#currently crying sobbing and wailing

[punksnom]

When an author decides to show a snippet of what happened after the reborn mc died in their first life and it includes the ml just barely missing the chance to meet the mc and the ml just goes on living his life but vaguely feels as if something is missing

And in the end the ml won't ever know exactly what it was and how happy he could have been because their fate this time was never meant to cross

[celestialprincesse]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

When Simon had given you his work address, and the password for the door to get in, you’d scoffed at the thought of needing to use it. You’d grown comfortable in your quiet life, no longer plagued with the urge to run, with the fear of being caught up with. 

You and Charlotte. 

You’d never been able to picture your position now, shaking fingers prodding at the keypad, a crying Charlotte on your hip. So absorbed in your fear, which had struck you the moment you’d returned from Charlotte’s school pickup to see your apartment door open, that you don’t even see the bearded man opening up the door from the inside for you. 

“Everything alright, Miss?” He questions in clear concern, ushering you into the entry hall with blue eyes darting between yourself and your wailing daughter. 

“I’m here - Simon said i could find him here if I needed anything.” You hiccup, not even having noticed the tears ebbing down your cheeks, so consumed by the realisation that you need to get out. Find safety. Find Simon. Maybe even that other man you met once - Mac something.

Too distraught to protest, you allow yourself to be ushered into some sort of reception room, noting the way the older man looks behind you with a vigilant scan before shutting the door. "Is Simon Riley here?" You plead with him again, terrified at the thought of being unable to see your neighbour, having someone to soothe your wailing daughter whilst you yourself calm down.

Before the blue eyed man can get a word out, two other men are barrelling into the reception area, one of them, thankfully, being Simon. You can't help but choke out a relieved sob when he tentatively comes closer, allowing you the chance to deny his approach, which you don't.

"What happened? Can you take some deep breaths for me?"

The entire room seems to pick up into a flurry of activity the minute the other two men in the room, Simon's friend you'd met that one time, and the other man, seem to realise that not only do you and Simon know one another, but also that you and the little tot in your arms are important to him.

Simon quickly ushers you to one of the worn leather couches, although he never forces you to sit, seeing how high strung you are at the current moment, the way you clutch Charlotte to your chest like she'll be ripped from your grasp at any given moment. Meanwhile, MacTavish looks on in concern, checking the car park you'd just come in from, and the other man slowly guides a glass of water into your shaking hand.

"Door was open when I got home." You manage to choke, letting Simon ease your vice grip on your daughter, just enough to hoist her up on his hip, before pulling you into his chest.

"S' okay, yeah? Promise you're in good hands here." He soothes, rocking the three of you from side to side, taking the opportunity to share a look between Price, Soap and himself. "Listen, the boys will go and have a look, okay? Promise they won't touch anything or mess anything up, just make sure everything is okay."

You give a hesitant nod, sniffling into Simon's chest as another taller, leaner man walks into the room, his handsome features immediately twisting into concern at the odd sight.

Over the next few hours, you, Simon, Charlotte and the sweet man you'd come to know as Kyle wait out on base, nervously awaiting the return of Captain Price and Simon's closest friend Johnny.

Admittedly, your situation is terrifying, and you're still not quite sure where to go from here, but at least you're in good hands. Four pairs of them.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

[linopilled]

⟡ cw: BACKSHOTSSSSS!!! (daddy) chris is very degrade-y, he squishes the reader's face in his big sexy hand, 2 lil cheek slaps, dumbification, crying, drooling, no gendered pronouns but he calls the reader his good girl and i know all of you desire to be chris's good girl... freaks! /j oh yeah and he says slut once sorry!

⟡ a/n: reposting this one first because its a personal fav <3. as always, mdni, and thank you for reading! any & all feedback is welcome. :*

husband!chris, ever so soft, attentive, and doting.

when describing him outside of an intimate setting the only thing you can ever talk about with your girls is how pure and consuming his love is for you. it's a relationship akin to one that feels like sunbathing in a beautiful, massive garden and being hand-fed grapes. but when he's got you in a position so vulnerable, like now, with your wrists clasped together behind your back in his hold, and he's so deep in your guts you feel like you're going to die in his arms, his hot and heavy cock abusing that sweet spot in your messy cunt with no restraint — gentleness is far from his demeanor.

you've been at it for hours. so much so your knees have indented it's place in the mattress, and his brutal pace is making it no better. you're sure you've got carpet burn at this point. your weak sobbing and incoherent wails begin sounding winded, and you struggle to gather air into your chest but he knocks the breath right out of your lungs almost immediately after every gasp you take. “fucking slut.” he sneers. he's in his zone. a usually hidden place chris only goes on special occasions you're in bed with him.

then he utters something. it's so muffled you can only feel the vibration of what he says and you barely make out any syllables.

“ — be the good girl you know you are and moan my name.” you miss the first half of his sentence again, completely zoned out and held prisoner to his thick cock in your cunt. struggling to speak, stammering over weak little whimpers, you manage to get out a small “ch — chris —,” but that's not what he's looking for you to call him.

he grips your cheeks in his palm, squishing them together and suddenly he's tilting your head back to force you to make eye contact. well, if you could even call it that; you can hardly see him through your blurry wet eyes. his thrusts slow and he's pressing all the way inside with a harsh jerk of his hips, balls pressed tightly against your throbbing clit, and you cant help but whine again, body trembling like a leaf. his gaze is pointed and you feel pinned to him, chris’s expression mimicking a scowl he's so focused on getting a response from you. “y’fucking stupid? that's not my name.”

your head is swimming, drool slipping down your chin and you babble wordlessly like some brain-dead toy, hips gyrating pathetically as you're trying your damnedest to get him to just move again.

“stop fucking squirming and listen.” he hisses, using that same palm that's currently holding your face in place, and tapping your cheek twice. enough to get you to focus, but not enough to hurt. he gives you a second sharp thrust as punishment, grip returning to your face. his hold on your cheeks are so tight, it's puckering your cute little lips. “i won't ask you again.”

“d-daddy!” you squeal, and a cocky grin takes it's place on his flushed face, his hips picking up speed.

atta-girl.

[evie-sturns]

toddler - Matt Sturniolo

summary: having 2 toddlers isn't the easiest, espically when you're currently pissed at your husband matt after an argument. one night you get pushed to the point of a breakdown when the kids won't behave and matt's there to help you.

contains: dad!matt, fluff, slightly suggestive , crying, slight mental breakdown, comforting, angst?

a/n: this was loosely based off of how daddy matt was in today's vid.

----———--------------..••°°°°••..------------————

7:38pm

matt and i had an argument last night leaving me in tears, he’s been in his bedroom this whole day leaving me to deal with our two twins which are both 3 and a half.

i attempt to cook up something that somewhat resembles a dinner for our girls but the only thing occupying my mind is the events of what happened last night.

yesterday

“why is this house always so fucking messy!” matt’s voice booms throughout the living room as he abruptly stands up

“shit, i don’t know maybe because you got me pregnant at 18 and i’m the only one who does anything for the kids our this house!” i raise my voice back at him

matt lets out a shocked laugh “sorry that some people have fucking jobs and don’t lay on their ass with the kids all day and call it tiring?”

“lay on my ass? i clean, i cook, i take the girls to daycare and i bring them home, i do everything”

“if everything includes not having a fucking job and using up my money that i earn then sure, you do a whole lot” matt says with a slight attitude.

“all you fucking do is act like you have it hard when you don’t! get a fucking grip” he yells

the whole room goes silent, i erupt into tears and walk out of the room to our spare bedroom

“and always fucking crying.” i hear him scoff, only making my state worse.

—

my thoughts are cut off by a wail coming from behind me, my head spins back to see millie with a fistful of claire’s hair, yanking.

i instantly drop the wooden spoon into the pot before speed walking towards the twins

“stop it!” i yell, grabbing millie from under her arms and staring into her eyes angrily “go find daddy, not acceptable millie.” i raise my voice, placing her down.

she folds her arms with a huff, stomping her little legs down the corridor to matt and i’s shared room.

“you’re okay claire” i coo, fixing her pigtail which sits on the very top of her head

i pick her up and place her down on the couch with one of her stuffed animals before making my way back towards the kitchen.

i turn down the heat on the stovetop slightly with an exhausted sigh

suddenly i hear small giggles coming from behind me followed by the backs of my knees being pushed

“fuck!” i yell, stumbling over and grabbing the handle to the pot, spilling boiling spaghetti onto the floor, also splashing up onto my sweater.

millie goes silent before sprinting in the other direction with claire

as of things couldn’t get any worse right now i hear matt’s voice start something

“what are you actually fucking doin-“ he cuts himself off when he sees the state i’m in

i burst into sobs, matt looks down at me with concern painted across his face

“hey- shh sh you’re okay, you’re okay.” he says frantically, walking over to me and kneeling on the floor

“matt i can’t do this the kids aren’t behaving and i can’t fucking make them something they’ll like-“ i start, saying in between shaking breaths

he carefully picks me up from under my arms before switching his grip to the back of my thighs, i bury my face into his shoulders and feel matt take in panicked breaths

he speed walks us down into our bedroom at the end of the corridor, ��are you hurt sweetheart?” he says, placing me down on the bed and peeling my sweatshirt off of me

“did the hot water soak through? shit.” matt says trying to stay calm.

“no-“ i sniff, rubbing my eyes. matt yanks his sweatshirt off his body and lays it across me like a blanket.

“stay right here okay? i’m gonna sort the kids out then put them to bed, then i’ll come back to talk, try get some sleep for me gorgeous.”

matt presses a kiss to my nose before rushing out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

i have a clear view of kitchen from where i’m laying so i see matt walk into the kitchen before kneeling down

“c’mere.” he demands, sticking out his arms. millie and claire toddle over to him with a guilty expression across their face.

“tell me what’s happened.” matt says sternly, maintaining eye contact with both of them.

millie bursts into tears almost immediately as she looks at matt

matt runs his hand up and down her arm as he waits for a response

“we- we pushed mommy and she fell and spilt hot water on her and hurt her” she sniffs

“a-and.. and you’re mad at me” she continues.

“do i look mad sweetheart?” matt says softly, claire shrugs along with millie

“i’m really really sad that you weren’t behaving for mommy, and i know you know better than that right?” matt speaks

millie nods, wiping her nose with the backs of her hand

“and now i’m gonna ask you to go clean up the spill with claire and then we’re gonna go say sorry to mom okay?” he says gently, pressing two kisses to the girls forehead

they nod in unison before going into the kitchen, matt hands them the paper towels and they instantly drop down to there knees and attempt to clean the mess.

matt watches while biting his nails “why do you think you made mommy cry though?” he says, claire looks up at him with a heaped pile of paper towels in her hands

“because we were naughty.” claire sighs, matt nods while gathering the piles of drenched paper towels and throwing them away.

“what i’m ‘gonna ask you to do is sit down at the kitchen table and think about how you will say sorry to mommy tomorrow while i make you dinner okay girls?”

claire and millie run over to the dining table, more than hungry and tired now.

matt sorts through the pantry before settling on mac and cheese which i wasn’t even sure we had.

after a good 10 minutes matt brings over the two small bowls to the twins, who have been silent ever since they sat down.

“you have to eat all of this okay?” matt says while placing the bowls down. claire and millie nod

—-

8:56pm

matt finishes up the last dishes in the sink before walking over to the girls “you alright?” he asks softy before picking both of them up, one in each arm.

matt walks down the corridor, flashing me a quick smile as both the girls bury their head in his shoulders.

“they’re very tired” he mouths to me with a small laugh while walking into their shared bedroom.

i hear the door shut followed by matt walking into our bedroom. “you feeing better gorgeous?” he asks calmly as he flops down in bed beside me.

“thank you for doing that.” i sigh, rubbing my eyes with my palms.

“don’t thank me? i’m their dad and i realise that after yesterday’s.. argument that you’re right and i do need to start caring more.” matt looks over at me.

“you don’t have to just say that” i whisper

“i’m not just saying that, i actually mean it.” matt responds with an unreadable expression

“the shit you said last night..” i start, my voice wobbling “i’m gonna find it hard to forget, because i know that in that moment you meant it.”

matt goes silent,

“and i know that you’re busy but i try, so hard to make you and the girls happy, meaning that i don’t have free time to work because everything i do is for you?” i keep going, several tears now rolling down my cheeks

“so you saying that you should help our more around the house and pretending like everything’s perfect between us isn’t gonna fix shit.”

i physically can’t keep speaking unless i want to start sobbing so i stop, taking in a shaky breath.

matt doesn’t say anything back, instead sitting up and grabbing me and pulling me into a deathly tight hug.

the few tears that fell dampen the shoulder of his shirt as he rubs my back.

“i don’t even know how to apologise.” matt says, his voice trembling.

“please- don’t cry.” he whispers, “i’m just really tired” i squeeze out

“i know i’ve been a shit.. person for the past year or so and trust me, you and the girls are on my mind every single minute of every day and- and there’s no excuse for what i said yesterday except for the fact i wasn’t thinking straight.”

matt rambles

“i shouldn’t have yelled, or said anything. i know, i know you have it way harder than me, and i’m not just saying that it’s true.”

“you don’t have to forgive me at all today, tomorrow or in general for this but i love you and i’m so sorry.”

matt finishes by pulling away to look at my face, which he cups in both his hands.

“thank you.” is the only thing i reply with, somewhat shocked by that 2 minute long tangent.

matt lays back down on the matress, pulling me towards him. i lay my head down on his chest with a deep breath in, instantly falling asleep

————

9:56am the next day

the morning sun burns into the side of my face as i roll over in bed,

my eyebrows knit together when i realise matt’s not next to me like normal.

i sit up in bed, wiping my eyes as i attempt to run my fingers through my tangled hair.

i stumble out of bed towards the door of our bedroom, gripping the handle lazily and swinging it open.

the whole house is perfectly clean “what the fuck..” i mumble to myself as i walk into the living room where my eyes lay on my favourite sight

my 3 favourite people, matt claire and millie are sat on the sofa, matt’s in the middle and the girls are cuddled up to his side while matt holds open a picture book which he stops reading when i walk in.

“good morning pretty” matt smiles stupidly, i grow a small smile on my face.

“i think that someone has something to say to mom?” matt says, looking down at each of the girls.

they run up to me and wrap their arms around each of my legs “were really sorry” claire says, i bend down to their height and give them a smile

millie follows up with a “and i’m sorry for hurting you a- and i love you a lot!” she says with a cute smile.

“it’s okay sweetheart, i love you.” i grin, wrapping my arms around them before standing back up.

“and i’m gonna make it up to you tonight” matt says quietly while walking over to me

“matthew bernard! you horny mother fucker” i whisper.

————

@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209

[raitonsfw]

thinking about fushiguro toji...

and him completely failing to calm down crying baby megumi.

he’d look at you with a bit of a desperate look as he held the small child over the crib, who was currently wailing at the top of his little lungs. and of course, you’d help the poor man because he had no fucking idea what he was doing.

“why’s he crying huh? did i do something wrong?” he’d ask you, plopping megumi into your outstretched arms, his tiny fingers wrapping around yours with a quiet sob. and you figure it out immediately, his other hand practically being gnawed on– he was hungry. 

but how would toji know that– he's not a mother. hell, he’s barely a father. he couldn’t tell his left foot from his right, let alone figure out a baby’s needs; whether it be a bottle or a nappy change. and you were thinking of having a kid with him once megs was older? yeah, that was going to be an ordeal alright. 

and when you did get pregnant, barely half a year later– he was freaking the fuck out. his mind raced, he wasn’t ready for this; as megumi climbed onto his lap to play with a race car toy. 

“you think the baby’ll hate me like megs…” he’d question as his large hands held your bump while you lounged on the sofa, the tv blaring with some type of sport. his eyes would peer up towards yours as his thumbs swiped over your waist, anxiousness overtaking his expression. “…i mean, he couldn’t even give me the damn satisfaction of his first word.” 

and of course he’d still be pressed about cat being baby megumi’s first word, the poor bastard… you’d chuckle at the thought – at the pout that toji gave you – and you’d reach down to assure him that the baby would love his father. and he’d huff against your belly, giving it a defeated kiss before the baby monitor sounded next to you two.

“megumi’s up... your turn, y/n.”

© raitonsfw hc's '24 • dad! f. toji • divider credit; @hitobaby

a/n: no smut this time, next time mayhaps. i really just needed to get this outta my system.

[jesuistrestriste]

Tying subby Art down to the bed with ribbons, edging him over and over because he was being a fuckin brat. He'd look so damn pretty with tears staining his cheeks, just begging, "Please, mommy, please! I promise ill be good!" Crying harder when you slap him, telling him to shut the fuck up and stop whining (i KNOW this man whimpers)

Art Donaldson had known this was coming. Or, he really should have. He’d gotten mouthy with you. If he had corrected his behavior, he wouldn't currently have his arms tied up to the bed while you straddled his thighs and made his life a living hell. Sigh, if only he had just thought ahead.

His little quips of mumbled attitude throughout the day had made you grow increasingly frustrated. And they were so incessant that you had started to wonder if he was doing it on purpose. The last straw came when he had said something along the lines of "can you please just fucking touch me? you're being so rigid right now.."

Oh? He wanted to be 'fucking touched'?

He thought you were being 'rigid'?

Fine. You'd give him something to really whine about.

-

And that you did.

Art's body is shaking furiously under your seat over his legs, his hips jolting and squirming over the bed as his head tips back and he sobs. Big, fat, heavy tears pour down the sides of his face, but they did nothing to convince you to relent.

Your hand had been furiously stroking his aching cock for the past hour and a half. It was brutal. The stiffened, throbbing flesh had gushed more spurts of precome than you could ever count or keep track of, and it was now coated in a slimy film of his own filth mixed with the water-based lube you poured over him every fifteen minutes to keep him slick.

You had denied him ten times so far. The tears had come after the fourth denial. It was all downhill from there.

He's now crying so hard that his chest is heaving, but you opt to rub your free hand over his contracting abdomen as you touch his erection instead of letting him come. Because, after all, he'd been a brat all day. He deserves this. Deep down, under the layers of faint resentment, desperation, anguish, and hopelessness, even he knows he deserves this.

His blonde curls are a mess against the pillow, and his wrists are starting to feel raw from the constant tugging on the thick, satin ribbons holding his hands in place and away from his body (and yours). All that truly keeps him from bucking up into your hand the way he so desperately wants to is your firm seat over his trembling legs. You keep him in place. You keep him grounded. Physically, if not mentally and emotionally.

As your hand moves up to quickly fist his sensitive tip in your grasp, a slurry of precome comes dribbling out and Art's body all but snaps in half as his back arches up from the mattress and he lets out a wail of a moan.

"Please!" he cries, his head thrashing against the plush cushion underneath, his hands once again involuntarily yanking at the bondage, "Ugh—! I can't do any more! No more! N-No more!"

You smile.

He hiccups and tries to swallow down another sob before he chokes on it and it comes tumbling out from his lips anyway.

If he really wanted to stop, he'd say the safeword. Even in the most intense depths of his submissive mindscape, he could say the word to you. Through tears, through thrusts, through anything. So you didn't stop. He could take some more.

You shake your head, your hand on his abdomen rubbing in slow, comforting circles as you look over his flushed body. Your hand on his pulsing length twists around his cockhead as your wrist rolls, and your palm glides over his leaking slit in one long, languid stroke. He immediately keens and his eyes roll back as he tugs at the ties again.

"Be quiet, Art," you say, your hand circling his tip before it goes back to stroking him fully up and down, "you're fine. You were a bad boy today, so do you really think I'm gonna let you off so easy? Be still."

He starts to shake his head as he whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut, before he nods reluctantly and tries to steady his twitching and shuddering.

He wants to grab your thighs, your forearms, or, hell, even the sheets. He'd grab whatever was available at this point if he could, but he can't. So he settles for wrapping his hands around the length of ribbon that connects each knot around his wrist to the appropriate spot near the headboard.

He'd torn his hands up on multiple occasions from playing tennis. The stinging callouses that bled when he carried on without bandaging were more tolerable than this. By far. He'd take a handful of those over any more of this agonizing torture. And he'd say this to you if he could speak instead of bawl. Maybe then you'd believe how badly he needs to finish.

He manages to pull himself together just enough to lift his head up and look to you as he miraculously slurs out some words through his tears. Two fresh ones drip down his pink cheeks as he attempts to barter with you.

"Please— Oh, please—!" he whined, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made you feel hot all over, "I promise I'll be good now! I swear-!"

You frown and stroke him faster, before your hand over his stomach lifts up and you lean in to swiftly slap him across the the face. It was hard enough to make a sound, but certainly not hard enough to do any actual damage to his pretty cheek.

Just hard enough to hurt and make a point.

His head snaps to the side with the force of the hit, a red tint beginning to creep over his delicate skin, and he lets his head fall back onto the pillow again. A loud, painful whimper erupts from his chest as new waves of tears fall.

Impact-play is something he enjoys, especially during times like this, but he makes that hard to believe when he only goes and cries harder in response.

"You seriously need to learn when to shut your mouth," you snap, "no more whining or I'll just leave you here like this for the rest of the night."

"Nooo," he sobs in defeat. Your words burn him, but they burn so good. His orgasm is creeping in quickly again, but he knows you'll stop it before he gets there.

If you pay attention, it's easy to observe that Art has tells for when he's about to release. He goes from loud moans to stifled, shaky gasps that increase in pace and frequency. He goes from harsh jolts and convulsions to being stiff as a board. His body's sensitivity lets him be an open book. He's an easy read, that's all. And oh boy, can you read him well.

His bodily reactions and habits—at the very least—make your job easier. If he was less sensitive and less reactive, you would have a much harder time edging him properly. That's for sure.

Eventually, after two more denials, you decide to let him finally finish. He almost doesn't believe it when you keep stroking him after he's already stiffened up and gone quiet. His brows are all pinched up and his eyes are squeezed shut as the ribbon digs into his flesh. His hips can't really buck into your touch with you still sitting over him, but he tries anyway while he tenses up all over. His lips part in a silent, anticipatory moan.

Your hand gives him four solid pumps after his body warns you of the rapidly building pleasure, and then Art is cumming with a sharp cry.

His entire form shudders as his heels dig into the bed, and he nearly bucks you off of him like a startled horse from the force and intensity of his orgasm. Your eyes stay fixed to his sensitive parts in your grasp as his balls empty completely over your hand and his lower abdomen in thick, sticky ropes.

It's a heavy load. It's so much that it almost looks like someone spilled a bunch of translucent, sugary icing all over his body and between your fingers. it's so much that it almost seems inhuman. It just goes on and on and on. And he just moans and moans and moans.

"Yess-ss—! Ohh—! yesyesyesyes—!"

"Ahh! AH! Mmngh—!"

He makes the prettiest sounds.

You pump him faster.

You milk him until he gets oversensitive and starts to whine, squirming and panting and gasping for air, and then you finally (finally) let him go.

He collapses down instantly, twitching with the aftershocks, but laying completely spent like a puppet with cut strings. He's beautiful.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," is all he can slur out as his eyes remain unfocused and lidded.

"You're welcome," you say.

your voice is tender and helps to bring him down. In a moment or two, you'll untie his wrists and press a kiss to each. You'll bring him a glass of water and grab a towel to clean him up after you wash your hands. You'll hold him and cuddle him and stroke his sore muscles as he buries his face in your neck. You'll tell him you love him, and how good he did until he can fall asleep.

You wear him out like a dog sometimes, but if you asked him to bark.. who's to say he wouldn't?

All that Art knows as he drifts off is one truth:

He's never going to be bratty ever again.

[luvlyycy]

— a/n : , , thought this up w @cindol in a legit heartbeat ! bestfriend!sukuna... my beloved . . maybe I'll make a pt 2 iunno!

wc : , , 1k + !

summary : , , sukuna punches ur bf thats it. thats the fic. (angst/comfort)

Sukuna hates it. Everytime he looks at your face he's reminded of how weak and vulnerable he becomes. It's the classic sun and moon duo, and he hates it.

You're always going to him for your 'boy' problems, painting his nails as you yap on about this one boy in your class. You say how handsome he is or how nice his hands look. You've never said anything like that about him, but he doesn't care; or he tells himself that.

He'll often leave snacks on your table before your lectures, or drinks next to you at lunch. It's a small reminder that he cares about you.

Everyone says that he's a bad influence on such a kind, pretty girl like you. You never listen. Glued to his side as you walk down the long hallways, his piercings and black leather jacket a contrast to your beautiful outfit, the complete opposite of his.

You don't share dorms, and he wishes he put his pride aside and requested that you did. It's bothersome, having to make his routine of walking to your dorm, catching the eyes and hearing rumors of the two of you dating on the way.

Although, the snacks he hold are currently on the floor as the door opens, his lip curling upward and nose flaring in anger as he spots him— Satoru Gojo.

"What the fuck—"

He's leant against the door, a shit eating grin plastered on the face he's ready to punch the shit out of.

Is that lipstick on his fucking neck?

"Small world, huh?" Gojo chuckles out, turning around to face you, then back at Sukuna, "Guess I should tell ya. We're datin' now." .

There's a loud crash and a blur that you see as your boyfriend stumbles backwards, his hand holding his jaw.

Sukuna punched your boyfriend.

Sukuna just fucking punched your boyfriend.

You exclaim with a loud 'what the fuck' and get up from the bed, the blanket falling to pool around your legs.

Sukuna grits his teeth together as he sees you.. clad in panties and an oversized black shirt.

He begins to laugh and turns right back to Gojo, finally noticing that he's shirtless. He barks out a loud laugh and places his hand over his face, "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Gojo throws his hands up, "What the hell is your problem?!" and Sukuna stops to look at you, then back at Gojo.

He points at the both of you, "Whatever the fuck this is, I don't want to be in between it. If I am in between it— your fucking little punk ass boyfriend— is getting punched again."

"Again?" Gojo laughs out, stepping closer to Sukuna, "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

You sharply yell out Gojo's name but Sukuna speaks over you, "Doesn't fucking matter you puss—" a loud 'thwack!' is heard as you see your best friend this time stumble backwards.

Blood runs down Sukuna's nose before he wipes his messily with his thumb, bringing up his fists in a messy fighting stance. He's far too angry to fight for real.

You've seen him fight, and it's nothing like what you're seeing.

They're going back and forth, Sukuna punching Gojo in places that are sure to bruise within a few hours. Gojo pushes Sukuna against the wall with his forearm against his neck as he spits some awful insults into his face, only for Sukuna to spit his own blood directly onto his cheek.

You hear Sukuna laugh, and before you know it, you're wailing; sobbing like a baby if you will.

They both turn to you, Gojo still holding a squirming Sukuna against the wall.

You've never liked violence— and Sukuna can't help but wonder, is that why you chose Gojo? Was he too.. violent?

"Get the fuck off of me— She needs me—" Sukuna shouts and Gojo cuts him off, "She doesn't need you, she needs me."

Oh. Oh.

He's right. Gojo's ... right.

His ears are ringing as he watches you cry, feeling Gojo inevitably let up on his neck and make his way over to you. He cradles you, his hands on your cheeks as he wipes your tears and snot away.

He can't tell if he's lightheaded or he's about to cry. He doesn't want to know. He doesn't say anything, just makes his way toward the door, exiting out and stepping over the drinks and snacks he had dropped earlier.

You don't need him.

Sukuna shuts the door and looks down at his hands, turning them over to look at his visibly red and bloody knuckles. More eyes are peering at him as he walks down the hallway.

It feels empty despite all the people out of their rooms due to the commotion. His phone is buzzing in his pocket the whole time, no doubt that it's you but he doesn't check.

You don't need him.

His chest fucking hurts, and he feels his eyes tear up for once. He frowns, still tasting the blood from his busted lip.

You don't need him.

Once he gets to his room, he undresses and plops down onto his bed— he's lost. He doesn't know what to do until—

He does.

He ignores you for a week, maybe two.

He often finds himself looking at the messages you sent, endless questions flooding his messages but the last one stands out.

It simply reads, 'what did i do?'.

You never needed him that's what you did. He slaps his hands against his face as he gets ready for a day of ignoring you again, he pulls a plain hoodie over his head.

He notices the nail polish on his nails is chipped almost completely off. Probably some weird metaphor for your and his friendship.

He makes his way out the door, almost recieving a heart attack as he sees you— eyes puffy and red, only in an oversized shirt and sweatpants.

" 'Kuna." you sniff, hands wiping your eyes, "What'd I do? Why did you punch Gojo? What happened?" you whine in the hallway.

Eventually you're yanked into his room and placed onto his bed, still lightly sobbing as you look up at Sukuna.

"I just, felt like punching him."

"Bull fuckin shit."

Potty mouth.

He sighs, wiping your eyes like he'd usually do before that day.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it. You don't need me." You're silent, and he looks dead serious.

"....What?"

"You don't—" "No, I heard you. I'm just, confused."

He frowns, this is the first time he's said it out loud, let alone explain it.

"I- I do need you!" you suddenly exclaim, hands gripping onto his wrists, "Fuck, Sukuna, I need you so bad." he watches more tears spill and he can't help but frown even more.

"No, you don't—"

"I do!" you cut him off, sobbing, "Remember when I had my period and had no pads? You got them for me. Or, or, whenever I got depressed you would stay in my room and make sure I ate and drank. You don't remember that? Or, when you beat up those guys who tried to bully me?? Or when... I had those silly nightmares—" you let out a soft hiccup, "and you let me sleep in your room and hug you until I fell asleep?".

He stares at you.

"I do need you, more than anyhing."

If he wanted to be vulnerable, he'd be crying right beside you, instead he whispers your name.

He crouches in front of you, a weak smile spreading across his lips as he watches you weakly reciprocate.

You laugh, and he does too, "We're fucking idiots." he laughs out, moving closer to you.

You place your hands softly on his cheeks and look at his face, "It's all my fault— I was stupid, and didn't realize in time and, and, I left Gojo when you guys fought—" he sighs.

It takes a few moments for you to realize but he kissed you.

He finally kissed you. You both melt into each other, molding into the perfect mix of night 'n day. It sparks, like the stars in the night sky and your brain clears like a sunny day.

He pulls away to whisper, "Sleep in my room." you giggle, "It's not even nighttime." and he spares a moment to smile, "Yeah, and? You need a nap."

"I do. I do need a nap actually."

You do need him.

[ssahotchnerr]

i just rewatched the fisher king and all I can think about is Hotch gently rocking jack's stroller as he spoke to Hailey

And it got me thinking what if he did the same with baby Ellie but in less gruesome and stressful moments 💀 like she had been crying for her daddy all day so you decided to take her to see aaron, after making sure he wasn't too busy or anything

And he just has that big smile on his face when he sees you with little Ellie in her stroller, immediately putting his arms out so he can pick up his little girl 🥹

He keeps her up in his office, away from all the noise and whatnot and just either holds her in his arms while talking to her and doing paperwork (we love multitasking) or just rocking her stroller while talking to her 🥹🥹🥹

i am currently dying thank you

🥺🥺🥺 ellie’s the biggest daddy’s girl there ever was

like the second she left aaron's arms that morning when he had to go, instant tears - which he felt horrible to leave too :( he tried holding her for just a few minutes longer, but that did nothing because again, he inevitably had to go. at this point ellie knows how to say dada too, so that's mixed with her wailing, and it's just heartbreaking :((((( like him closing the door to the sound of her crying, calling for him, tore up every piece inside of him 🥺

when he gets to the office, aaron's not in the best mood so to speak, he's rather grumpy >:(, but he eagerly gets busy just for the day to go by quickly. back at home, there's literally no luck in calming her, so around aaron's lunch break, you call and ask if you're able to see him for a moment/drop her off for a while (you’ve been aching to go grocery shopping too, but bringing a sobbing baby would not make the trip enjoyable for anyone). it's merely a paperwork day, so aaron accepts at once and tells you to please come

ellie continues to sniffle and cry for him in the car, but the second the two of you enter the bau, it switches off - as if she knows where she is and who she's about to see. and when she does see aaron !!!!! :DDDDD it's as if her treacherous morning never existed she's ALLLL smiles <333 she's instantly making grabby hands at him, babbling, and the second she's in his arms, she's burying her little face into him ☹️🥺🥹🥹💓💞💓

in his office, (also crying at the visual of him lifting her stroller up the few short stairs to it) she's in his arms with him as he works until she falls asleep, and then she's in her stroller (which doesn't take long because poor baby girl wore herself out) he's gently pushing her back and forth, whenever someone comes into his office to give him papers/to talk, he makes sure they're on the quieter side as to not wake her too. hehe the team also keeps coming in to visit and gush over ellie 🥹<3333 especially penelope. hehe aaron repeatedly has to tell her to stay in her bat cave to get work done, but he loves it 🥰🥰🥰🥰 it pulls a smile out of him every time

[edenesth]

[7:29 PM]

Stumbling into the shared apartment with Yeosang, you swiftly covered your mouth to suppress any whimpers upon seeing your boyfriend peacefully napping on the living room couch.

After carefully placing your heels by the shoe rack, you quietly tip-toed past his slumbering figure and slipped into your shared bedroom, closing the door behind you with utmost care to ensure he wasn't disturbed from his much-needed rest.

It was only upon reaching the sanctuary of your room that you collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down your face as you cradled your injured arm close. It had been a horrible day, marked by a minor accident at work amidst ongoing tensions with your boss and difficult encounters with customers. Throughout the day, you struggled to keep yourself together, merely waiting for this moment to release all pent-up emotions.

As you sobbed into your pillows, the door to the room creaked open, causing you to panic. Swiftly wiping away your tears, you sat up, trying to compose yourself.

"Darling, you're back already? Why didn't you come say hi to me first, hm? I've been waiting," Yeosang's voice greeted you as he entered the cosy space, "You know you could've just woken me up..."

His words trailed off as he noticed your bandaged arm and tear-stained cheeks, "I-I'm sorry, Yeo, it's just—" You couldn't stop the sobs escaping your lips at the sight of his concerned expression, cursing yourself internally for being such a crybaby.

Hearing your anguished cries, his heart clenched, and he swiftly moved to join you on the bed. He pulled you close, showering your head with tender kisses, "Hey, hey, it's okay. What happened to your arm? Are you alright? Please, talk to me, darling."

Your sobs only grew stronger in response to his care. Nestling your head against his neck, you stuttered out, "One of my c-colleagues didn't see me approaching and accidentally s-swung her envelope opener toward me. I tried to shield myself with my arm, and that's how..." You gestured to your injured arm, feeling miserable.

"I'm so sorry, darling. Why didn't you tell me? I could have picked you up from work if I had known you were hurt. And don't try to hide it from me; I know that can't be the only reason you're upset." He whispered, his lips gently pressing against your temple as he offered a comforting squeeze, careful not to worsen the pain in your arm.

The following words that left your lips broke his heart, "I d-didn't want to burden you with something so trivial, Yeo. You're already s-so busy; my work troubles must seem insignificant compared to yours."

Drawing back a bit, he cupped your face, meeting your tear-filled gaze, "What did I tell you about thinking like that? Your problems, no matter how minor you think they are, bother me if they bother you. I never want you to keep things from me again, understand? Promise me you'll always come to me first, no matter what."

He couldn't help but chuckle when your only response to that was an adorable wail, finding your vulnerability endearing as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder once more, "Y-you're the best boyfriend ever, Yeo. I l-love you so much."

Placing a gentle kiss against your hair, he grinned softly, "I love you too, darling. More than you can imagine. Now, I want you to tell me every single thing that happened at your workplace today. I'm not usually one for aggression, but I won't hesitate to deal with anyone who dared make you cry."

With a light giggle, you pulled away slightly, "Oh, you wouldn't, you little Maltese."

You squealed as he playfully tackled you onto the bed, glad to see you lightening up and teasing again as he leaned in for a firm kiss.

"A Maltese, huh? I'll show you a Doberman."

ATEEZ Masterlist

This was super self-indulgent. I had a horrible day and ended up getting hurt in a rather similar fashion yesterday. Also wanted to show Yeosang some love after all the hate he's received for his role in my current Seonghwa series HAHA

Speaking of which, part 14 of The Way to His Heart should be out by this weekend! Hang in there, my lovelies! As always, thanks for reading and lmk your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @cereal-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[staysdelulus]

Stray Kids Lee Know [MDNI!!]

Kinktober Day 4

Summary: smut with(out?) plot

Contents: fem!reader, dom!Lee!Know (hard dom-ish), pinv, oral (m receiving), no protection, and more (slight fluff at the end!)

Word Count: 997

“Baby, stop moving, I swear.”

Lee Know’s sharp voice is a stark contrast to his reddening face, sweat pooling at his temples as he fucks you. Ever since the two of you had opened up about your preferred way of intimacy, he’s been taking it to the very boundary.

Currently, you’re trapped on the bed, laying on your back as your eyes were met with Lee Know’s whose body is pressing down on you firmly, shielding you from anyone who may barge into the room. You’re squirming, whimpering and whining softly as Lee Know continues to pound himself in you, although even you knew he was holding back a bit.

When you move again, he stops, pulling out. Your eyes wide, tears welling in your eyes from the loss of pleasure as you splutter softly, “L-Lee K-Know-”

“I said, stop moving,” he says. “And now to pay the price.”

His grip is gentle, yet firm as he holds your arm, pulling you up and pushing you to kneel on the ground in front of him. All that work at the gym and all the long hours of dancing sure did train his stamina. Your knees were weak, while he was still standing, like this was just a warm up. Which technically, it was.

He grabs a pillow, helping you climb over it so your knees wouldn’t hurt, even if the ground was carpeted, before checking to make sure you were comfortable. As soon as you nod, his eyes darken again, a wave of lust and desire running through them.

“You know what to do,” Lee Know hisses. Without another word, your lips wrap around his cock, whining softly as tears pool in your eyes, gagging softly as his cock hits the back of your throat. “Fuck, Y/n, fuck, you feel so good, don’t you-”

You whimper against his cock, his length twitching as pre-cum continues to leak out, the taste lingering on your tongue as you work your way back and forth, hands gripping him tightly. Feeling him start to tense, and sensing his fast coming orgasm, you tighten your lips around his cock, doing your best to, successfully, keep his cum in your mouth, before dragging your lips off of him. He smirks as he looks down at you, kneeling before him.

“Open wide for me, baby, let me see you.”

Obeying, you open your mouth, showing him the glistening arousal that was in your mouth, a drop of it trailing down to your chin. He watches it, the drop falling down to your neck before he smiles again, tapping your jaw. “Swallow.”

You swallow. And he gently wipes away the drop of his cum, pushing his thumb against your lips as he murmurs softly. “Suck it dry. Then I want your pussy around my cock, alright, baby?”

Nodding, you quickly stand up, allowing him to guide you to the bed. Keeping yourself on all fours, he aligns himself from behind you, stroking his length as it hardens almost impossibly further. He grins, laying over you, chest brushing your back. “Be ready, baby.”

Without a warning, he thrusts into you, a small yelp escaping your lips as you gasp, his cock filling your empty hole easily. Core throbbing, he continues to move his hips. Back and forth, back and forth.

“L-Lee Know,” you whine, crying out as he moves quickly, his hips like a piston.

“That’s it,” he says, grinning cockily. “That’s it. Say my name like that, baby. Scream it.”

He pulls up, holding your hips to steady himself as he fucks you, thrusting in and out like this was the last time. As you whimper, moaning and sobbing, begging for the tightness in your core to release itself, he moves one hand to wrap it around your hair, pulling the thick locks back as he leans down again, murmuring against your ear.

“Come on, you can do it, can’t you? Show me how good of a girl you are. Show me, baby,” he hisses. Desperately wanting to reach your high, you wail softly, his lips meeting yours as you somehow twist your head back to meet them.

He continues pushing in and out of you, continuously thrusting his hips back and forth into you as you start to blabber, a sigh of you reaching your high soon.

“L-Lee Know, c-can’t take- no- please- more-”

At your words, he goes faster, fucking you, your core weak as you fall to your elbows, hips held up by Lee Know’s hands as he buries himself deeper and deeper into you, pushing against that gummy spot that made pleasure so good it was painful, throbbing as you squirm.

“F-Fuck, baby, y-you-”

With a wail, you sob, crying out as your orgasm, the dim lights seeming to flash as you come. Hard. Lee Know follows suit, pumping himself in and out of you as he leaks, the sight of your pussy releasing his juices making him come again.

Pulling out of you, he watches as you collapse onto the bed, your chest heaving as you whine softly, your back clearly sore from the way you closed your eyes with relief.

“Y/n?”

You whimper softly at the sound of his voice, too exhausted to move, the sheets stained with evidence of what had happened. Lee Know gently lays on top of you, rolling off only when you whine softly.

“Baby, did I hurt you?” The worry in his voice is evident, making you open your eyes, lips parted slightly, body sticky from the way he had used you that night.

“No,” you whisper, eyes half closing as you shake your head softly. “‘M just tired.”

“Okay,” he says softly, kissing your nose. “I love you, baby. Go to sleep, I’ll clean us up and change the seats. You just relax, hm?”

Nodding, you fall asleep, snuggling closer to him as you do. “I love you, Lee Know.”

He just hums, smiling to himself as he watches you tenderly.

[satanghulu]

WHEN WE WERE KIDS

✦ PAIRING: thirteen x f! reader ✦ SUMMARY: Growing up in the perspective of Thirteen’s POV. (Alternatively, Thirteen has never learned how to love anyone else but you.) ✦ WARNING: high school au, angst, hurt no comfort, reader will have a personality ✦ WC: 3.8K

PART ONE | PART TWO | FIC MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Thirteen is an ugly crier. Her parents had always encouraged her to cry but they never once told her how to make the dam stop.

She sits in the playground, tears running down her cheeks, her snot-filled voice hiccuping as she desperately scratches at her eyes.

The staff in the kindergarten must have given up on her as she sat there alone as they busied themselves with taking care of the other kids, pretending not to see her crying her heart out in the middle of the slide.

A small figure jerks at the side of her eyes and she sees a hand reach out to her. Thirteen doesn’t recognise the hand or the face when her vision clears up enough to look at it.

The light-up pink sneakers catch her attention and for a second, her sobs subside.

The girl in the strawberry shortcake shirt looks at her curiously. She holds out her hand, outstretched as if she wanted to wipe away Thirteen’s tears.

Thirteen starts crying again, a loud wail that sounds throughout the area – this prompts the staff to quickly pick up the other kids to leave the area.

The girl continues to stare curiously at her, hands now dropped to her side.

“Are you sad?” She asks.

Bewildered by the question, Thirteen stops crying. She nods once, and then twice. Then she shakes her head.

She’s not sad, particularly. She just doesn’t know how to stop crying.

There is a silence that lasts a minute as the two of them engage in a stare-off. Finally, the girl sits beside her and holds out her hand again with a determined look.

“Don’t cry anymore.” 

This time, Thirteen gets a better look at the outstretched hands, now that her eyes weren’t filled with tears. They were small and splattered with paint from the earlier activities.

“I know.” Thirteen manages to choke out, hands flying up to rub at her eyes. They’re now itchy and irritating and she could feel the tell-tale tears starting up again.

“Nooo.” The girl pushes her hands away and rubs at Thirteen’s cheek gently before gasping.

“Paint.” She says.

“Paint.” Thirteen repeats, sniffling.

It turns out the paint was sticky with glue because moments later, the two girls were stuck together. Literally.

Thirteen doesn’t even realise she has stopped crying as the staff finally finally takes notice of them and rushes them to the nurse’s office.

“I’m MC.” The girl says after the nurse extracts them from each other, tutting at them gently. Thirteen’s parents are in the room, talking with the nurse while yours are nowhere to be found. Thirteen continues to trace stars into your skin, as you swing your leg on top of the table.

“I’m Thirteen.” She responds in kind. Thirteen’s parents call for her, and she hesitates to go over. She sees her sister standing in the hallway, hands crossed over her chest. But Thirteen doesn’t want to leave you just yet. 

Her sister comes over to drag her by the arm but she wrenches free and runs to hug you, rubbing her cheek against you. You accept her request to be her first friend.

.

With a girl like Thirteen, trouble was bound to follow her wherever she went. This holds true as both of you are currently getting the scolding of your lives — Thirteen has unintentionally spilled the hot chocolate she was holding onto the carpet in the living room and then used one of your mother’s high-end shirts to wipe up the stain.

Yet, she pays it no mind. She fidgets with her shirt, stubbornly avoiding eye contact with you because she just knows she would burst out in laughter the moment your eyes met and this would send your parents into another fit of anger which is not something she wants to see again.

After being expelled from the house, both of you let out the laughter you have been holding back. Thirteen thinks that your smile is the prettiest thing in the world and your laughter the best thing she’s ever heard.

This wouldn’t be the first and last time she was scolded by your parents but this leads to her being banned from your house for the rest of her life.

.

She’s eight when she comes to terms with the fact that you might just be her favourite person.

She tells you so one day, as you sit on the swingset in the same playground that both of you have met. You only hum and send her a big toothy grin, with two of your front teeth missing.

“I love you too!” Is what she thinks you say but she couldn’t be sure with the lisp you had developed from the missing teeth. (That night, she lies in bed awake thinking about your words.)

You immediately proceed to try and steal her ice cream and Thirteen lets you do so. She likes seeing you happy. 

.

Thirteen’s legs are tangled with yours as both of you giggle at whatever is playing on the screen. The popcorn that she had warmed up was nestled in the space between both of you and her hands were sticky with butter and residue as she tried to wrestle the remote from you.

“No, no!” You screeched, a high-pitched tone broken by the onset of puberty but it was ever so endearing to Thirteen.

Thirteen eventually lost the battle with you. You pouted at her, begging her to watch some rom-com movie with you. Thirteen could never resist you so she settles into the couch, ready for a bore of a movie.

She loves you really, but all you like are rom-com movies and she’s just not into that.

The movie finally starts playing and she’s already bored but she had promised you to watch it so she tries her hardest to keep her eyes glued to the screen.

The only comfort she had was you snuggling up beside her as you gave commentary on whatever scene was on the television.

When the movie gets to the climax, you have eventually quieted down and are holding your breath while clutching onto Thirteen’s sleeve.

She lets you do so, curious as to why you were so captivated. It was just a confession scene. She couldn’t find anything special about it except maybe the kissing part.

Your breath was hot on her neck as you stayed buried to her side. She turns and looks at you, eyes falling onto your lips. 

She wonders what it would be like to kiss you.

.

A new boy had joined the class today. He had introduced himself as Mephistopheles. Thirteen doesn’t like him. He was prudish and irritating in her books.

The teacher told him to choose a seat and with his audacity, he tried to sit next to you while she was in the toilet. The moment she was back, Thirteen had pushed him away because that was her rightful seat next to you. How dare he try to take her seat?

Mephistopheles had tumbled to the ground and started complaining about her with tears running down his cheek. The teacher had sent her into timeout as a punishment and being the dutiful friend you are, you had followed her to the side of the classroom before getting called back.

The boy had ended up sitting next to you. Thirteen could barely resist the flicker of jealousy within her but you had ignored Mephistopheles and it made her feel much better.

Her timeout lasted till lunch and you had sneaked away from the rest of the class to come and her, bringing your lunchbox to share with her.

“That guy.” 

“Yeah?” You responded, munching on the sandwich that Thirteen’s mum had prepared for both of you. Your face pinched into a frown at the thought of him.

“I don’t like him.” Thirteen says.

You’re usually the voice of reason between the duo but even you kept quiet for a second, swallowing around the mouthful of food.

“He keeps pulling on my hair.” You pouted, crumbs littered around the corner of your mouth. Thirteen’s face immediately turned into an ugly expression. 

Seeing your crestfallen expression is Thirteen’s least favourite thing in the world.

.

Mephistopheles became Thirteen’s first enemy.

In retaliation for her behaviour, the teacher swapped their seats around so Thirteen was no longer sitting next to you.

With some luck (or string), Mephistopheles ends up sitting next to you. He is the founder’s son and thus he gets away with many things, even if the teacher sees it.

Thirteen dislikes him.

He even made you cry once when he tugged on your hair so hard that some of the strands had fallen off. With that, he had solidified himself as Thirteen’s mortal enemy and so, she decided to take things into her own hands.

.

During recess period, she sneaks away from the rest of the class (and you) to the boys’ lockers. Quietly, she opens the locker named Mephistopheles and grabs his shoes.

She fills them with glue. She lines the side of both shoes with the glue she stole from the art room and then places them back where she found them. Her hands are sticky and she stops by the washroom before meeting you in the hallway.

“Thirteen?” You questioned, voice small. Your eyes fall on her hands that she had instinctively hidden behind her back.

She puts on a wide smile, one that stretches too much and hurts her face as she pushes you ahead. 

.

The teacher yells at the class the moment Mephistopheles comes crying to her. She punishes the whole class because she says a crime of this magnitude has to be orchestrated by a couple of the students.

Thirteen couldn’t keep the smile off her face even as she had to write a two-page reflection on the effects of bullying. She doesn’t care that the whole class was dragged into this fiasco because seeing your smile made everything worth it.

.

After school, you walked back home together, hand-in-hand as usual. But this time, you grabbed her hands and interlocked both of your pinkies together. Thirteen lets you do it without hesitation. She thinks she would let you do anything if you asked her to.

When Thirteen sends you to your house’s doorstop, you thank her with a sweet smile. She remembers stopping in her tracks at the sight of your smile, your front two teeth finally grown in. You had only giggled and leaned in to hug her, and then suddenly tip-toeing to kiss her on the cheeks.

Thirteen feels like she’s been punched in the guts, her stomach churning as if she had eaten playdough again.

“Thank you.” You say, eyes bright with that glean that Thirteen wants to cherish forever. Thirteen tilts her head, pretending not to understand.

It’s the first time Thirteen hides something from you.

(Thirteen never told you what she did and you never asked her about it. But she knows that there’s an implicit understanding that you already knew what she had done.)

.

They’re fourteen now.

You have grown taller and so has she. Thirteen misses your chubby cheeks but she thinks you’re pretty as always, even if your hair is now shorter than it used to be. 

(Your mother had made you go to a salon to cut your hair because apparently in her eyes, your hair is too unkempt when long. Thirteen thinks otherwise. You had cried into her shoulders for hours when you came back.)

You stand in front of her, hands outstretched, waiting for her to hold your hands as usual. 

“It’s the first day of school!” You titter on, swinging both of your hands excitedly. Thirteen watches as you stumble on, skirt swishing behind you. (Recently, her heart has been thumping more than usual. She wonders why?)

Thirteen grins as always, gripping your hand tightly and swerving you when you almost walked into a pole in your excitement. She doesn’t understand the appeal of the first day of school but you’re excited and so, she is as well.

She’s perfectly fine having just you in her entire universe. She doesn’t need anyone else.

.

In the first year of high school, they meet Raphael, a new addition to their duo.

He’s a boy their age and he sits next to you in Mathematics. You think he’s the coolest person you have ever met and you tell Thirteen so. She sees nothing special in him. He’s just a lanky boy with a perpetual unhappy face and he carries around a makeshift spear. (She thinks it’s simultaneously the lamest thing yet also the coolest thing ever.)

She doesn’t know what you see in him but she doesn’t see any harm in being friends with him. Sometimes, he’s even kind of cool because he lets her do anything she wants. It’s rare for anyone to let her in their vicinity nowadays.

Raphael acts older than them even though he’s only probably older than them by days – he scolds them sometimes, but mostly he lets both of you do your things. (He is. You had questioned everything about the mellow boy, and he had answered all of your questions if only to get you off his back.)

Thirteen thinks maybe she might start considering him a friend but you will always be her favourite person in the world, no, the universe. 

.

They never leave Raphael out, not on purpose – they drag him everywhere, to the park, to Thirteen’s house, to the mall, anywhere really. One day, Raphael brandishes a skateboard and that just establishes Raphael as one of the coolest people she has ever known.

Raphael always skates beside them as they skip along, sometimes, Thirteen carries you on her back because you always end up sore if you walk too long and she doesn't like to see you in pain.

He offers to carry you sometimes, saying it’s what boys should be doing but Thirteen refuses. Taking care of you is her responsibility and even if Thirteen considers him a friend now, this is something she cannot give up. 

(Adults have called her possessive and Thirteen hasn’t fully grasped what the word means but she doesn’t care. Why would someone else take care of you when she is right here?)

.

Thirteen furrows her eyebrow at the question. 

She’s seated around a round table as part of a bonding session, with you on her right and a random girl (she presumes to be her classmate but she doesn’t care enough to remember her name), has started talking about boys.

“Do you have someone you are interested in?” The girl asks, lips cherry red from the lollipop she was licking at. This makes Thirteen’s mind wonder about you. (You have recently started wearing makeup and Thirteen has been staring at your lips more often.)

“Yeah.” She says cooly, staring at the girl straight in the eyes. She doesn’t understand the gasps from the rest of the table. Shouldn’t it already be obvious? There was always only one person in her mind.

The girl taps on her arm playfully, lashes fluttering to try and get Thirteen to spill her secret. Thirteen so badly wants to rip off her glasses and stomp them on the ground but she knows that you would be disappointed in her. She feels disgusted, shifting in her seat to lean against you so that Glasses would get the hint and stop.

When she turns her head, you have an unreadable expression on your face.

“Who?” Glasses asked, persistent and hands still pawing at her. Thirteen points a finger at you, the table suddenly falling silent before a laugh breaks out, spiraling the whole table into a mess.

“Thirteen, not her. I mean a boy.” Glasses had laughed so hard that tears were leaking out. “You’re a girl, right? You’re supposed to like a boy.”

Thirteen frowns at her statement, it somehow felt like she was being mocked. 

“Why not?”

Glasses blundered for a second before straightening up. “Girls are supposed to marry boys. That’s what people say.” Even Glasses doesn’t look convinced by what she said.

She was about to open her mouth to argue more but a squeeze on her thigh caught her attention.

Once. Twice. Thrice. 

That was their secret code that you had come up with in situations where they were unable to talk. Thirteen doesn’t understand why you are using it now but she stops obediently.

The awkwardness in the air fades and the topic soon shifts naturally.

.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

Thirteen doesn’t see the appeal in the celebration but you, a hopeless romantic, had been talking about it since the start of the month. For the past few years, she had only gotten you discounted chocolates with her minuscule allowance. Thirteen had made up her mind this year to make the day more unique for you – her parents had finally increased her allowance and she had been saving it up.

The gaudy bright pink and blue card she holds in her hand feels heavy today. After sending you home yesterday, and chasing Raphael away when he wanted to follow her, she had run to the nearest craft store to get art supplies.

She had made the whole card from scratch – buying glitter and various knick-knacks and even enlisting the help of her sister to make the card look nicer. She douses the whole card in blue glitter because that’s her favourite colour and pink is yours. (She thinks it's the best combination in the world.)

You spot her in the distance, hands shooting up immediately to wave her over. Her seat is next to yours for the first period, and so she makes her way over, keeping the card and box of handmade chocolate behind her back.

Her heart is in her throat. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous either, but she is. Her eyes stay glued to your smile until you pull out the chair, and she sees the stack of letters on your desk. A pit grows in her stomach and it must show on her face because you stare at her.

“Why are you sad?” You questioned, only looking at her. You bring up both hands to squash Thirteen’s cheeks together, making silly faces in an attempt to cheer her up.

Her grip on her presents tightened and she stared at the pile on your desk as if they had done something to personally wronged her. 

“Did many people give you gifts?” Her voice comes out all wrong, warbled, and shaky.

You nod, still keeping your eyes on her. 

“But I don’t care about those. I’m waiting for your chocolates!” You mentioned, swiping the letters and gifts onto the floor before moving your chair to face you. You make grabby hands at her, clearly expectant.

The bundle of nerves inside her loosened just a bit.

“Mine?” Thirteen says. Her arms are getting tired from hiding the items behind her back so she presented it to you. Your smile lights up your face and you grab the card to hug it against your chest.

“I love you!” You proudly declare, cheekily pinching Thirteen’s side. You gently set the box of chocolates and her letter on your desk before reaching into your bag to pull out a similar-looking card.

“Tada!” You hold out the card to her – it was slightly crumpled around the edges but Thirteen notices that you had scribbled blue hearts all around the title.

“Blue hearts?” Thirteen asked, a similar lip-splitting smile on her face.

“You’re blue and I’m pink.” You explain simply, before brandishing a box of chocolate to her. “I may have burnt some of them so just eat one and throw away the rest.” You say sheepishly, eyes widening as Thirteen immediately unwraps the ribbon to open it.

Thirteen pops one into her mouth, chewing it and even though she could taste the burnt tinge in the roof of her mouth, it is the best chocolate she had ever eaten in her life. She eats a few more and tells you so.

“You’re so silly.” You rolled your eyes and nudged her shoulder but she could tell that you were pleased with her compliment, back straight and swinging your legs.

(She secretly hopes this tradition will continue to happen every year.)

.

They’re out at a party today. Candy, Thirteen’s sister, had extended an invitation to them. (You think it’s because Candy had accidentally broken one of Thirteen’s props for a prank and had felt apologetic but Thirteen thinks otherwise.)

Giggling and all dressed up, you knock on Raphael’s door, waiting for the boy to come and open the door.

“What do you want?” His voice, curt as usual, holds a hint of curiosity this time as he peers at them in the small gap in the door that he had created.

Thirteen blows a raspberry at him. “We’re going to a party!” You pull on her arm, a silent plea for her to behave herself.

Raphael looks at you and then he looks at Thirteen before shutting the door — but Thirteen sticks her leg into the gap before wincing at the impact as Raphael tries to push her leg out.

“You’re coming with us.” Thirteen declared, finally managing to manhandle the door and forcing it open.

Raphael only sighs as the door inches wide.

.

Thirteen is in the middle of the room, dancing her heart out with her hips swaying to the beat. She had lost you in the crowd, and Raphael had probably skulked away to the kitchen to keep up with his mysterious air.

She’s in the midst of a crowd, the steady bass of the music thumping through her, and people are crowding her.

She doesn’t mind the attention for once, playing up all her charms and winking to the people who dared come up to her. She thinks that maybe she’s been craving for attention and for someone to want her more than she had thought.

But a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach starts developing and soon enough, she stumbles off to the side of the room, holding onto the wall for support. 

She wonders what it would take for someone to love a person like her.

Raphael had once said that Thirteen and you must have once been lovers in another life (Thirteen thinks so too) because she could feel your stare on her and sure enough, a hand that she knows is yours, was placed on her back.

Thirteen finds it intriguing too. Through all the blurs of faces, your face stands out as the only clear one in the sea.

You’re looking at her again with amusement, but Thirteen feels like her head is underwater, she can’t hear you but all she can see is your soft pink lips. The smell of something sweet wraps around her, and she can’t help but think of your strawberry lipgloss, the one she gave you for your birthday.

If she kisses you now, would you push her away?

Her mouth opens and what comes out is the dinner that her mother had whipped out instead of words.

“Thirteen!”

She had puked on you.

a/n▸ vaguely inspired by a fic I read like 8 years ago, which unfortunately has been deleted. but it is a testament to how much it changed my brain chemistry LOL also I was supposed to finish the entire fic for obey me month, @obeymetournaments but life got me in a chokehold so im making it multi-chaptered and a PSA to finish this in the future 😭

[ari-cuno]

Feelings are hard.

A quick Aim and Axel drabble

Tw: Angst, Post-Partum Depression (implied) , sickness

Axel belongs to me

Aim belongs to @zu-is-here

Anko was just an accident…a fluke. Certainly not an unwanted accident, just a little blip that wasn't planned.

Axel certainly hadn't planned on becoming a parent so soon out of all his siblings, especially his sisters, with their already blooming relationships. He was alone for the most part before this, the girl of his dreams having rejected him and leaving him in the pitiful ‘friendzone’ as they say. He'd never been the best at expressing his feelings to others besides his immediate family. It was hard to ask for help, or to show weakness, especially when so many people relied on him during harsh times his parents were gone.

…and then he found Aim.

Axel had wanted to explore how far he could go in his multiverse, despite the warnings from his mother about straying too far, thinning the borders between their world and those of an entirely different multiverse. Oras had done it before when she met alternate versions of important out codes and even when communicating with the voices, but he was…in search of someone.

His worst fear was he'd be long gone by then, time was strange between worlds afterall. Axel sort of was annoyed by his parents revealing his immortality so late. He'd remembered sensing a little spark so long ago in his childhood that stuck close to his heart for so many years.

Axel searched for what felt like forever, a grassy field before him with a tall, healthy apple tree in front of him. When all hopes seemed lost he hadn't noticed a much larger skeleton looking surprised a few feet away from him.

“...Can I help you?”

Axel laid his head on the soft cushion tiredly, although it did nothing to stop the constant aching sensation in his body.

…no one had told him being a parent could be so scary.

There were never any troubles with Anko. He'd appeared one day, only serving to complicate the relationship between Axel and the couch potato Aim had reserved himself to. He wasn't born by normal means, he'd just appeared one day, a happy little accident that was quickly accepted into the family.

But this was different.

The baby currently curled up in the bed in front of him wailing away hadn't been made like that.

Axel understood Aims' way of affection, he understood and respected that way in which he showed it. There had been a spark one day, and whether they thought of it or not, a decision was made. Axel had wanted more, he'd wanted love, he wanted to be someone worth loving…but also love others that way too.

…

“Shhh…” Axel tried to hush the suffering little girl gently, her soft cries making it hard for him to focus his own thoughts. It was hard being weak for so many months, the vulnerability was foreign to him, even with the support he was shown. And yet…things hadn't been okay.

He was scared, oh so scared. Eve, his beautiful daughter, their beautiful daughter… had been born sick.

She was sick, and they didn't know why. Her body and soul were weak, leaving her vulnerable and frail. Despite his powerful magic and blood…what could have gone wrong?

Axel tried so hard, he tried to give her whatever worked to ease her pain. It had been several weeks since her birth…and it had gotten worse. Nothing was working, she still coughed, cried, and the most he could do was hush her for but a brief moment. He'd left her older brother with his parents for the time being.

It would be scary if Anko saw one of his parents crying.

It made him feel weak and ugly, but the tears streamed down his face as he reached out, holding Eve's little hand with a gentle yet fierce grip. It was hard to resist the urge to make his crying vocal, but he choked back little sobs as he stared down at her. It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve to suffer so young. It was terrifying, he wasn't…wasn't sure how she would feel better- *if* she would feel better-

“...Axel?”

Axel took a deep breath, quickly trying to wipe his tears away and hide the stains left on the blanket below. “A-Aim… ?” He said, silently cursing himself for stuttering like a fool.

Aim was there, orange tinted goggles and the large body of a huggable man. Even through the goggles he could see the concern on the tallers face. “Everything okay? I heard her crying, but…” Aim paused, watching Axel desperately trying to recompose himself.

“...Were you crying-”

He was going to hate himself for this later.

Axel practically fell into the man he loved for most of his life. He buried himself in his taller frame, unable to stop the cries from coming out. He needed this…

Aim was momentarily stunned as Axel sobbed, weeks of pure exhaustion, worry, and fear crashing down on him in an instant.

“I'm sorry…” Axel apologized quietly, trying to calm himself down. “She's not getting better…I don't know what to do…”

There was a heavy silence.

“I'm scared…I can't do this alone…” Axel finally confessed, “...I need you. I want to be more with you…“ he whispered in a slight pleading tone.

“I love you...”

[reccyls]

Beyond the Merging of Then and Now (Azel story)

Azel's 4th anniversary story sale, where child Azel is brought into the future to meet Emma and current Azel.

---

As I made my way towards Prince Azel's sanctuary as usual, I came across a small figure.

Emma: This child was all alone in the middle of the desert. Emma: His hair and eye color are exactly like yours, so is he your secret son?

Azel: Not that I can recall. Azel: And don't just bring any random child from who knows where to my sanctuary. Azel: Send him away.

Emma: Don't you have any heart at all!?

Azel: A god has no such thing.

???: God...

Emma: ...That's right. This man here is a god.

(He finally said something.) (He seems to be really anxious around strangers. On the way here, he barely spoke at all. And...) (He's been gripping at the hem of his clothes almost like he's scared of something. And his expression is so stiff.)

Emma: If there's anything troubling you, this man can help you.

Azel: No I won't.

???: O holy god...

Azel: Did you not hear what I just said?

???: Please help me...

Azel: And what would you offer in return? I care not for destitute believers.

???: I... I...

(!?)

Emma: H-hey, don't cry! Were you scared of this mister? Emma: I know he has a bad personality, but he's not a bad person.

Azel: How disrespectful. Your ability to keep adding onto your debt remains unchanged.

Emma: Prince Azel, please don't bully a child, especially not one this young.

Azel: I would have been merciful had he been just an ordinary child. Azel: But this boy is no "ordinary child". Azel: Just looking at him is enough to make me sick. If you won't throw him out, I will.

Emma: No, no, no, absolutely not!

???: ...if even god has forsaken me... then what should I do...?

Emma: It'll be okay! He's been- um, this was all a divine joke!

Azel: .......A what.

Emma: Anyway! Could you tell me your name? Emma: I've been wondering what I should call you.

???: ........

(Uh oh... He doesn't seem to want to talk to me.)

Azel: Call him whatever you want. How does 'Brat' sound?

Emma: Well then, I'll just borrow part of your name. We'll call him El.

Azel: What kind of hideous naming system is that? No.

Emma: El, won't you tell me what's bothering you?

El: ........

Emma: Did you get lost? If you can't find your parents, we'll look for them together.

El: ........

(Hmm, still nothing. He's just been crying silently, but I feel like there's something he wants to say.) (But he doesn't sob and wail like a regular kid. It's like he's still trying to hold everything back...) (Like his heart is a bowl full of water with a little crack in it, and his tears are slowly leaking out.) (It really hurts to see.)

Azel: Anyway, I shall be leaving now. I leave things here to you.

Emma: No you aren't!

Azel: Ugh... Let go of me.

Emma: Between the two of us, you're the only one that El will talk to. Emma: He doesn't trust me, so please stick around for his sake.

Azel: I don't care.

Emma: ........

Azel: What?

Emma: ........

Azel: Don't just look down and stand there silently.

Emma: ........

Azel: What, are you crying?

Emma: ........

Azel: No, a woman as impudent as you wouldn't-

Emma: ........

Azel: There's no way.

Emma: ........ Emma: ........ *sniffle*

Azel: Agh, damn it, fine. Fine! What do you want me to do? Just tell me.

Emma: Thank you for your kindness, Prince Azel! You aren't just using the title of god for show after all! Emma: --ow, ow, ow, don' pull my cheeks!

Azel: This is your punishment for blasphemy.

El: .....

Azel: You're crying too much, brat. Stop.

El: Because... because I'm still--- I'm not...

Azel: Watch what you say. Don't say anything unnecessary.

El: .......

Azel: At any rate. Brat. It appears as though this woman will be your playmate.

El: ...I can't play.

Azel: God himself speaks before you, and you dare to defy me?

El: ...It's really okay?

Emma: You've never played any games before, El?

El: Never.

(Whatever circumstances El is in must be even worse than I thought.)

Azel: Well then, I've done my part, so now--

Emma: Let's all play together!

Azel: Are you trying to give me an ulcer?

Emma: Oh, I'm sure won't be that bad, come on!

Azel: ...You are definitely the worse person compared to me.

Emma: I didn't hear that! Now come on, let's all play hide and seek!

scene change - now at an oasis

El: Hmmm.... he's not here.

Emma: Who would have thought that Prince Azel was so good at hide and seek...

(It is kind of petty how he's hidden himself away.)

El: Of course we can't find him. He's god, so he has to be good at everything.

Emma: ...You think so?

El: Yes.

Emma: Then it must be really tough, being god.

El: ...Yes. It's tough. El: Um, no, wait. It's not tough at all. El: That's just how a god is.

Emma: ...

El: ...What's wrong?

Emma: It's nothing. I just thought that you looked more relaxed, that's all.

(He was pretty closed off at first, but I think El's warmed up to me while we were searching for Prince Azel.) (Playing like this, he seems just like a normal child.)

El: ...I'm sorry.

Emma: What are you apologizing for?

El: I'm not supposed to let anything show on my face. El: People change how they act if I change my expression. El: If I don't keep things the same, it makes people start unnecessary conflicts. El: Actually... I shouldn't have cried before. I'm not good enough yet.

(So that's why he was so closed-off.) (...I don't know El's full circumstances, but that's probably what the adults around him told him.)

Emma: El, right now, there's nobody here aside from you and me, right? Emma: I don't know who told you that, but here, it doesn't matter. Emma: I promise I'll keep it a secret, so it's okay to let your emotions show, all right?

El: ...... El: ....Miss... What do you think about me?

Emma: Hmmm... I suppose I think you're a young boy who has a lot of difficult things to worry about.

El: A boy... El: ....... El: ...Okay. Then, just for now is okay... El: I'll stop holding back... because for now, I'm just a boy.

(He smiled! What a little angel!)

Emma: Great! So let's play a lot more, okay?

El: Okay. I'll wake up from this dream eventually, but until then, I want to play a lot.

Emma: Dream?

El: My grown up self who became a real god is here, so this must be a dream.

Emma: ...Your grown up self?

El: Huh...? El: Oh, miss, you didn't realize? El: My name is--

Azel: It's El, is it not? Though I think "Brat" suits you better. "Stupid Brat" even more.

El: Mmph!?

Emma: Wha- Prince Azel!? Where did you come from-- wait before that, stop covering El's mouth!

Azel: I don't know. Keeping his mouth shut seems like the better-- ack!

(El bit him!)

El: ...Miss.

Emma: Leave it to me! Just say the word and I'll give Prince Azel a good slap--

El: No, it's not that. We found god.

Emma: ...Oh, that's true.

(I forgot we were in the middle of hide and seek.)

El: I knew you didn't want to let her know, but...

Azel: ...

El: The bait really worked. Even though you're an actual god.

Azel: ...All right. Time to do what I should have done from the start. I'm tossing you out to the far end of the desert.

Emma: Wait! You're not really going to take him away!?

Prince Azel picked up the struggling El under one arm and began walking. Perhaps it was due to how I desperately chased after the god who really did began walking out into the dunes, But the burning pain in my chest lingered for a long while after that.

[storm-angel989]

How would Valentino react to his baby having colic? (when a baby cries for no apparent reason)

Hi Friend,

Please see the below! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. As you may have noticed, I haven't published any content in a bit- this is the first one I'm happy with how it came out!

Enjoy!

<3 Mandy

The sound of a baby crying used to piss him off.

The screeching, shrieking, screaming bawl of an insolent child instilled nothing in him but rage. In the past, he wanted nothing more than to eliminate the sound by any means possible, and although children were barred in his studio, he made it a point to ensure they were kept as far away from him as possible in all areas of his life. Hell, if someone had told the younger version of himself that someday he would run towards his own crying child and not away from it, he would have probably shot them without hesitation. 

As Valentino lounged back in his directors chair, the scream of his number one rule being shattered sent him to his feet, his wings springing  forth as he launched himself towards the sound. For the first time in front of people, the sudden movement was for protection, not anger. 

“Val, I need a break,” his wife’s voice, quaking with tears, met his monstrous form. “I can’t, I can’t get her to settle.” 

“Back upstairs,” his voice answered, sharp as a knife. “You know…”

“Val, I’m begging you.”

The continuous crying, and the tone of his wife's voice told him something was very, very wrong. Ignoring the work behind him, he shielded her and the screaming child as he guided her to the elevator. His wings blocking the view, he took the upset child from his wife and settled her against him. Behind him, the door closed and despite the constant noise, his voice softened.

“Bebita, what’s wrong?” He asked as he tried to comfort his child. To his surprise, the wailing continued. Even more alarming, his wife began to sob. 

“I…don’t….know! She won’t stop crying. I tried everything, I can’t…she won’t…why do I feel like this?” 

With his free arm, he pulled his wife to his side and gently cradled her head to his shoulders. He pressed his lips to the top of her head as he did his best to soothe both her and the baby. A younger Valentino would have smacked any woman who dared to cry in front of him. After all, he wasn’t an overlord known for mercy. But as he appraised his wife’s current  appearance, the very thought of hurting her made him sick to his stomach. Dark circles under her eyes, pajamas that clearly needed to be changed, and hair that looked like it needed to be washed- or at the very least, brushed. But moreso, she seemed beyond exhausted. Sad maybe? Overwhelmed? Sick? He couldn’t tell.  How long had she been alone with a crying baby?

“Alright, honey, we’ll figure it out,” Valentino said finally. “I’ll call the doctor and…”

“You have to work, I shouldn’t have bothered you,” she sobbed through the continued cries. “I tried to call Vox and Velvette, and I just…she’s colicky, and I can’t…I don’t…”

“Hey, hey. No. Always come to us,” he replied quickly. “You’re not in this alone. Come on. You need sleep.” 

The elevator door opened and he carefully guided his wife into the penthouse and nudged her towards the bedroom. 

“Go. I’ve got the baby,” he said gently. “You need to go rest, and…”

“No! She won’t stop crying, she won’t take a bottle, her diaper is dry, I’ve tried everything. You can’t just lay her down! Something is wrong and I, I can’t figure it out,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry! Nothing is working, Val!” Her expression crumbled as she sobbed harder. “I’m a terrible mother. I suck.”  

Unease settled over Valentino. To see his wife, a known angel slayer, merciless ruler of hell, crumble to bits sent alarm bell ringing. He stepped into the nursery and laid the still screaming baby down in the crib before walking out to where she stood, shaking. Wordlessly, he guided her to their bedroom and kissed her forehead. 

“You are not a sucky mother,” he told her firmly. “I want you to lay down and sleep. In silence. You’ll feel better once you’ve rested, I promise. I’ll take care of the baby. You take care of yourself.” 

“I only have one job right now, and I can’t even do that right,” she sobbed. “She’s still…”

Valentino didn’t like to do it. And he knew he would pay for it in spades later. But he bent down and as he pressed his lips to hers, he allowed just the smallest drop of his red liquid slip into her mouth, just enough to make her sleep. He watched as her entire body instantly fell against the bed. Gingerly, he settled her under the covers before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. 

Though distracted momentarily, the sound of the baby crying brought him back to attention. Quickly, he walked back to the former guest bed turned nursery and lifted his daughter from her crib. 

“Shush, mi bebita princessa,” he said softly as he rocked the still crying baby. “It’s okay, Papi is here. Shush.” 

The cries continued. Valentino glanced at the clock. It had been less than a half hour since his wife had showed up at the studio and already the noise was giving him a headache. He settled down in the rocking chair and with one arm supporting her, the other quickly called the pediatrician. 

One long list of suggestions later, with the promise of a house visit if none of them worked, Valentino stood up and carried the baby towards the bathroom. 

“Does your tummy hurt?” He asked aloud softly. “Shuddh. Daddy will try to make it better. Let’s try a warm bath, okay?” 

With one hand holding her securely, the other turned on the faucet, filling the infant bath tub that currently occupied one side of the vanity. As he waited for it to fill up, he laid his daughter on the changing table and tugged off her diaper and onesie. 

“I know sweetheart,” he said softly as she continued to cry. “Let’s see if this helps.” 

As soon as the water was comfortably warm, he added a few drops of lavender oil and settled her in the tub. Gentle as he could, he carefully ran a soft washcloth over her body, cooing to her as he did. To his relief, she seemed to settle ever so slightly. 

“Did the warm water help?” He asked as he lifted her from the tub and wrapped her in a towel. “Papi will put you in some clean clothes and rub your tummy and if that doesn’t work, we’re going to try a baba again, okay?” 

Her only response was to continue to cry. Unbothered, he laid her back down and dressed her in a diaper. He hesitated slightly as he laid his hand on her tummy. The doctor had suggested a gentle massage, but the fear of hurting her- and causing more discomfort- flitted through his mind. Carefully, as gently as he could, he pressed down and gently rubbed in a clockwise direction, just as the doctor had suggested.

“Does that feel better?” he asked softly. “Does it help your tummy?”

Valentino watched her facial expression change. A green stain on the previously white changing pad slowly crept out from under her and suddenly, her cries stopped. All of his experience on the club scene had made him immune to the worst of scents, and his daughter was no exception. 

“Still better than drunk adults,” Valentino told her as he lifted her. “You’re going to need another bath though.”

To his relief, she giggled. He quickly discarded the now soiled diaper and sat her up, wiping her down with her damp towel as quickly as he could. 

“The rest will come off in the bath,” he told her. “You’re yucky. But I love you.” 

She babbled and he carefully laid her in the still warm water. A quick wipe down with a washcloth and a rinse in the open sink later, he wrapped her in a fresh towel and carried her out of the bathroom. 

“You’re lucky your Aunt Velvette designed this room,” he told her as he laid her on the changing table closest to the crib. “She thought of everything. I don’t know any other baby in the world that has not one, not two, not even three- but four whole changing tables. And two cribs. You know, just in case one gets yucky.” He unwrapped her and dressed her in a fresh diaper and onesie. “Babies are yucky. Yes they are. Doesn’t mean I love you any less, but you’re yucky.” 

Once she was dressed, he lifted her up and carried her out to the kitchen. With one arm supporting her, he made a bottle and pressed it to her lips. To his relief, she latched on quickly. He carried her across the room and sank onto the couch as he fed her, relishing in the silence. 

“She isn’t crying,” came his wife’s quivering voice. “How did you get it to stop?”

Valentino looked up to see his wife standing next to the couch, her eyes filled with tears. To his dismay, it didn’t look like she had done more than get an hour or so of sleep. 

“She had a major blowout,” he replied calmly. “A warm bath and I rubbed her belly. That’s all. Come here, bebita. Let me hold both my girls.” 

“Son of a bitch,” she whispered as she sank down next to him. “Val, I tried that, I couldn’t…”

“It was nothing I did,” he said quickly. “Just the right time. You did everything right.”

“Apparently not,” she whispered. 

Valentino set the empty bottle to the side and shifted his daughter upright. He snagged a clean cloth from the table and laid her head on his shoulder as he patted her back firmly. 

“She’ll probably sleep after this,” Valentino said quietly. “Why don’t you go take a shower? Spend some time taking care of yourself? You’ll feel better, mi amore.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re a good mom. And being a good mom is a full time job, and some. I’m glad you came to find me today. You don’t have to do this alone, my love.” 

“But that's all I do right now, I shouldn’t have to bother you,” she whispered back. “I…Uncle Lucifer won’t let me work, because…”

“Because having a baby is a full time job. And recovering from giving birth is another full time job,” he replied firmly. “And you can’t go through days like today alone, without a break. You deserve to shower, and eat, and drink and do all the things the rest of us do while working. You do not have to sacrifice yourself and your sanity to take care of an infant.” He leaned over and kissed her again. “Now, please mi amore- take the next few hours to do all the things you’ve been neglecting to do.”

“Val, I…” 

“Not up for discussion,” he told her firmly. “Go.” 

To his relief, she stood up and vanished into their bedroom. As soon as he was good and sure his daughter was ready, he laid her down in her crib.

“Now, Uncle Vox has his eyes on you,” he told her as he checked the position of the cameras. “So be good. But cry if you need anything.”

She babbled in response, but stayed quiet as he turned and walked away, his eyes on the video footage of her on his phone. To his relief, she fell asleep almost instantly. 

Several hours later, his wife lay snuggled up against him in their bed. Time spent soaking in a hot bath, clean pjs, her favorite dinner and lots of rest, his wife looked more like herself.

“I married the best man,” she told him as she snuggled into his chest. “Thanks, Val.”

He looked down at her. “You don’t get to thank me for being a father. She’s half mine you know.”

She laughed and snuggled into his neck. “Yeah, but…”

“No buts,” he replied lightly. “You’re mom, I’m dad. And you have Auntie Velvette and Uncle Vox to lean on. Don’t let yourself get to that point again mi amore, promise?”

“I promise.”

[not-so-mundane-after-all]

As someone who never played these games, I don't know the details of the whole winter/David thing besides a few hints I caught online and I am waiting to find out with the episode, but, no matter what happens and how it happens in the game, I really hope we do not only see this hug play out in the show but also the aftermath of it.

I need to see Joel take Ellie to safety - if it's that basement they are currently in or some other place, doesn't matter, just that they are alone and safe. I need to see him stepping back into the role of the caretaker after all the time Ellie spent taking care of him, I want to see him find his footing again, do something that will ground him and help him ease the nerves, tension and fear.

Let him sit her down and start washing the blood off her face and hands, trying to be as soft and gentle and comforting as possible, seeing how distraught she is, but also visibly shaking with that barely contained, feral, protective anger - not at Ellie but at himself, at the people who hurt his little girl like that, at this fucked up universe for letting this all happen.

But most of all, let Ellie finally have a moment where she can just... let it go. Let the dam break. Let her cry and sob and scream, smash things if she needs to, let her cling to Joel's chest and just wail.

About how scared she was all the time, day and night, thinking she's going to lose him. About how hard it was, keeping herself and him alive. How tired she is.

And let Joel hold her close, rock her in his arms and tell her it's alright now, he's here, the worst is over. And even when she shakes her head, still in that caretaker/survival mode, going on about how no, I can't fucking rest, I need to check your wound, see if the stitches still hold after today, maybe I need to change the bandages, fuck where are the bandages? I need to-

He holds her down, makes her look him in the eyes and tells her that it's okay. She doesn't need to worry about it anymore. She did good, she can rest now. He's not going anywhere.

[shroomdreams]

cw: doggy style, fingering, multiple orgasms, gn!reader, usage of hole (can be interpreted as either vaginal or anal)

a/n: this is entirely based on that part of the liyue archon quest where zhongli liked the perfume mature women use 💀

thinking about...

...the way zhongli gazes at you from afar while you play with your son. you're currently on your day off, and you decide to spend with your son, gently guiding his hand while he flies a kite. he's never seen a beauty like you around the harbor before, had you moved in recently? either way, he finds himself being drawn to you. how your hair complements your face, how your clothes tastefully hug your figure, how he smells a particular kind of perfume on your person-

ah, he's got to compose himself.

zhongli introduces himself to your family of two- your son immediately perking up in intrigue when zhongli draws near. you brush aside your hair, talking to zhongli as your son narrows his eyes at him. still, he eventually grew to tolerating the older man's presence around you, though he pouted whenever he felt that zhongli was taking up much of your time. though a few snacks and a game of marbles is enough to cheer him up, and eventually zhongli endears himself to your boy.

you on the other hand, can't help the warmth that blossoms in your heart whenever you talk to zhongli. your work as the guzheng player at a quaint teahouse is nothing to write home about, but zhongli finds interest in your career anyway, suggesting some songs you could play. and on days where he visits your workplace, he often takes the table closest to you, drinking his tea are your deft fingers play a song he's known for a very long time.

oh, you know you shouldn't be feeling this type of way to zhongli- you're certain he couldn't ever return your affections, and dating a single parent probably isn't that appealing to him. still, you allow yourself to indulge in the fantasy, daydreaming about zhongli and how he might hold you close...

which is why you're a little shocked when zhongli makes a surprise visit to your home.

zhongli smiles as you sniffle and cry out, his fingers teasing your poor hole with precision. you shakily place your hand on his. "zh- hnnn- zhongli-" you gasp, feeling his digits curl into particular spot that has you seeing stars.

"you're doing so good for me," he whispered, quickening his ministrations and drawing out more moans from you. you're extremely grateful your son is off studying in school right now- "you have no idea how long i've been wanting to do this, my little gem..." he plants kisses on your neck as he continued to thrust his fingers in your hole.

"zhongli, i'm- i'm gonna-" you couldn't finish your sentence, letting out a strained wail as you arched your back, your legs shaking from the orgasm zhongli coaxed out of you. he whispers more praise in your ear, stilling his fingers are you whimper from the sensation, hips bucking upwards when he pulled them out.

"that was marvelous... but surely you could give me one more?"

you squeaked when zhongli flips you on your stomach, ass up in the air. you grip the pillows in embarrassment. it's been so long since you've been put in such a vulnerable position, twitching when you feel something slap against your ass.

"ready?" zhongli kisses your shoulder as he aligns the tip to your entrance. you nod, mumbling your consent. zhongli hums in appreciation as he begins pushing his cock inside.

"o-oh!" you gasp for air, feeling the intrusion rubbing against your walls, quivering as zhongli continues to push inside. you start to cry, feeling so full, feeling him so deep inside as his hips finally meet your ass. the pleasure and burn of feeling zhongli deep inside makes you sob, keening when he grinds against you. "it's so much! i- AH!" a snap of his hips makes you loss your train of thought. "zh-zhongli-"

"mmph-" zhongli growls. "such delicious reactions... do forgive me for being selfish-" he draws his hips back before roughly slamming his length inside, ripping a moan from you as he starts a fast pace. "i promise our next coupling will be more romantic than this one." how can he say such things while your insides are being battered by his dick? you don't even register what he's saying at this point, overwhelmed by the feeling of his rod dragging against your walls, kissing your sensitive spots with precise strokes-

you wail out as you feel another orgasm building inside, pushing your hips against zhongli in attempt to meet his thrusts. "zhongli! zhongli! o-oh- archons, there! ahh~!" zhongli groans out in approval, gripping your hips tight to pull you close, lewd slaps filling your bedroom as his thrusts become needy and rough as your walls milk his cock.

"th-that's it. go on, fall apart, my little gem-" he whispered, reaching over to play with your nipples. the added stimulation causes you to break and cry, crashing against your second orgasm as you sob into the pillows, tightening around zhongli's cock. he snarls, fucking you through your climax until you cry out, filling your hole with his seed.

zhongli huffs, grinding against your ass as you whimper from the slight overstimulation. he pulls out, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches his cum ooze out from your hole. you fully collapse on the bed, breathless and dazed. you're about to fall asleep when your eyes shoot wide open, looking over to see that zhongli's fingers have found themselves back inside. a third orgasm quickly approaches as you wail, sobbing and begging zhongli for mercy until you cum again, legs twitching as he pulls out his fingers. zhongli holds you close as you cry, trying to calm down from the high he's delivered you to.

later on, your son makes a face when he finds you and zhongli in the kitchen, but quickly warms up when he finds that zhongli has made some snacks for you and him to enjoy.

thank goodness he doesn't notice the slight wobble in your legs when you pour him some juice- you still aren't sure how to tell him that you're dating zhongli now. what's certain though, is that zhongli adores you very much. your family of two grows into three.