dinner. Him, who is happy and who makes you happy too with that fact alone.

When the last kid leaves, marking the ending of the final class for today, you glance at the clock. Now Mister Meticulousness will need half an hour to tidy up the classroom and put all the tools away. Tomorrow is free from classes at his (he always corrects your as in the both of you) school, so you can collect your stuff as well - after all, being the manager of this establishment and Kaveh specifically requires your presence. You can be strict and unyielding whenever he can’t and this partnership proves to be successful every day.

Just as you are writing down some financial staff, there is a soft knock on the doorframe. Immediately lifting your eyes you hum, observing a very good-looking woman and a boy, shyly holding onto her hand.

“Hello, how can I help you?” With a quill laid on top of your accounting book, you stand and round the table, offering the two to step closer.

“Ah, hello, miss…” eyes with long, pretty lashes flit to the name tag attached to your clothes, “...Y/n. This is master Kaveh’s artistic school, am I correct?”

“Yes, you are. Are you here to sign your boy up for a class?” You offer her son a sweet smile and he answers you with a small lift of his lips.

“Mhm. You see, he is a big fan of master Kaveh and his works - can study the pictures of his designs taken by Kamera day and night.”

At that, the boy lowers his gaze and blushes a little, digging a hole in the ground with the tip of his shoe.

“Oh, really?” A gasp that escapes your chest is one of excitement. “That’s marvelous! I am sure your hopefully soon-to-be-teacher will be very interested in hearing your opinion of his works, young connoisseur,” he giggles, lifting his eyes at you again, and there you see undisguised delight. “Oh, but my bad, I didn’t ask your names…”

The woman’s lips bare two rows of perfectly white teeth as she smiles at you, introducing herself and her son.

“We are from Fontaine actually. But my parents wanted to spend some indefinite period of time in Sumeru for their health and we decided to join them. So while we are here, I thought I’d make my son’s dream come true.”

“That’s so nice of you,” you can’t help but admire her a little for that. “I can tell you first a little about our school, you’ll ask all the questions you need to, and then I’ll show you around. Kaveh should be done with cleaning by then, so there’s a big chance you’ll even talk to him personally.”

“Really!?” That’s the first time throughout your entire interaction when the boy opens his mouth and actually makes a sound. “Master Kaveh is here right now?”

“He is. But can’t promise a long conversation - there are still blueprints waiting for him back at home.

“Ah, right… He is the great architect after all,” the woman hums, staring to the side as if in thought. “Between the commissions he takes and this school he must be making good money. Not to mention so handsome…”

Oh… What a familiar tone, what a familiar look in those eyes. Suddenly that ounce of respect you felt for her disappears.

“Money is irrelevant to him as long as he reaches his goal,” is your restrained response. 

“Ah, of course! Handsome, sweet, kind, good with kids and is not a snob. Sweety, you ought to charm him for me!” She pinches her son’s cheek. “Imagine Master Kaveh as your daddy!”

Oh Archons, again?

There is absolutely no doubt that the light of Kshahrewar is not only well-known and popular among kids, but is thirsted after by women. In a half of a year your school has been existing, there were numerous times when moms of little students made comments alike or some single females trying to schedule private sessions with the architect. What a sagacious decision it was to make group studying only, it saves you some drama, once the legal document is shown. Though there are exceptionally persistent examples…

But this time you pity the kid a little, because he genuinely seems to admire Kaveh. And his next words make you internally cheer for the little guy.

“Master Kaveh as my dad? But mom, I have a dad already,” the boy pouts, rubbing at the pinched cheek. You notice a red mark and two little crescent moons that her nails left on a tender skin. “I love him and don’t need another one.”

“Sweety, you just don’t understand how great it would be to have such a dad! Just trust my word-”

“Ahem, Madame, I kindly ask you to deal with your family affairs once you are out of here. As for the school - I am open for discussion.”

The displeased way she glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed, but you do not show it anyhow, calmly staring back at her, while your hand reaches up to your chest. As if finally remembering her initial reason for coming here with her son, the woman sighs and puts a palm on the boy’s shoulder.

“Of course, miss- I’m sorry I forgot your name…” And her eyes flit to the name tag again.

Momentarily the woman squints from the light reflecting on the metal, and when she blinks the bright spots away, there is a beautiful golden ring on your hand. The hand that is holding the flipped tiny plate with just two words engraved in it.

"Kaveh's wife"

With widened eyes she stares back at your sweetly polite smile. Not saying a word as if letting the notion sink in, you walk to the wall. Grabbing the backs of two chairs you drag them to your table so they could sit, and take your rightful place in front of them. 

“If you are here for something aside from or instead of signing your son up for classes, I believe my name should be irrelevant to you. My status though,” you knock a nail twice on the badge, “must. So… what are you here for, Madame?”

The boy climbs onto his chair right away, while his mother tarries a little, still shocked by the revealed fact and your suddenly changed demeanor. She needs a couple more seconds to compose herself, but eventually she too sits down.

Despite what happened earlier, your conversation proves to be fruitful and fifteen minutes later you are showing around the school, sharing some additional information and answering every single of the kid’s questions. 

When in the last room you find your husband, closing Mehrak and looking ready to leave, the boy lets out a gasp. The sound attracts the man’s attention, and he turns to the three of you with a soft smile.

“Oh, hello there, little guy!” The blond waves at him, breaking the blissful stupor of a child that immediately turns red and hides behind his mother. Surprised, Kaveh looks at you for explanation but, instead, takes notice of your name’s replacement. Oh wow, this again. What was the last time you did that? Two weeks ago?

“Ah, Master Kaveh!” The woman charmingly smiles, batting her lashes at him, which would’ve made you cringe had it never happened before. “You see, my son-”

“Pardon me, Madame, give me a moment,” the male softly interrupts her and reaches for a similar metal plate on his chest with his own name to flip it. It’s almost comical how sour the temptress’s face got in a second.

And there is what for. Now two words are proudly matching yours, engraved in an equally beautiful cursive to remind the world who the two of you become once stripped of your names.

Just his ”Y/n’s husband” to your “Kaveh’s wife”.

And like that one more kid takes part in your lovely school and one suitor less is after one of its founders.

Tighnari

With each passing day of your team’s research in the desert you found it harder and harder to control yourself. Some days you were even on the verge of clawing and biting, tail and ears twitching in annoyance and pupils turning into wild slits, making your hybrid nature more obvious.

Was it because of the research? No, it couldn’t be farther - your colleagues have been making so much progress, heeding your advice and following your lead. Was it the location perhaps? A little, but you learnt how to deal with heat and dryness. Was the process taking too much time? On the contrary, you are on your way home already, having finished the job 4 days earlier than you estimated in the beginning.

Then what on earth could possibly trigger you like this?

Well…

“Hey, forest foxy, want me to catch the Consecrated Flying Serpent for you?”

Ah yes, him.

Never again will you trust the higher ups at the Akademiya to sponsor your team with the bodyguards. Out of every possible candidate, your Herbad-titled colleague concluded that hiring five descendants of Valuka Shuna would be a marvelous idea. 

“They are the desert kind - they’ll be good guides.” “Look how much stronger they are, they’ll definitely protect all of you.” “They are of the same kind as you, Y/n. Don’t you think it’ll be easier for you, as the leader, to have someone akin with you?”

No, it absolutely would not!

Desert fennec hybrids are different from the forest ones - and it’s not even the case of your green and their sandy brown fur or their more brutal physique against your more delicate one. It’s their character and world perception. You’ll never call them barbarians, but they really developed more of the animal nature than your kind did.

And from day one it was a pain in the butt. 

One of your five new bodyguards was clearly the leader - he was bigger and broodier, with more scars littering his body, and his whole stance was screaming of a higher position. When you were introduced for the first time, something lit up in his grayish eyes, which were looking you over appreciatively. You ignored that, more focused on the discussion of the upcoming expedition and making sure the five were aware of what was required of them.

Luckily they were, and, admittedly, they did fulfill their task meticulously, proving to be great help. If only one of them wasn’t so diligent.

You lost count of how many times the leader tried to get into your personal space and you had to move away. Of the numerous invitations to hunt together. Of the endless displays of his strength and abilities. Of the many conversations you didn’t even try to eavesdrop on (they talked pretty loudly) around the topic of when will your shell be cracked and you’d accept the male’s courting attempts.

The answer was obvious, but he just never got it. Even when you called him for a serious conversation on the turning-into-an-issue matter.

“With all respect I must ask you to stop with whatever you’ve been doing to woo me. I have a husband.”

You still remember how he blinked at you dumbly, clear lack of understanding written on the sun-kissed face.

“...and?”

“The heck do you mean ‘and’?”

“Well, you don’t have a mate?”

It was your turn to stare at him speechless, ear twitching and tail curling closer to your legs. It was getting worse than just ridiculous.

“If we are speaking in such terms, then my husband is my mate. So, please-”

You nearly gasped when the male immediately leant closely, violating your personal space and practically stuffing his nose against your neck. Shocked by such lack of shame, you lost the ability to talk or move for a moment, gaping at him sniffing around and humming upon the discovery.

“You don’t wear anyone’s smell on you.”

You were not proud of yourself at that moment, but you absolutely lost it. Sharpened claws dug into his chest and with an angry snarl you pushed him back.

“Get away from me!”

You must’ve been a sight - canines bared and fingers twitching, ready to attack; fur standing on both your ears and tail, signaling your distress and eyes slitted in pure rage while directed at the man in front of you. The worst part? The idiot seemed to like it even more.

“What me and my partner do must be of no concern to you. I told you ‘no’ and I mean it.”

But bold of you was to assume he’d stop. Oh no, it’s gotten worse. Now he was actively calling you a ‘forest foxy’, absolutely abandoning your name and even trying to scent you. It was suffocating - the desert aridity was lighter in comparison to the male hybrid’s pheromones. 

Never in all your academic practice have you wanted to return home so badly.

Fortunately, your colleagues quickly caught on to what was going on and always helped you to escape the unwanted interactions. Plus they were equally as mad as you were, because his individual scent irritated their human noses - and that was the main reason why you and Tighnari, both spending a lot of time around other people, did not practice it. Partly, you are sure, this whole situation was the reason for your earlier return - and you were grateful for their understanding.

However, your stubborn suitor did not dream of giving up. Killed desert animals were still offered to you, stories of his legendary battles with monsters were told for the hundredth time (even though no one was interested in listening at that point) and attempts to lure you with the musky smell once again made. Archons, and the green-furred fennec girls from your teens used to dream of that.

Maybe Lesser Lord Kusanali would be merciful and you’ll meet your husband somewhere on your way?

“Herbad Y/n!”

…wow, that was quick. Not Tighnari, but incredibly welcome too.

“Collei!” For the first time in days there is a reason for your soft smile. Which the young girl mirrors, waving at you from not so far away. You notice a couple more of the Forest Rangers at her side, and that sight alone makes you finally exhale in relief. You are so close to being home.

“Master is here too! Want me to get him?”

Oh, Dendro Archon, thank you.

“I’d really appreciate it, dear!” With a quick nod the green-haired apprentice disappears in the bushes, and you turn back to the scholars of your group. It’s time to abuse your power a little. “We are almost at the Devadaha Pool. Since all of you live in Sumeru City I hope you’ll excuse me for staying behind. As for you five,” your gaze moves to the bodyguards and it’s so hard not to rejoice - soon they’ll be just a memory, “I ask you to accompany the rest of my team to the Akademiya. Then you can consider your job done and be free. Keep the payment for the last three days that didn’t happen - think of it as a bonus for a good job.”

All but one eagerly nod and bid you farewell with wishes of getting home safely. And frankly speaking? You couldn’t care less for that one when you spot familiar and oh so dear big pointy ears with an intricate golden earring adorning one of them.

“Tighnari!” You didn’t want to sound so desperate, you really didn’t. But when those forest-like lovely eyes look in your direction, it becomes clear to you - the yearning has gotten unbearable.

“Y/n…” His smile is dazzling and the way his body immediately pushes to walk to you almost makes the memories of the last weeks’ events go away.

The key word - almost.

Someone grabs your elbow when you want to meet him halfway. Oh right, you already forgot about him.

“Let me go, you, imbecile!” And again you have to snarl and be rude, ripping your arm out of the strong hold and quickly darting into your husband’s embrace. The natural smell of the leaves, the flowers, the sweet and bitter concoctions he makes in his home laboratory, comfort you and your whole body goes nearly limp in his hold. It’s been weeks and you are tired of fighting with the brick wall - this time you want your lover to handle it for you.

“Y/n, my lotus, are you alright?” Gentle fingers comb through your hair and scratch at the base of your ears - a whole ass adult, that you are, wants to tear up. But you can only shake your head a no. “Has this man been bothering you?” This time it’s a yes. “I got you, dear.”

“So,” the browny green eyes sharpen upon staring at the cause of your current state, when it starts speaking, “you are that ‘husband’ the foxy has been talking about? I thought you’d be stronger. Or at least taller. Now I see that I was right and you really can’t be her mate.”

“Oh but I am. Not that we have to prove anything to a stranger. Y/n,” he carefully pries your face from his shoulder, caressing your cheek with a beanie pad, “let’s go home. You must be so-so tired.”

“I am, ‘nari. I am exhaus-”

“There’s no smell of you on her and vice versa,” the desert descendent of the Valuka Shuna seems to not be planning to stop. “Her neck is not marked. You let her wander by herself for weeks? And you keep calling her by the name. Her name should've stopped mattering once she became your mate!”

The hand around your waist tenses and you can feel the claws threatening to tear through the gloves he always wears. You don’t need to look at the face of your lover to know how pissed he is. And if Tighnari decides to attack him and tear his tongue out? You will not stop him.

“I am going to say it once and only once. She is not just a mate, she is my wife, by the Sumeru law and by the blessing of the Dendro Archon. And this fact must matter to you more than the case of her name. So fuck off and leave my wife alone. And if you don’t get it in a civil way - this woman is taken. And this territory is mine.”

With that, the Forest Watcher effortlessly lifts you in his arms and, holding you as if a precious bride, turns around to leave. You haven’t looked back once.

“You can’t imagine how much I missed being called your wife,” you quietly confess, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Especially after he didn’t listen when I said that I am.”

Tighnari hums sympathetically, leaning close to rub his nose against yours.

“Will it be okay then if today I address you as my wife only? When we join the other rangers, I mean.” 

”...if you think I will be embarrassed - make it a whole week.”

With a soft chuckle your husband plants a kiss on your lips, sealing the deal and promising you tranquil days at last.

“As you wish, wife.”

Zhongli

"...and so Rex Lapis takes the form of a dragon, a majestic creature he was born as - the one of whom the fair maiden would never be scared of. Lady Guizhong's robes flutter in the tender wind traveling among the mountain peaks and caressing the earthly scales of the God's enormous body. His eyes, shiny as gold, gaze at her with an unfamiliar softness as she holds a gentle flower - a delicate gift from her lover, the one that proves that under all that armor is a stone heart capable of love. Heart that is beating for her."

To loud applause the Iron Tongue Tian bows his head, drawing the legend of the gods in love to its end. You cannot bring yourself to clap even politely, both hands on your lap, hidden under the table, twitching when a man beside you lets his gloved palms meet each other a couple of times.

It’s the second time you had to sit and endure the baloney from the very beginning to the very end, not to count all those times you overheard it in passing. From the moment you settled in the Liyue Harbor together with your husband, to live the rest of your incredibly long lives together among the humans, you've been painfully aware of their interpretation of Rex Lapis and his relationship with other immortal beings. Before that you rarely accompanied him during the walks, busy with helping Yakshas and other adepti protect the said humans to grant them a peaceful life - as immortal guardians grew fewer, every single one counted.

Never have you ever imagined that knowing so little of the citizens’ folklore would backfire so hard. It seems that people got somewhat bored listening to the stories of Liyue and Rex Lapis, no matter how many interpretations existed. Literature became more diverse in genres and romantic novels were on top of the list, so street narrators started losing their audience little by little. Before it could grow into something more drastic the new side of history was presented to the public - stories about love among immortals appeared and its freshness and uniqueness caught people’s attention immediately.

In their searches for new material, speakers dug through hundreds of volumes. The main interest was the Lord of Geo, of course. If you have a story of a presumably stone-hearted creature ever having fallen in love with someone - that’s pure gold! But who could you present as a love interest of the Archon? It must be someone very close to him and, obviously, no one is more well-known for that than the deceased Archon of Dust.

You sigh, reaching for your cup and declining Madam Ping’s offer to pour you some more tea - for an unclear reason the fellow adeptus joined you two tonight. You have thousands of years of life behind your existence, a soul hardened by constant battles, and mannerism as polished as a jade statue, yet for a moment you feel concerned that the woman would notice a pang of hurt in the smallest of your features.

Zhongli definitely noticed the first time. It was meant to be a date night - simple, but sweet, with the evening lights, delightful aroma of the finest tea and the tales pouring from skilled tongues reflecting the atmosphere of what your nation really is. However, the luck of the land of trades wasn’t on your side, as someone requested the “Guili legend” as they called it. At first you were confused. Then in disbelief, almost turning to look at your mate, with whom you were bonded long before he became allies with the ash-haired woman. In the end you felt something you thought was beyond you - bitterness.

When you left the restaurant, slowly walking back to your house, Zhongli’s fingers gently touched your elbow, asking for your attention.

“Does it bother you that much, my love?”

Bother you? Well… It does feel insulting when someone speaks of your husband having been in love with someone else, but mortals can’t possibly know the truth for many reasons.

“I can’t say it doesn’t,” you admitted calmly, stopping and turning fully to him. He did the same, gazing at you with a hint of worry in those golden eyes you loved so much. The ones, you knew, always looked only at you. “But it can’t be helped, right? There was a reason and mutual agreement why you, as Rex Lapis, made our union unknown to your people, and now, since you are “dead”? There is no one to tell our story. Don’t worry though,” you put a hand on top of his and smiled, when his other one was laid on top of yours in a gesture of comfort. “I can deal with it. I know you love going to the storyteller’s performances. I’ll just try to ignore what they say about you and Lady Guizhong.”

Sometimes Zhongli thinks he does not deserve you. Ever so patient and understanding, you always had your husband's best interest at heart. Marriage, however, in its basis is a form of a contract, and a good contract is all about both sides being equal in everything. And if you must know one thing about Rex Lapis - he never makes bad contracts.

When the audience calms down, the man decides to make his presence and intentions clear by raising a hand. From the corner of his eye he notices you slightly turning your head to glance at him, and he catches a glimpse of puzzlement in your gaze. He can't help but think how adorable you are, even if you deny it again and again, claiming that nothing can be adorable about a several millennia-old warrior. Maybe not, but his wife definitely is, and he thinks with a primordial pride igniting in his chest, that mating with you was the best decision his past self had ever made.

Reaching under the table he rests his free hand on top of yours, gently squeezing it in reassurance, offering you the warmth of himself, seeping through his glove. Just as your shoulders relax to his delight, the raised hand adorned with rings is finally noticed.

"Ah, Mr Zhongli! Such an honor to see a regular, especially someone as wise as yourself!" Iron Tongue Tian beams with a wide smile, closing his fan and focusing his full attention on the history connoisseur. "I doubt you have questions, given your vast knowledge, and I can't wait to hear what else you can add to this already heart-felt story."

You force your lips not to twitch, hiding behind the tea cup again. Suddenly it tastes bitter. But another squeeze your husband gives your hand doesn't let you dwell on it too much.

"You are correct, I do have some knowledge to offer. However, it might disappoint you, as it will completely destroy the story of the Geo Archon and the Archon of Dust."

The whispers ran through the crowd like a powerful wave, and you can see confusion written over every single face. But also, there is intrigue.

"I took it upon myself,” Zhongli however continues, “to invite Madame Ping to back up my story, as she was the witness to it," the elder woman - a well-known Adeptus that doesn't hide her existence among mortals - nods with a soft smile.

"I read this in legends a long time ago, but remembered only when the 'Guili legend' became popular. Rex Lapis indeed had a lover, however it was not Lady Guizhong," the gasps are almost deafening. Just as your quickened heartbeat.

And for the next hour the man by your side and the elderly-looking woman that joined you tonight proceed to tell the story of the adeptus, who was the first and only to ever bring the Geo Archon to his knees, to be worshiped like a goddess by his eyes, by his words, by his very heart. Of a warrior, whose fierce eyes and valiant nature made a dragon in Rex Lapis roar in delight. Of the woman, who entranced him with her beauty, caring soul and motherly attention directed to other adepti - Madame Ping adds with a laugh of how the two created a parent-like dynamic even before they became official (at that you find it so hard not to turn bashful).

They tell the legend of the silk flowers - the ones you might see everywhere in the vast lands of Liyue. How the Geo Archon personally asked the Dendro Archon for guidance to cultivate the tenderest of flowers, how he taught his people to make the delicate fabric out of it, but even then it couldn’t compare to the skin of his immortal mate.

They tell stories of how annoyed she was when the god turned into a dragon to fall asleep somewhere in the depths of the earth for years without telling her prior, and how he returned with the purest stones and metals and with his own hands forged the pair of matrimonial rings (yes, the ones wrapped around your fingers to this day).

Madame Ping fondly speaks of all those thousands of years of protection the said adeptus spent to make sure that her godly spouse’s people were safe and maybe just a tiny sliver of pride rushes through your heart at the public acknowledgement.

“But she wished not to be known,” the woman sighs and you know she glances at you reproachfully. Well-deserved, given the circumstances you are in right now. “Thus it’s not much of a surprise people made a mistake like that. Besides, you won’t find much information in written sources about her either way.”

 “But she must have a name at least!” Someone from the fairly grown crowd exclaims.

“That she does,” Zhongli nods, lacing his fingers with yours under the table, lips tugging in a calm smile, when you squeeze his hand in return. “Though I am afraid it would be pointless to try and find out now - we wouldn’t want to disturb her mourning the departure of her husband, would we? After all, they must’ve loved each other so much.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

“Because,” golden eyes are on you, catching yours, pulling you in, whispering for your soul and heart to get lost in them, “I can understand how this love was born and got to bloom. My wife showed me that.”

THINGS GOJO SATORU SAYS IN BED

“hey—no teasing. take it all. ngh .. fuck me..”

“you cryin?”

“lay back, and let me do all the work. i just want you to sit there and look pretty.”

“try to keep your legs up, i know it’s hard. but try for me beautiful.”

“want me to help you?”

“get it wet .. just like that. you know i like it sloppy.”

“just wait baby .. fuck—give me a damn minute.”

“does it hurt when i fuck you like this? hm? why are you squeezing me so tight then?

“tell me you love it .. fuck, you’re so dirty.”

“arch it baby .. there you go angel.”

“nuh-uh, open those pretty legs.”

“don’t make me cuff your hands, bet you’d like that huh?”

“you’re weak here .. right?”

“keep your eyes on me.”

“you look so fucking beautiful .. such a little slut for me when i eat that pretty cunt out .. i should do it more often. y’so soft for me now.”

“you can do it pretty .. you can take it—shit!”

“want me to spank that pussy? lay back then,”

“give me one more. please, just one more baby.”

“one’s enough for you? think that pussy’s begging for another.”

“don’t be embarrassed .. i love it when you squirt for me.”

“you want it so bad? beg.”

the more i think about this book the sadder i get

what has hector ever done to me?

i hope that hector kills you. do you think i do not hope the same?

name one hero who was happy.

and perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.

he is half of my soul, as the poets say.

in the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.

the strongest (gojo x wife! reader)

gojo can't help but feel annoyed that he feels concern for the wife he swears he doesn't care for.

warnings: arranged marriage au, gojo refers to you as his wife, enemies to lovers (?), gojo tells you to lift up your top, slight angst, he's really bad at feelings okay, image from loving yamada-kun at lv999

The lines of intrigue and fear are often blurred. It explains why we admire fire from afar, careful not to get too close in hopes of not getting burned. It explains why we find peace in parts of the ocean and tense up in deeper parts. It also explains why Gojo Satoru seeks your presence yet pushes you away the moment he finds himself feeling something other than indifference or vexation–it’s never hatred though. The strongest can’t envision himself ever hating his wife and it scares him. 

He’s not sure that can be said about you. Gojo wouldn’t be surprised if you grew to hate him after the treatment you put up with. 

Your marriage is what you call a “marriage of convenience” and Gojo made sure you remembered that. He wasn’t always so distant with you. Back then, you might’ve considered him a friend but time did its bidding and you two drifted apart, your time together merely a memory. Now fast forward a few years and you were wedded to him, taking up his surname and sleeping in the same house as him–in separate rooms of course. 

Your steps on the wooden floors were silent as you intended not to make a single noise at such a late hour. You sighed, feeling the weight of your heavy shoulders drag you down. 

Gojo might be considered cruel to you but the elders were on a different level. They knew this mission would be too much for you yet they sent you on it as punishment for speaking your mind the last time everyone gathered. 

At that time, your husband had an unfamiliar gleam in your eyes as you voiced your thoughts on the matter of Itadori. He’s a nice kid, you thought when you first saw the pink-haired boy. 

Taking away his youth wouldn’t be fair. After all, he didn’t choose to have the Ryomen Sukuna use him as a vessel. Yet, sentiment doesn’t do well with the higher ups and they made sure you knew your place with the mission they sent you on. 

You inhaled sharply, wincing as you felt the bruise on your rib with your palm. There was blood soaking your tights, little cuts littering your legs. You’re so tired you can’t find it in yourself to even eat. Then again, you needed to be in your best condition tomorrow since another mission was sent out of you and specifically you. Those in power always make sure it’s clear that they are in power. Your voice of opinion meant nothing to their beliefs in tradition or what you liked to call, “backward thinking.” That’s one thing you and your husband could agree on. 

“Ow,” you wince for the nth time as you open the fridge, scanning the items. Mochi. Ice-cream. Leftover cake. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to go grocery shopping a day prior so you could have a proper meal. This was the kind of stuff Gojo could live on but you couldn’t. Closing the fridge, you opt for instant ramen instead. Not the best choice in regards to healthiness but cracking an egg in there meant more protein and it also minimized the spice levels. 

You’re halfway in between preparing the noodles when you feel a presence right beside you and soft breathing besides your ears. “You’re home,” your ‘husband’ mumbles, his eyes half-lidded from just having woken up. 

“God! Satoru!” You gasp, flinching away from and only realizing how close he was. For someone who claimed he wasn’t interested in you, he didn’t know what personal space was. “How did you know I was home?”

“Your cursed energy leaked in,” he shrugs his shoulders, peering down at you without the constraints of his blindfold or shades. You gulp as his eyes flit up and down your appearance, causing your insides to tense up in a sudden wave of self-consciousness. Being scrutinized by the six-eyes himself wasn’t much fun and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that your hair is disheveled and your face is sweaty from just having come home from a grueling mission. 

You don’t even notice the glint of rage that crosses his hues before he masks it. “Who did this to you?”

“Huh?” You blink, coming to your senses that your body was bloodied up and battered from having fought a curse. “Oh it was just a mission. It’s normal to be hurt on missions.” 

Gojo’s been living with you for nearly half a year now and he knows you’re more than competent when it comes to shaman duties (not that he’d ever tell you). He knows you return home by 7 p.m.., and never at hours well past midnight. He knows that you usually only get injuries on your back because you get careless at times. But now, he sees cuts everywhere and he’s not sure if you’re running on adrenaline or if you’re too tired to notice. 

His eyes glance at the way you press a palm on your rib, subconsciously squeezing the area as if hiding it from him. “Let me see.”

Your surprise is immediate and he would’ve felt a strange fluttering in his stomach if not for this concern he was experiencing for you. You smile. “See what?”

“Your injury. Let me see it,” he says again, pressing on the hand you hold close to your ribs, narrowing his eyes as you hiss in pain. “Don’t be stubborn (Name).” 

His voice is different from the cheery one he often uses and you’re left leaning further into the kitchen counter, acutely aware of the fact that his taller frame wasn’t allowing you to escape. His eyes widen the slightest once he gets a glimpse of your flustered expression as you peer up at him and he only realizes what he was asking from you. Part of him tells him to ignore this and pretend his concern for you was brief. Yet, part of him screams at him that he was your husband, so he should feel the right to be worried–even if he was months late. 

He sighs, tilting his head. “I’m just going to look. I promise I won’t do anything else,” his voice is oddly tender as he speaks to you, a contrast to the usual nonchalance you’re used to. 

You gulp and let out a shaky sigh, giving in when your fingers reach to pull your top up for him to see the bare skin that you can’t even say is spotless or void of marks. Multiple wounds litter your skin–some faded, some new. You’re scared his gaze would show some signs of judgment or disgust but you’re left bemused when you see how his eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. For a second, you allow yourself to be deluded by the fact that he might be worried but you quickly abandon that thought, averting your eyes from him.

You can see how he pieces everything together. From the way you rebelled against the elders and how they saw it as a means to punish you. He does it so quickly that you can only blink when his blank expression morphs into something different. You almost feel relieved from the fact that his expression of pure anger wasn’t directed at you and rather those who sent you on the mission.

It’s almost natural how he slides the top further up, mapping the extent of the bruise with his eyes. His hands are warm and calloused. They’re also gentle, tracing the bruise carefully to not hurt you. “I’ll kill those old bastards,” he chuckles with a sneer. “They have some nerve letting my wife take this mission without me.”

You frown as you see his anger first-hand. “Satoru–”

“Why didn’t you go to Shoko?” He interrupts, gently holding on your waist to prop you on the counter while he stands in between your legs. He watches you intently, in search of answers.

You feel somewhat embarrassed as his hand still lifts your top up to see the bare skin but don’t comment on it. “I didn’t want to bother her so late at night…”

For the first time since today, you see him flash a genuine smile, as if exasperated by your reasoning. “But you’re fine with bothering me?” 

“That’s different!” You say, a pout slowly forming on your lips and he can’t help but feel drawn to you even if he doesn’t want to. 

He laughs as you pull your top down with a huff, finding it cute that you were so bashful. “Because I’m your husband?” 

You go silent and for a second, Gojo thinks he’s messed up for mentioning that. Despite being your husband, he’s not the greatest at doing his job. He’s not callous or spiteful towards you, instead taking on more of a cold and aloof attitude towards you. Even so, he thinks that hurts just as much as a few insults. 

He’s about to pull back but your voice draws him back to you. “Yeah. It’s because you’re my husband.”

Gojo can’t stop himself from glancing at your lips at that single statement. He was today years old when he realized he was a man of simple tastes. All you had to do was tell him that he was your husband and he’d want to kiss you until your lips turned red. He considers himself lucky that you didn’t see that slip-up of his–though he wouldn’t have minded if you did.

He breathes out a sigh, propping his chin atop your head while his fingers draw circles around your hips. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

It’s a vow he swears to keep. 

“I know,” you whisper quietly enough for him to hear. “You’re the strongest after all.”

He thinks it’s funny that even as the strongest, he feels weak when he feels your fingers play with his sleeves. No words are said after that and a comfortable silence drifts between you two. It’s like the barrier between the two of you is cracking once you feel his lips press gently against your forehead and you think it's his way of sealing the promise. 

Gojo Satoru thinks–or rather he knows that he wouldn’t mind living the rest of his life with you. And he knows that he should fix his behavior around you and stop running away. That way, instead of a kiss to the forehead, he can finally give you one on your lips.