#and when it's very cold he just sleeps on his shoulders

[nottswitch]

— if you’ve been nice, you get…

─────────────── 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬. ──

summary: winter begins, and so do the winter blues. your boyfriend helps you through the melancholy in the best way possible.

pairing: theo nott x reader

cw: 18+ smut, established relationship, oral (f receiving), body worship, nipple play, praise, italian pet names.

wc: 2k

a/n: the first installment of my christmas celebration from the nice list. hope you will enjoy and stick to the end of it <3

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; theo m.list ; kinkmas 2024

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The weather changed immediately, as if a light switch had been flipped on the night between November 30th and December 1st. You went to sleep to the sound of rain rattling against the surface of the Black Lake behind the window of the Slytherin dorm; you woke up to the sight of a thin layer of ice and snow covering its glassy surface. Winter came seamlessly, unnoticed yet so impactful on everyone around – someone immediately got a headache, the others got excited at the prospect of having fun in the snow rather soon. You? You got a bad case of winter blues.

It happened pretty much every winter – as soon as the page of the calendar turned, your mood went down, down, down, until it was coming out of the other side of the planet Earth and plummeting into space. This year was no different – ever since early morning you just couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning in bed didn’t help, so, despite it being the weekend and a perfect opportunity to sleep in, you sat up, letting out a quiet sigh and looking down at your boyfriend.

Theo was blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil, his eyes closed, his arm loosely draped around your waist and now fallen onto your lap thanks to your sitting position. His soft breathing was the only sound filling the otherwise silent space of the dorm. Not a single feature out of place – how could he remain so perfect even while being completely knocked out?

Reluctantly, you grabbed Theo’s wrist with a touch as gentle as a cloud of cotton, pulling his arm off your lap and onto the bed. In a moment, your feet were already on the floor, sliding into fuzzy brown slippers that instantly warmed up your freezing toes. The soft comforter covering your legs was now wrapped around your shoulders as you padded to the window, climbing onto the windowsill and tucking your knees under your chin.

You sat there for a while, staring into the dark waters of the lake that seemed to still, as if the very depths of it were frozen in anticipation of winter. You didn’t hear Theo stirring in the bed, a low, quiet whimper escaping him when his hand felt the cool silken sheets instead of your body’s warmth. He blinked, chasing away the sleep, and looked over his shoulder, noticing your bundled form perched up at the window. Immediately, a small frown tugged at his forehead, and he was up in an instant, running a hand through his messy bed curls as he walked up to where you were sitting.

"Can’t sleep?" he asked quietly, wrapping an arm around your middle while the other one came to rest on your blanket-covered thigh.

You nodded, turning your head to give him a small, weak smile. "Just the weather." You glanced towards the window, where the lake was unusually quiet, devoid of any life, any creatures that would normally swim by.

Theo looked up, noticing the change in the atmosphere, and hummed in understanding, returning his gaze to your face. He placed his chin on your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your temple in hopes of making you smile some more, his hand giving your thigh gentle caresses. You leaned into him, straightening your legs along the windowsill, which gave Theo more access. It also gave him a foolproof idea about how to make your mood better – he didn’t like seeing you upset, even if the reason was nothing more than the cold gloom outside.

His hands slowly traveled up, grabbing the edges of the blanket and opening them up just a tiny bit to let your sleeping sweater show. You shivered as the chilly air inside the dorm brushed against your bare collarbones, but Theo quickly rectified the situation by nuzzling his face into your neck to warm it up with his breath. The shiver he gave you was much more pleasant than the one from before, goosebumps making the small hairs on the nape of your neck stand up. Theo started placing carefully dry kisses on your skin while his strong hands curled around your hips, turning your body around.

Your legs hung off the windowsill for a moment before instinctively wrapping around his waist. The warmth was now provided by the blanket still resting snugly on your shoulders and Theo’s body pressing up against your front. Sandwiched in the comfort of his presence and the softness of the fabric, you couldn’t help a quiet gasp leaving your mouth as you felt heat starting to pool between your legs. Theo quickly caught your gasp with his lips, the kiss short but enough to render you breathless for a few seconds. His hands were roaming your torso, slipping under the sweater, though without the addition of any type of discomfort – his touch was a pleasant fever, enveloping you in a blanket of its own.

"Let me take care of you, yeah?" Theo murmured, waiting for your nod before proceeding with his plan. Having received it, he kissed you once more, tracing a path from your lips down to your jawline and neck again. His hands slowly lifted up your sweater, his body not letting the chill get to you, as his fingers found the mounds of your breasts. Your shaky breath was the desired reaction, your nipples already stiff and perked up from the ever-growing arousal coursing through your form. Kneading your soft flesh, Theo bent down, his lips attaching to your left nipple, taking it into the wet warmth of his mouth. His tongue swirled a circle around it, your small moan encouraging him to go further. His right hand worked on your other breast as he gently sucked on the bud, a contrast to the roughness that often accompanied his actions.

When his lips moved to your right nipple, the grip of your hand on the windowsill tightened. Every single flick of his tongue was echoing right in your core, tingles running down and settling between your thighs. You pulled him closer, even though the space between you was already nonexistent, your fingers weaving into the curly crown on his head. Theo felt the pull deep in his gut, the scratch of your nails against his sensitive scalp causing him to moan against your skin. The need to taste you and simultaneously make you feel better was an ache he desperately craved to soothe. With one last flat lick at your nipple he started slowly crouching down, showering your stomach and sides with languid kisses, unwilling to let a single inch of you be left unattended and devoid of his love.

"So beautiful, amore… So perfect,” he whispered in between kisses, nuzzling his nose against you in an attempt to take in every molecule of your familiar scent. He made his way down, his knees finally landing on the wooden floor with a quiet thud.

Theo’s hands hooked under your thighs to pull them over his shoulders. He tugged you closer to the edge of the windowsill, making you slump against the glass, the coldness of it muffled by the blanket. With his help, you lifted up your hips, helping him slide off you pajama pants. He dropped them to the floor, his eyes immediately landing on your already glistening pussy. Looking down, you could see the undeniable hunger in his gaze, the only thing stopping him from devouring you on the spot being his desire to make this experience as soothing for you as possible. Barely holding back, Theo started placing kisses on your inner thighs, the soft skin heating up under the steady puffs of his breath. His own need was twitching between his legs, the fabric of his sweatpants straining around his rapidly hardening cock. One of his hands momentarily dipped down, tugging them down to free his erection; he wasn’t planning to focus on his pleasure, only wanting to relieve the pressure so that you would be the one to have the entirety of his attention.

When his mouth finally reached the place aching for it, you held your breath, the air coming out of you in a ragged exhale. Theo’s eyes briefly drifted up, his eyelashes doing nothing to hide the flame of desire mixed with tenderness at the sight of your parted lips and slightly widened eyes. A second later, he was already latched onto your center, his tongue drawing a flat line against your folds. The muscles of your thighs clenched at the contact, but your entire body seemed to relax just a moment later, as Theo started slowly lapping up and down. His hands rested delicately on your thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the bare skin, the softness of it interrupted by the occasional wave of goosebumps rising up.

He was taking his time with you, as much as his already leaking cock was begging him to rush from below. Theo’s tongue started making his way to your slit, spreading the folds open by flicking from side to side. A low, quiet moan escaped your lips when he reached your clit, lingering there for a second before continuing to tease the area just below. That second was enough for your pussy to clench in anticipation of what was to come. Theo smirked faintly against you, relishing your reaction to his touch before finally swirling his tongue around your clit. Another quiet moan stuttered into a whimper on your lips, but it was strangely enough for him. Usually, Theo would bask in the knowledge that he could easily make you scream, but the sullen silence of the winter morning played its trick on him as well. He thought it comforting, to be able to have you so close he could feel each and every uneven breath you took, hear the smallest mewls barely breaking through the stillness of the atmosphere inside the dorm.

Theo’s mouth continued its deliberate work, switching between his tongue drawing shapes and his lips sucking and kneading at the bundle of nerves, each of them bare and responsive. His hands were skimming your thighs, soothing the pleasant ache his mouth was burning into your body. At the same time, his hips started moving subtly, rocking back and forth, as if trying to search for friction his hard member desperately needed. Theo didn’t let it get to his head, though, focused entirely on chasing your blues away.

"You taste so damn sweet, tesoro," he mumbled into your core, his voice muffled by your wetness. "So sweet…"

Your hand found its way into his hair, without any added pressure – you just needed something to hold on to as you felt your peak slowly creeping up, and the edge of the windowsill seemed to do a poor job. Theo hummed, sending vibrations up your body, his cock throbbing harder at the feeling of your fingers threading through his curls. He allowed himself to pick up the pace, the sounds of his loving feast mixing with your soft, needy whimpers.

Your orgasm reached you suddenly, built up from minutes and minutes Theo spent on his knees for you. It wasn’t the usual mind-blowing craze you were used to feeling with him, though not meaning it was any less satisfying – it felt like warmth consuming you from the inside, coursing through your entire body and coming out of your mouth with his name and a moan so sweet it could rival cotton candy drizzled with chocolate. Theo could barely hold back, lapping up your release, careful not to let a single drop go to waste. As he felt your body calming down, he slowly stood up, tracing his path up with his tongue sliding along your skin. The journey ended at your lips, your taste an intoxicating brew with the familiar taste of his mouth.

Gathering yourself back into one piece, you glanced down, where Theo’s cock was still as eager as before. You smiled, shifting your gaze back to his face, noticing how he tried to keep the pleading out of his expression, yet his eyes betrayed the need for you to reciprocate.

"Let me take care of you, yeah?" you murmured, mirroring his own words he said to you earlier. The relief washing over his features was obvious, turning your smile into a smirk as you pushed yourself off the windowsill. Theo’s own winter blues were about to be rendered nonexistent.

[im4rmy]

your first time together - mark (idol AU)

IMAGINE: mark comes back from his tour craving your presence.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

• july 2022. mark finally came back from the singapore stop of the nct 127's tour, neo city - the link. he came back now and then between stops but he was never free enough or even alive enough to see you.

• but today was different. he couldn't sleep knowing he was about to see you. you weren't dating for long and he thought he would've been fine staying away from you for so long. but he soon realized he... missed you. a lot.

• 📱"hey you wanna come over tonight, i just arrived" "of course... are you sure you don't want to rest?" "no i really need to see you"

• he was NERVOUS, to say the least, but he was ready to take your relationship to the next level, if you agreed, of course.

• everything was perfectly planned: the boys were out or with their families, the dorm was a mess but it was empty.

• he was waiting for you, strolling up and down the apartment fidgeting with his fingers.

• when the doorbell rang, he literally stopped breathing.

• when you appeared in front of him, you gave him the biggest smile ever and threw yourself in his arms, that were so happy to hold you.

• "i missed you so much!!" he didn't even answer, he just took a deep sigh.

• you cupped his face and took in his tired features. he was mesmerized by your soft expression: you were looking at him like he was someone special.

• "i love you"

• you froze.

• "look. i stayed away from you for what? a month? and all i could think about was you, all day long. it was exhausting tbh. i'm not sure about what you think about us but i would like to... make it official, if you're okay with it"

• you just blinked twice. then you kissed him, with a smile on your face.

• "i would love to make it official, mark lee"

• kiss after kiss, you two arrived in his room.

• neither of you was a virgin, you two weren't nervous at all, just excited and looking forward to feel each other's warmth.

• the kissing and undressing are going on slowly, you have no desire to hurry your first time together.

• his hands caress your naked torso so gently, his cold rings against your sides give you chills.

• mark separates your mouths and gives you a small smile before getting on his knees and hooking his fingers on your black leggins. he pulls them down to reveal your soft skin inch by inch.

• he kisses your thighs enjoying the feeling of your fingers in his long hair, taking his time to savour with both his lips and hands every bit of your legs.

• he gets near you core and he can't suppress a laugh looking at your yellow panties.

• "shut up lee, how could i know. you're lucky i shaved yesterday"

• "i would've been lucky even if you didn't, baby. so so lucky"

• he takes off your underwear and comes back on his feet to look at you: you're completely bare in front of him but his gaze is so soft and enamoured that you don't feel self-conscious or embarassed at all.

• mark resumes your kiss hugging your body tight and the feeling of you against himself makes him moan in your mouth.

• you reach for his pajama pants to take them off and he remains in his boxer, that don't hide his excitement very well. you take them off too.

• you can see the goosebumps on his skin and you decide that you can't wait to feel him on you and in you, everywhere.

• you untie your loose ponytail and let your hair fall on your shoulders. mark's eyes flash with excitement and he comes to you, taking you by your thighs to lift you in his arms.

• you hug his neck and smile at him. "you're so sweet"

• he smiles back while he put you on his bed and he BLUSHES, making you laugh out of tenderness.

• he's on top of you and your bodies interlock and coincide so perfectly you're convinced you two are meant to be.

• he keeps on kissing you and touching every inch of you that he can reach. he allows himself to stop kissing your lips only to explore your neck and give it all the attention it deserves.

• "you're so soft..."

• the vibration of his low voice makes you arch your back against his body and you feel the knot in your lower belly growing in intensity.

• you two start to grow impatient and when he aligns himself between your thighs, you lift your hips in a silent consent.

• his moans are low and envelop the two of you in a bubble of eroticism and romanticism that allows you to just melt in his warm embrace.

• mark thrusts in and out of you slowly, enjoying every istant and trying his best to keep his skin on yours: he loves the way he can literally feel the goosebumps on your skin through his own.

• when he's close, he can't keep up with the kiss because he can't control his moans. instead, he glues your foreheads together and rides your shared climax holding your body with an arm.

• when he collapses on your body, still inside you, he puts his head on your chest and breathes deeply. a content smile on his lips.

• you just keep on running your fingers through his hair for a while, until you feel his body becoming more and more heavy by the second.

• "i guess you're tired, you can rest" "it's our first night together tho... we should cuddle"

• you laugh at how tired he sounded with his cheek smashed against your sternum.

• "let me cuddle you just for today, mh?"

• he doesn't even answer, he just nods and lets himself melt in your comfort.

[kayawolfhorse]

As It Was | Read on AO3

—☾—

Desert nights, in the shadow of the sweltering hours of daylight, are improbably, intolerably cold.

Neither Scar nor Grian had anticipated the biting chill that rose with the moon over the sea of sand dunes, and their castle, for all its formidable glory, had not simply not been built to retain heat. Drafts of frigid air seep through glassless windows and the slats cut along the uppermost edge of the outer walls and drift across the tall rooms, coming to a rest against bare floors. The base’s design works beautifully against the sun’s relentless rays, but the night’s clever fingers find purchase all too easily between every brick and beam.

“I think you’ve straightened that barrel four times by now,” Scar comments from where he’s sitting upon wrinkled covers in front of the furnaces. The bed’s placement is temporary—they have actual bedrooms now, decidedly the most reasonable place for a bed to be, but in lieu of any real chairs in the kitchen, Scar’s willing to delay its relocation.

“It was crooked every time,” Grian answers, and adjusts it again. His sleeves are wound tightly around his wrists, colorful wings held firm to his back, and there’s hardly a plank out of place in the double row of barrels that line the walls. Scar’s reluctance to leave the warmest room in the castle is clearly shared.

They continue to swap idle chatter and half-hearted battle plans until Grian runs out of excuses to linger and they’re both stifling yawns after every word.

“I guess that’s it, then,” Grian says, and his words drag along like stubborn heels wedged in sand.

“Guess so.” Scar makes no move to get up, and Grian remains rooted in place. After a moment of mutual inaction, an idea sparks to gleaming life. “You know, we could just stay here.”

“Yeah, but I’m tired,” Grian says. “Need to sleep at some point, and it’s not getting any warmer.”

“Well, lucky for us both, then, there’s already a bed right here.”

Two ticks pass undisturbed.

“You want to—share?” Grian sputters. His wings splay out slightly, seemingly of their own accord; Grian’s quick to smooth them back down.

“No reason not to!” Scar says. “I’m cold; you’re cold. Pooling body heat would be a very economical move.”

Grian stares at him, and Scar can practically hear the gears churning in his brain before he decides, “We can make adjustments to the castle tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

“This is a one-night thing.”

“Sure, sure.”

Scar lays down with his head to the furnaces, scooching back until there’s a nice, Grian-sized spot next to him. Slowly, hesitantly, Grian kicks off his shoes and slides into bed.

The narrow mattress was certainly meant for a single body, and the wall is cold against Scar’s exposed shoulder, but at every point where his other side meets Grian’s is blissful warmth. He resists the urge to melt on the spot.

The space between them is a held breath; just enough tension strings along Grian’s frame to be palpable, and his hand is balled into a loose fist at his hip.

After a moment, when his fingers uncurl in a quiet exhale and start to reach instead of refrain, Scar turns towards him and snakes a careful arm around his waist. Grian huffs, but relaxes his stiff shoulders, which Scar takes as an invitation to draw him closer into himself.

“Dude, you’re like a teddy bear,” Scar says into Grian’s soft hair.

“And you’re a barnacle,” Grian grumbles, and shifts beneath Scar’s grip. Scar releases him, unsure if he’d gone too far, but all Grian does is tug Scar further into his space and tuck his head beneath Scar’s chin. Scar chooses to blame the heat that spreads across his cheekbones on the sudden temperature change. “You’d be warmer with a shirt, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Scar says. Grian mutters something unintelligible, but his argument evens out with his breath; in one last sigh, he’s asleep.

Scar pulls the blanket more securely over them both before returning his arm to its position around Grian. They’ve hugged before, of course—Scar enjoys showering his friends with physical affection, and Grian’s a very huggable guy! The only real contrast is between their usual verticality and how horizontal they lay now.

It shouldn’t feel different. It shouldn’t. It’s rather late to be picking apart how it does.

For all Scar hid from it, sleep finds him with swift assurance, and the darkness pulls him under.

—☾—

It’s been a few minutes since Scar had gasped awake on his final life, gear-less, enchanter-less, and utterly alone. The wind that blows across a lonely mountaintop beyond his hut’s walls is the only sound that dares fracture the silence suffocating him.

His stuff is still back at the Southlands, if there’s even anything left of it. Murmurs of white-hot phantom pain ghost across every part of his skin the lava had touched.

He should go get his stuff. He should gather his few bits of TNT and ignite a trail of ruin within the base of those who have taken so much from him. There should be anger crackling at his very marrow, urging him forwards, avenging his death.

Scar stares at a scuff mark left behind on the calcite floor, and doesn’t move for a long time.

Eventually, the rattle of the doorknob startles Scar up onto his feet and into his usual place behind the just-for-show register. No one has business here anymore—he’d run out of his most precious commodities to sell. His fingers tighten against the counter.

Grian’s near-shoved inside by a particularly inspired gust, and he grunts as he hauls the door shut behind him. Everything about him is mussed; the scarf around his neck, the breaths that fall rapid-fire from his lips, his wings. Scar’s immediate instinct is still to offer a preen. He doesn’t.

“Hello there,” Scar greets instead. What else is there to do? Maybe he can work in a scam before Grian leaves.

Grian’s gaze snaps to Scar’s face before the words are fully out of his mouth. It’s foolish, really: there should be mockery swirling within the amber of Grian’s eyes; teasing pity, or, if Scar’s lucky, fear, but all he can find in the pinch of Grian’s mouth and the furrow of his brow is concern.

“I brought your items,” Grian says, and holds a pair of diamond trousers aloft. “D’you have a place to put them?”

Scar steps back from the counter and gestures to its empty surface. As Grian dumps what meager gear had survived the lava onto it, Scar briefly entertains a fantasy in which he’d sent Grian to deposit the items in the mess of chests outside instead. He supposes he couldn’t have prevented any thievery, should it have arisen, if Grian was out of his sight, but somewhere deep within, Scar gets the feeling Grian agrees that he’s already taken enough.

The sound of leather against wood brings Scar back to the present. He glances down; a book whose cover is marked by Bdubs’ familiar looping handwriting lands next to his pickaxe. A second book bearing Joel’s signature is soon to join it. Contracts.

Scar looks sharply at Grian, who shrugs. “I didn’t see mine.”

“So that’s it, then,” Scar says, and something bitter coats his throat.

Grian empties his bag of a final unlit torch. “I came all the way out here, didn’t I? The contract’s still on.”

“Oh,” Scar says. He blinks. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Grian says. Uncertainty washes over his features in one second; it’s gone in the next. You wouldn’t happen to have tea, would you?”

Scar doesn’t, but from his inventory Grian produces not only a pouch of tea leaves but an entire kettle to prepare them in. He crouches before Scar’s tiny fireplace and fusses about setting water to boil while Scar uselessly rearranges things on the shelves that line the far wall. Against the brush of his fingers, a rack of crystals hanging from chords of string chime softly against each other, and Scar savors the sound; Grian, too, pauses to listen, and continues only when the twinkling has faded.

Long after the dregs of tea have cooled, it becomes apparent that Grian isn’t leaving, and Scar doesn’t understand why. Even his contract didn’t oblige him with this—the stipulations may protect Scar from Grian’s physical harm, and give demand for resources when he needs them, but they’re not really allies, not this time around.

Scar doesn’t know what to make of it. He certainly doesn’t know what to make of Grian’s tired eyes and empty hands as he sits on the floor beside Scar’s bed.

He holds his tongue for an admirably long time. Company is so few and far between, after all.

“What are you still doing here, G?” Scar asks.

Grian stares for a fierce, resolute moment at the floor before answering. He must’ve found the same scuff.

When he looks up, his mouth churns for a second before words start to come out of it. “It’s awfully cold out,” he says. “I figured I’d let the worst of it pass.”

Scar considers this. It really is quite frigid, and where the rest of the server is swathed in the honey-boughed trees of autumn, his mountain sees only the hardiest of evergreens. Dusk brings a fierce bite that threatens to close its jaws around any player foolish enough to traverse its snowy cliffs.

“It won’t get any better ‘til the sun comes out, I’m afraid,” Scar says lightly.

The thing is, Grian’s not lying. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth, either. He’s keeping something from Scar (when’s the last time he told Scar anything, anyway? Scar knows the answer) and Scar can’t figure out what.

Though, Scar supposes, full honesty is hardly a ware upon his own shelves. If things were different, if they stood on different ground and the air between them wasn’t filled with static, Scar would press harder.

He lets Grian keep his not-lie, free of charge.

“That’s alright,” Grian says. He removes the goggles perched in his hair and tilts his head back against the corner of the mattress behind him, closing his eyes. “I’ll be gone before you know it.”

Scar gives himself exactly three seconds to breathe before he unclasps his cloak and leaves it on its hook by the door. He’ll have to dig his black one out of whatever chest it’s stashed in tomorrow to better drape over his last life. Carefully, he edges into bed, and once beneath the covers, gives Grian’s shoulder a gentle tug.

A single half-slitted eye flicks up to Scar’s outstretched arm.

“Just for tonight?” Scar asks. He thinks he might be pleading. “A one-night thing.”

Just when Scar’s about to take back his words and encase them in fake laughter, insisting he didn’t mean them, Grian shrugs out of his boots and crawls into bed, and easily curls around Scar.

His hand finds Scar’s own and squeezes, briefly, before letting go. It travels up the side of Scar’s neck—Scar shouldn’t trust this much, and Grian shouldn’t be this gentle—until his fingers twine around a strand of Scar’s hair.

“It’s getting long,” Grian says, and his eyes are far too pained. Scar wonders if he, too, is thinking about the nights they passed a pair of shears between them to trim each other’s unruly mess of hair before remembering that neither of them should care about that anymore.

“Haven’t had time to cut it,” Scar lies. The echo of what’s left unsaid is unbearably loud.

Grian fully retracts his hand; his countenance shutters with it. After a moment, he rests his arm over Scar’s waist. “A one-night thing,” he says, like it’s a reminder.

For all he can foolishly hope otherwise, Scar knows Grian means it. It’s a far cry from countless nights spent scheming in whispers on a single bed whose crevices always held pinches of sand, no matter how hard they shook out the covers. Tomorrow night, he will be alone again.

For the fleeting moments he has him, Scar holds Grian close and aches.

—☾—

There’s a second heartbeat intertwined around Scar’s own between his ribs, and it’s as familiar as a path trodden down by years of use; as foreign as the untouched grass of a new world’s spawn, and its owner lies across the room from him.

The sensation is odd: to share something only ever meant for one body feels like it should feel wrong, like it’s breaking a line of code within the Universe itself. Stranger still is to be so far away from his counterpart, when surely they’ve been melded as one. Every part of him yearns to reach across the expanse between their beds.

Grian’s heart drums out homesickness within his ears. Scar kind of hates it.

“Grian, did you move the diamonds somewhere?” Scar calls over his shoulder. With a collective distaste in organization, the pair of them make for a blight upon storage systems everywhere, but Scar could’ve sworn the few diamonds they had left were right here a day ago.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I moved them further in. Let me grab them.” Grian appears with an axe in hand, and pries up a few floorboards near the back wall to expose a hidden chest. He gestures to it. “Gathered up our iron and TNT supplies, too.”

“You never tell me anything,” Scar muses as he crouches down to grab enough diamonds for a pickaxe. When he looks up at Grian, he’s got a funny expression on his face, like he’s bitten into a melon that’s been left out in the sun for too long.

“I tell you plenty,” he says, and his tone edges into something defensive.

Scar examines a nail. “Didn’t tell me about the secret chest though, did’ja?”

“I was going to,” Grian says evenly. His pale knuckles are in the process of turning whiter around the handle of his axe.

“When?” Scar asks. “After you gathered all the courage you needed to share plans with your teammate? After I’d caught you with red enough hands that you had no choice?”

“No!” Grian must’ve noticed his tightening grip, and shoves the axe back onto his belt. “No, Scar, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it, I wonder? I don’t think you trust me, Grian.”

“I trust you plenty,” Grian dismisses. Liar. Something cracks beneath Scar’s eye. “It’s not like you tell me everything you get up to, anyway.”

“It was a bit of light arson, everything’s fine.” Scar waves a flippant hand. “I can make my own decisions and you should support me in them, as my soulmate.”

“Making enemies behind my back isn’t fine,” Grian says with a glare. “Not when both of our lives are at stake.”

“Sure, but I would’ve told you straight away,” Scar says. “It’s not my fault you heard about it through rumors before I could get to you. You clearly don’t feel the same about what you keep from me.”

“I just didn’t think it concerned you,” Grian mutters.

“Concerned me?” Scar exclaims. “They’re our resources! Why wouldn’t that concern me?”

“Cared. I didn’t think you cared,” Grian corrects himself. A nasty little thing worms its way into his tone as he says, “It doesn’t affect the pandas. What reason do you have to care?”

“We’re supposed to be a team,” Scar spits out. “And let me tell you, you’ve done a crap job so far.”

“Oh, Scar, we haven’t been one for a long time,” Grian says, and his blade softens to barbs wrapped around Scar’s flesh. “Why start now?”

The wire tightens. Scar bleeds.

He doesn’t grace Grian with another word before storming out of the haphazard storage room. Grian can hide any chest he wants, Scar doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

Dread prickles along the nerves of Scar’s palms. The darkness before him is blinding; he can’t see, no matter how wide he tries to open his eyes. Weight presses down upon every limb, and he’s trapped, he’s vulnerable, and all around him, inky blackness roars—

“—Scar? Scar. C’mon, buddy.”

Scar bolts upright. It takes a moment before low torchlight burns into view, and the room around him sharpens. He holds a hand to his brow. It comes away sweaty.

“Scar.”

Right. Grian’s kneeling beside Scar’s bed, his red sweater a bloodstain in the dimness, and his hand hovers close to Scar’s arm. When Scar meets his gaze, his reach drops entirely.

“Yes?” Scar asks expectantly. He had avoided Grian for the rest of the day after their argument, and was asleep before Grian had returned to the base; this is the first they’ve spoken in hours.

“You were having a nightmare.” Grian says, and gestures to his own chest. Scar’s heartbeat had given him away.

“Oh.”

Uncomfortable silence falls between them. Scar fidgets with the blanket and vaguely debates what time it must be.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Grian says. His delivery is lacking, in Scar’s humble opinion, and at least some of that must show on his face, because Grian continues: “Really, I am. I should’ve told you straight away.”

“You should’ve trusted me straight away,” Scar adds. He’s been taken off-guard, admittedly. Grian’s always been the type to argue fast and apologize just as quickly afterwards, but this is the first time he’s said it here. Scar wouldn’t have expected it to come in the middle of the night, but Grian’s also never been one for general reason.

“I should’ve,” Grian agrees. “It’s pretty lousy to go behind your soulmate’s back like that; you deserved to have known.”

“Thank you,” Scar says, a bit stunned.

“We kind of suck at this whole soulbound business,” Grian says, with a humorless little laugh.

Scar shrugs. “We’ll manage.”

Grian’s forehead furrows and he scans Scar’s face before he nods once, slowly, decisively. “Yeah, we will.”

It’s too late in the night for truthfulness, and Scar’s edges are feeling rather raw, so instead of releasing the hundreds of words that threaten to tumble from the tip of his tongue, he extends an arm in invitation to Grian.

Grian doesn’t hesitate to haul himself forwards and settle his head upon Scar’s chest when they’re both properly laying down. Scar might cry. He buries his face in Grian’s hair.

“For what it’s worth,” Grian says, a final breath before sleep, “I’m glad to share a heart with you, as accident-prone as you sometimes are. I don’t think I’d want it to be anyone else.”

Scar squeezes him tighter. Grian hugs him back. The distance gaping between them doesn’t feel quite so insurmountable.

—☾—

“Hi Grian! I’m so sorry, but it had to happen. Thank you.”

Grian’s unblinking stare doesn’t waver. If Scar squints, he can almost convince himself he sees some semblance of life in the stiff form of his body through the water that cascades between them.

“No—this isn’t an apology session, he tells you your future,” Bdubs says, and the group crammed together in the little stone room erupts into giggles. Scar defends his position against their teasing through his own laughter.

Still chuckling, Scott says, “You know what, this can be whatever you want. For Scar, it can be a confessional, and for the rest of us it can be fortune telling.”

“Okay, hold on, one second.” Scar clears his throat and peers back through the waterfall. It’s almost easier to hold Grian’s eyes when he’s not behind them. Scar misses their spark. “I’m sorry that I baby-talked you so much, you were just so cute on your little llama. I’m so sorry that I killed you, but I had to. It was part of the moment, things happen. Thank you.”

Someone gives a short-winded clap.

Scar turns around with a flourish before straightening. “I feel better.”

“Lovely,” Bdubs says.

After the bit has run its course, Scar shuffles aboveground with everyone else and lags behind when they head for their respective bases. When the coast is clear, he doubles back to where Grian’s been left.

First he plugs the water, and in its absence, the room is shockingly still. He then drops into a crouch by the wall next to Grian, and unhooks his legs beneath him until he’s sat flat on the ground, leaning against the cool stone.

“I lied,” Scar says, staring into nothing. “I said I was sorry for killing you, but I’m not. Well, maybe I am. I’m sorry for not being more sorry.”

Will Grian be mad when he wakes? Surely he’d expected chaos upon leaving his unoccupied body on a server like this. It’d be, frankly, unreasonable not to. If anything, he’s lucky he’s not on red, or a shimmering spectator floating through the night!

Scar is briefly distracted by visions of a ghostly Grian wearing a leather jacket as solid as the moral world around him, like when one forgets to remove their armor after taking a potion of invisibility. He voices as much to the real Grian, and the faint echo that follows his own voice is his only response.

It feels wrong to let the stifling hush fall back into place, so Scar fills it.

He tells Grian about the Clockers, and how their tower is coming along. He recounts a funny encounter with Martyn and all of the spectacular ways Scar’s traps have failed. Joel had complimented Scar’s triple kill, Scar can’t help but gloat, and winces when he gets to the part where all three of the players who’d died were yellow.

“You’d be proud,” Scar says. “Almost a quad.” There is something undeniably warm and inexplicably aching in his chest.

“I miss you sometimes,” he confesses, “and it’s silly, because you’re right there in front of me. You’ve got your sunglasses and your bread bad bridge boys—however you say it—and it’s stupid to miss someone you can see, right?”

He tilts his head up and traces patterns in the ceiling. “I’m happy with Mom and Bdubs. I’m not sorry for burning your mansion down or maybe sort of poking around your chests. We both know how Double Life ended.”

From his pocket, Scar produces a bedroll, and he briefly shuffles around to place it where he’d been sitting and re-settle upon it. His legs were getting sore.

“We make a good team.” Sepia-toned kitchens and grey trouser pockets lined with TNT bleed into spiked fortresses and mildewed cities deep underground. “Or maybe we don’t.”

Scar sighs. “Silly of me, isn’t it?”

A stuttering cough jolts Scar from the hazy area between wakefulness and sleep. It takes him a moment to place where he is. There’s a crick in his neck from where he’d been awkwardly leaning it against the stone.

“Of all the places to be, I don’t think this is what I was expecting,” Grian says contemplatively to Scar’s right, his voice a little scratchy.

“Oh!” Scar says, startled. “Good… something, sleepyhead.”

“Scar? What are you doing here?” Grian asks. Scar watches as he clambers out of the hole he’d been put in on unsteady feet. “Actually, scratch that. Where is here?”

“Somewhere under Entertainment Mountain!” Scar frowns. “I think.”

“Right, okay.” Grian’s remarkably composed for someone in his position. “Getting back to my first point, are you a guard or something?”

“You were telling fortunes,” Scar says.

It’s astonishing how different Grian’s blank stare is now compared to his previous state. He shakes his head as if to clear it and says, “Actually, I’ve decided that I don’t want to know.

“You told Scott he’d soon come into a stack of diamonds and promised Bdubs a puppy,” Scar says, just to mess with him.

Grian snorts. “Sad to have missed it.” Something like relief floods through Scar.

“Fun times, fun times,” Scar says. “Off to your bread boys, then?”

“Are you off to your Clockers?” Grian asks. He nearly smirks with it.

“It is pretty late,” Scar says, and his own smile grows.

“The boys will definitely want more of an explanation than what I’m awake enough to give,” Grian agrees. He gestures to the space next to Scar, and asks, “That seat wouldn’t happen to be taken, would it?”

Though their teams will worry, though they’ll wake up tomorrow and join opposite sides once more, Grian’s legs tangle between Scar’s own and his breath puffs gently against the juncture of Scar’s neck. Scar’s fingers dig into the softness of Grian’s sweater. He’s glad Grian had left his jacket behind for taking off for… wherever he went.

“So, what was your fortune?” Grian asks, and Scar can feel the words against his skin. They dance as they fall from Grian’s lips, light and teasing.

“That I’m going to win Limited Life, of course,” Scar says with a grin.

Grian hums. “Guess we’ll see.”

—☾—

Twilight catches between each of the sunflowers’ petals that have not yet been shrouded in the shadow of the wall around Scar’s valley, a pretty contrast to the craters he’s been tripping over on the way home. He catches the edge of the nearest flower between his forefinger and thumb as he passes by and releases it before the petals can tear away.

The glow of his outpost is a beacon; once inside, Scar collapses against the door on weary bones. He’d been set on fire a couple times today, and none of it compares to the burn nipping at his feet now. Exhaustion barely begins to cover the shape of his lungs and every limb.

Scar’s moved to sitting on the counter’s edge with his boots removed when a knock sounds at his door. “Come in,” he calls without looking up.

“You’re in a sorry state, aren’t you.” Grian appears in front of Scar. He’s looking rather disheveled himself—his wings, in particular, are just as rumbled as the rolled-up cuffs of his sweater and the white undershirt that peeks out from his collar.

“Wow, rude,” Scar comments.

“Nah, I didn’t mean it like that,” Grian says. “I came to check on you. Big day, yeah?”

Scar scoffs. “That stupid thing chased me for like—an hour!”

“And you made a valiant effort,” Grian says, and gives Scar’s shoulder a compassionately gentle pat. “I brought a golden apple over, if you need it.”

“Here at Trader Scar’s, stock is looking unfortunately low at this very second.” Scar waves a hand in the vague direction of the barrels on the wall. “Come back tomorrow.”

“At no cost.” The corner of Grian’s lip quirks up.

“Well, in that case…” Scar holds out a palm, and Grian passes him the apple. He takes a bite and savors its sweetness, ambrosia whose warmth runs over top of his wounds without truly mending them. The kindness of the gesture itself soaks deeper, and Scar’s determined to savor that, too.

Grian watches him for a moment. His gaze seems to skirt across every inch of Scar, never lingering on any specific part. “Got any other general ailments?”

“Can’t do much about them, now can we?” Scar shrugs.

“Sure, but I could at least clean them.” Grian’s tone is nonchalant, but his words, Scar knows, are anything but. This matters to him. The corners of Scar’s eyes crinkle.

The Wither—and the rest of the day’s shenanigans—had left a number of scrapes and bruises along Scar’s skin that turning in his task hadn’t fully healed. A dull sort of sting gnaws at the lines of Scar’s nerves, residue from the withering he hadn’t been able to dodge. His legs hurt and his head throbs and there’s a twinge in his shoulder from where Scar had collided with a wall at an odd angle.

His hands are in arguably the worst state of it all; bare to the earth Scar caught himself upon when he tripped, and tight around a bow when he dared to turn and shoot. He offers them up first to Grian, who takes them, one at a time, and cleans away the dirt and blood with invariable carefulness.

From his pocket Grian produces a roll of bandages, which he uses to wrap each of Scar’s palms. The rhythm is soothing, and Grian’s steady warmth is familiar. The pain ebs, if even just for a moment, in the wake of his touch.

“Anything else?” Grian asks after he releases Scar’s hands. Though he remains close enough for his breath to fan lightly across the tip of Scar’s nose, Scar mourns the loss of contact immediately.

“Nothing that can be wrapped, it seems,” Scar says. “You?”

“I’m pretty alright,” Grian says. “I feel like I could sleep an entire week, though.”

“Sleeping on wings looking like that?” Scar says conversationally. “They’ll be worse by morning.”

“Oh,” Grian says, sounding a little surprised. He tosses a half-glance over his shoulder. “They’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense!” Scar says. “I’d be a terrible host if I let a guest stay over in such discomfort.”

“Really, there’s no need,” Grian says, leveling Scar a look. Unfortunately for him, Scar’s thoroughly familiar with his tactics.

“You fixed me up,” Scar says, “it’s only fair if I do the same, right?”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Grian says. “I didn’t come over for any deals.”

“Consider this to be on the house,” Scar says. Softer, he adds, “I want to. If you’ll have me.”

Grian’s quiet for a long moment. His wing twitches in seeming contemplation.

“Fair is fair,” he concedes soon after. “Want any help getting into bed?”

“Please.”

Scar wraps an arm over Grian’s shoulder, careful to avoid his wings, while Grian braces Scar across his back. Together they make their way into the outpost’s second room, where Scar’s bed is nestled amidst a pile of chests. Scar tugs off his poncho and tosses it onto the nearest surface, then settles onto the bed against the far wall. Grian perches on the edge in front of him and spreads out a wing.

They really are beautiful this time around, all earthy browns and creamy tans, speckled with spots of black that remind Scar of rich, dark soil. He runs gentle fingers through the nearest plumage, carding out debris and straightening feathers knocked out of place.

The repeated motions are comforting, like petting a cat (and gosh, does he miss Jellie, but he’d asked her once if she’d wanted to accompany him, and she’d meowed back with what he’s pretty sure meant no, thank you very much, death games would be terrible for my coat, and that was that), and after he finishes the section he’d been working on, he runs a flat hand over it appreciatively. Grian very generously allows about three seconds of this, punctuated by a slight shake of his shoulders and heavy sigh, before shrugging Scar off.

Moving on to the next part, Scar asks, “How’s life been with Etho and Cleo?”

Scar can see Grian’s slight smile where it raises part of his cheek. “It’s good. They’re weird, but, like, in a good way. Chill.”

“Sounds like them,” Scar says, and murmurs an apology when he plucks a broken feather. Grian hardly flinches, and Scar knows why it must be done, but he can’t help but feel the slightest bit of guilt every time. “So the Wither, it was your task?”

“Yep,” Grian says, popping the p. “Me and Etho’s, actually. We had to set up a boss fight between the Wither and warden. Definitely didn’t expect it to lock in so heavily on you, though. Sorry about that.”

“A task’s a task, right?” Scar says. “Thanks for saving me, back there.”

The rift Grian had pried open in the server’s code had left a gash without taking hearts; Scar has the ripped sleeve to prove it. Floating between worlds is hardly pleasant, however anchored he’d still technically been to Secret Life, and solid ground upon his return had been a relief. Even more immensely relieving was spotting the Wither on Scott’s tail instead of his own.

Scar doesn’t know why Grian did it. Though friendly enough, they aren’t teamed.

“It’s the least I could’ve done,” Grian answers, and releases his other wing from where he’d been preening it across his lap. “Are you about finished?”

“Almost.” All that’s left are the tiny feathers at the juncture of Grian’s wings and his back, sprouting from the open panel of his shirt. They’re not particularly out of place, but when Scar smooths them down, he’s rewarded with a shiver that reverberates down the length of Grian’s spine. Grian whacks Scar with a wing. “Hey! You’ll mess up my work.”

“Should’ve thought about that,” Grian says primly before he twists to face Scar and pulls his legs up onto the bed. “It’s nap time, anyway.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Scar says, and collapses sideways, pulling Grian down with him.

The outpost feels all that less lonesome when Grian’s tucked into Scar’s side beneath a blanket of feathers. Grian’s warmth is soothing against Scar’s pains, and for all the questions that still buzz behind his eyes, Grian’s presence puts Scar’s somnolent-syruped mind at something close to ease.

Grian traces slow patterns into Scar’s arm. Scar falls asleep trying to decipher what they could be.

—☾—

The footsteps that pad up the mountain long after Lizzie and Jimmy have passed out are a surprise. What little remains of the reputation board still smolders a mere few blocks away from Scar, and his yellow life sits fresh in his chest. He’d assumed their little arrangement had drawn to an explosive end.

“Come to take your revenge?” Scar asks the shadow over him. “It’s against the gentleman's code to kill a guy in his sleep.”

If Scar admits it to himself, he’s happy to see Grian. From nearly the first second Scar had made his bed, Grian had claimed half of it as his own, and Scar would be reluctant to give up his nightly company, with what ease they slot together in and how warm Grian is looped around him. Scar’s teammates have long given up their protest, but Lizzie declares a continual disregard of principle if Grian’s still around by the time she rises from her own slumber.

“I’m still mad at you,” Grian says, and though he can’t see it, Scar can hear his scowl. “Move over.”

Scar graciously complies, and Grian shoves beneath the blanket. He keeps his back towards Scar and his legs curled firmly away, a display that’d achieve more of an effect if his head wasn’t a breath away from Scar’s on the bed’s single pillow. His feathers are ticklish where they brush lightly against Scar.

“You’re about to fall off,” Scar observes.

“Shut up,” comes the grumbled reply. Grudgingly, Grian scoots all of an inch inwards. “It’s none of your business if I choose to sleep on the ground, anyway. It’d be more tolerable than your company.”

Grian would do no such thing, and they both know it. Still, Scar says, “But the thud, skip, and squawk would definitely disrupt my beauty sleep, so it’s really in my best interest to make sure you don’t go tumblin’.”

“I’ll go tumbling if I want to,” Grian answers, tilting his head to the sky to glare at Scar from the corner of his vision, “and it’d be your fault when I die from fall damage. Again.”

“We’re even!” Scar says. “That’s all in the past.”

“We are not even, and that was like, five hours ago!”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Scar challenges.

“That’s different,” Grian says, flat.

Scar pauses. He doesn’t want to antagonize Grian into actually leaving, not really. The steps to their dance have worn well into his soles, and the shape of his partner is familiar between his arms.

He’d missed Grian. For all of their posturing, twirling the line between enemy and friend, to have him by his side once more beneath the winking moon’s light is a gratifying reprieve.

“A truce, then,” Scar eventually says, “if we’re not even.”

“A truce,” Grian agrees. The anger in his voice has faded like lips pulled over once-bared teeth. Scar can’t quite make out what replaces it, but through the tiredness that seeps in along Grian’s edges, Scar’s fairly certain he’s not about to be bit.

“And friends?” Scar teasingly tries. He can envision the scrunch of Grian’s nose as clear as day when he huffs in reply.

“Not friends,” Grian says. “But beyond someone’s cheap shot, we’re not really enemies, are we?”

“Not if you don’t want to be,” Scar says. Something surges out with aching fingers from the cavity between his ribs where two hearts had once beat in tandem. It’s fun to rile Grian up, but what side he stands on hardly matters in stopping Scar, anyway. It’d be nice, he thinks, to not be enemies.

“Though you’re still dead to me,” Grian says, “we’ve had plenty of practice being enemies before. We can stay affably neutral here if you don’t go taking any more dirty kills.”

Scar shrugs and nods, but he can’t help his grin. “Gotta keep it fresh.”

Grian clicks his tongue in the same way he always does when they’ve reached the same conclusion. Scar’s sure that, if he’d been watching Grian instead of the stars above them, he would’ve caught Grian’s accompanying wink.

“Goodnight, Grian,” Scar says, and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, Scar.” Grian turns fully back onto his side. He scoots in another inch. The blanket undergoes a considerable amount of rearranging before it adequately covers them both.

After everything’s been sorted, Scar reaches out. Grian’s hand meets his own halfway across the mattress. Their linked fingers are awfully close to honesty, and a shared pillow is the nearest Scar’s ever been to trust.

A truce hums behind Scar’s eyelids, and he lets the darkness pull him under.

“And we’re best friends?”

“We’re best friends.”

The sun is shining and the morning feels ripe with opportunity when Scar wakes. Grian’s hold on Scar is fierce even in sleep, and Scar takes a moment to bask in it.

It’s all a bit hard to fully wrap his mind around. They’re allies again—no, better yet, friends. The sensation is apricity against frost-nipped fingers. It’s the light of a campfire and the jaunty melody of the song shared around it. It’s home.

After a tick or two—Grian’s never been one to let too much of the day’s beginning go to waste—Grian shifts and blinks the bleariness from his eyes. Scar’s chest feels impossibly aglow with fondness.

“Hi,” Grian says when he lifts his gaze to Scar’s face.

“Good morning,” Scar says, and, just to make sure: “Best friend?”

Grian snorts. “I meant it. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

There’s a mace tucked away somewhere in his inventory, and a thousand things piled between them. Scar remembers sand, and wood, and stone; he remembers sleep-warm skin and linens as soft as a death game can afford beneath his fingertips.

Scar kisses Grian, once, just to feel his startled laugh against his own mouth. They rise in staggered tandem, and Grian pressed his lips to Scar’s temple before disappearing down the mountainside to rejoin his team.

Smiling, Scar stretches his shoulders with a satisfying crack, and goes off to find his own.

[sirianasims]

Chapter 44.4

Darkness envelops us, but I’d know the shape of her body anywhere, her every curve, the softness of her thighs wrapped around my waist, the arch of her back as I move inside her.

[🔞 Spice warning, keep reading at your own risk! 🔞]

I feel her voice more than I hear it, the vibration of her moans against my neck, sounds that are so distinctly hers, and that I like to pretend I’m the only man who can draw from her.

Her breath quickens against my ear, begging me to come. With each thrust bringing us closer to the edge, my body tenses, muscles straining in anticipation. Her nails dig into my shoulders, fingers gripping tightly as we near our breaking point.

Just as I reach my climax, I see her face.

She’s crying.

The sight of her tears jolts me awake. Immediately, the dream starts fading, slipping through my fingers like sand through an hourglass, the wet spot on my boxers quickly becoming cold against my skin, and my mind filled with visions of red hair cascading over my pillows.

The room around me feels familiar, yet wrong, and I realise I’m on the floor.

I prop myself up on a slightly sore elbow, still disoriented. The old carpet is rough against my sweaty skin, tiny bits of dust and debris sticking to my side. It’s barely light outside, but there’s no way I’m going back to sleep like this.

I grab a towel and walk downstairs in a daze, not quite convinced I actually woke up yet.

The first shock of cold water helps, rinsing off the clammy sweat as well as the fading remnants of the nightmare as the water slowly gets warmer.

By the time I get out of the shower, I can barely recall what happened in the dream, just a faint, unpleasant feeling that is remarkably close to grief.

I haven’t had nightmares for years. They used to happen a lot, especially in the first few years after I lost my father, but those went away over time.

They only came back once, early in my career, when I had to grow out my beard for a role and found his face staring back at me from every mirror. When we finished filming, I shaved before I even left the set and never grew it out again.

But even without the beard, I still look more and more like him with each passing day. And soon, just a couple of years from now, I will be older than he ever was.

The very idea feels unnatural, obscene.

I leave the bathroom and find myself face to face with my mother, startling both of us. She takes a step back, wobbling slightly on her bad leg but manages to steady herself.

“Sorry, mum, did I wake you?”

She shakes her head, her eyes searching mine. “No, but I heard the shower and wondered why you were up so early. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” I reply, my throat feeling tight. “I just… had a strange dream and woke up drenched in sweat. Didn’t feel like trying to fall back asleep.”

“So… would you like some coffee, perhaps? I don’t think I can sleep either, and we might as well enjoy the last bit of summer while we can.”

“That sounds great. Let me get dressed and throw my sheets in the laundry and I’ll join you.”

My hair dries quickly in the breeze, the salty tang of the ocean mingling with the fragrance of lavender and lemon. The early morning light casts a soft pink glow over the garden. I used to hide with my cousins in these bushes, climb the trees and pretend to be pirates or explorers. Or superheroes. I feel a twitch in the corner of my mouth at the memory, even though the lingering sadness of the nightmare still clings to me like a damp sheet.

I think about the dream, about Julia. Sometimes I miss her so much it hurts, a physical ache in my chest, and it’s rare that a day goes by where I don’t think about what would happen if I saw her again. I still have no idea. I don’t know what I want, only that I want. It’s as if I yearn for something I can’t quite decide what is.

My mother adds copious amounts of cream and sugar to her coffee and stirs it slowly, her gaze on the coast beyond the garden. Her silver hair catches the golden light.

“Mum,” I begin, clearing my throat. “Why didn’t you find someone else? After babbo, I mean.” The words feel heavy, almost accusatory, especially here in his favourite part of the garden.

My mother pauses, thoughtfully, mug raised to her lips. For a second I worry that I’ve crossed a line, poked at an old wound, but then she sighs, her eyes distant.

“I don’t want you to think differently of him because of this.”

“Differently? How?”

“You’ve heard what my parents were like, they had a lot of plans for me. A respectable match, wealthy husband, securing their lineage. So, to stall for time, I decided to travel for a while.”

I nod. I’ve never met the earl and duchess of Northhaven, but from what my mother has told me, it’s no great loss. They wouldn’t acknowledge either of us anyway. “And then you came to Tartosa, found love, and never went back.” It isn’t a question, I’ve heard the story many times before.

She traces the rim of her mug with a finger.

“Not quite. I didn’t want the kind of life that was planned for me, the endless performance, the strategic marriage to some lord. But it was more than that. I never wanted to get married at all, Paul. And I wasn’t interested in any kind of romantic relationship, either.”

Her voice is soft, almost apologetic, and I lean back, brow furrowed. It always sounded like my parents had the perfect whirlwind romance, with my father famously proposing after only knowing her for two weeks.

“So… did meeting my father change your mind, then?”

She shakes her head, a soft smile on her lips. “I had never met anyone like Marcello. His easy laugh, his presence, the way he seemed to fill any room when he walked in.” She looks up, her eyes meeting mine. “Much like you. We became friends, and when he heard about my parents’ plans for me, he proposed.”

“Oh.” My mind is filled with questions and I struggle to even decide which one to ask first, but my mother quickly continues.

“Your father was everything to me, Paul. He understood. When I met him, I wasn’t looking for an escape. But he offered me freedom.”

“But you said you didn’t want… romance. Doesn’t everyone want love? Didn’t he? And how did… why did you even have me, if…”

I trail off awkwardly.

“We had love,” she says quietly. “But love doesn’t look the same for everyone. I didn’t marry him because I wanted him, I married him because he loved me and I knew he would never make me feel like I was broken for not loving him in quite the same way. And he never asked for more than I could give, which was why I wanted to give him you.”

I swallow, understanding slowly dawning on me. “So, it wasn’t about not moving on, was it?”

“No. When your father died, I lost my dearest friend. He was my life partner in every way that mattered. But another husband?” She shakes her head, putting her mug down. “That was never something I wanted. Marcello can never be replaced, but I don’t need to. I have you, I have our family. There was never any reason to find someone else, because I already have everything.”

We sit quietly for a while. The sun is higher now, slowly filling the garden with warmth. I still feel slightly shaken, unmoored by the realisation that the love story I grew up with, that I’ve always compared my own relationships to, isn’t what it seemed. But I also feel lighter somehow, closer to my mother than before. And then, for a brief moment, I can almost feel my father here too, woven into the morning air, carried by the scent of lemon and lavender.

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[darsynia]

Steve and Avenger!Reader going to a Christmas Market please! 🥰 Can be any sort of relationship but wouldn't mind a Christmas Market proposal...

Thank you so much, this is perfect for both @buck-star's fluffy winter event (Christmas Market) and Day 1 of @the-slumberparty's December Daze: (let me dust the snow off your coat/hat/shoulder)

Words/Warnings: 2,315 / tooth-rotting fluff

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS | BUCKY BARNES

Don’t Mind If I Do

“Even North Carolina is freezing cold this morning, I checked. Trust me, this will be worth it.”

You frown in your perfect blanket cocoon. “All right, I’ll be out front by 8. And I’m cranking the heat in my rooms to 74 while I do it, just so I’ll be in a nicer mood for you!”

“You won’t regret it, sweetheart.”

With that, the two of you hang up, and you tap the + icon multiple times in the app that controls the heating in your suite. The Avengers Compound isn’t much to look at from the outside, but they make up for that in amenities. The only catch is, the suites are much too small to share with anyone. Despite your year-long committed relationship, you and Steve haven’t been able to truly ‘sleep over’ or spend couples time comfortably while stationed here. His rental apartment in NYC is lovely, and you’ve spent time together there, but both of you tend to be work-oriented. You’ve made do with what you have, even when that means sometimes cramming into Steve’s twin sized, extra-long bed here at the Compound.

Besides, you remind yourself as you rush through your morning routine, Steve Rogers isn’t the ‘shack up’ type, so it’s not like you’d be sharing an apartment if one were available. Still, it feels wrong to wake up without his warm, strong body next to yours on a cold day like this.

Steve had told you to dress for being outside, so after pulling on a thick pair of socks and lacing up your hiking boots, you don a knitted hat and shrug on a winter coat over your sweater. You meet up with Steve in the atrium of the building, feeling that familiar flush when he turns and lights up to see you.

“Oh perfect, you look nice and warm,” Steve says, quickly adding, “--and beautiful too. Very.”

He always leads with the truth, but as a boyfriend, he’s made you feel lovely enough for a superhero, leading to this in-joke of adding that compliment as an afterthought. You know him enough now to recognize when he thinks the second part first, and the face he’d made after turning around tells you this is one of those days.

“Are any of those pre-requisites for your secret Saturday morning outing?”

“Two of those are permanent, but yes, being warm will help,” he says, holding out a bare hand for you to take.

Inwardly grinning, you start to slip off your own glove, then pause. “Exactly how cold is it in North Carolina versus here? Do I need to grab a scarf?” Before working with the Avengers, you’d been stationed at Fort Liberty, so the climate difference between that and upstate New York had taken a little getting used to.

Steve takes your glove, tucks it into your pocket (being sure to crowd close enough to blatantly smell your hair), and then takes your bare hand in his bare hand to walk out into the brisk December air. It’s cold.

“At least ten degrees warmer than this, but I’d be happy to offer my arm as a scarf,” he says, squeezing your hand as you wend your way through the parked cars.

“You’re ten times better looking than all of my scarves, so I think I win!”

The drive is cozy with the heat on and an oldies Christmas station crooning the classics. After almost a half hour of light conversation and heavy exchanged glances, Steve pulls into a charming neighborhood decked to the rafters with holiday cheer. You peer out the windows, trying to figure out the plan. Are there sleigh-hay rides? An ice skating rink? Maybe a holiday quilt show set up in an 18th century church somewhere? You’re so caught up by the possibilities that you miss the instructions Steve gets from a woman wearing a high-vis jacket and Santa hat until the car parks, and he turns it off.

There’s something almost ceremonial about the way your boyfriend pats each of his warm trenchcoat’s pockets to find his gloves before pulling them on and flexing his hands. It’s captivating, not dissimilar to the way he girds himself for battle (whether physically or morally, you’ve noticed).

“You see my hat anywhere?” he asks, finally turning to look at you.

“Crap. I might have sat on it,” you realize.

Steve grins. “Well, it’ll be warm.”

You both get out of the car, and Steve dons his pre-warmed hat before gesturing toward the city center a few blocks away. “Christmas market.”

If your life was a film, that’s where either the Hallelujah Chorus or a full-on tire screech would have happened, but as it is, you fall sideways into him and catch yourself on his lapel, looking up at him with wide, delighted eyes.

“You promise? Oh God, that was way too Hallmark of me, I’m sorry-- but… you promise?” you ask, going through three vastly different facial expressions in the process.

“I promise,” Steve says, taking your hand in his, then lifting both to kiss the back of yours.

Christmas markets had been a staple of your childhood, and your family used to travel pretty far afield to see new and favorite ones. As your family’s circumstances had changed, those trips had dwindled, and by the time you were out of high school, they were a treasured memory of a no-longer-possible past. The years since then have mostly involved you throwing yourself into your work, becoming the kind of person soldiers and civilians alike can trust and rely on. If you’re honest, your time with the Avengers has been more fulfilling than even those precious school years of summer beaches, birthday parties, and chilly strolls through magical small-town holiday displays.

Part of that is Steve, a genuine hero and painfully good man who somehow seems to love you almost as much as you love him. Since the first moment you met he’s held out his hand for you in support. He’s a teammate, a challenger, a role model, and honestly? A partner. 

“Snow! Look at that!” You can hear the smile in his voice. Light, gentle flurries have started to drift down just as you visit the first festive stall. It’s perfect timing, since some of the crafts on display are delicate handmade snowflake ornaments. “If you’ve got an ‘in’ with the weather, sir, I’d love to learn your secrets,” Steve jokes with the owner. 

“It snows for you, to make perfect day for you and your wife!” the elderly man says with a beatific expression. “Please, you must take one for your tree at home.”

The two of you have two separate small trees, a result made necessary by the size of your living spaces at the Compound. You can see Steve tense up, clearly uncomfortable with the hinted, benign falsehood.

“Oh, but I must have both of these, too! How much?” you rush to say, pulling out your wallet and holding them up next to the one the owner pressed into Steve’s hand. It feels like your responsibility to meet the men in the middle.

“This is so we can see them from all angles, you understand,” Steve says.

“Of course!” the man says, a secretive smile playing on his lips. “Three is a good number, and I wish you a successful day!”

Steve’s cheeks have a distinct pinkish tinge to them for the next set of booths, but you avoid teasing him about it. This is not the first time someone’s misidentified the two of you as married, and you’ve always tread very carefully during those moments. Have you dreamed about marrying Steve Rogers? God, yes. You’d never say anything though. Proposing to Captain America is almost a national sport, something you’ve witnessed firsthand. Heck, you wouldn’t be surprised if he rejected you out of habit if you tried proposing.

It does look like you’ll both get to dodge your more famous secondary identities today. A lot of that is thanks to Tony’s fleet of look-alike cars, his insane security for the whole campus, and the way Steve can somehow dress and look like a regular, if burly country guy. However it’s happened, you’re incredibly grateful that your relationship has skated under the press radar. You suspect that Steve’s ‘couple behavior’ this morning is a result of happiness, holiday cheer, and perceived anonymity (you like the scruff he’s sported these past weeks, but… come to think of it, you wonder if he grew it just for that extra layer of obfuscation. Cap doesn’t quite pull National Icon status with hints of a beard, after all).

After forty minutes of happily wandering from booth to booth and window display to window display, the two of you decide to partake in the reason why everyone’s there so early in the morning: Christmas pastry from one of the best bakeries in central New York.

The town has set up a charming eating area just off the central square in a church parking lot. There are evergreen trees lining one side, each decorated in a different (sometimes chaotic) style and heavily festooned with lights. The picnic tables are all red and green, and hanging from a few of the arching lightposts is a bundle of familiar-looking plant-life. Steve sends you to snag a seat ahead of him while he waits in line, and when he comes back, he’s got twice as many goodies as you expected, all piled up on one plate.

“They all have a label on them saying ‘Mistle-hug,’” he says, standing at the end of the table. “I have two plates’ worth here, but they were much more stable like this.”

“How are we going to eat all this?” you ask, delighted nonetheless. You take the plate and carefully liberate the second stacked plate so you can distribute the bounty evenly, but Steve doesn’t hasn’t sat down yet. “If you don’t come pick out what you want, I’m going to get greedy!” you lie in a singsong voice. All he does in response is say your name softly.

“What are you--” you ask as you straighten up and look over at him. He’s standing at almost battle stance, frozen still with one hand tucked into the inside of his jacket. You immediately see the beautiful pattern the snow’s made on his shoulder, and pop to your feet with your phone.

“Wait, that’s not--” Steve says in a bewildered voice, his brows adorably furrowed even when you show him the picture.

“Here,” you say impudently, reaching up to kiss at his shoulder and thus melt the ‘offending’ snowflake art so he can feel free to sit down. “All perfect now.”

“You’re completely right,” Steve says. There’s something odd in the tenor of his voice-- and then suddenly he’s on one knee in front of you, pulling that hand out of his coat pocket with a recognizably-sized box.

You’ve got tears in your eyes, flowers blooming in your heart, and powdered sugar on your hands, which is why you’d chosen to kiss the snow off instead of brush it, but then Steve starts to speak.

“I was going to do this by the big tree, but then it hit me-- I spent years locked in ice, and it was all because I was waiting for you to come kiss all the cold away. You’re everything I didn’t and couldn’t know I needed-- a warm smile, a fighting heart, a clever mind, and more than that, you make me feel smarter, stronger, and happier when I’m with you. Will you marry me?”

You can barely get the word ‘YES!’ out past the lump in your throat, but you’d started nodding as soon as he opened his mouth. Steve tugs the ring out of the box and slides it perfectly onto your finger before surging upwards, pulling you into a twirling, joyful hug that dances the two of you a good few feet away from your table.

“Look, they’re under the Mistle-hug!” some voice calls out, and Steve’s --your future husband’s-- chest starts shaking with laughter. He sets you down and you both look up. A mere centimeter above his head spins one of the fake mistletoe pieces, its label dislodged by your antics. A ‘Hug! Hug! Hug!’ chant starts from the growing crowd of onlookers, and you nod up at Steve, your heart in your eyes.

“Don’t mind if I do!” he quips, engulfing you in a bear hug that leaves your newly-adorned left hand once again resting right on his chest. At the very edges of the roaring in your ears you hear a few people correctly guess who the two of you are, but you’re too delighted to mind.

A half hour later, when most of the well-wishers are finished offering their advice, encouragements, and pieces of paper for Steve to autograph, you notice that you’d left a powdered sugar outline on his coat.

“Oops, sorry about that,” you tell Steve, nodding at the handprint and grabbing a wreath-adorned paper napkin to dip it in your cider to wash it off.

“Leave it,” he says, stopping you with a possessive little thumb swipe across the ring he’d placed on your finger. “Feels like it belongs there, just like you, sweetheart.”

You want to tell him all the ways you love him, all the things he’s made better in your life, all the demons he’s conquered for you simply by being Steve Rogers, but you’re speechless. All at once, the perfect tension-breaker hits you, and you can’t help but laugh.

“What is it?” Steve asks in a wary, amused tone. It’s another sign of how well you know each other.

“Can we try to convince Tony that I get to take the name Mrs. America?"

As it turns out, that’s exactly what most of the next day’s news articles call you.

[cherie-doll]

I need to chew on Philip Graves

Could I get graves and Rudy reacting to you biting them:)

They are occupying all of my mind rn

I like your thinking.. i like it very much, yes we're on the same wavelength

Gnawing on a couple of muscly and built men because what else are those muscles for?

Rudy

He's just in bed with you, probably looking through a catalogue, smiling softly to himself as you're lying close to him

He likes being shirtless around the house because he just wants to be comfortable, but this often exposes his back to you

His shoulders grab your attention the most, so much you like sinking your teeth into them and making him gasp as if he just had cold water poured over him, but you make sure it's always gentle, applying less pressure with your canines and using your front teeth more

And sometimes when you're resting your head on his chest and he snores off you like trailing your lips up to his neck and pressing soft kisses that make him murmur softly in his sleep, then you'll kiss a little harder, leaving sloppy trails until you're biting and leaving marks

He'll draw in a sharp breath and wake up to hickeys on his neck and you just batting your lashes innocently at him

He's not mad, the opposite actually, but just a little embarrassed and surprised you're like this

"O-oh"

Phillip Graves

Aggressively loving this man is your favorite thing to do because his reactions always amuse you

Coming up to him while he least expects it, prob when he's sitting on the couch, legs splayed wide open as he switches through the channels on tv for something to interest him

He's wearing nothing but a white undershirt and boxers, leaving his meaty thighs vulnerable to you, your mind already in the gutter

He's frowning at the tv as he continues in search of something to watch, finally he does find something and he rests back a little, readjusting his hips as he sits more comfortably, interlocking his hands behind his head

You slide onto the couch next to him, bringing your head down to his lap and he rests a hand on your hip, sliding it down slightly to your backside

Turning your head you bite into the inner side of his thigh, not caring to leave a mark that'll last a good while, he only grunts, hissing our your name as he swats at you

And you've stopped biting, giggling into his skin as he catches a glimmer in your eye as he scoffs playfully, his fingers feeling how deep you bit

[meetletsinmontauk]

Daydream- N.R

Inspired by:

No doubt by Enhypen

Oblivion by Love Harder & Amber Van Day

WHERE IS LOVE? by 3House 

…

Synopsis: Ni-ki usually didn't remember his dreams and when he did, he didn't make a big deal out of it. But one day, he woke up and he was in love with a girl he didn't have a clue who she was. 

…

-Did you break into my head at night?

-What?! No! Why?!

-Cause you are the woman of my dreams

…

Dream

noun

1. a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep.

For Ni-ki, dreams didn't mean much, he almost didn't remember his dreams. It was the 8th of November when he fell asleep on a couch at the backstage of Belluna Dome in Saitama, Japan. The air was cold outside, they had just finished the first soundcheck and since Niki was forced to wake up very early that day, a little nap wrapped around a soft cozy blanket after lunch was more a need than a wish. 

“He will wake up with a stiff neck” Sunghoon said to Jungwoon while they watched the younger one sleep on a sit position with his head leaned on his hand. “Yep, I know. Maybe a back pain too” “We should wake him up, then” Sunghoon took a step forward, ready to shake Niki’s body till he woke up, but the leader of the group held his wrist “No. Let him sleep” “But…” “He looks like a baby, and he probably is very tired, let him get some sleep while he can. In 40 minutes you can wake him up” Hoon sighed “Fine” “Let's go, let's drink something warm and play some video game” Woon said while pushing his friend away from the sleepy maknae.

…

Ni-ki was in an open field, a strong green grass full of flowers , and the sunset was near. A girl with dark brown, curly hair, was laying on his side on the grass. She wore a yellow flowered summer dress and her hair was down on her shoulder. She exhaled a vanilla scent and the sunlight reflecting on her iris made her green eyes turn into a golden tone. “I never met someone like you” her soft feminine voice whispered in Ni-ki’s ear “I think you are my destiny” she continued, touching his face, lighty, approaching her face to his “Please stay with me forever” she whispered against his lips before kissing them, sweetly, melting into the Japanese’s plump lips. Ni-ki held her jaw and leaned over her till she was laying on the grass and his body was hovering hers and… 

…40 minutes have passed, Niki was being poked and shaken by Sunghoon letting him know that the next soundcheck was about to begin soon. Niki sat on the couch, the blanket still wrapped around his big body, he thanked his hyung, then rubbed his neck, actually stiff as Sunghoon previewed, he stretched it to one side then to the other, back and forth and waited for his soul to come back to his body. His head hurt as well, he had a dream that made something with his brain and body. He felt butterflies in his stomach and his heart’s bpm was faster than any songs that would be played in Tomorrowland. ‘Who was that girl?’ he asked himself, maybe an Engene? No. He would remember if he had seen that girl in front of him. He would remember being close to her, crossing gazes with her, holding her hand, making her smile, signing her something. How was it possible to dream with someone he didn’t know?

 “Hey, Ni-ki, are you ok?” Sunghoon interrupted his thoughts after watching his maknae stare at the nowhere with a confused expression for 3 minutes straight “Yeah” he nodded “Guess I  just met the girl of my dreams” “You what?!” “Nothing” Ni-ki quickly stood up, letting the blanket drop on the floor “Let’s go” “But… you just said” Niki ran from Sunghoon “Hey!” he called but Ni-ki pretended he didn’t listen to it “Will you leave the blanket on the floor?” Hoon shouted, but the younger man was far from there already “Aish!” Hoon grabbed the blanket, folded it and placed it on top of the couch again, rushing to join his members at the stage. 

…

Ni-ki was standing in an ice rink, somehow he was standing on both feet and his ass wasn’t freezing from falling on the ice. He heard a sweet giggle, the most melodic sound he had ever heard, beating even Heeseng hyungs’ voice. “I bet you can't catch me” he heard a voice that sounded like honey, the same voice from his previous dream. He looked around, trying to find the girl whom he dreamed of earlier that day. There were a lot of people in that ice rink, he looked everywhere, trying to see her curls, to smell her scent, but nothing. “I will catch you!” “No, you won’t!” “Where are you?” he waited for an answer, but she didn’t say anything “Come on! Shown up!” he felt a rain on ice on the side of his body followed by the same giggle from before “Hi, Ni-ki!” he felt a small, gentle hand on his shoulder “I said you wouldn't catch me, you’re too bad at skating” he turned to face her proving her right, cause if it wasn’t her strong arms he would have fallen on the ice. She giggled again, pleasing his ears, “Hold on, loverboy” she was even more beautiful  than before now that the sun wasn’t blinding him and blocking his eyes from seeing her perfect face. He gripped on her white jacket, trying to keep steady “You…” he muttered “Do we know each other?” “Of course we know each other. We’ve met earlier, haven't we?” “In my previous dream, yes” “See?” “But… Who are you?” she opened a full smirk “I am the girl of your dreams” “Yes, but what’s your name?” she approached her perfect lips to his ear “My name is Sa…”...Beep, beep, beep. 

Fucking nasty clock. Ni-ki stood up full of rage, grabbed his phone as he could smash it and turned the damn clock off. Then, he laid down on the mattress again and tried to go on with his dream. He closed his eyes and squeezed them. “My name is Sa…” resonated in his head. He turned to one side then the other, but he couldn’t sleep again. “Yeah, that’s great” he huffed loudly “Just perfect” he threw the blanket to the side and sat on the bed “We’re not over with it, see you tonight, Sa…”. 

…

During lunch time Ni-ki was making a list of possible girl names which started with Sa. From what he could tell she was a western, cause her eyes were very round and wide, her accent was pretty cute “Sa, Sa…” he mumbled to himself while sitting in front of a paper block and a pen “Sa… Sarah!” he wrote it down “hum… Sandy!” he wrote it too “Ok. What more?” he fidget with the pen, not being good with western names, or names in general. He had his hand pressed on his forehead, almost surrendering to a name dictionary on the internet when his Jay hyung passed behind him “What are you doing, Ni-ki?” he lifted his head “I’m writing a list of names that start with Sa” “And how is it going?” “I thought of 2” “Do you want some help?” “Sure” Jay leaned over the table “Any names with Sa at the beginning?” “Girls names” “What about Sakura?” “Western names” “Isn’t it a little specific?” “I thought you were going to help” “Ok, ok, lemme think” “Sally, Sandra, Savanna, Samara, Saoirse…” “Hold on, hold on!” Ni-ki rushed to write “Sally, Samara, Sa, what?” “Sandra, Savanna, Saoirse” he wrote “Which more?” “... Sasha, Sabrina…” “Hum, what else?” “...Samantha” Ni-ki stopped “Samantha…” she did look like Samantha “Samantha” “There’s also Sadie, Sapphire…” Jay continued, but Ni-ki wasn’t taking notes anymore “Why are you making that list by the way?” “I’m…” he cleaned his throat “I’m writing a story” “Really?!” “Yes…?” “Wow! That 's awesome! What is this about?” Jay pulled a chair to sit next to him “A… a girl from the U.S” Jay nodded, paying full attention to the younger one “That moves to South Korea to become an idol” “Seems a bit like Jake’s story” “That’s… right. I was inspired by him. And you” “That’s so thoughtful of you. If you need more help, count on me” “Thanks, Jay hyung” “That’s nothing” “Gonna let you write now” “Ok. See you”. 

…

Later that night:

His body was pure adrenaline, there were no words to describe how much Ni-ki loved his Engene. The concert was pure magic, as always, and they had just finished the last song. While he waited for his hyungs finish thanking the crowd for coming even in the cold so he could say a few words in Japanese to close the night, he stood on the stage, feeling his body warmth being dissipated in the cold air, he closed his eyes for a moment and imagined Sa in the crowd. He imagined her patiently waiting for them to meet, for him to look in the right direction at the same time she was staring at him. 

Then, he opened his eyes and scanned the crowd, and as he had manifested, he saw her in the exact same spot as he pictured in his mind. “This can’t be fucking real” he muttered to himself and walked to the edge of the stage to inspect a like better, but when he looked at the same spot again he saw another girl’s face, a girl who had nothing to do with Sa. He squeezed his eyes and she was still there, he closed his eyes, he opened them, he rubbed his eyes and nothing, his girl was gone again. Why was she always out of his reach? “Hum… Ni-ki?” Jungwoon called him on the mic “Are you ok over there?” Ni-ki kept looking at the same spot, lost inside of his mind “But she was right there!” he thought “Where did she go?”. “Ni-ki?” Jay broke his thoughts, tapping his shoulder “Hum?” he turned to Jay “Are you ok, man?” “Yeah… I’m fine” Jay nodded, even with his eyebrows still furrowed, not really believing in Ni-ki, but not wanting to argue on stage “Jungwoon was talking to you” “Oh, sure” the maknae walked towards the leader, receiving the mic “Hello, everyone! I’m sorry, I was a bit distracted. Did you enjoy tonight!?” a shower of screams came from the crowd “That’s the energy I like!”

…

At the backstage a few minutes later:

“Ni-ki” Niki looked up from his phone “‘Sup, Jay hyung?” “What’s actually happening to you?” “What do you mean?” “At first I believed in your story but now I’m not sure anymore” “I am not getting you” “You are not writing a story, are you?” “Of course I am!” “What’s it called then?” “I… I’m still figuring it out” “Told you!” “I don’t have to pick a name right now” “Ni-ki” Jay said with a parental tone “Are you lying to your hyung?” he groaned and threw his head back “Yes” Jay sat on his side “Do you want to tell me what is going on?” “You will think I’m stupid” “No, I won’t. I would never think like that of you” Ni-ki looked at him in disbelief “Bullshit” “No. I’m being serious” Riki gave a big sigh “I have been dreaming with this girl” “A girl?” “Yes” “Who?” “That’s the point, I don’t know her” “You… don’t know her?” “Exactly” “So when you were writing that list you were trying to find out her name?” “Yes” “And on stage… were you looking for her!?” “Exactly! Now you think I’m crazy” “Well… this is not the most healthy thing but… I don't think you’re crazy. I think… you are just trying to figure out what’s going on inside your mind but you’re not doing it correctly” “What should I do instead?” “Ask yourself what those dreams mean” “How?” “Ask that mysterious woman what she is doing in your head, maybe she gives you an answer” 

…

“Hello again, Ni-ki” “Sa…” he mumbled “You look scared, aren't you excited with our first date?” “I… we… yes? I guess” she giggled “I’m not sure if I believe you right now” “I am excited… I am just confused” “What's making you confused?” “You” “Me?” “This whole story. I've been dreaming with you for 3 nights in a role… what's that supposed to mean?” “The dream is yours, weren't you supposed to know?” “No! You are supposed to know” “Me?!” “Yes?!” “Why me?” “I don't know!” He groaned, melting on his chair “Just gimme the damn answers” he whined. She smiled and leaned forward on the table “What do you want to know, Ni-ki?” “First of all, for God's sake tell me your name” “I’m Samanta” “I knew it! It fits you well” “Thank you” “Ok. Hum… where are you from?” “Chicago” “American” he paused “What about your age?” “I’m 20” “In korean age?” “Yes” “Me too…” he muttered “What more do you want to know?” He furrowed his brows, thinking about important questions now that his curiosity was fed “Why are you here?” “Here?” “In my head, in my dreams” “Because I’m your destiny” “My destiny…” he licked his lips “What do you mean with that?” She stretched her hand out, touching his arm with a smirk on her face “That we're going to meet soon, and both our lives will change from that point on” he looked at her hand, her touch was giving him shivers, his skin was burning “But when…?” His voice went weak, all he could say was a mutter “Why such a rush?” “I might go crazy if I spend one more night dreaming with you without being able to see your face or talk to you in real life.” he paused “Without being able to touch you, feel your lips really touching mine… so please, tell me when, so I can have some hope” she smiled “You're so cute” “I don't want to be cute”. His voice sounded deeper, she looked into his eyes, seeing some darkness in there “I want to be yours”  “You already are. Somewhere, this girl is ready, waiting for you. Are you ready for her?” “I am, yes” he said with no hesitation. He knew in his deep bottom that he was, he wasn't a kid anymore and he knew he was ready for something more mature “I’m glad to hear that” she smiled, then leaned forward till her lips hovered his ear so she could whisper “Meet me in Montauk” before Ni-ki wakes up. 

…

“Montauk?” Jay furrowed his eyebrows “I think it is in New York” “New York?! Fucking hell, she must be kidding me” “What was that?” “She told me to meet her in Montauk” “She who?” “Samantha” “Oh!” “I can't simply go to New York right now” “Hold on! That's a famous quote of a movie” “Really? Which one?” “Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind” “Do you think this is in movie theaters?” “I don't think so, it's an old movie. But maybe it's passing in a film festival? Or something like that” “Great idea, Jay!” They went to Ni-ki's laptop to search for a film festival in Korea. Sunoo went to the kitchen”Good morning, guys!” “Morning” they said in unison “Can I have some yogurt from you guys? Jake ate the last one” “Yeah, sure” Jay answered quickly “What are you guys doing?” “Searching” they said in unison again “Searching what?” “We're looking for a film festival in Seoul” “Or a city nearby” “Uh! Can I join you guys? Please say yes” “I am not going” Jay stated “Can I join you Ni-ki? Please say yes” “Yeah, if I find it” “Yes! Which movie are they passing?” “Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind” “Ugh! That's sad. Let's go watch something funny. Like, hum… Wicked!” “No. It has to be this one” “Why? Do you want to suffer?” “He’s looking for Montauk” “Montauk? Isn't it a coffee shop in Seocho District?” “What?!” “A coffee shop in Seocho District. It's pretty delicious! They have an amazing chocolate croissant, apple crumb, hum…I’m hungry just of thinking…” but when Sunoo opened his eyes, nobody was paying attention to him anymore “Found it! Thank you, Sunoo! You're the sweets master” “Well, I…” “I gotta go, everybody” “So theres no film festival anymore?” “Sorry” “Go get her!” “You guys are very weird today. Jay hyung, would you take me to a film festival?” “No going to happen” Sunoo rolled his eyes “I’m leaving, bye” then left

…

Ni-ki spent the rest of his day at this coffee shop in Seocho District called “Montauk”. He ordered  2 milk tea a chocolate croissant and an apple crumble. It was delicious, he got hungry when he got nervous. He also got the number of 3 girls, of course, he stared at all of the girls who entered in that coffee shop and mindfully paid attention to their names when the barista asked to write in the cup. It was 7:38 pm already and the employee who was cleaning a few tables near where Ni-ki was sitting, looked at him with a warm smile and pitiful eyes “Excuse me, sir…” “Hum?” “Can I get you anything else?” “No, I’m good, thank you” “Hum… Just for you to know, we’re closing in 20 minutes, sir” “Oh, yeah. I… I’m leaving already. Just gonna use the bathroom” “Ok” Ni-ki stood up and smiled politely to the men in front of him. A few minutes later Ni-ki left the bathroom, ready to go back to the dorm and dive in frustration, hoping to see her again in another dream. He gave another look at the shop and decided to take away a sweet to Sunoo hyung, who got really disappointed with the film festival story. He grabbed his cell phone while he was waiting in the line and texted his friend:

‘Sunoo hyung, I’ve got a surprise to you’

‘Do you think I still want anything from you after you go to the film festival without me?’

Ni-ki smiled, his little Sunoo was such a dramatic person

‘Is something sweet’

‘...’

‘Consider it a “I’m sorry for leaving you behind” sweet’

‘Which flavour is it?’

‘Chocolate or apple?’

‘Is it crunchy’

‘Nope’

‘I want both. It doesn’t mean I forgive you’

‘I love you too, Sunoo hyung’

‘Who said I love you?’

Ni-ki chuckled “He’s so adorable”, he was about to type more teasing words to Sunoo when he felt a soft poke on his shoulder, he turned to the person behind him “Excuse me, sir, but it’s your turn now”, the japanese’s jaw dropped lightly and his lips parted “You…” she furrowed her brows, trying to understand what  was going on with him “Are you ok, sir?” “Samantha…” “Do we know each other?” “Yes! I mean, no. Only in my dreams” “What are you talking about? Are you trying to flirt with me?” she asked with a playful smile on her face “No. I… I already had seen you in my dreams. Last night you told me to meet you here” she stepped back “I… I think I should go now…” “I’m not crazy!” she stopped “Look, I just… was trying to… “ Ni-ki paused to breathe deeply “Can I, please, have your contact? I can explain better” she could see the emotions dripping from his eyes, the desperation “Maybe… you can explain it when we go out… to have some coffee maybe” Ni-ki smiled, the brightest smile he gave in the whole week, and nodded “Yes! Yes, I would love to” she smiled “Give me your phone, then” he obeyed immediately “There you go. Text me” “I’ll. I promise” “Good! Now, can I buy my pain au chocolat?” “Yeah” he made some space for her to pass but then blocked it again “You know what? Let me pay for you” she nodded “Ok”. Then Ni-ki bought 3 sweets, 1 pain au chocolat for her, 1 chocolate croissant and an apple crumble for Sunoo. “Well, I'll wait for your text, then” “Ok. It was a pleasure to meet you” he bowed, and she giggled “You’re so cute, I think we’ll get along very well” “Me too” “See you, Ni-ki. Thanks for the sweet” “See you, Samantha” she waved at him. He stood in front of the coffee shop, watching her go. He sighed, satisfied and laughed by himself. Maybe he really was her destiny.

[nifflering]

Another little headcannon (inspired by @roxannepolice headcannon that every master post cheetah virus still has it deep in their dna)

Every master post-cheetah virus is like a magnet for cats.

[sysig]

*You’re starting to feel very sleepy... (Patreon)

[screampied]

you always had a bad habit of falling asleep—not just anywhere though, but on sukuna ryōmen’s notorious throne. .

he hated it.

he hated how how you hogged up his space.

he hated how your near-quiet snores would echo through his poorly aged walls.

most importantly though, he hated how frustratingly cute you looked . . all scrunched up, curled up in a ball, and occasionally shivering a bit from the cool air that settled against your bare skin.

“tch..” he’d sigh, feeling his muscles ache with each step he took toward you. as usual, sukuna had just returned from some battle and here you were, always waiting for him to return. he’s probably told you over about a hundred times that you could have slept in his private chambers but no—you always preferred his throne. always.

you never told him, but part of the reason why you loved sleeping on it was because of his strong scent that always lingered on the piece of ancient furniture. a musky scent that you’d grow to always miss whenever he wasn’t with you.

“oi. you awake?” sukuna grumbles, and you shift a bit once he lifts you. you could hear him murmuring vexed curses under his breath as he positioned you to lean up a certain way. crimson-velvet eyes bore into your sleeping state and sukuna held back a snickering smile. “pft. ‘course not,” and you felt him starting to trod away with you snugly cradled in his broad arms. as sukuna made his way upstairs, he softly strokes a thumb underneath your nape. “brat. sleep in my bed next time. you’re gonna get back aches at this rate.”

despite his cold-hearted, rough exterior he was always gentle with you. only you. just you.

sukuna carried you in his arms like every other night—sometimes, he wonders if you do this on purpose. purposely falling asleep on his throne just so he could pick you up bridal style, bringing you back to his bed.

each step he took shook your entire body, and you let off a groan in your sleep from the abrupt bumps. “i know. i know little one. just a few more steps.” he rolls his eyes, secretly finding your slumbering state adorable. never in a million years would he ever admit it though.

as the wooden stairs creak—he continues to walk, occasionally looking down at you. right as he’s at the final groaning step, sukuna tenses a bit, feeling your head brush up against his soft exposed pecs.

his fleecy kimono was half open and you’re just buried in his arms, snuggling all against him like a needy cat.

the audacity. .

his pink slit brow furrows as he scoffs at the sight, bringing you inside his quiet spacious bedroom. gently, he starts to lie you down on the mattress but that’s when your arms wrap around him.

“eh? what are you-” sukuna grunts, and that’s when he collapses right against your chest. sukuna deadpans once your warm legs and arms sneakily snake around him—clinging onto him tight like a koala. “keh.. such a handsy pest, even when you’re dead asleep.” he clicks his tongue, letting you drag him further into the bed with you.

sukuna feels a strange feeling pooling near the very bottom depths of his heart.

it’s eerily strange . .

it doesn’t feel like the usual resentment, hatred, or even arrogance he feels toward others ‘below him’.

he finds himself melting into your tender touch, his chin gradually burying itself in your shoulder.

the soreness in his muscles started to subside as he was just on top of you—inhaling your sweet scent, stubbornly grumbling swears in your neck.

sukuna was feeling . . . soft.

he was so closely pressed up against you that he could feel the steady racing beats of your heart. each slow-paced ba-dump! that pumped out of your chest quickened by the second.

was . . he the one making your heart race?

sukuna heard how your shallow breaths significantly slowed, and your arms started to tighten more around his thick neck. he didn’t think he’d ever feel like this. whatever… emotion this was.

sure, he’s had to carry you up to his chambers so you’d sleep more comfortably lots of times but this- this moment felt more a bit different.

“i . . can’t sleep like this, y’know,” the demon breaks the silence, huffing at the awkward predicament he was in. sukuna was currently lying on top of you, hovering over you just so he wouldn’t crush your cute human body. with each longing second passing, he could already feel his limbs starting to ache from just idly hanging over you. “at least let me rest near the side.”

no reply.

sukuna scoffs again, realizing he’s practically talking to himself. but instead of responding with actual words—you cling onto him even tighter, your non-verbal way of saying ‘stay.’

“you’re even more annoying when you’re asleep,” he sighs, pinching his forehead. “fine.. i’ll- i’ll stay like this. here, with you. ‘s not like i plan to go anywher—” sukuna gets cut off once he sees you shifting a bit in your sleep again.

the silence was undeniably loud. with his lips mutely parting, he watches as you get more comfortable, letting off a few heavy exhales.

sukuna starts to ponder to himself. you looked so peaceful . . sound asleep.

he wondered what you were dreaming about. he was so busy staring at you while you slept that he didn’t even notice that he was starting to get drowsy himself. sukuna’s eyelids started to droop and he grunted, letting off an obnoxious yawn.

with watery eyes, sukuna stretches his arms before sinking his face back into your left shoulder. your warmth made him quietly purr into your neck. it was faint, but you heard it.

sukuna even mimicked some of your movements from earlier, softly rubbing his forehead against you as you held him close. “huh. this isn’t . . that bad,” he gruffly utters, his gravely voice pitching.

your chin rests on the top of his head, and sukuna gives you one last glance.

“i. . i love you.” he quietly whispers, thinking that just because you were asleep you couldn’t hear.

but- you did, you heard it all. every word.

little did sukuna know, you were actually wide awake the entire time. you woke up when he was carrying you up the stairs, but you just pretended to be asleep from that point up until now.

a small genuine smile curves on both sides of your crooked lips as your eyelids remain closed. in a sweet groggy voice, you instantly replied, “love you too ‘kuna. it’s about time you finally said it.”

sukuna’s eyes widen as his head quickly rises from against your chest. you’re looking down at him with very much open eyes now and the world’s smugest grin.

his cheeks—they’re burning, flushing with a rosy flamed color and you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna ryomen more embarrassed.

“you . . you didn’t . . hear that.”

“i definitely heard it.”

“ugh. i hate you.”

“i love youuu.”

“i… love you too, stupid cheeky human. now go back to sleep. hmph.”

[dekuneho]

no one else's ☆ ( ​thirdyear!katsuki x fem!reader ) mdni | suggestive

Kirishima taps Katsuki on the shoulder very gently, looking embarrassed as he chokes out, “Your girlfriend fell asleep on the couch.”

Katsuki would’ve brushed it off with a snap that anyone could use the fucking couch who gives a fuck, but his eyes slide to Kirishima’s other arm holding a disgruntled Mineta up. Immediately, Katsuki’s gut twists in displeasure, the pencil in his grasp snapping in half.

“Did you fucking do something?” Katsuki hisses out, yanking Mineta’s collar to face the full brunt of his sneer.

“No!” Mineta cries out, having the nerve to sound disappointed. “No, I didn’t, dude. Get off me.”

And before Katsuki could kill Mineta right then and there, Kirishima swerves him out of the way. Don’t get your hero license revoked over him, Kirishima’s eyes seem to say.

“He’s telling the truth, man, don’t worry about it.” Kirishima then glares soundly at Mineta, disappointment evident. “He was acting weird, though. That’s why I got him.”

“Traitor,” Mineta says, wriggling uselessly mid-air.

“I’ll kill you,” Katsuki swears to him, before storming off, each step heavy with pure murder.

The rest of the class is smarter than Mineta. They avert their gazes and mind their business — or it could be that they can sense the unadulterated rage emanating from every pore of his body.

Yet as he reaches you, every trace of that same rage dissipates into the air. His eyes outline your body, dead to the world, shorts hiked up with one leg curved — laid unaware. No wonder some freak like Mineta wanted to prey on it.

Katsuki sighs. "Always giving me damn trouble," he mutters to your sleeping figure, snorting when there's an answering snore.

He heaves you up and off the couch, arms hooking under your neck and the back of your knees. Katsuki pushes past the living room, ignoring the curious stares of his classmates. They all know where he's headed — straight to his room.

You awake to a pinch on your thigh.

When you come to, Katsuki is staring at you heavily, hovering above you with your head between his hands.

"Kats'ki?" you croak out, words stringing together. "Wha's…"

Katsuki begins to crawl down, and down, until his knees hit the floor; until he's face to face with your legs. You're still swimming through the sluggishness limbo of being half-awake, lagging behind only moments after Katsuki. You feel his grip on your ankle; it tickles, it's warm.

He lowers his head and pins your knee down with a searing kiss. The sensation spreads to your entire body. You shudder, toes curling. Katsuki smiles against you, his hands sliding up to your thighs.

"Too early," you whine. But you don't push him off; you press against him closer.

"'s already 6 AM," Katsuki says, pushing your legs open.

The touch of cold air and the sporadic puffs of Katsuki's breath have you sinking deeper into the bed, pleasure crawling in every part of your body that he's taking by force, in the gentlest way possible.

Katsuki latches his mouth onto the inside of your thigh, inching deeper at your gasp. You suck air through your teeth, taking every control you have left not to snap your legs shut and force Katsuki out. When he pulls off, your thigh is left with a clear bruise. He doesn't stop there — he dives in again on a different point.

"As soon as we get our ass here," Katsuki murmurs against your skin, his breath hot on your evening-chilled skin, "I'm taking you out; we'll go apartment-hunting."

"W-what?"

"And you can wear whatever the fuck you want," he continues, licking at the mark, "or nothin' at all — I don't give a shit. No one else, just us. You hear me?"

You sit up, nearly knocking your knee against Katsuki's face. "You're asking me to move in with you?"

Katsuki scowls, the telltale sign of a blush creeping to his face. "You have other plans?"

"No, no," you cup his cheek, kissing the pout of his lips; "never, if it's not with you."

Katsuki appears satisfied, claiming your lips in a deep kiss. You draw away from each other with a stuttered gasp, heat pooling in your stomach at Katsuki's delighted gaze. "No turning back," he whispers. "Got that? This'll be no one else's."

Dizzy with need, you can only say, "Yes, yes. No one else's but yours, Katsuki. Now, please go back in between my legs."

[primofate]

Drop the towel wrapped around you and appear naked in front of your Genshin husband

In a nutshell: That old tiktok challenge/prank. In your private, shared home of course.

Warnings: My perpetual warning as a writing mother is that I am sleep deprived. Very VERY sleep deprived. SUGGESTIVE: BORDERING ON NOT SAFE FOR WORK, written on a 10 minute timer please be gentle

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Tighnari, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli, implied fem!reader

Personal Favourites: Tighnari

Aether

chokes on nothing

"Y-Y-Y/N?! What're you doing?"

Comes up to you and tries to cover you up with the towel again, as if it was a sin to look at you naked in broad daylight.

Full on blush on his face and respectfully tries to look away.

"Don't surprise me like that!"

Seems not to like it but actually likes it too much to the point of getting embarrassed for himself.

Yes he's your husband but is still a precious respectful man

Albedo

Blinks a couple of times but appreciates your beauty and gives your body a slow once over. Chuckles in amusement afterwards.

"Is there a reason for this?"

Just to get his reaction, you admit.

"Well..." starts walking towards you. "I do have higher self-control than most others... but let it be known that I'm far from immune to my..."

Stops in front of you and yet again seems to eat you up with his eyes. "...needs," ends with a suspiciously sweet smile.

Alhaitham

Can't help but be a bit surprised and you can see it by the way his eyebrows go up as soon as the towel hits the floor.

Opens his mouth to say something but closes it again, as if hesitating, which is really strange for someone like him.

"...Is this the part where I sweep you off your feet and carry you to our room?" there's a bit of amusement in his tone. Stands to walk over to you.

Places a hand on your waist.

"Cause I can guarantee you that we DON'T need to be in our bedroom for things to happen...but you knew that already, right?"

Ayato

Quirks his eyebrows up, amused smile appearing on his face.

"I must say, this is a lovely surprise,"

Traces your figure with his eyes. Then approaches you to hold your waist and dip in to kiss your neck softly.

"How could I ever resist, my love, when you're standing in front of me in all your magnificence?"

Takes the longest time just admiring and basking in your beauty, tracing every little part of your skin.

Baizhu

Lets pretend the snake ain't here okay?

Does a double take.

"Y/N, first off, you'll get a cold,"

Pushes his spectacles up and gives you a once over.

"Second, you'll give me a heart attack,"

Beckons you over gently with his hand. "Come over, I suppose it's been a while since...I've done a full body check,"

Hides a grin.

Cyno

Blankly looks at you and is still processing what is happening

"Y/N? Is this... Did I do something?"

Is so suspicious that this was some kind of trap.

You tell him its simply to get a reaction out of him.

Immediately shoots out of his seat and catches your wrist.

"Then...Is it my turn to get one out of you? There's several ways to do that...and I know your favourite ones,"

Diluc

Eyes follow the towel down to the floor and head snaps back up to blink at the sight in front of him. Recovers quickly.

Chuckles as he stands and walks over. Picks up the towel and drapes it around your shoulders. "Only because it's quite chilly tonight,"

but still ends up inching the towel off your shoulder, tracing your collarbone. "Although, as your husband, I suppose it IS my job to keep you warm... So how would you like it today, love?"

Itto

"WHOA!" by instinct covers his eyes with his hands but his fingers are actually splayed apart so he can totally see through the gaps

Feels himself getting aroused

I mean the guy gets turned on even just at the sight of your neck

Suddenly stands and walks over to you, easily hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and makes a beeline to your shared room.

"You're asking for it Y/N!"

Kaeya

"Oho?"

Sits back and relaxes, he doesn't really know what he was expecting. Some type of show maybe. "What's this? Finally giving me that lap dance you owe me, snowflake?"

Laughs but you're incredibly flustered at the suggestion.

Beckons you over and grabs you by the waist to sit on his lap.

"Feel that?" he whispers in your ear.

Oh you feel it alright, pressing at your upper thigh.

"Now whose fault is that? You'll have to do something about it now, love,"

Kaveh

"Archons!"

Looks away with a blush on his cheeks.

"Put something on!"

Yes he's seen you naked before, you're married, but the guy's always flustered in unexpected events.

You provoke him further by coming over, sitting sideways on his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Y/N!" He looks down at you and can't help but look at your nakedness in full and close view.

Gulps but starts to feel his body heat up, his hands suddenly, assertively planting themselves on your waist as he meets your eyes. "I don't care what you say about yourself, but know that you're the only one who takes me from 0 to a 100 in a second,"

Kazuha

"Y/N?" Chuckles nervously and takes in the sight of your body.

Smiles at you and takes your hand to kiss the back of it.

"I've seen you countless of times... Each time, I'm reminded by how fortunate I am that you chose me to take care of you,"

Caresses your cheek all the way down to your jawline. "You're beautiful, Y/N,"

He has the most tender and gentle look on his face, but its mixed with a passion that you've never seen on anyone before. "Let me show you how much I love you, dear,"

Neuvillette

Eyebrows twitches upwards in surprise. Has no clue what to do in this new situation.

He doesn't say anything but is most definitely enjoying the view of your body. You see his jaw tense up, as if he's clenching his teeth.

"Ahem," he starts. Then seems to have the most trouble prying his eyes away to meet your gaze. "Is this...perhaps another way to tell me... that you would like some attention?"

You say not really and just wanted to see how he would react.

"Ah," he lets out, as if understanding and as if the conversation has ended.

A moment of silence passes and you're starting to wonder if that was all he was going to do. But he then stands and places a gentle hand on your bare waist. "...So you're simply doing it, as people would say, 'for fun'?"

He asks, and you say yes innocently. He smiles a bit and has another hand cupping your face and thumbing your lips. "I see," breathes out slowly.

"Unfortunately, for your actions, the Iudex feels that a punishment is in order,"

Scaramouche

Raises one eyebrow as if he's bored. Then smirks.

"If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask," pulls you by the waist and makes you straddle him "But this is good too,"

Hands actually start to grope you up and down. Will fondle and squeeze in private places immediately.

"What? Startin' to feel good? S'what you get when you play games with me,"

will smack your butt the first chance he gets

Tartaglia

Immediately jumps up and in an automatic daze, eyes glued to his favourite parts, trudges towards you and attempts to bury himself in softness.

You quickly stop him and in turn HE quickly stops you. Hands easily bunching your wrists up together and angling them upwards above your head.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he grins down at you. "Someone's being naughty,"

You complain that he reacts too fast.

Laughs, but his hand starts to unbuckle his pants and there's a dark look in his eyes. "Oh, I'm just being naughty back. When you want something, Y/N, believe it when I say I'll GIVE it to you,"

Tighnari

ear twitches. Tail swishes back and forth. Does not show any expression except slight curiosity.

"What's the occasion?"

You tell him that you just wanted to see his reaction.

He hums and nods slowly, like processing some type of complicated information.

"Wait here, I'll be back in a minute,"

You ask him where he's going and you're a bit upset at the lack of response from him.

He chuckles and returns to you, tail angling upwards in an attempt to wrap and brush against your waist. Takes your hand, presses your wrist against his lips and seems to take a slow breath in.

"I'm merely clearing off my schedule for today. Now, be patient, I'll be back,"

Wriothesley

Almost spits out his drink but gulps it all down instead.

Eyes widen a fraction at the sudden act but his hand is already loosening his tie.

"Wait right there precious," chuckles while he says this, tie already falling to the ground, now unbuttoning his vest. At the same time walks over to you urgently as if you're going to disappear but laughs nervously while he's at it.

"I swear you'll be the death of me,"

Looks like he's going to pounce on you but when he reaches you he only gives you a chaste kiss, as if asking for permission first.

You suddenly remind him that he has a LOT of things to do today, appointments and all.

Actually barks out a quick laugh. "You're not really expecting me to walk out now? As far as I'm concerned," pulls you flush against him and kisses your jaw "The only thing I need to do today is you,"

Xiao

"Wh-Wh-What do you think you're doing?!"

caught unprepared. Crosses his arms and looks away. Pretends he's uninterested but his eyes still dart back to look at you.

You ask him if he likes what he sees.

He now completely looks away from you. A few seconds pass and when he turns his head back to look at you there's now a carnal look in his eyes.

He walks towards you slowly and captures your chin to tilt it up. Looks down at you as if he hasn't eaten a meal in days.

"...When I'm done with you tonight you'll get your answer,"

Zhongli

Chuckles. Amused.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, dear?"

You shrug and even do a turn for him. He watches you carefully and takes in the image in front of him.

Smiles and strides over towards you. "Truly a magnificent sight," brushes his fingers against your neck

His eyes trail downwards and isn't shy about looking at your body. "Might I remind you my dear, my stamina surpasses that of a normal human," he smiles at you sincerely.

You tell him that you're well aware. He just chuckles again.

"Then you know well what'll come next,"

End

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[poisonf0rest]

The Best Dreams Come in Threes

♱⋅── rafayel x reader x xavier

♱⋅── about: Rafayel and Xavier have always been there for you. One is your fire, your passion, the twin flame to your temper. The other is your light, a guiding beacon, your twin star. So when you have a nightmare, they take it upon themselves to comfort and remind you of their unconditional devotion. Even if it does lead to competition every now and then.

♱⋅── word count: 7.5k (mf...)

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, it's just nasty, threesome, jealousy, somnophilia, oral, pussydrunk boys, breeding kink, double penetration, slight spoilers

♱⋅── a/n: apologies to the two random strangers on the plane that I sat next to when the idea of this fic possessed me. I really, really hope you didn't read anything I was frantically writing down in the midst of me finishing my work report cause that shit was nasty.

art credit and inspiration due to the wonderful @/sakimenz

Lonely star, who do you shine for?

The weight of all your pasts- of all your futures- the guilt and pride you carry will only cause you to collapse, and all that will be left will be an all-consuming black hole. 

Your desperation won’t bring your sun back. 

Lonely king, don’t you know a kingdom devoid of life is a crown devoid of purpose?

You were the fire that left them, and all you have to show for the betrayal is a drowned memory and a heart wrenched from your chest, a broken promise and a forgotten story. 

You’ve changed with each lifetime, but you’ll forever be at the mercy of fate. 

And you? You’re the very curse that haunts them. 

Claws, so cold they burn, emerge from the darkness before piercing through flesh, tearing through muscle and bone as they dig into your ribcage, dragging you down into the shadows. Drowning, falling. You’re spiraling through lifetimes of failure, lifetimes of pain both your own and not, all while the claws dig closer and closer to your heart, clutching the muscle like a songbird in a cage. 

It’s the price, the price you must pay for all this pain you’ve caused, for dooming a star and killing a god. 

The clawed hand wraps around your heart, the piercing into the fluttering pulse faster and faster until—

You wake up crying. 

A hot trail of tears slides into the pillows, and a sniffle rakes through your body, the sudden movement causing a subtle disturbance to the two forms still sound asleep on either side of you. 

Funny, you can’t remember a thing, but there’s a painful throb in your chest. You’ll take another dose of your heart medicine in the morning. 

But for now, your bedroom is still dulled by the pale blue moonlight filtering through the curtains, and you’re in no hurry to get out of the warm covers and their embrace. 

The nightmares have become routine at this point. You never remember what they are, but you wake up with a sense of fear and dread, as though you can feel the pain all over again. It’s best not to think too much about it.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you inhale shakily one last time, trying to shake off the looming feeling when the arm around your waist shifts, tugging lightly at your loose sleep shirt before slipping under to massage the skin beneath. You let out a soft sigh, a light shudder going through your body as the gentle hands work away the tension.

“The same?” Rafayel’s words are slurred with sleep and concern, hot breath dancing along the crook of your neck as he props himself up on his elbow. You nod.

Rafayel makes a small, displeased noise before his other arm pulls you closer, his bare chest now flush against your back. The sudden movement forces Xavier, who was once tucked against your shoulder, further away, grumbling at the loss even in his sleep.

His face scrunches, brows furrowed together before the corners of his lips turn downward, and he blindly reaches for you. He eventually finds the curve of your waist, and his hand tightens on the fabric of your shirt as it slides in above Rafayel’s.

A huff, and Xavier buries his face back into your chest, his warm breath tickling you. And then, gentle snores— you should've known better than to think that would be enough to wake him.

Rafayel, still pressed firmly against your back, begins to move, propping his body up just enough to look you in the eyes as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek. "Wanna talk about it, cutie?"

“I… I think you were there, both of you. But it felt lonely, painful.”

Rafayel's face contorts into a worried expression, his hand moves down your cheek, cupping your jaw, and you lean into his warm caress with a sigh.

You place a kiss on his palm. "It's okay, just a scary dream. Nothing real. Nothing to worry about." You repeat it, more to yourself than Rafayel, but his arms wrap around you anyway.

And yet Rafayel looks at you with a deep furrow in his brow, a seriousness you’ve almost never seen on him.

You give him a questioning look, but his lips press to yours in a searing kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. He pulls away only for a second, whispering sweet nothings against your skin before returning his lips to yours, the hand cradling your face slipping down to rest on your hip.

He kisses you softly, gently. First pressing a trail of light, chaste kisses along your jaw, the corners of your mouth, and nose, then moving back to your lips. “We’ll never leave you. We’d tear through every universe, every destiny to get back to you.”

Strange, how Rafayel says it with all the reverence of a vow. 

You want to tease him for the sudden declaration, for making all this fuss over a stupid dream, but you never have the opportunity, not when Rafayel's signature smirk settles back onto his lips. 

His hand slides down to your thighs, fingers teasing around the band of your sleep shorts, toying, pressing, but never crossing the self-imposed boundary of your clothes. “Unless, you’d prefer it if I proved it to you?”

“Rafayel,” you warn, hoping your narrowed glare would dissuade him.

Of course the man only seems to take that as a challenge, smile widening as you flinch at the cold touch creeping under your shirt. One palm traces up your ribcage, long, nimble fingers rubbing circles against your skin until he brushes the underside of your breast. 

You shudder, hissing out another string of curses before turning around so your back is to Rafayel. 

Really, you should know better than to think that alone would be enough, and a hot trail of kisses now joins his wandering hands down your shoulder blade. They start innocent enough, sweet, lingering touches along the hem of your shirt, but that quickly changes when Rafayel’s arm under your shirt practically yanks it up, sucking wet, messy kisses into the bare curves of your chest.

Each nip against your sensitive flesh forces the possibility of sleep further and further away, and you resort to distracting yourself with the motionless silhouette of Xavier. Petting through his hair, your rhythm is jolted every time Rafayel decides to leave a mark, nails pulling through Xavier’s locks as you bite your lip on a moan.

You don't miss the curve of his smirk against your skin, and the next kiss is accompanied by a bite, hard enough to elicit a sharp gasp that stirs Xavier. Tense, you scan the blonde's face, but he's nothing if not a heavy sleeper, and he nuzzles further into your touch, still unconscious as his head tucks under yours.

You don't get to sigh in relief. Instead, a whine builds in your throat, the wet heat of Rafayel's teeth tugging on the strap of your underwear as he fists your sleep shorts down.

"Rafayel, stop it,” you hiss as his hot breath hits the already embarrassingly damp center of your underwear.

His smile grows, lips brushing against your clothed core as he tilts his head. “Hmm? But you don’t sound like you want me to stop. And she certainly doesn’t sound like it either.” Two fingers dip under the band, and he parts your cunt with a lewd click.

Your face flushes in embarrassment, refusing to acknowledge just how easily your body gives in to them. One hand leaves Xavier, roughly fisting into Rafayel’s curls as he groans from the sharp pressure. “That’s because you and Xavier refused to wear protection!” 

The accusation earns a hushed laugh, his shoulders shaking against the insides of your thighs. It would have been innocent, the same contagious sort of smile gracing Rafayel’s face, if not the shadows cast across his face in the dark, teeth gleaming like fangs as he traces his tongue up the entire length of your clothed cunt. 

"M’sorry, we thought you'd enjoy the mess," he says, words muffled over your thighs, nose practically buried in between. "How can I make it up to you, cutie?”

You don’t get a chance to respond, not when Rafayel’s tongue dives into your clothed cunt, moaning against the soaked fabric as you gasp and force him closer by his hair. To muffle his sounds, you tell yourself. A pathetic lie considering how much louder he gets now, nose grinding up against your clit as his tongue tries to press into your fluttering cunt even with the barrier of cloth in between. 

God, he’s addicted, and it doesn’t take long until Rafayel’s spit and your slick soak through your underwear, the near-translucent fabric sticking to your lips as the bare minimum friction nearly drives you insane. 

“Say it,” Rafayel whines, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Please, just tell me how badly you want me. Tell me, and I’ll do anything you ask.”

Like he wouldn’t already.

But how could you ever deny him when he begs so sweetly? 

Your palm cups his face, watching his near-wrecked expression and flushed skin tremble beneath your fingers.  “I’m yours, Rafayel.”

And the fabric is ripped into pieces. 

Refusing to even breathe, Rafayel places an opened-mouth kiss on your cunt, lapping up your slick with the most satisfied moan. He doesn't waste any time, not while your confession coated his mind with the sweetest type of intoxication, eating you out like he was depraved.

He might as well have been with how he moans, hips grinding desperately against the edge of the mattress, his not-entirely human tongue curling in and out of you as it writhes with terrifying accuracy against your walls.

It feels too good to be ashamed of the noises you make, gasping and crying out until you slam your palm over your mouth, biting down hard as the other claws into Rafayel’s hair. You can barely control yourself, half fighting to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure, half rocking your hips up and down his face as you jerk him closer. 

“Mhm, greedy.” Fucked-out, broken little grunts leave his throat before his words are muffled into your cunt, not baring to part for even a breath. “Pull on it, please. Harder.” 

You tug Rafayel’s hair almost in vengeance when he purposefully kisses away from where you need him most, licking and sucking obscenely into your thighs just to hear your frustrated cries even over your hand. 

He loved being used like this, so long as it was you. 

So long as it was him that turned you into such a beautiful, pathetic mess. 

It's not long until Rafayel pulls you close to the edge, nose pressing against your clit while thrusting his tongue into you, eyes rolling back from the taste and from the thought of your tight heat fluttering around his cock instead. 

And then, he stops, pulling away and leaving you gasping into the tear-stained pillow.

You bite back a sob, releasing only a choked little noise that has Rafayel's eyes flicking up to your face, the soft, concerned look in his eyes melting into something far more dangerous.

With viciously dilated pupils and your slick dripping from his mouth, Rafayel stares you down as every inch the dangerous siren the legends claimed him to be. He smiles, tongue raking over his teeth as though he couldn’t get enough of your taste, and you swear you’d let him eat your heart and soul. Gods, you’d let him eat you whole. 

You realize you must have made a sound, because Rafayel hushes you, pressing quick kisses to your knee. "Aw, what happened to being quiet? Aren't you afraid we'll wake the poor sleeping bunny?" 

At the mention of your other partner, you turn to where Xavier’s nuzzling his face further into your side, each warm breath damp against your feverish skin, still lost to the realm of dreams.

Not that Rafayel allows your attention to turn away from himself for too long. 

He leans over Xavier, the hand that wasn’t supporting his weight cupping your face, and his lips are crashing into yours with all the viciousness of a summer seastorm. Your lips part, and Rafeyel fucks his tongue into your mouth the same he did your pussy, wet and desperate, the taste of yourself enough to make you dizzy. 

"Tell me,” Rafayel’s tone dips into something darker, kissing down your throat and stomach as he eyes Xavier. “Who’s the better lover?" 

Xavier's fingers flex, the tips brushing against the curve of your breast as he sleeps, and Rafayel's smile is almost predatory.

"D-don't ask stupid questions you dumb fish," your voice cracks as Rafayel's mouth ghosts over your cunt, teeth bared to your thigh, threatening to bite. "I chose you both."

The confession, as expected, doesn't please him. If anything, he seems overly offended, pouting and huffing a cold breath of air right against your aching core. The chill makes you squirm, trying to force him back to your center with the grip you have on his hair.

"No. Nope. That's not an answer."

"Raf–"

His name breaks off in a moan, sound ripped from your throat as Rafayel's thumb starts rubbing firm circles around your neglected clit. He doesn't relent, the pressure too much, too quick, your body already trembling from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to torture you with.

Only, it seems that all your sudden noise and movement have finally begun to affect Xavier. Not enough to wake him, but enough that you can hear his breathing become heavier, following your every twitch and buck from Rafayel’s onslaught as his body begins to grind into yours.

Mumbling into your neck, Xavier’s hand tightens around your waist before slipping under your shirt to palm your breasts, squeezing and kneading until the touch has you keening.

Xavier's still fast asleep, nonsensical words slurred against your skin, and yet his body is now far from it. His erection is thick and heavy against your hips, grinding desperately into your warmth almost in time to Rafayel’s ministrations, whimpering under his breath with every forceful thrust. 

Rafayel notices too, his gaze drifting up to the blond. You can't see his face, already busied between your legs once more, but a pleased hum vibrates through his entire body, fingers finally slipping into your cunt as he curls them just right, your back arching off the sheets with a silent scream. 

Xavier whines at your sudden thrashing, tugging you closer and unknowingly forcing you immobile and at complete mercy to Rafayel’s unfairly skilled fingers. "Mhm, so warm. Please, m’want to..." Another needy, slow grind against you follows his sleepy request. 

"Rafayel," you choke out a muffled plea, but his eyes only narrow, taking a breath as his free hand grabs at Xavier's ass, the touch just light enough to tease and make him rut harder against you.

"What is it, cutie? Don't pretend like you don't want more, not when your pretty pussy's drooling for his cock. She’s so needy, am I not enough?”

Rafayel rests his head on the inside of your thigh, fingers thrusting roughly into that sweet spongy spot inside you just as his other hand wraps around the base of Xavier's cock through his boxers, thumbing over the pre-cum staining the dark fabric. 

You're forced to bite down on the pillow beneath your head to stop the desperate cry tearing itself out of your throat. "This isn’t- ah- isn’t right."

"Isn't it? You’re dripping and the little bunny’s still asleep, yet look how desperate he is, rutting against you." Rafayel's voice dips, a raspy edge from his throat still fucking into you making it even more sinful, slurping everything you give him around his fingers before it drips down his wrist and into a puddle below. A huff, “I should get rewarded with how much effort I’m putting in.”

You cry out, legs trembling as his thumb begins its relentless attack on your clit, tracing mindless circles just random enough to keep you on edge. You're close, and Rafayel can feel it.

Xavier isn’t faring much better, whimpering a string of incoherent pleas into the crook of your neck as his hips keep rocking into the fist around him. He doesn't take his mouth away from the skin of your shoulder, biting down on it as he cums, shuddering and whimpering as the mess splatters down Rafayel's knuckles and onto your thighs. 

“You’re next. If you won’t be honest with me, I’ll make your body is.” Rafayel’s taunt is the last coherent thing you remember before you come. Hard. His words ring against your skull as his fingers pump into you faster, and the pressure against your clit becomes almost unbearable, and you're falling apart, crying and thrashing, the only thing keeping you grounded is the feeling of Rafayel's weight and the scent of Xavier's strawberry shampoo, and then—

Rafayel finally shuts up to let you ride his face through your high, letting you use him as your thighs lock around his head, grinding desperately as though he were no more than a toy. No chance of breathing, no chance of escape. 

Not that he could care less, not as long as he could keep his lips around your gushing cunt, humming and sucking into your release as cum sprays over his tongue and down his chin. Gods, he could never get enough of this.

You're still shaking through your orgasm, pliant and stupid from the dizzying pleasure, that you don't notice the rustle of sheets until a second pair of hands slide down your thighs. 

"You’re doing this without me?" 

Xavier’s voice is a whisper, husky from sleep and his orgasm as he presses a kiss right below your ear, fingers squeezing rougher against your breasts.

"S-sorry. Didn't want to wake you," you try, biting back a gasp when his thumb flicks over a nipple. Rough. Mean. 

Rafayel snorts. "I think it's a bit too late for that.” A glare at Xavier over your leg, showing off your cum still dripping from his lips and fingers. ”Besides, I didn't need you."

You want to argue, really, but then Xavier is grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging just hard enough to push your head back, coaxing a moan from your throat as he marks down your neck with kisses intending to bruise. He’s pouting, grabbing your jaw as he forces your gaze away from Rafayel, nipping your bottom lip until you surrender to his drowsy advances.

“Why…” Another kiss before Xavier's licking desperately into your mouth, “Why didn't you wake me?"

The question comes out a little breathless, almost petulant, eyes hooded and dark as he looks over the mess Rafayel has made of you. He can't tear his eyes away, watching Rafayel even as he kisses you. His fingers flick over your nipple again, twisting and pinching until you're shaking, your thighs squeezing Rafayel's face, all while Xavier watches.

Said man only smiles, all smug arrogance. "Didn't you hear her, Xav? She said she didn't want to wake you, so don't blame me."

Rafayel drags a wet, open-mouthed kiss over your cunt, the overstimulation making you break the kiss with a gasp.

"Liar." Xavier's voice trembles, and you can't tell if he's referring to Rafayel's words, or the way he's staring longingly at Rafayel's lips now, still slick with your release. "You just wanted her all to yourself."

He doesn't bother giving Rafayel a chance to retort, taking the punishment out on you as he dips his head underneath your folded-up shirt, groaning as his hot tongue rolls over your nipple, sucking at the stiff peak as his hand continues to assault the other. The onslaught has you whimpering, pushing and clawing against Xavier’s shoulder to try and fight him off as he refuses to let go for even a moment. 

Rafayel's not one to be ignored, not when he has the advantage, and his tongue is back to fucking into your cunt with no reprieve, a cruel smirk on his face as you writhe and beg for their mercy.

Your hips roll, torn between pleasure and oversensitivity, unable to escape either of the men. It's overwhelming. Too much, too quickly, you only just came and you're already getting dragged back.

"Ah! Stop, I'm already mhm—"

You're interrupted by Xavier's tongue slipping into your mouth, a filthy, lazy slide that makes you grind up into Rafayel's tongue. It's like he doesn't even need to breathe, the wet, sloppy sounds of him eating you out drowned out only by the sound of Xavier kissing you senseless, pausing just to nip and suck at your breasts as though he'll get rewarded if he just tries hard enough. 

"You want him to stop? Is the mermaid not enough to satisfy you, princess?" Xavier taunts, lips brushing against your ear as his hips push up, grinding his cock against your thigh. "If that's the case, perhaps we should switch. I can give you exactly what you want, remember?"

“Shut up, I’m the one making her cum.”

“Only cause I wasn’t awake yet.”

“You snooze, you lose. Whose fault is that? Oh ya, yours.” 

They're at each other's throats yet again, practically clawing and snapping at each other, and you're helpless to try and intervene when they take their faux anger out on your poor abused body. 

You can't think, can't focus, can't do anything but shake and pant and sob into the pillow, their combined weight on top of you, forcing your pleasure higher and higher. 

“Xav—" He cuts you off with a kiss. 

“Shh, just take it."

You can't even tell who’s sloppier anymore- Xavier fucking your mouth with his tongue or Rafayel still eating you through your second orgasm, the sudden hit of it thundering down your body. 

“You look so pretty when you come," Xavier moans into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and glazed, hand coming up to stroke your cheek as he watches you, a sharp contrast to the other still rolling against your swollen nipple, loving the way you jerk into his touch. Then a glare to the man below. "My turn.”

Your body is still trembling, Rafayel's merciless fingers not allowing you to come down from your high, aftershocks of hypersensitivity crashing down your spine as every muscle spasms. No more. No more, please. You can’t possibly come again. 

You don't realize you’re begging out loud, not until Xavier shushes you with another bruising kiss. 

But it doesn't seem like Rafayel has any plans on stopping, not until Xavier’s hand skims down your thighs and yanks him up by the chain of his necklace. 

Rafayel growls as he's practically forced off your weeping cunt, eyes bleary and unfocused as he fights the blond's grip. And god, he looks absolutely wrecked, spit and cum dripping from his mouth and chin, connecting his lips to your pussy in sticky wet strands before they break, and you feel the unmistakable bulge of his cock straining against his soaked boxers. 

Xavier yanks him forward, pulling the necklace chain until he crashes his lips onto Rafayel's, all teeth and tongue, desperate to get a taste of your cum from his mouth. It's filthy, and Rafayel is the first to give in, still drunk off your taste and now Xavier's too.

"Mhm, you taste like her," Xavier whispers, pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed together, his mouth still moving against Rafayel's swollen, parted lips.

"Ya?" Rafayel’s grin is predatory, all fang and sin. "You wanna try too, don’t you? Give in then, bunny, lie down for us.”

"I don't take orders from you." 

Xavier scowls against Rafayel's lips, but you can feel his resolve breaking, his arm trembling where it rests against your thigh. 

"No, you take them from her, and she asked us so, so nicely to make her come. You wouldn't dare deny her that, would you?”

The Lemurian is nothing if not dangerously persistent, one hand coaxing Xavier backward so gently you don’t think he realizes how easily he’s falling, the other clawing down his abs as Rafayel bites against the erratic thud of Xavier’s pulse. Sharp and bruising, a silent promise for what to come. "Or do you wanna eat her out like I did? Have her ride your face while I fuck into her poor, desperate cunt? I can't decide, there are so many options."

“No.” It’s more a plea than a demand. Xavier's voice shakes with need, and you watch, dizzy and panting, as Rafayel's fingers slip underneath the waistband of Xavier's boxers. His fingers, still dripping with your cum, brush down the length of his cock, thumb circling the sensitive head and smearing the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from it. “You had y-your turn.” 

He can hardly finish his objection, not when Rafayel’s thumb comes up to abuse his leaking slit, Xavier’s words slurring into a desperate whine as he practically collapses back onto his elbows. Immediately, Rafayel is atop him.

"A competition, then." Rafayel leans down to whisper into Xavier's ear, but the words are purposefully teased out loud enough for you to hear, “But you lose if you cum first, and I get to fuck her.”

It's a low blow, a challenge he knows Xavier can't turn down. 

A challenge that somehow has you poised once again as the torment and the reward.

And it's true, because the second the words register, the blond's eyes shoot open, and his cock jerks violently against Rafeyel’s palm, a broken sound leaving his lips as his eyes lock back onto yours with all the promise of a starving hunter.

"Deal.”

Xavier doesn't allow the agreement to go without a price. Something snaps, the bedroom flickering with a sudden darkness as all the light vanishes. 

One moment, you’re lying against the bed, and the next Xavier manhandles you to your knees, one hand forcing your arms behind your back as he tugs you against him, the other pinning Rafayel to the mattress.

Rafayel’s the very picture of smug sin, the feral expression far more genuine, less threatening and much more amused as he nestles further into the pillows, one arm tucked lazily behind his head. 

Cold fingers dance up your hips, and Rafayel drags your bare cunt over his thighs and onto his lap, a pleased sigh escaping his lips as you're pinned deliciously between his cock and Xavier's sculpted back.

"So needy, little bunny."

"Shut up. I'm not the one who's leaking."

Rafayel snorts, and before the two can start fighting again, you're leaning forward, a hand resting against Rafayel's abs as you cup his erection through his boxers. And when he moans you believe every myth, every fairytale singing the doom of sailors to a siren song, because every sound he gives you is addictive and sweet enough that you’d drown to hear it again. 

Pulling Rafayel's cock out from his boxers, you’re stunned yet again by the slightly non-human beauty of it, heavy and thick in your palm, the flushed, ruddy tip already drooling precum as you thumb at it in vengeance. You know Xavier's watching from the way his own cock twitches against your back, hands digging bruises into your hips. Then, the warmth at your back disappears. 

Instead, a pair of hands drag your ass up, forcing you into a deep arch as you scramble for purchase against Rafayel’s thigh and the bed below.

“Closer.” Xavier’s hand laces into your hair as he pushes your head down, forcing your mouth to nuzzle against the base of Rafayel's cock. 

The movement pulls a gasp from both of you, your hot breath teasing the sensitive skin of Rafayel's shaft and forcing a shudder from his entire body. 

Seeing the two of you completely at his mercy does terrible, horrible things to Xavier, and his fingers dig bruises into your hips as it takes him everything not to forgo the competition and fuck you right there. 

"Good girl,” he hums, voice trembling as his grip tightens against your hair, giving you a harsh glare when you whine and squirm in his hold. "Now open."

You can't bring yourself to say no, not when the sight of Rafayel's eyes rolling back the second you do makes your stomach clench. His cock twitches against you as you lick at the copious amounts of cum leaking from his tip, then obediently wrap your lips around him.

With a smile that would have you shaking, Xavier leans down, barely able to continue guiding your head as he’s entranced with the mess between your legs, licking up the slick dripping down your thighs as he sucks against the delicate flesh, marking right over the sensitive bruises Rafayel had only just left behind. 

 “This- hah-” Rafayel curses under his breath, the single word breaking off into a moan, the sound muffled by his palm as his chest heaves. “This is hardly fair.”

But his complaints feel half-hearted, not with the way he’s already rutting into your mouth, Xavier’s iron grip keeping you in place as Rafayel thrusts himself into your mouth in one breath. You yield pathetically quick, flattening your tongue against the slick underside of his cock, another stream of pre-cum flooding your mouth as you nearly choke on it all, unable to pull off to even take a breath as Xavier guides your head up and down in a steady rhythm that has Rafayel falling apart. 

It’s cruel, but you can't help each pathetic moan that gets muffed onto Rafayel’s cock, the vibrations forcing his back to arch off the bed, head rolling back as it thuds against the pillows, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps in shallow breaths.

You almost wish he would let you see his eyes, but then you'd miss the view of his chest, every muscle tight and twitching under his skin, the mesmerizing sight now blurry from the tears forming in your eyes. You can't resist reaching up, dragging your nails down his abs, watching his body jerk against every new line of red.

"Please,” you're not sure if the broken whimper belonged to Rafayel or yourself. “Please, I can't wait anymore, wanna feel you— fuck— wanna fill you up again, please let me cum." It's like just the very thought has Rafayel keening, his hips jerking up into your hot mouth with reckless abandon as Xavier forces your spine up into a deeper arch.

You're nearly bent in half, the new angle leaving no part of you hidden from Xavier's hungry gaze as he watches you practically drool over Rafayel’s cock, lips meeting his pelvis as he breaches your throat. 

Xavier’s going to win. He needs to win. 

The thought makes him frantic, tongue fucking past the tight resistance of your cunt, his hand sliding up to tease at your clit. He won't be the one to finish first, not this time. Not when he's wanted nothing more than to feel your cunt gushing around him ever since Rafayel woke him up, ever since the two of you had the audacity to start this without him.

Rafayel can’t last much longer, especially not when you bring one shaking hand down to massage his swollen balls, hardly in control of your own movements as you feel dizzy on the addictive combination from the lack of oxygen and pleasure as Xavier begins to eat you out like a man starved. 

The room’s filled with the sounds of each slick, messy movement, whimpers from the man beneath you and breathless pleas from the one behind, bed rattling with every thrust. 

And yet you’re still so painfully empty. So, so, empty as your cunt flutters around Xavier’s tongue before he relents to kiss your clit once more, dragging a dissatisfied whine from you as you fight yourself off Rafayel’s cock. 

"F-fuck me. Please," A sob, and you feel both Rafayel and Xavier shudder. "It’s not enough. Want your cocks inside me, wanna cum on it. Need it, please-"

Oh, and when you beg like that, they should have known they never would have stood a chance.

"Shit."

"Ah, please-"

It's a blur. A rush of hands, of pleasure and pain, all of it colliding and dragging you to the edge. The room spins, the ceiling above you falling until the familiar, comforting feeling of slick muscle embraces you, grounding you as you focus on the erratic heartbeat between each ragged exhale. 

You're still sandwiched between them, lying on Rafayel as Xavier's weight drapes across your back, head propped up on the former's chest as you stare blearily at his silver pendant, unable to move. You're not even sure if you can, not with the way Xavier's still gripping the backs of your thighs, spreading you open as he forces one leg higher up.

Then, the blunt head of his cock grinds between your folds.

Xavier’s pressing his forehead against your back, wrapping his arms around you before biting into the crook of your neck. "You mean it? You’ll let us come inside again?"

Rafayel laughs, a raspy sound still raw from his orgasm. "Well, we both lost. Now what, bunny? We can't just leave her like this, poor thing is trembling." 

"Mhm,” Xavier forces you up, “We both fuck her then."

His words only make you whimper, body jerking uselessly against Xavier's grip. His hands lift you as Rafayel flips you around so you're now facing the blond, flinching violently as his cock brushes your swollen clit, any semblance of protest quelled as Xavier pulls you into another messy kiss. 

It’s demanding, Xavier mumbling achingly sweet praises into your open mouth as he begins to press you down, faster, harsher, forcing you onto Rafayel’s lap in a reverse cowgirl as you slide down slowly, taking inch by inch of Rafayel’s throbbing cock. There’s hardly any blue left in Xavier’s blow-out pupils, too mesmerized by the slick mess you’re gushing down their thighs. And just when you begin to squirm, impatient and desperate, Xavier slows their pace even more.

"Shhh, we need to make sure you'll be able to take both of us."

Rafayel's hand is wrapped around your waist, thumb rubbing small circles into your stomach, and if it weren't for Xavier's arms locked around you, holding you upright, you would have collapsed the second Rafayel pressed into the spot his fingers had found.

"Look at you," he purrs, a low sound that has you gasping. "So pretty when you’re needy. Can you feel me?"

It's hard not to. Everywhere feels warm, and every slow thrust, no matter how gentle, has a small burst of ecstasy building in your stomach, a wave crashing higher and higher as the two of them slowly fuck you full. Just as you’re nearly seated all the way onto Rafayel’s length, Xavier’s palms come up to the back of your knees, folding them up and forcing you backward until you’re practically lying prone atop of Rafayel.

Your head lolls uselessly against Rafayel's neck, gasping at the force of the new position,  and you're not sure if it's the tears in your eyes or the overwhelming pressure against your walls as they stretch around his cock that's making the world so blurry. Xavier soon follows you down, pressing you closer into Rafayel’s chest as his lips trail your jaw, your neck, your sucking against every sensitive spot behind your ears until you're distracted from the pain.

"You're doing so good, princess. Just a little more."

The sudden onslaught of pressure of both of you atop him has Rafayel flinching, and he hisses out a pained moan, hips jerking up into the slick heat of your pussy, and it's only Xavier's grip that keeps the two of you from slipping off.

"Hah- hurry up-" Rafayel's eyes are glassy, his head tipped back and face twisted in pleasure. 

Strings of incoherent pleas are whispered against your ear, Rafayel marking up the left side of your neck while Xavier’s still busy with the right, that is, until Xavier switches sides, biting right over Rafayel’s marks until he’s pulled up into a desperate kiss.

The wet sounds of their lips are filthy and obscene, each hot breath and moan brushing past your ear as you writhe, pressed between them. Rafayel's cock is already swelling, twitching against the fluttering walls of your pussy, unwilling to fully pull out, settling to just grinding up in slow, cruel thrusts before something in him snaps and he switches to pounding against your abused walls.

Every time you think you’ll finally come Rafayel switches pace, the obscene slap of skin on skin muffled only by your sobs and their kissing. 

You’re close, so so fucking close you feel your muscles begin to shake. Xavier only pushes you down further, every angle a new cruelty, smothering you between them, rendering you unable to do anything but take it.

Again, Rafayel slows, and you slur curses down at him as your thighs tremble from overstimulation, shaking violently until you feel something grab your calf. Xavier massages the quivering muscle, gentle until he’s suddenly pressing your knee higher and higher, going until it’s pinned to the mattress up against your head.

And now Rafayel is hitting impossibly deeper, abusing your poor g-spot with each thrust. 

Xavier kisses your ankle, then calf, making his way up your leg until he can nip at your inner thighs now folded over his shoulder. And then you feel the pressure of his cock at your already full entrance. Xavier’s hand dips down between your bodies, trying to bully himself in alongside Rafayel, but his cock slides past your navel, slick and covered in your combined cum. 

"No, no no, not gonna fit- ah- Xavier!"

Your words break off into a wail as he tries again, grinding closer so you’re tightly cradled between the two, Xavier leaning fully atop you both. A snarl grits through his jaw when his cock slips past again, readjusting you so your legs fall apart wider, the burn in your thighs turning delicious and overwhelming, pussy weeping around Rafayel’s cock as Xavier’s swollen, leaking head bumps against your clit. 

Xavier watches the mess, every thrust and messy squirt of cum, brows furrowed and flushed a deep red, as he whines into your shoulder, "Please- can't stop- please let me fuck you too, you'll look so pretty with both of us filling you up, taking us so good- don’t make me stop."

He’s reduced to babbling against your neck, biting down hard enough to bleed when your cunt finally yields to him too, cockhead bumping into Rafayel’s as he slowly pushes in inch and inch, trembling from the combined pleasure of your walls and the violent throbbing of every vein now grinding together.

It's too much, it’s not enough, the stretch and the friction and the pressure leaving you fucked stupid, hands scrambling for purchase. Rafayel grunts when your nails drag across his thighs, his own hands coming to latch onto your wrists, pinning them above his head, forcing you motionless between them.

You can do nothing but sob, tears streaming down your face as your entire body convulses. And when they finally, finally bottom out together, the world goes white.

"Shh, you're alright," Rafayel soothes, although his voice is trembling, the sound broken as he tries to catch his breath. "Doing so well for us, cutie, so perfect."

Xavier growls, his hands grabbing the headboard. He's barely holding on, not with the way Rafayel's cock twitches against his own, your hot walls clenched tightly around the two of them as you beg.

"Please, can't- too much, more, I need-"

There's a broken sob, and then Xavier’s slamming his hips forward, fucking into you with a brutality he usually saves for Rafayel, the force sending the three of you rocking against the mattress, headboard splintering under the strength of his grip. The other leaves to thumb at your nipples, lips following suit as he rambles, drunk off your pussy, "These would look s'pretty filled, even more sensitive. Bet you'd let us milk you, fill you up even more."

"And here, you'll feel us here too, won't you?" A hand moves lower- whose you no longer are coherent enough to care- brushing over the swell of your abdomen, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing where both of them are thrusting violently into you. "Be a waste not to. Imagine it, a painted mess filled with us.”

And you are. You can't think about anything else, not with the way they're stuffing you full— every time Rafayel's cock would settle near your g-spot Xavier’s would ram back in, forcing the former up against your cervix before pulling out entirely, repeating the vicious rhythm as the pain bled into pleasure. 

Tears stream down the side of your face, room spinning into dizziness until all that remains are the burning trails of their touch, the only things keeping you grounded. 

Rafayel's sucking into your shoulder, biting the sweat-slicked flesh, and you can feel his hips begin to stutter underneath you, already reaching his high despite Xavier still pounding into you with the same intensity, desperate to catch up.

The moment Xavier feels Rafayel's release, it's over. Your back arches up against him, convulsing against their hold, your abused walls clenching down so tightly that you’re practically begging for them to come inside, sucking them in deeper and deeper until it’s impossible for them not to follow.

It's a violent orgasm, hot squirt of your cum drenching Xavier’s abs, the intensity of it causing Rafayel’s vision to white out too, unable to hear the desperate sounds of your moans, not when his blood is rushing past his ears.

Then, the world comes crashing back.

Rafayel’s panting, still thrusting weakly into the slick, tight heat as he emptied himself inside you, the sheer overload of it gushing down your legs and onto the sheets. 

"Ah- Xavier," you whine, the sound muffled into his chest as Xavier continues to chase after his high, too lost in his late orgasm to pull out.

The overstimulation is torture, your body twitching and trembling with every sloppy thrust. The moment he finally pulls out, the mess follows, thick, white rivets leaking down your thighs, the sheer volume near damn concerning had you the capacity to focus on it.

Rafayel laughs, fingers swirling through the cum as though painting your thighs, "That's not going to be easy to clean up."

"S'gonna look pretty. Messy. Full." Xavier murmurs, still pinning the both of you beneath him as he collapses in exhaustion, fingers dancing over the small swell in your stomach. Pressing lightly, he watches in fascination as their mixed cum gushes out faster, and you whimper, gripping his wrists to stop before they get any more ideas. 

You're not sure what's worse, the fact that they're both still hard and the way they're looking at you, or the fact that their words have your exhausted body already trying to recover, a shiver running through your sore muscles as the room's cool air brushes over the slick, sticky mess between your thighs.

"You're both so disgusting," you groan, the words coming out slurred and barely audible. 

"You love it."

"Yeah," Xavier's agreement is soft and almost hesitant. "You love us."

"Yes, I love both of you. Now get the fuck off of me." A shove, your shaking arm barely affecting Xavier as he finally relents, a small smile on his lips as he rolls the three of you down into the bed, resting on your sides. 

The muscles in your thighs scream in relief as they’re finally placed down, every inch of your body sore and marked up in one way or another, every visible bruise and bite getting pampered in faux apologies by the two men snuggling up next to you.

It’s a tangle of limbs, Xavier already claiming your chest again as he nuzzles into your breasts while Rafayel simply curls himself around your back. A hand there, an arm there, and a little more muffled bickering. Yet you all fit together, and sleep comes easy now. 

And the nightmares never return.

[goxjo]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 “𝐢’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬” — 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜

⟢ ﹒ ft. gojo, megumi, sukuna (you’re his vessel), naoya

⟢ ﹒ links. gen masterlist ༚ jjk masterlist

⟢ ﹒ an. it is what is this. couldn’t sleep and have to be up in 3 hours plus I suddenly had horny thoughts before bed. ++ reader as sukuna’s vessel is a concept I really like and have written a fic about before. enjoy <33

overall cw. f! reader, commando, reader wears a skirt / dress, exhibitionism. gojo cw. semi-public v! fingering. megumi cw. aged-up! megumi, public sex, consensual chikan, creampie. sukuna cw. sort of monsterfucking + body horror (since you’re sukuna’s vessel + check my header for reference!), dressing room mirror, cunnilingus, saliva for lube, getting caught. naoya cw. mean! naoya (a.k.a. he’s normal), trophy wife! reader, modern! au?, degradation, humiliation, rough, v! fingering, wall sex, creampie

♡ ┈┈┈ ꒰ ♡ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢 ♡ ꒱

⟢ ﹒ 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

“oh yeah? spread your legs for me, baby.”

satoru reaches for your pussy underneath the table, finding you soaked and bare, exactly like you’d told him. of course he doesn’t care that you’re seated with 2 of his friends. you try your hardest not to squirm in your seat, biting onto your fingers balled in a fist with your eyes closed, corners of your lip upturned, releasing hot and heavy exhales due to the crazy heat budding in your core from how good he plays with your wet, throbbing clit.

“what can I get you— a-are you alright?” the waiter turns to you when you suddenly grip onto the white table cloth.

“she’s fine. just give us 5 more minutes,” satoru responds with the widest shit eating grin as he begins to pump two digits into your cunt, palm stroking your clit.

“mmff,” you purr, hunching and leaning onto satoru’s shoulder causing the waiter to cock a brow.

“stomachache.” satoru smiles at the waiter, still relentlessly fucking your hole now with a third digit.

“hmmmfuuuuck,” you drag out as you hit your climax, and at this point, both of his friends are staring at you intently.

“some stomachache. you should get that checked,” suguru says, clearly finding the whole scene very amusing.

“yeah, at home or in a bathroom at the very least? and please, never call us again for dinner. ever,” Shoko barks.

⟢ ﹒ 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢

“fuck, now you’ve done it.”

megumi’s dick presses hard against your ass. it’s a good thing the train is crowded and everyone is busy waiting for their stop. he’s not really keen on having his fully hard, throbbing cock out on full display for the other passengers to see. but you could’ve at least picked a better time to let him know you had gone commando.

a cold breeze brushes past your bare ass as he reaches for your wet pussy underneath your skirt. he pinches your clit making you stifle a moan with one hand, the other holding onto the cold steel bar inside the train for dear life.

he reaches for your hand, guiding it to cup his aching bulge. you take his zipper from behind you, pulling it down slowly so it doesn’t make a sound. you reach for his cock, whipping it out through his fly. megumi groans when his foreskin gets a little snagged by his zipper but he doesn’t budge — not when he’s aching to get inside your free access hole.

“‘s tight, fuck.” he slides his cock into your warm, slippery pussy. he’s grateful for the influx of new passengers coming in, allowing him to move and fuck you freely. to others, he only seems like he’s trying to get a good squeeze within the tight space, but to you, his cock hits deeper and deeper the more he tries to ‘struggle’.

“hmmmffff,” you mewl when denim slaps against your ass, roll of his hips forcing you to jolt in shock.

“be quiet, okay?” he whispers in your ear, leaving a hot and sloppy trail of kisses down your neck, hips ramming onto your ass last time before he fills you with his hot cum.

you’ve lost track of time, and with it your stop, and you’re suddenly hit with the realization that you have to get off at this exact moment, not even worrying about the mess beginning to drip down your inner thighs.

“bathroom?” legs crossed, you ask.

“duh. need to make you cum, then let’s get you cleaned up.”

⟢ ﹒ 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

“I knew that was for me, doll.”

a voice growls from your cheek. he licks his lips, and your cheek by extension, at the sight of you trying on clothes that are a tad too tight and too short for a leisurely walk. you perk your ass up, watching the reflection of your exposed wet and puffy lips through the dressing room mirror.

“bend over a little bit more for me.” you do as you’re told, pussy creaming every single time he speaks. every syllable feels like a love bite, as if his razor sharp teeth gnaws underneath your skin. and any time a 2nd pool of heat grows in your stomach, one that is different from your own, you know for a fact that sukuna is excited.

“you know what to do.” sukuna’s mouth suddenly appears on your hand. like a ritual, all he needs to do is say the words, and you are more than ready to say grace. much like a sex toy, you bring your hand — his mouth — to your cunt, his hot saliva, your makeshift lubricant.

“ohhhh fuck. fuuuuuck!” you whine, pitch of your voice increasing the longer you drag out your moans.

sukuna’s mouth ravishes your cunt, alternating between his tongue flicking and his teeth nipping at your sensitive clit, the added bonus of your soiled expression through the mirror pushing you over the edge.

sukuna begins to suck your clit and your cries have all but filled the dressing room.

“are you okay in there?” the shop assistant asks you from the other side of the door.

“mmhmm, yeah ‘m fffine,” you answer back, weakly.

“you sure?”

“yyyeahh,” you breathe out. “just… ti-haaaa-ight, that’s all.”

sukuna’s tongue explores your velvet walls mid-conversation, preventing you from answering any further.

“keeping you here until you’ve collapsed, doll,” sukuna barks.

“is someone there with you?” the shop assistant asks, voice thick with concern.

“fuck,” you curse, knowing just how much sukuna is going to enjoy this.

⟢ ﹒ 𝐧𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚

“you little fucking slut.”

he takes the champagne from your hand, giving it to the waiter. he drags you all the way to the bathroom, past the hotel staff, past his family, flaring at how you’ve chosen to make him horny during his much awaited family reunion. he was going to show off his accomplishments, he was going to show of you, his new pretty little wife, and parade you in front of all his brothers whose wives can barely hold a candle to you.

he shoves you up against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, hand reaching for your unclothed cunt from underneath your dress.

“fuck, you’re wet.” he coats his two digits slick with your juices before waving them to your face. “see this? my horny little wife, so eager, so wet for me.”

he sucks on his fingers, tasting your wetness before sliding them back into your hole. “fuck, you taste so good. do you want me to make you feel good? say it. say you want your husband to make you feel good.”

“I-I want my husband to m-make me feel good—fuck!” naoya ruthlessly pumps your pussy with his thick fingers, coiling inside your walls, nails scratching your insides making you scream in pleasure.

naoya swells with pride knowing zen’in ears are pressed up on the other side of the door, not that they couldn’t already hear you with how loud you’re screaming from just his fingers. he wants his brothers to hear you. wants them to get hard from the lovely tunes you hum in pleasure and remind them none of them can have you.

“naoya, please—mmm—need your cock now!” you whimper loudly in full support of all your husband’s endeavors.

“my lovely doting wife, so fucking needy!” he says as he lets his pants drop down to his feet.

he hooks your leg around his arm, granting him deeper access to your insides, balls wet from slapping your cunt.

“fuckfuckfuck!” his cock hits you so deep, you’re forced to prop yourself better against the wall while he fucks your high — one hand raised up, palm flat against the cold tiles, the other digging nails into his shoulder, into the hard material of his tuxedo.

he bucks his hips one last time in his climax, stuffing you full of his white seed.

you take a couple of minutes to fix your hair, your clothes, and even clean up the mess dripping down your thighs.

“shall we?” your husband offers you his arm, excited to see the look on his brother’s faces.

[sukunasweetheart]

Getting into petty arguments and fights with sukuna 😭 ik that man would eat everything in the fridge not knowing that those leftover wings were YOURSS 🤬🤬🤬👹👹

Something that annoys him though is how you often misplace things in the kitchen. Sukunas very meticulous about what goes where and is annoyed when he has to look for things when hes cooking bc you've put things elsewhere!!

There are short periods of time where yall are in a non serious but funnily committed "fight" where you guys bicker for no reason and give each other the cold shoulder/silent treatment bc both of u are stubborn as fuck

Its a "fight" but you'll still sit in the same room as him at home, and he'll still cook you nice meals, and you guys still eat together, sleep together, and watch tv together, its just, you know, a little less lovingly, you know??

And then one of you eventually caves in a little bit, which leads the other to also soften up in return.

This morning, Sukuna's putting his shoes on, about to head out for work.

"Hey."

He turns around.

You're holding a muffler, with a disgruntled look on your face.

"It's going to be cold today. Wear this to work," you tell him, as you're wrapping it around his neck on your tippy toes.

"And take your umbrella! I'm always telling you to pay attention to the morning weather forecasts. It's raining this afternoon."

"What’s this? I thought you were still mad at me. Giving in so easily?" sukuna taunts.

"I still am. But this and that are different things. You're still not getting a morning kiss, by the way. Goodbye."

You turn on your heel and walk off, but he pulls you into a backhug and laughs against your ear. He kisses your cheek and then bites the same area.

"Oww! What the fuck!" You're holding your cheek and turning around to smack him on the chest.

"I'll be off, since i got my morning kiss now. I'll see you later."

"I hope you step on dogshit on your way."

"Yeah, yeah, love you too."

Maybe he'll stop by the flower shop after work, and also grab some wings on his way home.

[vampcubus]

𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂𝐒

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : kyojuro rengoku, tengen uzui & wives, poly obamitsu, tanjiro kamado, inosuke hashibira, zenitsu agatsuma.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : sfw, gn!reader, big spoon coded reader cus i said so, wholesome fluff, cuddling n snuggling, polyamory (tengen & obamitsu's parts), kamaboko trio aged up as per usual.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔

— A teddy bear in the shape of a man and enthusiastic to be used as one! As a Hashira, Kyojuro is often kept away for days and weeks at a time, so he makes the most of every moment you spend together.

— Kyojuro's not happy unless he's got his arms full of his favorite person, so you can expect him to seek you out the moment he arrives home.

— If you’re a civilian and he finds you in the kitchen, he’ll drape himself over you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck and lavishing it with smiling kisses, rugged hands settling on your hips.

— Kyojuro wants to be cuddled to sleep and truly can’t bear to be parted from you, no matter how swelteringly hot it gets in the summer months. And if he has obligations, he tries to wake up a little early so he can have a few minutes of cuddle time with you before he’s whisked away. You don’t even have to be awake for it, he just wants to hold you for a little while <3

— He started out as a big spoon but converted into a little spoon when he discovered what it felt like to be properly held. He’s no more content than he is when he’s got his back pressed to your chest and you’ve curled yourself around his broad frame. 

— He likes it best when you rub his belly when his eyes are too big for his stomach, always easing a bit of the discomfort <3

— Kyojuro is comfy to lay on, with two perfect pillows for you to rest your head on (his pecs <3). His muscles are quite soft when relaxed, and the way his heart stutters when your cheek rests on it is so cute.

— Kyojuro feels safe in your presence so he’s very prone to falling asleep on your shoulder or with his head in your lap. With his workload and inconsistent sleep schedule, he’s often a cuddle session away from nodding off. Particularly so when you start playing with his flaxen hair, it’s like his off-switch 🤭

— He’s a bit of an oversized lapdog and’ll climb into your lap every chance he gets. As far as he’s concerned, that’s his seat. It looks funny to outsiders if he’s bigger than you, but he hardly cares, all too eager to get all comfy in your lap and tell you about his day.

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐈 & 𝐖𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒

— Big, tough man too cool to cuddle? No sir. Tengen is a touchy lover and raises a brow when you try to sit anywhere other than his lap, like why aren't you in your assigned seat? 🤨

— Pulls you flush against his side every chance he gets, wrapping a heavy arm around your shoulders. You often get a companion wet kiss to the cheek to boot just to see you scrunch your face up and wipe his spit off your cheek >:(

— His wives are just like him– Suma especially who practically hangs off of you with those big doe eyes, clinging onto your arm during outings as a group. Between Tengen and Suma, your hands will never be lonely and you'll certainly never be cold. Those two are space heaters and can't keep their hands off their partners to save their lives.

— Makio is easily flustered by affection but ultimately craves it, even if getting her to admit it is like pulling teeth. A hopeless romantic at heart <3 She’s a big spoon and overheats easily, so she prefers to linger on the edges of the cuddle piles. She’ll smack your thigh if you move around too much with an annoyed grumble. She can be such a meanie sometimes 😔

— Hinatsuru doesn’t mind holding or being held, she just wants to be close to you. Though generally more soft-spoken than Makio, Tengen, and Suma, her affectionate touch translates her love for her partners so clearly. Often rubs soothing circles over your back, rests a comforting hand on your arm, and pets your hair while you cuddle.

— Tengen likes to talk when you cuddle, prattling on about his or your day while rubbing your side or back mindlessly. Most times, he talks you to sleep or vice versa, considering what a busy guy he is before retirement. Sometimes you’ll get caught up in deep conversations about your past lives, silly theories, or ping-pong flirtatious banter until you can barely keep your eyes open.

— Tengen likes it most when you and the wives crawl right on top of him, all to eager to be living furniture for his beautiful spouses while you all gossip and giggle to each other.

𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐈 𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 & 𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐈

— Dare I say the clingiest partners ever?

— Obanai hesitates where as Mitsuri openly throws herself into your arms at every opportunity. Just be patient and take things slow and he'll follow Mitsuri's example. It’s a subtle shift, maybe he leans his head on your shoulder to test the waters, unable to meet your eyes. He melts if you wrap an arm around his shoulders and rub his arm, eyelids drooping as he relaxes further against you.

— Mitsuri is a cuddle bug in every sense of the word, like a tiny, purring kitty rubbing its body against your legs when you come near. You swear she chirps like one too, especially when her affections are met with a head pat or tender kiss.

— Obanai won’t say it, but he likes it when he’s in the middle, tucked safely between his two favorite people. The three of you spend many long hours this way, just relaxing in each other's embrace before your obligations call you away from the cuddle puddle– with no shortage of complaints from your lovers (Obanai’s longing wistful look as you go is just as painful as Mitsuri’s whines)

— Their clinginess only worsens as your relationship progresses, I’m afraid 💀 Obanai has a death grip comparable to a boa constrictor, especially when he’s in a deep sleep.

— I have a vivid image in my mind of Mitsuri having to use her insane strength to pry his arms off of you and scooch herself in your place so you can pee in the middle of the night, barely able to stifle her giggles. (Obanai is very much this meme)

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎

— Touch starved but doesn’t know it, and is also unintentionally touchy. Until he isn’t. Until his touches seem all too intentional, never without meaning.

— Cuddling with you is one of his favorite activities and he’ll even schedule official cuddle time if you let him, so you never go without the comfort of one another’s arms for long. He’ll even decline plans if it’s the wrong time of day…

“Sorry, I’d love to, but it’s almost four and I always cuddle with my partner around that time.”

— And no it’s not negotiable. What if he was late, or missed it and hurt your feelings? No no, he’s far too considerate for that.

— Besides, he misses cuddle time the most when he’s out in the field, miles away from your warm embrace. You can tell he’s missing you in the letters he sends home, commenting about how it “ sure is cold out here,” though the longer he goes without the less subtle he is, rephrasing how he misses you in every paragraph. Can you really blame him? He truly adores you so it’s hard to be away from you :((

— Prefers to be the little spoon but ultimately will be happy no matter how you’re cuddling. (I expand on little spoon Tanjiro in this post <3)

𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐀

— Instinctually touchy and yet so unused to cuddling. Inosuke doesn’t know much about positive affectionate touch so he tends to squirm out of hugs and gets a little anxious when you hold him still too long, much like a dog would. He asks you what you’re doing, voice a little softer than normal, cheeks a little pink beneath his mask.

“Cuddling you?” you reply, equally confused by his reaction as he is to your affection.  “Well stop it. It feels weird,” he huffs, and you comply, albeit a bit disheartened. You can’t help but be curious about his rejection, so you push past the sudden awkwardness of the moment to inquire about it. “Feels weird how?” “I don’t know! It just does!” he snaps defensively, a little frustrated, an emotion you can’t help but mirror. But then you relax, reminding yourself to be understanding. It must show on your face though, because he follows you around until he’s sure you aren’t mad at him. Your understanding nature is something he’s still getting used to as well.

— Take it slow with him if you can help it, form positive associations with touch, and then try again another time and he’ll be more receptive <3 REALLY receptive after a while, like before you know it you’ve got a stage 10 clinger on your hands 😭 

— Especially if you start sleeping together, cus he likes to cover you with his whole body as his way of protecting you while you’re in a vulnerable state.

— However, he will get bitchy if he catches you taking naps without him there to cuddle up to you. Like just say you don’t love him 😔 You’ll wonder why he’s giving you dirty looks and the cold shoulder all day, yeah it’s cus you didn’t immediately come find him to nap. Traitor.

— He associates cuddling with sleep so he’s prone to nodding off, and if you guide his head to rest on your chest and massage his scalp? He’s dead to the world, snoring and everything.

𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀

— You cannot pry this man off of you and I mean it. He was clinging to you before you were even an item, often to your leg, your kimono, your hand, wherever he can reach. If you reciprocate once, he’ll keep coming back for more of it. So touch starved it’s pitiable, and he’s smart enough to know that looking pathetic earns him sympathy.

— That said, he’s taken aback if you initiate cuddling, almost unable to fathom being desired. It’s only then that he gets a little shy, chuckling nervously as you take him into your arms. Doesn’t know what to do with himself.

— Zenitsu isn’t picky about how you cuddle, just that you’re touching in every way possible. Tangles his legs with yours, wriggles as close as humanly possible, and holds your clothing in an iron grip.

— Oftentimes he looks so blissed out when he’s wrapped up in your embrace, eyes half-lidded or drooping with sudden sleepiness. You’re just so comfortable, and comforting, and beautiful and aaaa before he knows it he’s muttering all these things to you.

You awaken slowly to a considerable weight on your chest, squinting with your eyes closed you feel around blindly and find the familiar shape of your husband sprawled out on top of you. You sigh, recognizing his snores and a smile tugs at your lips despite it being tough to breathe. Your palm rests on his back, bunching in the thick fabric of his hoari. Your eyes finally crack open, the morning light illuminating your fully-dressed partner. Must’ve been a long night, you mused to yourself, able to picture a half-asleep Zenitsu stumbling into bed so clearly in your mind. Though even his unconscious alter-ego tended to seek you out. You turn, shifting Zenitsu onto his side. He stirs, but only slightly, immediately tucking his head under your chin with a grunt. “Don’t go,” he murmurs in his sleep, most likely to a dream version of you and a fondness warms your chest. “Stay.”