He thinks shit be funny when it’s really not. Fingers spreading your lips apart, he’ll coo at the quivering of your hole.
“Oh look, she’s talking to me,” he mutters to himself, grinning. “Hi, pretty baby. Whatcha trying to say? ‘You’re so handsome, Satoru?’ And, ‘You’re the best lover I’ve ever had?’”
When he continues his little conversation, you know he’s genuinely getting lost in his own delusions. A whimper of frustration leaves you. That grabs his attention and with a mock gasp of shock, he presses an apologetic kiss right on your clit, sucking as hard as he can to really get his point across.
“Awwwwww, baby. I’m sorry. Bet you were feeling left out, huh? Okay, okay. Time to get serious.”
And then a wide tongue is splaying flat against your entire pussy, spreading your wetness around as he motorboats your sloppy cunt, humming a breathy laugh at the juicy sounds that he elicits. “How’s -ha- this? Better? God, you taste so good. Been eating pineapples, haven’t you?”
“S-shut up, Toru,” you groan.
“Hey, don’t be mean,” he grumbles with no real heat.
The orgasm that washes over you is powerful and you can’t conjure a single word out even when he quizzes you like an idiot, rubbing in that he's made you feel so good, you're left silent and dumb. “What day is it? No, I don’t think it’s ‘oh fuckkkk.’ Let's try so something easier. Can you recite pi to the one hundredth digit, baby? No? Yeah, me neither. Aw, you look so pretty. I should take a picture, shouldn’t I? Okay, okay, hold that face. Gonna get a camera.”
Geto: like it’s a test
“Come on, pretty.” He pulls away from your cunt, lips glistening with your juices and you have to fight the urge to close your legs from sudden embarrassment. “You’re pulling my hair too hard. How am I supposed to give you all my attention if you’re pulling me away, hmm?”
Lying down on his stomach, he’s placed himself in the most comfortable position for him to do everything it takes to bring you pleasure. And just as he said, locks of his silky black hair pool through your fingers as you tug every time the tip of his tongue rolls your bundle of nerves with expert precision.
“Sorry, Sugu,” you find the clarity to whimper out.
His arm reaches out to grip a breast and the weight makes his eyes roll back. As if punishing you for distracting him, he pinches a nipple and shoves his tongue inside your pussy, feeling the gummy walls clench down. Your back arches. “’s okay, pretty girl. Just —mhm so well-behaved— focus on the pleasure, alright?”
"Oh, Suguru, I can't. S-so good, oh yes, right there."
A thumb finds its way onto your clit, rubbing in precise and controlled circles; he knows just how you like it. Your moans get louder and louder. “Close? Tell me what you need. Talk to me,” he pleads.
The smile that fills your blurry vision after a wonderful orgasm blinds you. His eyes explore your face, seeking every twitch and sigh like it fuels him, and maybe it does because his hard, leaking cock pushes in slowly, massaging every pleat inside your pulsing walls.
“Let me hear more of your beautiful moans. Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”
Choso: like an addict
You’re kneeling in the living room, pulling fibres from the plush carpet. Shorts pulled down, you can do nothing to stop the man moaning behind you as he sucks your clit with no technique. His tongue is venturing all the way down and all the way up, chasing after the taste of you.
“Fuck! Choso, w-what is wrong with you?”
The day had started like normal. On your way to the kitchen, he murmured something about how good you smelt, and, without warning, tackled you onto the ground. This is so typical of him; he eats you out in the shower, against the front door, the window, in the car, in a park, and so on and so forth. And he does it all shamelessly.
“Sorry, I just -mhm- c-couldn’t help -ah so good- myself.”
It’s wet everywhere and not just from the waterfall of juices streaming out of your pulsing hole. Choso’s drooling —no, practically slobbering— all over your thighs, lapping up every drop. Despite all the times he’s tasted you, he can never get enough.
Most days you have to fight him off, throwing pillows at his face and swatting his wandering hands even when he pouts and asks, “But why?”
And when you cum, mind completely blank as you pant desperately, face firmly planted on the carpet as his hands hold your hips up, his mouth doesn’t stop.
“Ah, can I have one more?” He presses his cheek to your slit with a squelch and smooshes it, enjoying the heat against his clammy skin. “Please?”
You roll your eyes.
"No, don't crawl away. That's not nice. Oh, do you wanna do it on the kitchen counter? Okay!"
Toji: like a big meanie
“God, she’s talkative today, ain’t she?”
In his defence, you deserve this. He had just come home from a long day being a killer for hire and fell on the bed with just a grunt. You should have let him rest, you knew that, but in your defence, he’s sexy as hell.
Literally walking sex.
“Y’r soaking the bed like a slut, look at you. Didn’t you grow out of this habit, ma? What kinda example you trying to show to our kid?”
His fingers are pummelling inside your pussy, curling against your G-spot without mercy. The pressure he’s building inside rivals the vacuum of his mouth on your clit. “Just had to climb up and sit on my damn face, didn’t ya? Couldn’t keep it in your pants? What? I don’t give it to ya enough? No, ‘course not, cause this dirty pussy always needs to be stuffed full, doesn’t she?”
There’s no particular rhythm to your grinding, and your desperation makes the corner of his scarred lip tick up. When you look down, your eyes meet his and the wink he sends you drives you over the edge.
“That’s a new record ha. Must have been pent up, poor baby. Good thinking taking what you want when you need. Proud of ya, kid.”
Out of breath, you ask with a little shame, “You're not mad?”
SMACK!
Your asscheek is burning from the slap and you fall down on the bed with a ‘fuck you!’
“How long have ya known me, dumbass? I could be bleeding from a bullet in the chest and I’d still let you ride my dick.”
Nanami: like a man in love
“Sweetheart, are you sure I’m not distracting you?”
For whatever reason, your husband still feels guilty about his desire despite all the years you've been together. Watching you slave away at the stove was apparently a stimulating sight. In his own Kento way of saying ‘thank you,’ he had cuddled up behind you, pressing kisses on your neck with his hands wandering down your curves.
Moaning, you do your best to stir even when his face is shoved in between your thighs, suckling on your pussy from behind. “Ken, you silly man. Of course you’re —ngh!— d-distracting me but it’s a good —oh, Ken— distraction, d-don’t worry.”
“Really? Oh, that makes me so happy, darling, because I really couldn’t hold on any longer.” Even when he’s being absolutely filthy as he forces naughty squelches out of your sensitive pussy, he’s being so sweet — occasionally, he lays kisses on your clit, whispering praises like he’s spell-struck. “My lovely wife. My beautiful wife. My darling love.”
His warm breath and his even warmer words pushes you to the light and you’re spasming in his hands and on his mouth.
“That’s it, honey. Such a good girl. How did I get so lucky?”
Then, sweaty and elated, he stands to full height and smothers you in a kiss. Distantly, you hear the click of the stove before you’re carried away, bridal-style to your bedroom. Your giggles makes him smile and, when he lays you down gently on the bed, he takes you in with a sparkle in his eyes.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Let me show you my sincerity, sweetheart.”
Sukuna: like a liar
When you had wandered into the garden, you hadn’t expected that you’d get pulled to the side, off the path, and pushed against a tree. Before you can process anything, your lips are being devoured by his — sharp teeth, unforgiving lips, and a growl echoing in your mouth.
A big hand worms its way through your layers and tears off your flimsy panties with one yank. Just as the cool breeze meets your slit, a palm covers the entire area.
“Kuna, w-what are you doi—Ah, fuck!”
A long and wet tongue prods its way around, rolling your clit with reckless abandon. You hear both mouths, from his face and his hand, growl in satisfaction at the taste of you. “I could sense your growing need, woman. It was overwhelming. And as your king, I must fulfil my duty and grant you one moment of pleasure. Rejoice in my benevolence.”
That’s definitely not the case since you were thinking of nothing but what to cook for dinner but you know him; he hides his desires with what he knows best.
Deceit.
“I’ve barely done anything and look at you, writhing like a worm. How pathetic,” he snarls. Sukuna kisses your lips the way he eats your pussy: like he’s desperate and hungry — positively starved.
Your orgasm is practically forced out of you, taken like it was always his to begin with. Deep in the back of your mind, you hope no servants have wandered near, or hell, stepped foot in the garden at all because your moans and whimpers were unreserved.
“Your moans are grating on the ears. Try to do less squealing like a mouse when you take both of my cocks, woman.”
Hands down the funniest and best reaction SQQ had to anything ever was when LBH tried to only-one-bed them by getting two rooms for the three of them, and he straight up marched into the first he saw, shut both pathetic gays tf OUT, went “goodnight” and just left LQG and LBH to tear each other apart
satoru is house hunting after he got down on one knee for you. now, he's looking at all the places in your new home that you could get down on your knees.
꒰ smut :: fantasies :: p in v :: f.oral :: creampie :: lovesick toru ꒱
𝓱𝚄𝚂𝙱𝙰𝙽𝙳!𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚄ᅠ🌷͏͏♡ ͏͏ᅠ𝓯.𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁
While the real estate agent prattled on about the expansive kitchen and how it inspired culinary innovations,
All Satoru could think of was how good you'd look bent over the marble counter.
The engagement ring warmed his hand stuffed in his pocket. Eyes glazed over as he nodded along to the man who tried his damned hardest to catch his interest in this place.
Satoru's already got his checklist.
The kitchen's East facing window would make some good lazy morning memories. Where he could bend you over and stuff his face in your thighs while you adorned in sunlight. His favourite breakfast. Who needed pastries when the sweetest cream trickled down your shaky legs?
The salesman guided him out to the living room. Another window faced the backyard. Satoru observed its diameter.
Your tits would look good squished against the glass.
He smiled at the thought of you whining at him that someone might see, while he pulled your soaked baby blue panties to the side and plunged right in. Stained the pristine glass.
Mm. That got a throb outta him.
The man's words flowed through one ear and drained out the other. Satoru was too preoccupied wondering where he'd put the couch.
Facing away from the front door for sure. So that when you were too lost in your soap operas you wouldn't notice him slipping in. Sneaking behind you. You'd only feel his lips on your neck and his hands squeezing your pretty breasts. Just what he needed after a long day.
He followed the salesman. Paying close attention to the walls. Which would be your favourite for him to press you up against?
The rounding corner from the foyer gave him another card for the element of surprise. The thought of catching you off guard and pushing you up against one of the crooks gave him butterflies.
You'd look so pretty with his hand around your throat and your eyes shocked for a fraction. Before you melted into him in that way you always did.
Up the stairs they went. Satoru tested the railing. Stiff. Perfect for when your bratty side got the better of you. He could press you over it and stuff his fingers into your sweet pussy. Have your squirting cum trickle down the staircase while you drooled over the railing.
"I think my fiancée would have a field day here," he spoke up, loud enough to test the echo.
Oh, he could already hear it. That resounding: "toru! Sato. . . Satorrruuu m'— ohgod. Gonna cum toru." singing through the hallways.
The salesman turned to him with a dazzling, capitalist smile. Blissfully unaware that Satoru was counting the steps between the staircase and the master bedroom.
It was expansive. With an ensuite housing a stunning shower where he could commit sin to you. And a large tub where he could cradle you after a long night of filling you to the brim. Kissing away foam at your shoulders and rubbing out the aches he left in your hips.
But his favourite quirk of the house had to be the balcony extending from the bedroom. A beautiful view of the setting sun and the quiet neighborhood.
Oh it won't be so quiet once he pushed you against that railing on evenings where you'd be in nothing but his shirt. Worship your cunt with his greedy mouth while your thighs squeezed against his ears. As your hands clung to his hair and you trusted that he'd never let you fall.
Your cum would taste good under the moonlight.
How gorgeous you sound. His ring on your finger. His name on your tongue. As he wrapped your legs around him and pummelled your cunt into a creamy, loving mess. Till you clung to him and told him he was yours.
In this place that would be yours. Be his. Where you could watch your kids play from the front porch and he could love you, fuck you, on each, and every surface.
When the salesman turned to him, Satoru looked back with dilated eyes and a wide grin.
[ID: Scum Villain doodle. Shen Qingqiu walks with a flat expression, while Luo Binghe lays face down on the floor clutching at the hems of his robes. /end ID]
— WHAT YOU STARTED. yan! modern! childe x gn! reader
notes ! man idk if this was intimidating enough to do the song justice but this was inspired by meant to be yours from the heathers musical! and those anme tiktoks of hot dudes banging on the door
( reader is fucked up but has conscience, yelling, unhealthy relationships, blood, attempted suicide, childe calls you a bitch a lot, aggressive behavior )
errant. frantic. your mind is both full and empty at the same time. all it ever processes is the blur of the white tiles and the flickering fluorescent lights. it feels the burn of your shaky legs as you run for your life, but it refuses to register it.
you’re running, fast, faster, but his slow and easygoing steps seem to be never too far behind. the sound of a knife scraping metal screams in your ear, along with the low, hollow laugh of your persecutor.
but you don’t falter, not until you firmly lock yourself behind your door and bar it with the chairs.
“oh, sweetie,” he croons— how did he reach your door so fast?— hs voice muffled by the wall between you but still ever so loud and intimidating. “do you think some puny door can stop me?” a pause. your mouth is over your lips in a desperate attempt to stifle your whimpers. “oh. looks like you do. tsk tsk, you’re as stupid as ever.”
“i dooon’t get it.” how is he so lighthearted about this?! a flash of the blood on his face and its piercing smell, makes you double over as you think about it. “why are you being like this? we can finally— finally!— put an end to your suffering? those… whores, why we can take care of them, right this instant! [your name], my love, tell me—”
BANG. his palm strikes the wood as he breathes out a hollow question.
“what are you so scared of?”
you don’t know what comes over you. honestly, you should’ve just shut up. but you answer, much to your own chagrin.
you barely lift your hands before you hoarsely whimper, “you.”
he laughs lowly, both disbelief and frustration seeping in his voice. “me? you’re scared of me? me?”
: ̗̀➛ MB, DIDN’T KNOW YOU WAS CHILL LIKE DAT. yan! phainon, wanderer, anaxa, zhongli, mydei (<- prev )
sometimes you gotta pull out all the stops to make your darling never leave your side, no matter how extreme. you’re prepared for screaming, crying, and begging, but what you really don’t know is your lover is just chill like that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
( 17+ simply cuz phainon n reader are horndogs for each other, slutshaming from both kuni n reader [kuni], implied kidnapping and shackling [anaxa], contract loopholes [zhongli], mayhaps reader is a bit irate when it comes to mydei, violence, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, slight erotica, stalking )
Golden child of the Chrysos Heirs, PHAINON is anything but suspicious. He helps the elderly cross the street, lets children hang and laugh on his biceps, and is unjudging of everyone who comes to him with their problems. Compared to a distant thread-weaver, the walking embodiment of death, a golden warmonger, Phainon is definitely one of the more approachable and beloved Heirs of Amphoreus.
That’s why no one will believe you when you say that the same man who helped down a chimera from a tree is the same man who whines and grinds helplessly against you every night. You could be minding your own business— setting the dinner table or finishing up a novel— when Phainon will come in, lumbering through the front door with a desperate plea in those pretty blue eyes, calloused hands trembling as he brings your hands to his cheek and lets him feel your warmth— kissing every groove, nosing the crevices of your fingers, allowing him soak up the one thing that makes him lose all sanity.
“Please, [Y. Name],” he prays, more concerned with your approval than with the Titans. “Please, let me touch you. Please.”
Titans, Phainon is so hard to say no to. With the way his fluffy white hair frames his angelic face, contrasting that trembling mass of a body kneeling in front of you, it’d be like saying no to pure perfection. But you love it when you deny him. You love the way his eyes squeeze tight when met with your rejection, forced to only indulge himself with the tip of your shoe or your lower leg. You revel in how he could easily have you in whichever way he wants, yet this pathetic man who calls himself a warrior easily yields to your whims because you are the object of his worship.
“Oh, Phainon,” you croon, grazing your fingertip across his jawline. That weak whimper as he chases after your touch sets your blood on fire, but you rein it in. “Do you know how weak you look right now? Kneeling in front of some ordinary nobody because you can’t keep it in your pants? You know, I heard from one of my co-workers how you keep lingering outside the office. Are you so selfish that you can’t even hold yourself back during the day?”
He whispers his apologies on repeat, lips mouthing sorries again and again against your thigh as he chases that high on your feet. You frown in dissatisfaction and pull away, meeting the heartbroken eyes of the Deliverer. “When you say sorry, you’re supposed to look at them in the eyes, you know.”
“I’m sorry,” he gasps, wincing when your toes press down on the bulge crooked to the left of his inner thigh. “I just— you didn’t let— last night, I was just—!” Satisfaction falls easily on your face as you lean back and watch him plead his case through strained whimpers and groans, eyes tearing up at the pleasure being withheld from him. “I can’t— I can’t get enough of you, so I—!”
Uugh, you can’t ignore what that confession does to you. Sending electricity through your nerves that your eyes nearly rolled back, Phainon doesn’t know the effect he has on you, or he wouldn’t be grinding himself off like a stupid dog. Amphoreus’ Deliverer, a putty and crying mess for the quiet salary worker. It’s not like you didn’t have a hand in this mess— wearing those sheer stockings that you know he likes so much, wearing that tight-fitting blouse so his eyes never leave your body when he pretends to pass by. Even before he begged to be yours, you’ve been playing this long game, just to satisfy that craving to have the Deliverer under you and on top of you.
“Oh, what to do,” you sigh, pressing a kiss on his wet cheeks and smiling at him. The same innocent smile you gave him the first time he stumbled to your front desk, masking all your depraved fantasies and feigning innocence at how his blue eyes take in your every skin. “I love you so, so much. How could I possibly say no?”
“Like hell you’re going out dressed like that.” KUNI is the only thing getting in the way between you and the doorway, glaring up at you like he just might throw a fit. He jabs a slender finger at your attire— nothing out of the ordinary for Sumerian, you think— and shakes it like a spoiled child would to a homeless person. “Get your ass back inside and get changed.”
You regard yourself in the mirror, taking a spin so you can see what exactly the problem is. It’s hot out, so you’ve opted for some shorts… but Kuni wears shorts himself, and he’s never had a problem with you wearing that before. Your brows furrow as you continue to look for the problem. Nope, nothing, nada. You turn back to him with a puzzled expression, making him groan into his palms.
“Are you serious?” He hisses. “Are you actually being serious right now?” He grabs you by the shoulders and forces you to face your reflection once more. “Are you telling me that you’re not seeing anything wrong with what you’re wearing right now?!” Matching his frown, you shake your head, and he near-screams in exasperation.
“Look, look!” His fingers brush against your exposed collarbone, revealed by your top draping off your shoulders, and eyes it with a scandalized expression. “You think I’d allow you to walk around Sumeru looking like you want attention? Do you know what people will say, how people will see you? Is that what you want?”
“That’s rich coming from you!” You grump back. “You think people don’t stare when you walk around in those shorts? I know they do! I know they always do!”
Kuni seems stunned, either by this newfound revelation or that you have the gall to snark back at him. But he shakes it off and narrows his eyes at you, jabbing an accusing finger into your chest. “Oh, yeah? Then you’re not telling me you’re dressed like this so you can seduce that merchant you’ve been talking to at the bazaar? What, you hoping to get half off the price by taking your entire top off?”
Your cheeks puff out, nearly seeing red from all these accusations. You jab an accusing finger into his chest, getting right up in his face with neither of you backing down. “Oh, yeah?! What about when you were stripping it down in Aaru Village?! Did you trip into the river so you can show off in that skintight bodysuit underneath?” You tug at the sheer fabric and sneer. “A bit too thin for an Akademiya student, don’t you think?”
He scowls and tugs your hands away, grip tightening around your wrist. “How the hell do you even know that? I thought you were waiting tables that time!”
“Well, how the hell do you know who I’ve been frequenting at the bazaar?” You shot back. “I thought you hated that place!”
The two of you don’t respond, panting from the exertion of screaming… and watching the red creep up on each other’s faces. When realization kicks in, you both step away and avert your face from each other, the awkward silence seeping in.
Finding the dust beneath you interesting, you self-consciously tug your sleeve up. “D– Do I…” You bite your lip and glance at him. “Do I really look that bad…?”
Kuni coughs into his fist, trying to glance back at you before averting his eyes again. “No, no, of course not… I…” He coughs again. “I’d… never show off for anybody but you.” His words could barely be heard above a whisper, but that was not enough for tears to well up in your eyes and launch at him. Surprise widens his eyes as you knock him out of breath and topple him to the floor, grinning like an idiot as you look at his precious, blushing face.
“M– Me too, Kuni…! It’s only you! Only ever been you!”
The next day, when asked why you hadn’t shown up in time for the last batch of fruit sales, you joke about getting a hundred percent off at a different place. Kuni is in the shadows to roll his eyes at your corny joke before slipping away… just in time for you to follow him to his next lecture and swoon over his serious face ♡
Being ANAXAGORAS’s lover means being treated like an experimental subject, confined within the walls of his house for further research and experimentation. Lover is not a word people would use to describe you, but Anaxa— whose obsession with the truth only rivals his obsession with you— seems to disagree. That strange thumping of his heart, the erratic behavior that would arise whenever you were involved— they are all symptoms of love that he used to suppress. He loves you; therefore, he takes care of you. Is this not what a lover is to be?
Some people may never accept his definition of love. Staring at the chains that used to be shackled to your ankle, Anaxa surmises that you might be some people.
It is no use hiding from him— he’s transmuted your soul to be attached to his. What an incredible feeling it was to fuse your lover’s soul with yours and prove your theory that all souls are the same. He places a hand over his chest where his soul should be, feels it tugging in the direction where you are. No matter how endearing you are, he cannot forgive you for trying to run away. He does not tolerate foolish behavior, even if it is from you.
In fact, it’s rather demeaning what you’re doing to him. He’s made you well aware that such lofty feelings are hard to come by for him, so when they do come, he is pushed to extremes to cultivate this ‘love’. He’s worked so hard for you, hasn’t he? He’s followed every advice that those silly books gave him, gone out of his comfort zone just to give you affection he’s not used to giving, and yet! Yet you still have the audacity, the ungratefulness to leave him—
The plodding of his boots comes to a complete halt; in this forest clearing, his heavy breathing and the thundering beat of his heart ring in his ears. His gloved fingertips reach to his chest to feel the subtle tug of his soul. What sort of wretched expression he must be wearing, for you to affect him so.
Standing before you, staring blankly at him, he catches it in the reflection of your eye. Utterly, disgustingly deplorable.
Without thinking, he grabs you by your shoulders and shakes you. “What were you thinking?!” He yells, short of breath but still enough to shake the peace of the clearing. “I did my best— I did everything— and yet you still try to run away?! Did you think—?!” He cuts himself off with a laugh, somewhere halfway between madness and self-pity. “Ha! Did you really think you could escape me? When our souls are—!”
“One and the same.”
“Yes! One and the same! So you’re not as foolish as I thought you were. Here I was, making a fool of myself before you. Lowering myself just for your affection! And yet—” He pauses, then his brows furrow. “And yet—!” He shakes his head and scowls at you. “What is that look for.”
You are staring at him, slack-jawed and shiny-eyed, wearing the expression of a lovesick maiden. No. In fact, you seem rather overjoyed. “I knew it!” You wrap your arms around him, sending him tumbling to the grass with your chokehold of a hug. “You loved me! You really did! Oh, Anaxa, I’m so sorry to have ever doubted you!”
He tries to pry you off him to get a good look at you, but he’s merely a feeble scholar. “Did you not hear me? Why else would I prostrate myself if I didn’t—”
“It’s because you’re always wearing that stupid blank face of yours!” Still straddling him, you pull away to glare into his face— adorably, he thinks, but he’s still unwilling to let go of his anger. “I was so, so overjoyed when you kidnapped me! When you shackled me, I seriously thought you were in love with me! But every day it’s always the same! You hold me with the same face you make when writing your experimentation notes! I mean—!” You throw your hands up in the air, exasperated. “Who kisses with their eyes— eye, I mean— open! You made me so sad…! I thought, I thought— I thought that you just kidnapped me for the sake of experimentation!”
You’ve never seen Anaxa, wise and knowledgeable as he is, this dumbfounded. He opens his mouth several times with nary a sound, piecing the puzzle together in his mind. “So you… You ran away. To… get a reaction out of me?”
“Yes!” You reward him with a light kiss on the forehead, delighted at the wisdom of your beloved scholar. “And you didn’t disappoint! Oh, I’m so sorry, Anaxa, but I just had to do it! I mean, you of all people should understand, right?”
You press your chest, where the faint glow of your intertwined soul flickers, with a shy smile. “After all, it’s only natural to want to understand your soulmate better.”
ZHONGLI knows that contracts should be fair. Contracts are the symbol and physical evidence of the two parties' trust in each other, and even more so when it is a marriage contract. He brings up the piece of parchment to his eyes and reads the problematic clause again:
“The spouse hereby agrees that their affections, attention, and time shall be primarily, if not exclusively, devoted to Zhongli. The spouse shall not form bonds — emotional, romantic, or otherwise — with any third party that could rival or surpass their devotion to Zhongli. Failure to adhere to this exclusivity may result in corrective measures deemed appropriate by Zhongli to ensure the integrity of the marital bond.”
He sighs and puts the paper aside before taking a sip out of his teacup. If he is to think rationally, then this clause is of the utmost absurdity to ever exist on a legal paper. For starters, it is deranged to even think of depriving your spouse of natural human relationships. What is even more deranged is the vague corrective measures that the contract-writer can easily manipulate and abuse. But it’s hard to think rationally when it comes to you, the one who brings out that primal obsession of his that overwhelms the god of contracts.
You walk into the room, fresh-faced and innocent like any betrothed should be. Zhongli silently commends himself for not pouncing on you in that casual hanfu— modest and elegant, embroidered with Zhongli’s gold and brown. You’re a sweet thing, submitting yourself to Zhongli’s wants and needs with no fight at all. So, he hopes that this contract will be the same. That you will turn a blind eye to your future husband’s unusual selfishness and continue to indulge him.
He greets you with his usual gentle smile, pouring you a cup of tea after sliding the contract your way. The steam of the oolong tea warms his hands as he positions it next to you… You who is scanning every single word with an unreadable expression. He had thought you to always read even the fine print, but something within wants you to sign the paper as soon as possible and make you his now.
“This… clause.” The hairs on the back of his neck prick as you set the paper down and tap at a paragraph. All personal belongings, valuables… jointly owned… This isn’t the most concerning clause, yet you seem troubled. “I– Zhongli, you know I have barely anything to my name. But you have so much… it feels a bit unfair to you.”
Zhongli blinks at you, amber eyes momentarily going wide before softening into a fond expression. What a saint you are for always thinking of him first. “There’s no reason to be so ashamed, my dear. It’s only natural for wedded couples to share everything.” He cups your cheek and thumbs at its softness. “You’ll have to get used to it. It seems that I am at fault for not spoiling you enough.”
You laugh, airy and bright. “Oh, Zhongli, we both know that’s not the case.” Your unease seeming to be relieved, you smile at him and take another look at the contract before nodding. “Do you have a pen somewhere, dear?”
If you have any flaw, it is that you stoke the flames of his unending selfishness hotter and hotter. Not even the merest pipe about that clause. Millennials of sin and destruction wrought at his own hands, he wonders if the Heavenly Principles have gifted you to him to end this farce of a gentleman act he’s been playing for recent centuries. He reaches for his fountain pen, only to be startled when you let out a shocked ‘oh!’ when you reread the contract. Judging by the page you’re on, it must be that.
“This… this won’t do at all!” You glare at him and set the paper down. That problematic clause lies at the bottom of the last page, as if hoping to be hidden. You snatch the pen out of his hands with unusual ferocity and right down another clause of your own in the space available. Zhongli watches you with wary eyes, reptilian eyes piercing as he racks his brain on what to do. He wonders if he even has any self-control left to disarm you in his usual gentlemanly way when all he wants to do is stow you away with the rest of his treasures.
“Here you go!” You seem satisfied with yourself as you pass the contract back to him.
“Reciprocally, Zhongli hereby agrees that his affections, attention, and time shall be primarily, if not exclusively, devoted to the spouse. Zhongli shall not form bonds — emotional, romantic, or otherwise — with any third party that could rival or surpass his devotion to the spouse. Failure to adhere to this mutual exclusivity may result in corrective measures deemed appropriate by the spouse, to ensure the integrity of the marital bond.”
“Contracts should be fair, right?” You twirl the pen between your fingers as you stare back at Zhongli’s wide, amber eyes. Obsession, only ever seen in his reflection, is mirrored in yours too as you stare at your beloved. “I’m yours, and you’re mine. Right?”
MYDEI often comes across as uptight and stubborn, so people are often left to wonder how he would be with his lovers. Most of the time, they shudder. He may be a wonderful prince to those dastardly Kremonoans, but they doubt those war-hardened hands of his could manage to hold someone in a lover’s embrace.
But they wouldn’t understand! They’d never understand! Because they’re not his lover! They’re not the one he says his rare affections to, the one who has felt his lips on theirs, the one who brings him out of that destruction-wreaked dreamscape every night and sings him lullabies of his hometown. You are all that, and you can safely say that those oh-so-war-hardened hands of his are very nice to hold, actually!
You sit contentedly on an empty bench, happily munching one of your own home-baked tarts as you watch Mydei rip into another creature. He looks so~ handsome that you can barely restrain yourself! So handsome, in fact, that you swear some mongrels have been eyeing him up every time he comes back to Okhema from a campaign. You can’t blame them, though. Who wouldn’t want to watch the blonde eye candy bark out orders with that adorable scowl and flexed muscles? But he’s not some piece of meat for them to watch, and you’re not some pushover who’d just let others—
“[Your Name]?” You are brought out of your jealous stupor with your boyfriend’s concerned face peering down at you. “Are you okay? You look out of it.”
You shake your head and give him a wide smile as you bring a tart to his lips. He has an inclination toward wine and goat cheese, and you’ve brought him goat cheese tarts and wine delicacies in your picnic basket! One would think that both of you were out for a stroll instead of patrolling Black Tide's corroded areas.
His subordinates have actually brought up this concern to him multiple times before, infuriating you. How dare they even imply that you’d be a liability to him when you’ve done nothing but be useful! Mydei had even allowed you to throttle those subordinates for a useful lesson— to not doubt you or his decisions ever again.
“Are you okay?” You carefully wipe the dirt from his cheek and study his face more carefully. “You’ve been at it for hours now. Let’s sit you down so I can hand-feed you my treats!” You eagerly wipe off any dirt on the space next to you and pat it. “Come, come!”
Mydei, ever weak to your whims, gives you a wry laugh as he takes the seat. “... I don’t need to be handfed, you know.”
You pout at him. “I thought you liked it?”
He sighs fondly and takes a bite from the chocolate wine fudge in your hand. “Only because you do.”
It’s a surreal sight, that’s for sure— the tyrant prince of Castrum Kremnos and his lover sharing treats in a picnic basket while the remnants of the Black Tide lie rotting at their feet. But it’s the norm for both of you. Hell, it’s even your preferred date. Nothing beats eyeing your lover while enjoying yourself with a basket of homemade goods.
“You should rest a bit more. You’ve got that whole thing with the Elders first thing tomorrow.” You lean over and capture his lips in a sweet kiss, the scene romantic as the faint light orbs of the Grove illuminate your silhouettes. Mydei doesn’t dare break away from the wine-flavored kiss— even as the blast of your rifle rings in his ear.
You pull away, smiling sweetly. Your arm is still on his shoulder, holding steady at the threat behind him. “Don’t take your eyes off me, ‘kay? You know I hate it when you don’t look at me ♡”
Mydei can’t help himself. He brings your lips to a close, even as your bodies shake with every recoil of your gun. Faintly over the ringing, he can hear the agonizing moans of those foul creatures. What the hell. Like he could ever pull his eyes away from you. But you know that already.
