#letter from reader

[shiny-jr]

from SCARABIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: Hey! Hey... How y'all doing...? I know it's been nearly two years since I updated this.

Pomefiore   |   Scarabia   |   Octavinelle

Jasmine. The scent of freshly ground jasmine tea leaves permeated the air, an attempt to cast a relaxing affect. However, it only had the opposite affect, as you knew enough to determine where the letter might've originated from. A vertical envelope sealed, with no wax seal or string to hold it shut. A perfectly normal envelope but labeled urgent.

Each word seemed so carefully planned, the ink creating coils and lines like woven fabric as if printed. It nearly felt too unnatural, from the formalness that spiraled into quick and rushed writing. After this many letters, you've picked up by now that the neatest ones likely have something to hide, but they likely got tired of hiding it. Pretty penned words and apologies in ink were used to conceal what the writer truly felt.

To the player,

Do not leave Ramshackle dorm tonight.

Mondays you visit Mr. S's Mystery Shop for the essentials. Tuesdays you sneak into the botanical garden. Wednesdays you spend time with Professor Crewel as he stays late to grade exams in the Alchemy Workshop. Thursdays you hide in the Coliseum as Coach Vargas rearranges equipment. Fridays you slip into the back of the library where Professor Trein is reading. Weekends you're either with Headmaster Crowley in the Hall of Mirrors or guarded in Ramshackle.

They know you leave Ramshackle at midnight. I just want to warn you. No one is supposed to be around at midnight. It should have remained a short moment away from the confines of Ramshackle, but, the same people you've been avoiding have heard about your nightly escapades.

I know I'm one of those people you're avoiding. Know that I'm not upset at you. I don't fault you for it. You've known my true nature for a while now, but you could realize that even I'm not twisted enough to stalk you and get your schedule all on my own. All that above? Information I heard. I don't approve of tracking you, not when you deserve to have peace and quiet if you want it. But I don't mind influencing a classmate or two with magic to hear what's going on inside each dorm when they're threatening your brief moments of peace. There's the obvious happenings, and the not so obvious ones.

That being said, you do know that I am willing to do what it takes to protect your space and to advance my standing above the rest. That's something I don't bother to hide around you. So, I'll tell you the happenings. The obvious that others have probably yapped about already... Malleus and his cohorts have taken up the task of guarding Ramshackle, so they know about your trips. Ignihyde is mostly quiet, but Ortho has been talking to Kalim a lot about "fun" plans to involve you in. Pomefiore maintaining their refined image to impress you when I doubt that it's all real.

The Leech twins have been particularly prone to violence recently, and Azul lacks his usual confidence although he tries to hide it. In Savanaclaw there's been multiple brawls because of the tension but Leona seems to be sleeping in more than before. Heartslabyul is as chaotic as ever, but it seems like they feel the most responsible for what happened. I've seen those two first years, Ace and Deuce, try to visit Ramshackle all the time but never get past the gate.

That's not all, but that's all I'll say about that for now.

I'm not trying to bother you, I can promise you that. I managed to put a stop to about ten plans Kalim was ready to set in motion just this week to grab your attention.

You realize what this is by now. I know you do. A warning from me, an attempt to redeem myself. Although "redeem" doesn't seem like a suitable word, because I don't really believe true redemption is possible. Not with what I allowed to happen to you. But I only care about myself, and you. No one else. So I don't care if their plans fail. In fact, I'm glad to tell you this, just so they won't see you.

Don't let them see you. They don't deserve it. None of us do. My advice to you: avoid your usual destinations for about a week or two. After a while, they'll start looking elsewhere. Give me a few more days, I'll start planting false rumors soon to throw them off. Like how you were spotted in the woods behind campus or the sports field. That will get them off your back for a while. If you plan to go to the cafeteria eventually for a meal, take the long way through the back. Hardly anyone goes that way. If you want a home cooked meal, let me know. I'll send something your way if you just ask.

One last warning. You're going to get a letter around the same time you'll get this one you're currently reading. It's an invitation from Kalim. Don't go. He's planning a surprise party with the exact people you're avoiding.

Anything you tell Kalim will eventually be told to others, you should know that. Anything you say to me will be kept a secret I will closely guard. If you want more information or greater details, something to be delivered since I imagine you'll be in Ramshackle for a while, or just desire new company for once... I'm here. Even if you don't want me, I'm here. With just one response from you, I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Tell me whatever you wish, and I'll see to it just to be back in your grace.

Awaiting your response.

Best wishes,

Jamil Viper

A chill traveled up your spine as you processed the message you just read. The window was right beside you, so you reached up to pull the string of the blinds, blocking out the sights in fear of someone watching through those very windows.

"Grim, we're going to have to take a rain check on our trip to the cafeteria tonight." Once you dropped the letter, you went window to window, closing and locking each one, pulling down the blinds and readjusting the curtains.

"Aww..." The feline watched in confusion as you moved around to check the locked front and back doors. Normally he would've immediately whined and complained about the canceled trip to the place with food, but he sensed your reemerging paranoia. Following you, his tail swished behind him as he walked on all fours. "What's with you? Was it something in that letter?"

Pulling on the door handle, you were only satisfied when it didn't budge. "Yes."

When you handed him the letter to read, his little paws grasped onto it and he handed you a second open letter that was unfamiliar. Sniffing the jasmine scented letter, Grim pulled away and plopped down with it. "I was reading that other one while you were distracted. It sounds fun and it would be worth going if they weren't crazy obsessed, you know."

Fun?

When you took a closer look at the letter Grim handed you, it was evidence that Jamil had told the truth in this instance.

Even from where you stood, you could make out the shimmer of the torn envelope forgotten in the living room floor feet away from where you stood. Grim has throughly torn through it, the exterior was white with a corner accidentally stained by black ink. The interior of the envelope shined like gold. Was it real gold? Probably not, but at this rate, anything was possible.

The letter was clearly perfumed, and each word was written far more casually than in other letters you had already read. Each word was written in clear black ink, and there seemed to be a doodle marking the end of every paragraph. There was a heart, a smiley face, and a star, just to name a few. Just by a glance, it didn't carry the same heavy content like the others did. There was only one person you could think of who would have written this.

Hi, Player!

You are invited to a celebration in your honor!

That's right. Tomorrow, at the Scarabia dorm, I'll be hosting a party just for you! There's gonna be every type of food you can think of, the best songs to dance to, and invitations have already been sent out. It's gonna be the biggest party this place has ever seen! I even imported some gifts from off campus to give you later. I'm sure you're probably wondering why throw a party after everything that happened, huh?

Well, I had two reasons. One, I wanted to use it as an apology. I'm sorry. I really really mean it. I know I keep saying it with every gift and letter I've sent you. I don't even have a clue if you've read the ones I sent before. I hope you've seen them. Did you at least like the bracelet I sent last time? It's real gold from my homeland!

The second reason was because I just really want to see you. Even if you just come by for a minute, just one dance or have one plate of food, that would be enough. It would make me happy. And maybe it might make you happy too? Jamil said it isn't a good idea, but its worth a shot! And really, we're all miserable without you. I figured that it would be a way to cheer everyone up, not just you and me. Right now, I think everyone could use a bit of festivity to lift their spirits. Especially you, and honestly, me too. Ever since you shut yourself in Ramshackle, everyone's been worried sick.

I hope you're doing better now! Admittedly, I still feel guilty about what happened. Whenever I think too much about it, I get scared when I imagine what you went through and what could've happened. I wish I could turn back time to when you walked into Scarabia and pretended to be someone else. My heart recognized you before my brain did, and I was too happy with you to even realize that the joy I felt in that moment was so familiar. It was familiar because I was with you, and I'm only that happy when I'm hanging out with you! I think about that day a lot, you know. But you didn't tell me it was you for a reason.

You were scared, weren't you? That's why you kept looking around so much back then. At first, I thought it was because you were curious of the dorm, but I was wrong. You weren't scared of me, were you? I hope not. You know I would never ever hurt you, right? Even when you were known as the "imposter," I didn't want to cause you any pain at all. I just wanted to ask: why? Why was this happening? Why had they caused Yuu to break down? Why were they doing it and causing us so much pain?

Because without you, we were hurting. Badly.

I was hurting, and I don't ever remembering feeling a pain like this. It feels worse than any sort of bitter poison or heartbreaking betrayal. I'm so, so, sorry.

I don't want to dwell on the past too much. It hurts to think about. I hope you'll be willing to at least consider forgiving me? It seems like a lot to ask, and I have no idea what you're thinking. I really want to see you, and hanging out again, and forget all this ever happened. But I can't do that, because I have to consider you, your thoughts, your opinion on everything.

Sorry, sorry, I don't want this letter to sound depressing. It's supposed to be an invitation! Everything's gonna be okay, it has to be. Soon, maybe, I'll get to see you again and everything will be right. I won't feel this pain in my chest anymore, once I'm with you. Right now, let me take this chance to just try and explain how much you mean to me... Uh, I never thought I would actually get this opportunity. It doesn't feel real. I don't even know if the right words exist that capture my emotions. Let's see... When I wake up in the mornings, you're the first thing on my mind as the sun comes up. When I fall asleep at night, you're all that's in my dreams as the sun goes down.

People think I'm too hopeful, too naive, when it comes to you. But I'm not! One day, I know we'll be together again, and we'll be happy! I'll get to just live beside you, the real you! That's been my wish ever since I've met you through your vessel, Yuu.

We're already halfway there! You're here, in our world, I've met you, I've spoken to you, I've been so close I literally touched your hand! Yeah, we messed up along the way, but we'll make up for it! All that's left is to earn your forgiveness, and my wish will have come true once you allow me to be next to you again! I'm so so close, and yet you seem so far away. Just out of reach, but I'll get there, don't worry. I'll make up for everything. All you gotta do is guide me. Tell me what you want. Please.

I'll check up on you soon, okay?

See you tomorrow,

Kalim Al-Asim

[hischiershoe]

Can I please request “You know, I only came here tonight because I heard you’d be here. How ridiculous is that?" With Luke Hughes. It just screams him.

thank you for sending in! i kind of changed the prompt a bit but not too much Warnings: a little angsty but not really, not a ton of dialogue til the end, one singular smooch

Luke had never been much of a partier. Sure, he would always go when his friends or brothers would drag him along, and he'd try to have fun, but in truth, he would rather be anywhere else. He would much rather be at home playing pool or playing stupid games with a few people at the house. At least, that's how he used to feel until he met you.

The first time you met Luke was a year ago when you'd been dragged to some house party with a group of your friends. They wanted to go because they heard there were going to be some cute hockey players from your university there, and you went to make sure they had a safe way home. When the four of you had gotten there, they insisted you go outside with them because that was where 'they' were.

While they flirted with a group of boys you'd long forgotten the names of, you sat off to the side and scrolled on your phone until they decided they were ready to leave. You felt him lingering a few feet away from you until he actually made the jump to sit next you, making sure to keep a respectable distance between you.

"Hey," You heard him clear his throat, "You okay?"

You put your phone down and let your gaze flit to the unnamed boy to your left, eyes landing on a tall, lean guy who had a messy mop of curls on his head. He was cute.

"I'm good," You nod, straightening your back as you focused on him, "Just waiting for my friends."

"Me too," He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, "I'm Luke, by the way."

From that moment forward, you looked for Luke in every crowd at every party, and he did the same for you. The two of you spent the entire summer seeking one another, but never taking the next step to further whatever your relationship could've been called. At first, you thought it was fun, thinking of it as a little game the way you'd always seek each other out. Though, you'd hoped that he would ask you for your number before he left for the summer.

He never did.

You tried to forget about Luke, to accept that it was nothing but some sort of weird summer fling without the actual fling part, but that was easier said than done. Before last summer, you never paid attention to the hockey subculture at Michigan, but now that you knew who he was, that became nearly impossible. Everywhere you went you saw his name, his picture, his friends.

It sounded silly to say out loud because you didn't really know Luke, just a version of him that you saw for a few hours, but you couldn't let go of him.

When the next summer came, you attended a few parties in hopes that you might run into Luke again. You'd even asked a few people about him, but you always came up empty. Your friends didn't know about your side quest, but they could tell something was off with you, and they made it their mission to find you something to take your mind off things. Well, someone.

Luke loved playing for Team USA, he really did, but he was so ready to go back to Michigan for the summer. He was ready to relax, to have some time out of some sort of spotlight, to find you again. He hadn't stopped thinking about you since he left for training camp last year.

He regretted not asking for your number before he left, but every time he would try and do it he would chicken out. No matter how many times his brothers or friends would encourage him to finally ask out the 'mystery lover girl', he couldn't bring himself to actually do it.

"I'm not talking to him," You groan as you walk up the driveway with your friends, "I'm not interested!"

"No, you're too interested in your random mystery boy," Josie throws her hands in the air, "Just give Logon a shot! He's really nice and he isn't bad looking. Please!"

Unfortunately for you, you were easily swayed, and that was exactly how you ended up uncomfortably pressed against the brick with an overly chatty boy next to you. To Josie's credit, Logan was nice, but he had barely let you get more than five words the entire time you've spent with him. At one point, you zoned so far out that you didn't hear anything he said until he was grasping at your bicep.

It was then that Luke walked out the backdoor, his eyes subconsciously scanning the crowd for you until they finally settled on an all too familiar side profile. He faltered in his steps, watching as a guy he vaguely recognized stepped closer to you. He couldn't look away, no matter how much he wanted to, he was forcing himself to stay rooted in place.

Luke eventually tore his eyes away from one when one of his college friends called out his name and dragged him back inside, and you were left with no idea that he was even there.

After a while, you managed to escape your dull conversation with Logan and found your friends again. Josie tried to make her attempt at a setup by saying she would be the DD, which made you nearly burst into laughter because she was already a bit too far gone for that to happen. Towards the end of the night, people slowly started to trickle out of the house, but the girls insisted they wander out back with a few others before heading back home.

"Hey, isn't that Luke Hughes," Hope slurs, pointing to a tall figure who was walking towards the boat dock.

It was embarrassing you quickly your head turned, how quickly your feet began to move in his direction with a certain determination to your steps. You can hear the girls talking behind you, making the very clear connection to Luke and your mystery boy. Despite his obvious ghosting from last summer, you still found yourself wanting to see him and talk to him. Maybe even get an explanation if you were lucky.

"Hey," You called out, slightly startling him as you sat next to him, "You okay?"

Luke's focus snapped towards you, his eyes wide and swimming with an emotion you can't quite place. You give him a soft smile as you take him in, noticing that he let his hair grow a little bit longer than he had last summer, noticing how much bigger he had gotten since then.

"Hi," He finally breathes out, his lips forming your name almost like he was testing it.

"Hi, Luke," You softly greet, "Long time no see."

"Yeah," He nervously chuckles as he looks away from you, "Yeah, it has."

Luke's mouth drops open like he wants to say more, but he doesn't. Instead, he grips the edge of the dock so tightly his knuckles were beginning to turn white. His face is barely illuminated by the light seeping down from the house, but you can still see the apprehension on his face. His brows are furrowed and his nose is slightly scrunched up, and it makes you want to pull him in by the shirt collar and kiss him.

"Do you want to know something," Luke suddenly bursts out, though he keeps his gaze in front of him.

"Of course," You curtly nod.

"I just got off a ten hour flight like four hours ago," He admits as he finally looks at you again, "But I came because I asked a friend if you'd be here, and he said yes. How crazy is that?"

Your face twisted with shock, his words ringing in your ears as you stared up at him. He'd been traveling all day and he should be sleeping, but instead, he was here. He came to a party, even though he didn't like them to begin with, because of you?

"Why," You swallow the lump in your throat, "Why because of me?"

"I wanted to see you again," He plainly states, but you can hear the hesitancy in his voice, "I fucked up last year by not getting your number because I was scared, but I didn't want to do that this summer. I was fully ready to ask you when I saw you earlier."

"Earlier," You ask, tilting your head, "Why didn't you then?"

"Well, you looked pretty busy," He scoffed. He sounded... annoyed? For what reason, you weren't sure.

Wait. Earlier you had been with- Oh.

"Luke," You stifle back the amused giggling threatening to slip through, "Are you jealous?"

"What?! No! Of course not," He hastily defends, roughly shaking his head in denial, "It just would've been rude to ask for your number if you're with ano-"

You cut Luke off by surging forward and placing your lips on his. It was a short kiss, nothing too over the top or romantic, but it was enough to render him speechless as you pulled away from him. His eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted and his breathing shaky.

"I'm not with anyone, idiot," You playfully groan, covering his hand with your own, "I come to every party with the hope that you'll be there, so if you're crazy, then so am I."

[tomasweetheart]

FAVORITE ࿔*:･ﾟ

꒰ m. osamu x gn!reader ꒱

° sypnosis: what's osamu's favorite food?

° warning: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!, post-timeskip, it's gender neutral but reader has a vagina, cursing, osamu calls reader: sweet thing, pretty & baby, oral (reader receiving), munch!osamu, cunnilingus, slight overstim at the end

° notes: DON'T LOOK AT MEEEEE!!!!!

Osamu swears up and down that he does not have a favorite food.

They are all equally delicious to him, every bite of every dish he tastes dances on his tongue with a new partner each time. Whether it be an elegant waltz from the caviar served at his brother's wedding, a playful jig from a bite from the plastic dish of dippin’ dots he got for nostalgia’s sake or the quick-paced two-step from the baked mac ‘nd cheese his Ma makes for every family picnic. It’s baffling that anyone would ever expect him to pick a favorite.

This is the socially acceptable answer. This is what he tells Atsumu when he asks for reference. This is what he tells his customers if they even suggest that onigiri is his favorite. This is his go to, but the truth?

Osamu’s favorite food is the one buried deep between the apex of your thighs. 

Just like every good dish, this one has to be prepared with love and care. It starts off tender, it always does with him. Slow, messy, desperate kisses with gentle nips at your bottom lip. His hands graze up and down your sides, before ultimately landing on your hips with a soft squeeze. Your skin feels so warm, so plush and right against the skin of his own hands. Rough from volleyball, fights with Tsumu and endless days molding his rice into perfect triangles. 

His lips move down, pressing messy open-mouth kisses against your jaw. Stopping at the junction that connects your jaw to your neck, sucking a deep hickey before continuing his journey. His hands travel up your shirt, but that’s as far as they go. He’s not wasting time, not tonight. That’s not what he’s hungry for. 

He’ll nip, and suck, and bite, and kiss until you’re writhing beneath him. Not even undressed yet, but somehow you can feel him on every inch of your bare skin. He’s got you right where he wants you. 

Your skin feels so hot, you’re pulsing, throbbing with need. Your whines only spur him further as he lets out a low chuckle and a quick: “Patience sweet thing, I’m gettin’ there.” 

He fumbles with your jeans, he’s too eager now. Too impatient, he won’t wait for his food to cool down. He pulls them off with one swift movement, your underwear catching on the denim and sliding down with them. 

“You smell so fuckin’ good baby,” he purrs, his now swollen lips making quick with the way they kiss along your thighs, “Ma always told me to blow on my food if it was too hot though…” he smirks up at you, “...and I don’t wanna burn my tongue.”

He stops just short of your heat, his hand reaching out tentatively. With two fingers, he collects your slick before spreading apart your lips, putting you on full display for him. He’s practically drooling now, blowing a stream of hot air directly on your throbbing cunt, chuckling at the way you squirm from his action.

You’re cooled down enough.

Eagerly, almost animalistically, he flattens his tongue against your slit. Careful to avoid the bundle of nerves that begs for his attention so desperately. He’ll get there. He laps every inch of your folds, relishing in the way his head burns from how tightly you’re gripping his dark brown locks. His hands hold your thighs firmly in place, fingernails digging in the supple fat while he continues to eat you like a starved man.

The noises he makes are absolutely sinful. Audible slurps fill the room, his own drool coating your cunt while you plead for him to at least ghost over your clit with his mouth. But he has other plans.

He catches the bundle of nerves between his lips, and he moans, fucking moans in sync with you from your taste alone. He sucks, laps, slurps, fucking devours you whole like you’re his last meal and he’s a man on death row.

His pace doesn’t relent, he’s moaning into your pussy, he’s not even focused on himself. He’s lost, you have him hooked. He feels your thighs clamp down against his head, his tongue moves quicker inside of your tight hole before he retracts it and licks another long strip the whole way to your clit, sending you over the edge.

He gives you a moment, only a moment for you to catch your breath before he dives back in again. Laughing hoarsely against your core as you whine and try to push his head away from the overstimulation, but he won’t budge.

“Now pretty, quit squirmin’,” he groans, “I’m tryin’ ta get seconds of my favorite food.”

[satorkive]

ROOMMATE 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ SATORU

roommate!satoru who constantly stares at you when you first met. you are probably the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

roommate!satoru who takes advantage of his height and makes everything in your apartment higher than what’s supposed to be. he wants you to beg for him with your doe eyes and pouty lips.

roommate!satoru who becomes clingy after living with each other for a long time. he has to be cuddling you or he will sulk for the rest of the day.

roommate!satoru who cooks for you. you want pancakes and hot chocolate? just sit down and wait for him. you have your frustrating monthly period? don’t worry, he got your comfort food ready. he’s attentive like that.

roommate!satoru who gets jealous when you bring boy friends in your room. he has to be in the same room as both of you because he’s just being protective!

roommate!satoru who is obliviously catching feelings for you. he doesn’t know what to do, but he doesn’t want to do anything. so it is what it is, he belongs to you now.

[y2kuromi]

❛ 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗦, 𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗦 ! 呪術廻戦

featuring. gojo, nanami, megumi, yuuji, yuuta, inumaki, maki, shoko,

synopsis. kisses convey what words can’t. some say i love you, some say i missed you, some say goodbye, and some say stay.

✦ contents: sfw! mostly fluff & angst if you squint, a few are slightly suggestive. all est rel to an extent. cw: shotgunning in shoko’s. finally getting this out of my drafts after a year yayyy! first time writing for some of these characters bear with me ;-;

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 ˖ ࣪ . ࿐

satoru kisses you like it’s second nature, like breathing, like blinking, like reaching for you is something innate in his bones.

he presses a kiss to your cheek first, before his lips ghost across your skin. there’s barely any light in your shared bedroom, just the mellow glow of the bedside lamp and moonlight slipping through your window.

his shirt is wrinkled and half buttoned. hair a ruffled mess. he hasn’t even bothered to take off his blindfold, it’s pushed up and rests on his forehead. his blue eyes are heavy and fixed on you like you’re the only thing holding him together

you can tell his work trip was bad by the way he walked in, saying nothing at all. no jokes, no flirty comments, no rambling. he just sank into your bed beside you and pulled you into his arms instinctively.

( like holding onto you was the only way he knew how to breathe again )

his fingers trail along your jaw, featherlight, and then he kisses you. slowly and languidly at first. like he’s holding himself back because he’s afraid of being too much. he sighs into your lips contently. this is the first time he’s allowed himself to be soft all week

you don’t say anything, not yet, reaching up to touch his face, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. he leans further into your touch, eyes fluttering shut like your hand alone undid everything he’d been carrying his entire life

the kiss deepens, growing clumsier with each passing second. his lips part against yours, tongue gliding over your bottom lip. a soft whimper escapes his throat as your fingers slip into his ivory hair. his body shifts over yours, pressing you gently into the mattress. the kiss doesn’t break, it changes. becoming needier, more desperate, more his

he kisses you like he needs to. he pulls away — barely — lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, “i don’t know what i’d do without you”

you blink up at him, heart thudding erratically in your chest. his voice cracks around the edges as he continues, “you’re all i want” his forehead rests against yours and he’s still breathing hard. like it’s taking everything he has left to talk instead of kissing you,

“i love you” you whisper, because it’s the only thing that fits, because it’s the only thing that matters. it’s so tender, so heartfelt. it breaks something inside him. it completely ruins him

he kisses you again, even clumsier than before, his teeth graze your lip, then his mouth trails south. towards your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. you feel the aching noises he makes vibrate against your skin as his lips find your shoulder. each kiss is delicate, almost too light to feel, yet they set your nerves on fire

his hand slips beneath your shirt, his shirt, palm warm and open against your back. he holds you like he’s trying to protect you from something, from himself, like he’s mentally still halfway between his mission and the sanctuary of your arms

“you’re tired” you say softly, your hand finds his face again. you take in the bags beneath his eyes and the paler than usual hue of his skin, “i’m not going anywhere toru”

“don’t wanna sleep yet” he says, voice barely holding itself together. his lips find yours again, softer this time, slower, “stay awake with me” the vulnerability evident in his eyes weakens your resolve almost immediately. you swallow the ache in your throat and kiss him

you kiss him like the world isn’t crumbling outside the solace of this bed. he kisses you like he’ll never grow tired of you — of the way you feel in his arms, of the way your lips feel against his, of the way your love feels.

his lips find your shoulder again. you feel him groan quietly, more shaky breathing than sounds, like your presence alone is simultaneously pulling the pieces of him together and tearing them apart

you lose count of how many kisses he litters on your skin. they blur into one another, frail, desperate things that say the words lodged in his throat. they say everything he can’t

when he finally settles, face buried in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, tangled in the sheets. he breathes, for the first time in a week, like it doesn’t hurt. his body melts into yours , what’s left of the tension within ebbing into nothing as you card your fingers slowly through his damp hair. your other hand smooths gentle patterns on his back

the only sound in the room is the quickened hush of your breathing. satoru is so quiet, so still, for so long you think he might have fallen asleep until he speaks up again, voice barely audible

“i’ve seen everything, all the good, all the evil” his words vibrates against your skin and you shiver ever so slightly, “every inch of this cursed world, you’re the most beautiful soul i’ve ever seen”

and when sleep finally pulls him under, he’s still wrapped around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. in your arms he doesn’t feel like the honored one, or the strongest sorcerer.

he’s just a man in love.

𝗞𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜 ˖ ࣪ . ࿐

nanami leaves for shibuya in fourteen minutes. the clock ticks behind him like it knows, like it’s counting too. your husband is usually a stickler for being punctual but he hasn’t picked up his briefcase yet. his jacket is slung over a chair and his tie hangs loose around his neck, as if he doesn’t have the strength to tighten it

he sits across from you at the kitchen table, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, chopsticks still in hand. but he’s not really eating. neither are you.

there’s a stillness between you. heavy and suffocating.

“i should go” he says softly, but he doesn’t make any attempts to leave. you shakily pour him another glass of wine even though you know he won’t be able to drink it

he watches you with something so tender it makes your throat close up — constricted by something akin to grief, as if he’s already gone.

“you’ll be late” you murmur, eyes fixed to the table. you can’t bring yourself to look at him. maybe if you don’t he wouldn’t leave. the lingering silence stretches thin and taut, threatening to snap.

“i know” he says eventually, and it’s more apologetic than anything. like he’s sorry for coming into your life when he knew he’d have to leave eventually. like he’s sorry for everything

you clench your fists in your lap to keep yourself from reaching out to him. because if you did, if you touched him now, you wouldn’t be able to let go

“you haven’t even finished your food” you frown. it falls flat, it’s such an inconsequential thing to say but it’s all you can muster. the important words are too painful, too dangerous. broken shards that would cut your tongue if spoken.

seven minutes.

“sweetheart” nanami says, it’s barely a whisper and his voice breaks just a little. his heart constricts as he watches your eyes flutter shut, like the sound of his voice hurts.

he pushes his chair back abruptly. its legs scrape against the kitchen tile, sharp and jarring. he crosses the room, slow and deliberate, before sinking to his knees in front of you.

he cups your face in his hands —thumbs stroking the curve of your cheek, soft gaze lingering on your skin — and kisses you like it’s the first time. like he’s memorizing your lips, the way you taste, and the way you lean into him. like if he does it right it’ll last him through the foreseeable hell awaiting him

you stay pressed together for too long, long enough to realize that this might truly be the last time. you kiss back harder, fingers carding through his soft blond hair, pulling him impossibly closer

“i don’t want you to go” you whisper against his lips. your eyes are brimming with tears and nanami feels his heart break all over again.

“i know” he rests his forehead against yours. “i wish i didn’t have to”

“you always have to” you cry, his breath stutters against your lips. you shiver ever so slightly as he presses another kiss to your mouth. this one quieter, final

“i’ll always come back to you, my love” he breathed, “you’re my home, after all.” it’s a beautiful lie. part of you knows this might be the last time you get to hold him like this.

you kiss him harder, a feeble attempt to etch yourself into his skin. as if pressing hard enough will make him remember you even if he slips away. when you finally pull back, breathless and trembling, his eyes are clamped shut.

“i have to go” he whispers. you nod, but you don’t let go, you don’t move. there’s a pause full of all the things you’ll never have time to say and then your voice breaks through it

“i love you kento” it’s not soft or careful, it’s raw. his eyes open and the tender, wrecked look in them completely undoes you

“i love you” nanami presses gentle kisses to your temple. then he stands, slowly. it takes everything in him to pull away from you. he picks up his jacket, knots his tie, and grabs his briefcase with shaky hands. he places one last lingering kiss on your lips — slow and bruising, and full of everything he hasn’t said. and then he leaves.

you don’t say goodbye. you never do. a part of you thinks you should have this time.

you let out a heart-wrenching sob as the door clicks shut behind him. it’s quiet after. so quiet it makes your ears ring. you stare at the door as if he’d come back —tie crooked, eyes tired and soft, jacket forgotten — if you stared long enough

but he doesn’t. the wine glass remains full, dinner sits untouched. his chair stays pushed back like he meant to return to it. to you. you cross the kitchen in a daze and sit in the vacated chair. it’s still warm. you press the heels of your palms to your eyes and cry. maybe the universe would change its mind if you cried hard enough, loud enough.

you don’t know how long you sit there, crying until your heart is hollow and your bones have become settled in lonely silence. waiting. because it’s all that’s left for you to do. you wait. but he never returns.

𝗠𝗘𝗚𝗨𝗠𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢 ˖ ࣪ . ࿐

megumi falls in love with you so slowly, he almost misses it. you’re laying on your side next to him — moonlight curling around your shoulder, casting silver across your warm skin

his comforter is crumpled around your waist, one of your hands is tucked beneath your face and the other rests in the space between you. he’s staring at you, green eyes transfixed by your peaceful figure. he shouldn’t be. he was supposed to be sleeping

but his eyes couldn’t stop tracing over you. because he knows the things you love can be gone in an instant. and you are someone he doesn’t want to lose. he watches the soft rise and fall of your chest and the way your fingers twitch subconsciously. you breathe and his entire world is full of you.

he leans in slowly, like the moment might shatter if he isn’t careful. he musters up the confidence to let his fingers brush against you. breath hitching when your eyes flutter open. there’s no traces of annoyance or confusion in them when they meet his. only warmth

“can’t sleep?” you ask softly. your voice is laced with sleep but there’s tenderness in it — the kind you reserve solely for him. the kind that makes his heart ache

he hesitates, fingers still resting slightly against yours. “didn’t mean to wake you”

“you didn’t” you smile, shifting to close the gap between you. your leg brushes against his beneath the sheets. “were you staring?”

a faint flush rises to his cheeks. caught red-handed. he’s embarrassed but he doesn’t look away, “sorry”

you shake your head, a lazy movement against your pillow. “don’t be” you say, threading your fingers through his in the dark. “i like it when you look at me”

when megumi kisses you it’s hesitant, not because he doesn’t want to. but because he feels too much for you. and megumi fushiguro didn’t do feelings in excess. it was reckless and stupid. but this? you? you were the exception. he couldn’t imagine this with anybody else

he couldn’t imagine sharing his umbrella, shoulder tilted so you wouldn’t get caught by a drop of rain even if his sleeves got soaked, with anyone else

he couldn’t imagine reaching for anyone else’s hand in a crowd, couldn’t imagine anyone else saying his name in that soft voice that made his brain short-circuit. he couldn’t imagine anyone else seeing him this unguarded, this soft, this vulnerable. it would only ever be you.

your lips part instinctively and his hand cups your jaw, steady and solid. the kiss deepens and softens simultaneously. you breathe each other in as if the night will end too soon. you dread leaving his warm bed to trudge back to yours before the sun rises. your fingers curl into the fabric of his smashing pumpkins shirt. holding on like you’re scared he might disappear if you let go

but he’s right there, tethered to you, grounded by the warmth of your skin and the quiet tremble of your lips against his. he kisses you like you’re fragile, not because he believes you are, but because he is.

because loving you feels like standing over the edge of something beautiful and terrifying. he kisses you slowly, languidly. trying to feel, trying to just stay in the moment.

you made it hard to pretend he didn’t want this, to pretend he didn’t need you. you made him soften completely. he finally pulls away, forehead pressed gently to yours. neither of you speak, because there’s little left to say. because the kiss said it all

before you, megumi wasn’t sure what love was. he thought it was solely about loyalty and sacrifices. you made him believe that love could be easy, not easy in the sense that everything was effortless, but in the way that made all the effort worth it.

( you made him believe that love could be as simple as the way your eyes lit up when he remembered something small, the way your laughter softened him in ways he didn’t know were possible. the way he wanted to stay and try even if it scared him to death )

love is the quiet, certain feeling between you that settled in his chest and refused to leave. he didn’t want it to. he blinks slowly, taking in your beauty. sleep tugs at the corner of your eyes and your lips are slightly swollen from his kisses

“i think i. . .” he trails off, voice barely a whisper. he doesn’t think. he knows. he knows he loves you. although he wasn’t quite brave enough to say it

you look at him, you really look at him, in a way no one ever has before. “me too”

his fingers squeeze yours gently. he doesn’t say ‘i’m sorry’. ‘he doesn’t say i’m scared’. he doesn’t say anything. he just stays there with you, lips brushing against yours again, holding on to you because you’re all that matters.

he presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead, pulling you into his chest, arms folding around you like muscle memory. you bury your face into him, letting your fingers find the steady beat of his heart. he breathes you in like you’re oxygen, like you’re the only thing he’s ever known

your limbs tangle in the dark and moonlight slips through the curtains once more. in your embrace there are no curses, just love.

𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗝𝗜 𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗜 ˖ ࣪ . ࿐

yuuji kisses you like you’re the only reason he still believes in good things. there’s a movie playing on the common room television. something studio ghibli, ponyo? the wind rises? he isn’t quite sure. he can faintly hear the dialogue and soft music but he’s barely paying attention to the glowing screen.

he’s too focused on the way your head rests against his shoulder, the way your fingers brush against the loose threads on the cuff of his orange hoodie, the way your body leans into him, the way you slot perfectly into him as if you’ve always belonged in his arms

the light from from the tv paints your skin in flickers of blue and gold. he watches it gleam across your face and he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful

your eyes flick up to meet his soft brown eyes. they always gave away more than he’d ever let on. grief, hope, his unwavering heavy kindness, and now a tenderness that belonged solely to you

“what?” you ask, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. he blinks slowly, like he’s just waking up from a dream

“just . . . you” he murmurs. you roll your eyes, trying and failing to focus on the movie. it’s pointless. your heart’s already fluttering erratically, resolve melting under the warmth he gazes at you with. like you’d hung all the stars. like he can’t believe you’re real

his free hand rests on your thigh casually, thumb moving in slow circles against your skin. you shift a little, nestling closer to him, cheek pressed to his chest where the steady beat of his heart heals something inside you.

neither of you speak, not for a while. and there’s a sacred stillness to the silence. it’s not heavy or awkward, it’s full of things you don’t need to say because you already understand them. there’s nothing to prove. not when it’s just you, and yuuji, and the quiet space in the crook of each other’s arms

“what about me?” you murmur, his fingers pause where they’re stroking your leg. he breathes in like he’s bracing to say something embarrassing, something that’ll haunt him forever. then exhales and says it anyway

“the world kinda stops when i’m with you,” he admits sheepishly, “you just make everything lighter, it’s like . . . everything slows down and shit that usually feels too loud becomes quiet and i can just breathe”

his gaze is trained on the ceiling. you reach up and brush your thumb against his cheek. he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment

“there’s always something to fight, always someone to help, but you. . .” he finally glances down at you, and the softness in his eyes makes your breath hitch, “you feel like the only thing i don’t have to fight to keep”

“you’ll never have to fight for me, i’m already yours” you say quietly. he smiles. it’s soft, sleepy and painfully sincere. “come here”

you shift upwards, pressing your lips to his without hesitation and he leans in desperately. the kiss is slow, gentle, it’s so soft it’s almost a question. you answer with another. and another. hands slipping around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

he kisses you like it’s the only thing in the world that makes sense. like he needs you to fill the void because no one else can. he pulls you impossibly closer to keep you pressed into the center of his world. to hold him together

your lips trail over his, then to the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his scars. leaving behind warmth. you feel him smile as you kiss him again.

“you’re so pretty up close” he murmurs weakly when you pull away ever so slightly. his cheeks flush a subtle shade of pink and he presses another kiss to your lips — one that lingers long enough to say i love you, one that lingers long enough to say stay with me forever

and when he pulls away, foreheads resting together, your hands don’t leave him. one cradles his cheek, thumb brushing his soft skin, and the other rests on his chest, right over his heart.

“you make my world so much brighter” you whisper, “on the worst days, when everything feels heavy, you come in like sunshine and you make them better”

yuuji’s eyes flicker, wide and shining in the dim glow of the tv. he doesn’t try to brush it off as a joke like he usually would he just listens. he swallows hard, then pulls you into another kiss. one that says you matter to him more than anything

“you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me” and in the unguarded way he looks at you, like he’s offering you his entire heart. you know he means it

𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗧𝗔 𝗢𝗞𝗞𝗢𝗧𝗦𝗨 ˖ ࣪ . ࿐

yuuta’s been gone for so long, you would’ve forgotten what he sounded like if not for the breathless voice messages he’s sent you every night, whispering just enough so miguel wouldn’t hear his weakness

sometimes they were just a few seconds long, and sometimes they were lengthy. but they were always quiet. and you listened to them over and over again, savoring the sound of your name and ‘i miss you’s rolling off his tongue

now, standing at the edge of the train station with the static voice of the next train arrival and the chatter from the crowd churning around you, all you want to hear is his voice in person.

the anticipation thrumming in your heart has completely shattered the concept of time. you don’t know how long you’ve been waiting for, but you know you can’t wait a second longer. it had taken a painful amount of pleading to convince gojo-sensei to let you go alone. you’d fought tooth and nail because you needed this moment to be solely yours.

a small part of you thinks you could’ve used the moral support. because as soon as the train doors open and your eyes fall on him, your heart doesn’t just skip a beat. it’s like every second of waiting crashes into you all at once. you feel your knees buckling as you take hesitant steps toward him — as if your body is trying , and failing , to catch up with the feeling surging in your chest

( even with a crowd of people stepping off the train simultaneously, you recognized him instantly )

his hair is longer, a little messy, dark curls brushing his cheeks and the nape of his neck. he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. he looks older, more worn, more real. your heart aches with something akin to desperation. the kind that wants to smooth away the exhaustion beneath his eyes and ease the weight on his shoulders

( you want to wrap him up in all things safe and warm and never let him go again )

and then he sees you. you watch the the apathetic expression on his face unravel into something between disbelief and relief. he stills for a second — blue eyes slightly widening, lips parting like he’s about to say your name, but no sound comes

for a moment, he doesn’t move. he just looks at you, really looks at you, like you’re something he’s conjured up in his dreams and you’ll vanish if he so much as blinks. his chest rises and falls quickly, a part of him has forgotten how to breathe

you step forward at the same time he does, not walking, not running, just gravitating towards each other wordlessly because it’s the only thing you’ve wanted for months. your arms are around each other before you even realize it. fingers gripping his faded hoodie, bodies slotting perfectly together like they’d never been apart

( he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish, you hold him like you’ll never let go )

you feel him exhale into your shoulder shakily. he’s trembling, just a little. just enough to feel it in the way his arm fists gently at your back like he’s anchoring himself. you shift slightly to look at him, and he does the same

his forehead leans into yours, noses brushing softly against each other. his blue eyes are damp at the edges, lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks, lips parted like he’s still trying to find the right words to say

and that’s when you kiss him. soft, tentative, a question. his lips are warm and familiar but still somewhat uncertain — like he can’t believe this is really happening, like he’s scared to give in and wake up from this dream. but then he relaxes into your touch

his mouth moves in sync with yours, slow and unsure, like he’s letting you guide him, letting you remind him how to be held, how to be loved

when you start to pull away, his lips subconsciously chase after yours. like he can’t help it. like he’s not ready to let go yet. his forehead rests gently against yours once more. neither of you speaks, you’re both to breathless, too stuck in the moment

yuuta’s eyes are clamped shut, like if he opens them you’ll surely vanish. you feel him trembling against you again before he finally exhales and opens his eyes. you see them flicker over your face — soft, yearning, disbelieving

he looks like he wants to say something, like he wants to say everything. but all that spills out is “i missed you so, so much”

𝗧𝗢𝗚𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗜 ˖ ࣪ . ࿐

inumaki doesn’t say much, but the way he holds you tells you everything he’s too cautious to say aloud. it’s a slow evening, the kind where the sun streams through the window in lazy golden streaks, warming the floorboards, and softening everything it touches.

you’re curled in his lap, legs draped across his, and your head rests in the crook of his neck. the sound of frantic button smashing fills the room and you can faintly hear panda’s taunting voice coming through inumaki’s headset.

toge is locked in, brows furrowed, violet eyes glaring at the characters on the screen, the corner of his mouth twitching as panda dodges another one of his attacks. you’re not really watching the game, you’re watching him.

he looks good like this, bathed in the soft glow of the tv screen, eyes narrowed in concentration, platinum blonde hair slightly messy ( the way it always gets when he doesn’t bother taming it with gel )

“tuna tuna” he says smugly, your eyes flicker up to him, a smile tugging at your lips. you watched panda’s character, mileena, stagger on the screen, twitching uselessly as the ‘finish her’ prompt flashes in red letters.

toge doesn’t hesitate, deftly pressing a combination of buttons to use his favorite fatality. it’s muscle memory, he’s done this a million times before and it doesn’t fail to impress you each time

“what the hell?!!” panda groans through the headset, “do you know all the combinations by heart?!!

“salmon” he shrugs, completely unbothered by the unwavering string of insults that were now being hurled at him. he hands you his controller wordlessly. eyes meeting yours, soft and very amused.

you blink down at the controller before raising an eyebrow “you want me to play against panda?” he nods in response, “you’re setting me up for failure!”

“bonito flakes” he replies smoothly, as if disagreeing with your pessimism made things better. this was just another game to him.

“and what do i get if i win?” you ask coyly. he tilts his head slightly, considering your words as if they were actually a real question, as if he didn’t already know exactly where this was going

you don’t wait for an answer. instead you set the controller aside and shift in his lap until you’re completely facing him. he takes off his headset, slow and deliberate, as one of his arms curls around your waist

“tuna mayo?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper

“yeah, that’s what i want”

inumaki kisses you softly, lips moving lazily against yours like there’s no rush. like he could stay here forever, just breathing you in. his hand remains wrapped around your waist, while the other drifts up to cup your cheek — thumb brushing gently over your skin.

your hands slide up into his messy hair, and he tilts his head back ever so slightly, deepening the kiss just a little, just enough. his thumb stills on your cheek. his hold tightens and he sighs against your lips like you’re the only thing he knows

when he pulls away his violet eyes are so full of warmth it makes your heart ache. he says nothing, just presses his forehead to yours, lips still parted as if he might kiss you again any second

“you guys better not be making out again! i’m sick of third-wheeling” panda’s voice screeches from the discarded headset. you both break into quiet laughter that’s muffled by each other’s closeness

inumaki ignores panda’s exaggerated protests and kisses you again, slower this time, really savoring it. like he’s trying to make up for every moment he can’t say what he feels out loud, like he’s trying to make up for every moment he can’t love you the way he yearns to

𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗜 𝗭𝗘𝗡’𝗜𝗡 ˖ ࣪ . ࿐

maki’s eyes are trained on you. sharp, focused, too focused, like you’re the only opponent that’s ever mattered. you’ve sparred with her a hundred times before. same dojo. same polished wooden floor and soft mats beneath your feet. same hum of energy between your bodies

but today, something’s different. today she isn’t holding back. she isn’t softening her blows or helping you to your feet when she knocks you over. and it’s not because she wants to hurt you

it’s because she can’t let herself be controlled, be weakened, by how much she wants you. not when the cursed zen’in name still weighs heavily on her shoulders. not when you make her feel something so soft it hurts, not when you make her feel something she’s spent her entire life being punished for

affection. softness. love

you block another one of her charged blows. the impact has your forearms stinging as your back hits the dojo mat. you scramble upright breathlessly and she’s already circling you. amber eyes watching your body closely

“you’re distracted,” she says flatly, “or maybe you’re just off your game”

you swipe the sweat from your brow, chest rising and falling quickly, “maybe i’m off my game because you’re trying to kill me”

“if i wanted to kill you, you’d be dead” she scoffs. you flash her a teasing grin and for a second, just a second, she feels her composure crack. her chest tightens and her fingers twitch at her sides

that’s the part of you that terrifies her. not your cursed technique, not your cursed energy. it’s the way you make her want to let her guard down

she lunges at you again and you meet her halfway. hands fumbling, bodies tangling. you end up on the ground again, this time with her on top of you, one knee between your thighs, one arm pinning your wrists above your head.

your breath hitches in your throat. so does hers

“maki” you start, but she shakes her head fervently

“don’t” her voice is low and her words come out pained, “don’t say my name like that”

“like what?” your brows are furrowed, eyes heavy-lidded as they look into hers

“like you want me” she snaps. you’re both still breathing hard, the weight of her body presses into yours. her grip on your wrists is firm, but not too tight, you could throw her off if you wanted to. but you don’t. because contrary to her belief you do want her. here. just like this

“why do you keep doing this?” you ask, voice softer now, “you’re always pushing me away”

“because you make me feel weak” she’s glaring at you like she hates you, but her voice betrays her. it’s shaky and full of emotion, “i can’t afford to want you, so you shouldn’t want me either”

you study her face. it’s vulnerable, flushed, and frustrated in a way you’ve never seen before. she looks like every part of her wants to hate you. but she doesn’t. she can’t

“but i do want you” you say quietly, “i’ve liked you for ages”

“i know” she frowns, but she’s leaning in closer until your noses brush against each other. her amber eyes are fixed on yours, torn between restraint and her desire for you, “that’s the problem. you make me me feel things i shouldn’t”

your heart hammers in your chest as her lips brush against yours. when she kisses you it’s not gentle or sweet. it’s desperate. her lips crash into yours with all the pent-up emotions she’s tried so hard to bury.

you slip your wrists free from her grip, threading your fingers through her hair as you arch up into her. she tastes like surrender. like she’s spent every waking second of her life convincing herself that this was wrong and now that it’s happening she can’t stop

and she doesn’t want to. her hand cups the back of your neck, the other barely propping her up above your frame. she sighs into your mouth, soft pink lips parting as the kiss deepens

when she finally pulls away, her amber eyes are half-lidded and dazed. as if she’s just woken up from a dream she wasn’t supposed to have. “what are you doing to me?” she whispers, it sounds like it hurts. like loving you is something she’s been holding onto for too long.

“same thing you’re doing to me” you breathe, kissing her again, slow and sure. she flinches, barely, but you feel it. you feel her urge to push you away. but she doesn’t. instead, she leans into the kiss because no matter how dangerous it is. no matter how much it scares her. she knows this is real

because you kiss her like there’s no curse strong enough to undo this thing blooming in the space between you.

𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗞𝗢 𝗜𝗘𝗜𝗥𝗜 ˖ ࣪ . ࿐

shoko always has a distant look in her eyes when she smokes, like the present doesn’t exist and she’s somewhere else. somewhere quieter, lonelier.

it always makes your heart ache when she goes there, because in that place behind her eyes it doesn’t matter how close yeou sit to her, how softly you say her name. you can’t reach her. not really

tonight she been in that place from the second she stepped over the threshold of your apartment. she hasn’t said much in the past hours, just nodded when you offered her a drink, curled into your sofa, and lit cigarette after cigarette with trembling fingers

the warm orange glow of the lighter cast soft shadows over her face. she was ethereal, untouchable. so beautiful. and so, so far away.

she’s sad tonight. she doesn’t express it out loud, she doesn’t cry. you can feel it in the tired flick of ash from her cigarette, like she’s trying not to feel anything at all.

you sit beside her quietly, wringing your hands in your lap. you don’t touch her as much as you want to, not yet, you just sit close enough for her to know she isn’t alone.

after a long minute she says, “do you want to try?” her voice is soft, barely perceivable. she holds the cigarette between her fingers elegantly. her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks as she looks at you

“try?” you blink cautiously. shoko never asked you to smoke with her. never. not even as experimental teenagers

“smoking” she says, a ghost of a smile flickering at the corner of her lips. “you’re always looking at me like you’re curious”

you feel heat rise to your cheeks, “i mean . . . i kinda am” you shrug, “but i look at you like that because you’re so beautiful”

she smiles, but it faded as fast as it comes. her expression slips back into something unreadable. she leans in slowly, takes another drag, and gestures for you to come closer

you hesitate for a second, because the moment feels too delicate, like it might shatter completely if you move too quickly. you shift towards her slowly, her thigh is warm against yours. her fingers curl gently under your chin, tilting your face towards hers. her other hand. her other hand lifts the cigarette to her lips again.

she inhales slowly. then she leans forward, breath fragrant with smoke, and exhales into your parted mouth. it’s softer than you expect. the smoke curls between you, hazy and intimate. your lips brush against each other’s without fully kissing. you’re close, so close

her hand shifts from your chin to your cheek, thumb stroking your skin tenderly, “you okay?”

you nod, not trusting your voice. your eyes are locked on hers and they don’t look so distant now. they’re still sad and heavy, but they’re focus on you. only you. your lips part again. not for smoke this time. you kiss her

it starts off tentatively, her lipstick smudges against your skin, faint red stains marking where her lips have been. the kiss is full of everything she can’t bring herself to say out loud. her arm slides around your waist and her fingers press in gently. gently pressing patterns

you sigh against her lips, and she takes that as permission to kiss you deeper. the sadness doesn’t leave her, not completely, but it fades ever so slightly. your hand comes up to her jaw, thumb brushing against her mole

“you don’t have to pretend to be okay with me,” you whisper, “if today sucked, you can talk to me about it” shoko closes her eyes weakly. inhales. exhales

“i’m not doing great” she admits. you kiss her again, slow and tender. she leans into you like you’re the only thing that’s truly anchoring her. smoking doesn’t make her feel this good

“you don’t have to be” you say, resting your forehead against hers. her lipstick is smeared and there’s a softness to her now that she rarely lets anyone see. you sit like that for a long time tangled together in the quiet, soft hum of your apartment. with the soft burn of the cigarettes in the ashtray and the smoke lingering in the curling around you

shoko doesn’t need to go anywhere tonight. she doesn’t need to stare off into the distance. she just wants to be here. with you

© Y2KUROMI 2025. please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

[spear-of-moonlight]

DEADLINES AND CUDDLES | LEE FELIX

genre: fluff warnings: kissing? —w.c: 1.14k masterlist A/N: wrote this for my darling @enimsiyobeht

Your eyes reflected your laptop screen and exhaustion. The low hum of the air conditioner seemed to mirror the static in your head as your fingers flew across the keyboard, barely registering what you're typing. You were drowning - exams, papers, presentations, and an essay you've been procrastinating on because you couldn't string words together after your classes that drained all of your energy. You flipped through the pages of the heavy textbook resting open on your desk, trying to find the page a senior recommended as reference. A variety of other papers were scattered across your desk, held in place by your laptop and a mug with droplets of coffee drying on the inside. Your hair—messy from you running your hand through it as if you could clear your mind with your fingers—fell across your forehead.

You were hit with a random thought of food, like a pop-up message in your brain, making you realise you haven't eaten since lunch. Your stomach was filled with coffee and dread, but you kept typing. The essay was due in two days, and you have a full day of classes tomorrow. You tilted your head back with a groan, head falling backwards off the chair as you rubbed at your face with your ink-marked hands. When you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of your rumpled bedsheets and those soft, soft pillows. Even upside down, it looked as tempting as sin. But you know if you so much as laid down, your brain would shut off everything else and pull you into sleep. You sat up straight again, an ache in your back lingering from sitting for hours.

Soft footsteps made you turn your head. Felix stood in the doorway, concern etched across his features. He walked in, pointing at your laptop screen when he reached your desk. "Save." You opened your mouth to protest, but he cupped your face with his sweater paws, your sweater sleeves falling below his palms. "Sweetheart, listen to me. You need rest," he chided gently, leaning down to kiss your forehead as your hand reached out to click 'save' on your file and snap your laptop shut. You melted into his touch, leaning in like a flower to sunlight. You felt like one in his presence, like you'd bloom through the hardest concrete solely because of his light. You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his stomach. The sweater now had a mix of your scents—his white floral perfume he's been obsessing over lately, and the woodsy fragrance he got you for your birthday. "I'm so tired, Lix," you mumbled into the soft fabric.

"Who would've thought?" he joked, pulling back and cupping your face again, chuckling when he saw your pout. "What? Don't tell me I'm wrong." You wanted to flick that stupidly adorable nose, but his smile and those stars dusted across his cheeks disguised as freckles were enough to make your heart swell, worry seeping out.

"You know I have a lot to get done. And then there's the exams and—" you groaned, pulling him into your lap and burying your face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around your neck, legs on yours as he carded his fingers through your messy hair, smoothing them out. He was warm, even when the AC made the room frigid enough to hang meat.

"You can do it tomorrow. Or you can ask for an extension," he said firmly, burying his nose in your hair. It was all you needed at the moment. Him. Even when the books and papers lay on your cluttered desk as a reminder of your deadline, your sun shone bright enough to block out words. "When was the last time you ate, hm?" His question made you burrow into his chest as if you could hide from it. Your shoulders were pressed against the back of your chair by his hands as he forced you to meet his gaze. "You look like shit."

"Am I still handsome though, love?" you teased, a weak attempt to change the subject. He tsked affectionately and kissed your forehead again, thumbs kneading your knotted muscles. You sighed, and his lips found your nose next, travelling down and meeting your smiley lips. He kissed your cheeks next, making you giggle and pinch his side. "Yah—"

"Hm? Don't like my kisses?" he questioned with a pout, a fake one but cute as always. You feigned a glare, although your lips failed to cooperate as you leaning in and kissed him—soft, sweet, thankful, and so in love. Your hands slid under his shirt, his warm skin a stark contrast to your cold hands. He gasped at the sudden chill, kicking your calf under the table. You hummed, and he could feel your smirk against his collarbone, pressing a kiss so soft to his skin as if he were sugar that would melt from the warmth of your breath.

"You're bossy," you complained, your face still buried in the crook of his neck.

"I made grilled cheese." You looked up at him, smiling softly. Your arms squeezed his body, earning a giggle from him that made your chest warm and soft. You had each of his little laughs memorised—his sleepy giggles, his loud cackles, his soft little chuckles, the huff he'd let out when he doesn't want to admit your joke was good, and these soft giggles you got when you were affectionate.

You couldn't catch yourself be whipped, of course, so you quirked a brow, teasing, "I didn't smell fire, though?" The bite to your shoulder was worth it, in your very humble and correct opinion. He stood from your lap, grabbing your hands to haul you up with surprising strength. You grumbled, trying to be all annoyed even when the smile on your face was as traitorous as your dancing heart. You let him drag you to the kitchen, you let him sit you down on one of the chairs and you let him feed you the slightly burnt grilled cheese that was gourmet to you who hadn't eaten in hours.

Later, laying in bed with him wrapped around you like an octopus, you were already drifting off. Your eyelids drooped, and you pulled him closer, holding him tight in your arms. "You didn't answer my question, you know?"

He looked up from your chest, face puzzled adorably. "What question?"

"When I asked you if I was still handsome?" He blinked. Once again. A disbelieving chuckle left his lips.

"Really?"

"Mhm." What followed was a kiss, a beautiful smile against your lips, and a tighter hug.

"The most handsome."

"Why thank you, darling." You reached out and turned off the lamp.

"Night, sweetheart. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"Yeah, you already do enough biting."

divider: @enchanthings

[jupiter-letters]

Having thoughts about Husband!Art and his hands...

A/N: A little fic this weepy eyed blonde boy, I watched challengers yesterday and I'm obsessed.I need Art like carnally. People being hot in movies is so back dude. This was written with a fem!reader(afab, no other physical description will be written) in mind. This is my first attempt at smut so go easy on me I beg.🙏🏽

Word count: 1476

TW: Sexu*l content, f*ngering, reader just having a rough day in general.

divider cred || palestine links

One of the things that attracted you to your husband was his hands. The way his muscles in his hands tighten when he grips his racket, how he holds his coffee mug when takes a sip of coffee in the morning and the way they glide against your skin when you make love.

After having a difficult day he'd like to put those hands to use for you as he so often loves to do....

You walk into your home and make a beeline toward your bathroom, you need to get the grime of the day off you. You don't even notice Art on his laptop on the couch, he was about to greet you before he saw the look on your face. He just watches you kick off your shoes and drop your bag on the floor. You always greet him when you get home but he can tell it's been one of those days. He shuts his laptop off and the tv then makes his way to your bedroom. He spots your scattered clothes all over the floor and hears the roar of the bathtub's spout coming to life.

Art leans up against the door to hear what you might be doing, he hesitates before knocking on the door. "Baby?" The sound of running water stops and he hears a small tired voice answer, "Come in.." He opens the door to the sight of you naked and bare, head down in front of the mirror. He looks at you for a moment and turns his eyes to the floor as he shuts the bathroom door behind him. You turn your head toward him but avoid his eyes, he doesn't force you to meet his gaze.

  Art moves behind you in silence and touches your shoulders just to test the waters of how much you're willing to be touched at this moment. You accept it, not moving away but not leaning into it. He wraps his body around you and kisses your shoulders. He kisses up to the  back of your neck. "You wanna talk about it?", he asks as you take a moment to answer such a simple question. You just shake your head, still silent, you do turn around and look up at him. He looks into your eyes, a silent understanding takes over him. "Ok." He whispers, Art moves over to the bathtub and turns the knob back on. He goes to the sink cabinet and grabs some bubble bath. He pours some of the liquid in the water and glides in his hand in the water to make sure the temperature's perfect for you. Once the tub is full you step inside and breathe a sigh of relief. The sweet smell of the bubbles and the warm water expels the tension from your body. Art kneels next the tub, he crosses his arms over the rim and lays his head on his forearms. He gives you a small smile and you return it, you both gaze at each other in quiet admiration. Art takes a hand and caresses your knee with such tenderness, the feeling of his lithe fingers brings you such comfort.

 He moves his body forward and moves his hand further down your thigh looking at you for permission to keep going. You nod your head looking at him expectantly wondering what he was planning to do. Very slowly he slides his hand into the water in between your thighs, eyes laser focused on his own actions. You can feel him gently part your folds, using his index and middle finger to stroke your clit. He moves them slowly up and down, ghosting your entrance. Art looks back up at you when he hears you gasp quietly, he smiles again at the sound. “You want some more baby? Don’t worry I’ll give it to you, I’m gonna take care of you.” he purrs at you, but you won’t get what you want so quickly, he lives to tease you. He adds more pressure to your bud and rubs in more circular motions. Your breath quickens and you lull your head to the side pressing against the tub's rim. He stops for a moment just to move closer to your head so he can kiss your cheek and move onto your lips. You position your body closer to his head and crane your head to taste his lips more. Art continues stroking your clit, rubbing and pinching it between his fingers. He swallows every gasp, groan and whimper you make, stretching the muscles in his neck as far as he can to reach your mouth. The sensation of him touching you and the heat from the water has covered your body in a light sheen of moisture, everything about you is so wet and pliant. He finally feels that you’re ready to take his fingers, he stops kissing you. He wants to look in your eyes as he slides them, he wants to see your mouth part and hear a raspy moan slip from your lips. 

 There’s nothing Art loves more than the look of dazed bliss you get when he’s inside of your body. As he prods your entrance he watches you closely, “Sweetheart look at me…” ,he murmurs. You look up at him, hungry and waiting, the moment you do he slides his fingers eliciting a high pitched moan from you, mouthing widening in pleasure. He continues his slow pace, you can feel the metal of his wedding ring brush up against your lips as he pushes his fingers deeper. He leaves kisses all over your face before returning to your lips, smiling into the kiss. He opens his eyes for a moment to see your legs writhing and clenching around his hand when he curls his fingers every so slightly. The sight makes his arousal even stronger than before, a small wet spot makes its appearance in his sweatpants.  He wouldn’t even need to touch himself, the sight alone of you slowly reaching your peak is enough to make him cum all on his own. The tension in your core continues to build, Art notices you shuddering and finally lets you have what you want. He puts his fingers in as far as he can and makes a scissoring gesture along with curling them pressing into your g-spot at random. As he does this it becomes harder to focus on his mouth devouring you and mind begins to go blank. You grip your hands onto his forearm and shoulder to anchor yourself. He angles his head to kiss the underside of your jaw while he increases his pace. The water in the tub starts to move violently as your body shakes and your legs thrash. You make the attempt to kiss Art again but are overwhelmed by the sounds that escape your mouth, he lets you moan into his mouth keeping his eyes closed and savoring the sounds. One final beckon of his fingers sends you over the edge, tilting your head back, orgasm rippling throughout your body. Art nuzzles his nose against yours and presses his forehead to yours. 

It’s a full minute before he pulls his fingers out of you, when he does he drags his hand up and over your stomach. Between your breasts and glides up the side of your neck, he takes his thumb and caresses your lips before sliding them into his mouth. He smiles down at you and giggles. You laugh with him, “What?” you ask curiously. “I was supposed to help you get clean, not sweaty,” he says with a grin. You laugh again at his statement, “Well…it doesn’t matter, I do feel better now.” He smiles and kisses your forehead, he moves over to the towel holder on the wall and grabs one for you. You wipe some of the suds off you before you stand to be embraced by him with the towel. While he holds you, you notice he’s still hard. You look at him surprised, “You want me to take care of that?” He looks down as if he forgot too. “Oh! No baby it’s ok, I wanted this to be all about you, don’t worry about me.” he tells you softly. His statement makes you soften even more, you step out of the tub next to him. You take the towel from him and wrap it around yourself. “Thank you Art, I mean it. I really needed that.” You take his face into your hand and kiss his lips. “Of course, these hands aren’t just good at tennis y’know. You can use them anytime you want.” he replies smugly. You jokingly push his face away and make your way out of the bathroom looking back at him with a smile. He follows close behind and shuts the door behind him.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff. ♡

[ceruark]

you can’t wear low-cut shirts, can’t flaunt your neck and collarbones around bachira, kaiser, or reo. unless you want to get jumped

[angelackless]

LOVER

Joaquin Torres x Stark!reader

"YOU KNOW WHAT,SAM?I CHANGED MY MIND" JOAQUIN STOPPED IN FRONT OF THE TOWER.

"what do you mean you changed your mind?I got you a date with the girl you wouldn't shut up about for months now" Sam stopped to look at him "you can't do this man, she was so excited!"

"she was?" Joaquin asked, his voice filled with hope

"she was, when I told her about you she really seemed interested, and if you bolt right now, Stark gonna beat my ass and then yours when he finds you, and you don't want that,right?"

"I guess no" he shaked his head "alright, i'm just gonna give her this flowers, say she looks pretty and have a fun night with her" Joaquin said, mainly to reassure himself "Yeah, I can do it"

"yes,you can, now get inside pretty boy because I don't want (y/n) to think I pranked her again"

"wait,again?" Joaquin asked as he followed Sam inside the huge tower.

As they arrived at the level where the living room was, he immadetly saw (y/n), and Joaquin felt like he is gonna faint right there, he saw and was with some beautiful woman in his life but, you?hell, he thought he saw a freaking goddess, how the dress that you picked hugged all your curves in all the right places,yeah, he wasn't sure he can keep his hands to himself.I mean, come on, everyone thought (y/n) Stark is gorgeous, and he sure as hell didn't felt ashamed anymore for begging Sam an entire month to set this up.

"Hi, you're Joaquin, right?" you stepped closer to the boy with a kind smile "Sam told me a lot about you"

"only good things I hope" he glanced at Sam for a minute

"just good things" you answered giggling and he had to stop himself from the huge grin that just wanted to appear on his face "really, don't worry, I trust Sam, I know he wouldn't set me up with a bad guy"

"Yeah,yeah, cause i'm not bad, i'm a great great guy" he nodded his head "uhm...you look beautiful by the way, and I got you tulips"

"it's my favorite, thank you" you said as you took the bouquet from him "how did you know?"

"I know a lot of-" then he felt a sharp pain in his side, which was because of Sam elbowing him there "I mean, I asked Sam,yeah, I asked him"

"how about you two get going?the restaurant is not gonna wait for you two all night" Sam interrupted

"Yeah, let's go" Joaquin said and glanced at you "ladies first"

After a thirty minute drive you two arrived at the restaurant, it wasn't that popular nor fancy, which meant the paparazzi wouldn't take pictures of you and your dad, who is on a vacation, won't find out about your date through the internet.

After the waiter led you two to your table, and even got your orders there were a few moment of very very awkward silence, which he decided to break "Sam said that you're in university, what are you studying?"

"Stem" you answered smiling "which is not as cool as your job"

"what?no, don't say that" he shaked his head "I would die in your place, you're much more cooler than me"

"because i'm Tony Stark's daughter?"

"no, because you're you" he answered "you're smart,pretty,you always stand up for what is right,did I mentioned that you're smart? because I think you're incredibly smart" at his words a faint blush appeared on your face accompanied with a giggle

"you barely know me"

"Yeah,well I'm serious about what I said still, besides, I like you"

"you know, I think I like you too, maybe it's weird because we just met, but I feel like i've known you for twenty years" you looked straight into his eyes

"which means I can take you out again?"

"Yeah, you can take me out again" you nodded "but we will go to my place and I cook for us then"

"sounds like a plan" Joaquin winked at you.

[zznblr]

I’ve got a request, telling Yeonjun how handsome he is.

His lips, his smile, his face, his body, sigh……

[9:35pm] 𐙚 c.yj

ʚ♡⃛ɞ request | there's nothing you love more than making out with yeonjun ୨୧ yeonjun x fem!reader • suggestive • established relationship • 839 words reblogs n comments appreciated :)

in your eyes, yeonjun is always prettier when you haven’t seen him in a while. and yes, some might argue that a week isn’t that long but it truly does feel like forever to you when it comes to your boyfriend.

you’re standing giddily outside his front door, waiting, your hands stuffed in your coat pockets to stop yourself from pressing on his doorbell like a freak.

when he finally opens the door, you pounce on him, nearly knocking him over. you smother his face with kisses, eliciting a chuckle from him. “i missed you too,” he kisses you slowly and softly.

yeonjun pulls you inside, protecting you from the cold january air. he takes off your coat and your hat, hanging them on the coat rack by the door. he guides you towards the living room, where he as a whole spread of your favorite snacks laid out for your movie night. he turns off the overhead light while you make your way to the couch. when yeonjun returns to you, you scooch closer to him, to the point where you are practically sitting on him with how close your bodies are. if it was even possible, he pulls you closer to him and drapes a blanket over your bodies before pressing play on the movie.

you are barely paying attention to the film. you’ve seen it a million and ten times; you could quote every line in it. and besides, you had something far more interesting to look at. your eyes are glued onto yeonjun’s face. you eye him intently, taking in every part of him – the movie flaring on the lens of his thin frame glasses; the way his nose crinkles and his brows furrow every time there is something slightly repulsive on the screen; his pink lips falling back into their resting pout afterwards.

“are you going to keep staring at me, or are you actually going to watch the movie?” yeonjun pulls you out of your trance, not even taking his eyes off the screen.

“i’ve seen it before.” you reply, offhandedly.

he finally turns to face you. “but, you picked this movie.” he sighs, reaching over for the remote control on the coffee table. he pauses the film. “we can watch something else if you—” he stops mid sentence as you climb onto his lap, straddling him. “w-what are you doing?”

“you’re so pretty, you know?” you reach up to cup his face with both your hands. your thumb brushes over the plump skin of his cheeks. “so so pretty,” you continue; it’s almost like you are in a daze.

“thank you,” yeonjun chuckles. he wraps his arms around your waist as you settle in place.

you pull his face closer to yours, so that your foreheads meet. yeonjun cautiously closes the tiny gap between the two of you as he draws in for a kiss. his fingertips softly brush against your back. you run your tongue along his bottom lip and you can taste the butter from the popcorn that he was eating earlier. yeonjun’s lips part and you slip your tongue into his mouth.

your better senses are being slowly but surely defeated as you succumb to the sweetness of the kiss. yeonjun pulls back for just a short moment to catch his breath, and you can’t help but let out a whine of displeasure. you quickly close the distance between the two of you that he had so cruelly created.

your lips meet his once more while you pull yourself tighter against him. yeonjun’s hands trail down your back, slipping underneath your t-shirt. he tightens his grip on you, his nails sinking into your skin.

if you could, your lips would be attached to yeonjun’s for the rest of your life. you find it to be some sort of cosmic injustice that you can’t live off of him because by the way you are devouring his face, he seems like the only adequate source of sustenance for you. and even sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough. no matter how much he gives you, you always want more – more love, more closeness, more yeonjun. 

you are completely and absolutely obsessed with the way he kisses you. it’s filled with passion and lust and affection and gentleness and love.

love.

so much love. the same way you are captivated by yeonjun and his taste and his touch and his presence, he too is enamored by you and you can tell by the way he holds you closer to him and caresses you softly. you can tell by the way he is the person that could ever make you feel like your body is on fire. he knows every part of your body like he was the one who designed it. he knows just what to do and where to touch to make you lose your mind.

at last, you pull away from the kiss, your lips still touching. “god, i love you.” your breath ghosts against yeonjun’s lips.

“i love you too.”

[shiny-jr]

from POMEFIORE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.

Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore   |   Scarabia

Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.

It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.

To my darling player,

I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.

All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.

I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.

I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.

The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.

I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?

I would kneel down to no one else.

There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?

Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.

Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.

If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.

I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...

I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.

Yours,

Vil Schoenheit

The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.

They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.

"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.

But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.

For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."

"Boring, huh?"

Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.

Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.

Trickster,

It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.

To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...

I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.

I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.

Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.

Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.

I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.

But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.

So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.

Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.

My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.

My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.

Should you need me, I will be there.

Yours,

Rook Hunt

There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.

Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.

In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.

And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.

Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.

"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!" Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.

"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.

In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.

Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.

The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?

Dear Player,

If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.

Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.

The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.

Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.

Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.

Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.

I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.

If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?

Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.

Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.

I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.

This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.

All you gotta do is talk to me.

Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,

Epel Felmier

[hischiershoe]

“platonic sleepovers that somehow ends up with you waking up with their arms around you” & “sharing each other’s clothes (especially hoodies)” with nico <33

this was a teensy bit longer (1.9k words) than I meant but I hope you like it!

You'd known Nico for a few years, having met through a mutual friend back when you first moved to Jersey. The two of you hit it off so well that first meeting, that you ended up seeing him the following afternoon for lunch. From then on, he was one of your closest friends and someone you could always count on no matter what was going on. He was also someone you developed a not so tiny crush on, but of course, he didn't know that, and he never would.

More often than not, you'd find yourself at Nico's apartment when your schedule aligned with his, and tonight was no different. He had called you in the morning, asking you the same thing he always did before he was inviting you over in the evening for a small hangout with him and a few of his teammates. When you got off the phone with him, you'd spent the rest of your day thinking about him, which wasn't all that out of the ordinary anyway. He was always on your mind.

By the time you got to his place, your thoughts had slowed down enough that you were able to box your feelings up under lock and key and just be normal. Though, if you were being honest, you weren't entirely sure you were all that convincing based on the knowing looks from Nola or the subtle comments from Timo. Despite that, you just hoped that Nico was oblivious to their teasing and didn't suspect a thing.

"It's really coming down out there," Nico calls out to no one in particular as he stands by the window, "I don't think you guys should drive home in this."

"I don't think so either," Jonas agrees, moving from his spot on the couch to stand next to him, "It's supposed to get worse the next couple of hours."

You exchange glances with the girl to your left, and she was sporting the most smug smirk you had ever seen on anyone before. Your eyes widened in her direction, your face warming at her silent implication before you tore your eyes from her and stared at the ground. Usually, if you were going to sleep at Nico’s, you would take over the guest bedroom, but you couldn't exactly do that if Nola and Jonas had to stay over.

"You guys can stay here," Nico firmly states, looking over his shoulder to look at you, "You two can have the guest bed."

"I'll sleep on the couch," Timo chimes in, pressing his body further into the cushions.

"Timo, you live in this building," You point out, playfully raising your eyebrows at him, "You can just go back home. Besides, I'm taking the couch."

"No, you're not," Nico rushes out embarrassingly fast, earning the attention of everyone in the room. He clears his throat, avoiding the mischievous looks in his friend's eyes before he continues, "I can sleep on the couch. You can take my bed."

You quickly shake your head, rising to your feet and taking a few steps towards him as the others fade into the background, "I'm not taking your bed. I can sleep on the couch. I've done it before, it's pretty comfortable."

Neither of you hear Timo slip out the front door, or the couple tiptoe down the hall as the two of you bicker with each other about your sleeping arrangement. Nico isn't taking no for an answer, and neither are you, but eventually, the two of you settle on sharing Nico's bed. As friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. Friends share beds all the time, right?

As you follow Nico towards his room, you can barely hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding in your chest. This was new territory for you. You knew this didn't mean anything to him, that he was just being the amazing friend that he is, but it made your entire world spin.

You'd been in Nico's room before, plenty of times, but it was always under far different circumstances. You stood near the end of the bed, watching as he shuffled the pillows around and adjusted the blanket so it was spread out evenly. It was impossible not to watch the way his biceps flexed with each movement, making your cheeks grow warm and your palms sweaty as you tried to shake away the images that flashed in your mind. You shouldn't be thinking that way about him, especially not right before the two of you sleep in the same bed.

When he was finished moving everything around, he shifted his focus to you, and he could see the apprehension clearly written on your face. He could see it in the way you furrowed your brows, in the way you were chewing at your lip, and in the way you were fiddling with your fingers. He couldn't help but think you only agreed to share his bed because you felt like you had to, and it made a small piece of his heart crack because he wanted to. He wanted to be close to you.

"Do you want to borrow a hoodie? I know you get cold in your sleep," He gently suggests as he carefully approaches you, his dark eyes shining even in the dimly lit bedroom.

"I do," You meekly murmur, holding his gaze for no longer than a second.

You hear him pad towards his dresser and pull open one of the drawers, but you don't move. You stay planted in your spot, unsure if you were supposed to take your side of the bed or wait for him to go first. It was silly; How nervous you were over something as simple as getting into a bed. But with Nico, everything was so much more than it seemed. At least for you it was.

"Here, you can wear this one," He called out from beside you, gingerly handing you the hoodie you always jokingly said you were going to steal one day, "I don't expect to see it again, though."

The light airiness to his tone made you relax as you playfully smack his chest before grasping at the fabric in his hand. His fingers brush against your own, sending a wave of electricity across every inch of your skin. You attempt to cover up your bashful reaction by promptly throwing the hoodie on and hurrying over to the nightstand to plug your phone in. The last thing you wanted was for you veil of normalcy to call and for him to see just the effect he had on you.

"Hey," Nico nervously calls out your name, forcing your attention back to him. He was hovering on the other side of the mattress, one of his hands nervously rubbing at the nape of his neck, "I think I'm going to go ahead and sleep on the couch, so you can have your space."

"No," You protest a bit too loudly, and you suddenly remember the couple across the hall from you. You know Nola’s going to tease you to no end when she finds out about this, "I told you, you're not sleeping on the couch in your home. If this makes you more uncomfortable, I'll go out there an-"

"It's not that," He swiftly interrupts, wanting nothing more than to reach over his bed and pull you into his chest, but he doesn't, "I only want you to be comfortable."

"I am," You affirm through a shaky breath, not able to break away from his piercing gaze, "I promise, I am."

"Good," He delicately breathes out, "Let's sleep then."

You slip underneath the blanket, making sure that you leave enough space between the two of you so you don't accidentally brush against him. As you're shifting in an attempt to get comfortable, Nico switches the lamp off and you welcome the darkness that envelopes you. Now, Nico won't be able to see how nauseatingly nervous you are, and you won't be distracted by his arms or the dimples that indented his cheeks.

Once you finally settle yourself in a way you like, you try and will yourself to sleep by squeezing your eyes shut, but the soft sounds of his breathing makes it hard. It makes you hyper aware that the very guy you’d practically fallen in love with was less than two feet away and under the same blanket as you. It makes it almost impossible to calm your mind, to let your brain relax enough so that you can sleep.

“Goodnight,” Nico softly mumbles, and you feel the tips of his fingers brush against your hip, but the touch was gone almost as soon as it came.

“Goodnight, Nico.”

When you wake up the next morning, you instantly pick up on the slightly uncomfortable feeling of an arm under your head, and the weight of another on your waist, keeping you pressed against the chest of the man who was just occupying your dreams. Your legs were tangled with Nico’s in a way that made it hard to tell where your body ended and his began. You weren’t entirely sure when the two of you ended up in this position, but you weren’t necessarily going to complain either. However, you knew if you stayed like this for too long, you’d let yourself grow hopeful for something that was never there.

“Nico, wake up,” You carefully nudge him, slightly wriggling under his hold, “Wake up.”

You feel him stir behind you before his fingers sre slightly pressing into your hip, his hold on you tightening as he mumbles, “Stop moving like that.”

If you thought you were flustered before, it was absolutely nothing compared to how you were feeling now. Your entire body heated up in embarrassment as a slew of apologies tumbled from your mouth, but Nico doesn’t let up his grip enough to let you move. He keeps you slotted against him, his breath fanning against your ear as your shudder under his touch.

“Nico” You swallow thickly, “What are you doing?”

“Holding you,” He plainly states, “While I can.”

There goes that flame of hope flickering again, but this time he’s fanning it on his own.

“What do you mean,” You hesitantly ask, eyes fluttering closed as you slowly let yourself back into the moment.

“Before we’re just friends again.”

“Why do you so sound disappointed,” You test, your hand subconsciously grasping at his arm to keep yourself grounded.

“Because I want to be more,” He shakily admits as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, worried that he just ruined the best thing he’d ever had, but there was no going back now.

The flame was a full blown fire now and it was burning so brightly that it was almost blinding. The last thing you expected was to wake up in Nico’s arms, let alone him telling you that he wanted to be more than friends. It was overwhelming, dizzying, in all the best ways.

“Do you really,” You weakly whisper, slowly turning around that so you were facing him.

His eyes were still hooded from sleep, but they were still dancing across your face like he was trying to commit it to memory. He gently brings his hand up to your face, pushing away the strands of hair that had fallen in your eyes before he cradled your jaw in his palm. The pad of thumb caresses the apex of your cheek as you peer up at him, gaze wide and pliant, waiting for him to say something.

“I do,” He reassures, the corners of his mouth twitching as he carefully brushes his finger over your lips, “I want to be as much as you’ll let me be.”

“I want you to be everything.”

[tomasweetheart]

“Oh, you are nasty,” Iwaizumi almost seethes, his eyes following the condensation on the plastic bottle while it drips down the side, “grape flavored water?!”

His words catch you off guard, lowering the bottle with a confused look on your face before your eyebrows furrow together more, “Yes, Hajime, grape flavored water,” you respond with an eye roll, “is there a problem with me hydrating myself after our run?”

“You know there’s perfectly good, normal water in the fridge too, right?” he scoffs, he’s still in disbelief. And it’s not because you’re drinking flavored water, more so because of the flavor of water you chose.

Oh. Now you get it.

“I’m aware of that yes,” you hum, a shit eating grin beginning to form on your face, “but I’m also aware that there’s a whole pack of flavored waters that will be left untouched if I do not drink them, because you can’t help a good deal at the grocery store.”

“I would drink them if they were any other flavor!” he protested quickly with a slight pout of his own.

“Oh, you are such a liar,” you rebuttal quickly, “name one flavor you enjoy, because I can name about six right now that you don’t.” 

“I like…” he thinks for a moment, sucking on his teeth while he roams his brain for an answer, “...I, uh…blue raspberry."

You two have had this argument over and over again. Ever since you were teenagers, Iwaizumi has had a certain distaste for actual fruit flavored things. You’d think an athlete would actually prefer the artificial flavors that at least taste like healthy food, but no.

“Not a water flavor,” you hum cockily, crossing your arms over your chest, “and blue raspberry is nastier than grape by a mile.”

“You are a sick, twisted individual,” he scoffs, waving his finger at you in playful disappointment, “I am ashamed of myself for letting you get into my pants, let alone my heart for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh hush,” you hum amusedly, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck to pull his body flush against yours, “you said for better or for worse.”

“Mm, I also said in sickness and in health,” he responds with his own hum, his arms wrapping around your waist on instinct, “and you are definitely sick in the head for liking flavored water.”

His nose brushes against your own softly for a moment before he connects your lips with his in a tender kiss. A soft groan leaves his throat, unable to stop himself from running his hands along your sides as he deepens the kiss. Before he pulls away with an absolutely disgusted look on his face.

“What…?” you ask innocently through bated breath, with a soft giggle and smile.

“...You taste like grape.”

[kortac-sweetheart]

I love Nikto's marrow deep devotion and how tender he is <3<3<3 love him so much, they work so hard to please their llubov and he succeeds in every single little thing he does, he could do nothing and we'd still be pleased

I'm glad you're safe, yesterday sounds so scary, please take care of yourself 🫂🫂🫂🫂 -Simp anon

yeah!!!! nikto could just be standing there and i’d be clapping and fawning all over him hehe

he and his darling matches each other’s freak… two fools deeply in love

nikto’s so good at things, not because he’s naturally good at it (except for some things) but because he keeps trying. a very tenacious man, stalwart and doesn’t give up— ever, as stubborn as a mule. when life knocks him down he got back up again and again and again, even if he wanted to stay down.

so him fumbling the focaccia recipe for the third time isn’t a big deal in his eyes, he’ll just eat it and work on it again. (no food waste in this household, but he’s not feeding you burnt bread.)

or him messing up on his performance of your favorite classical piece? so what? he’ll try again until he nails it. not like he really has other things to do when he’s retired from duty. all the chores are done, dinner simmering on the stove and clothes in the wash, house spotless. so he makes good use of the grand piano at home.

moonlight sonata? done.

vivaldi’s four seasons summer? dusted.

swan lake? not an issue.

rush e? err… give him a few weeks.

flight of the bumblebee? sure, why the hell not.

he takes enjoyment in playing too. something about focusing solely on the music in front of him reminds him about being on the field, when all outside distractions fade away and he’s left in a state of pure pinpointed focus. it’s nice.

his skills make him the envy of your neighbors. “oh that andre, always up and doing something!” or “what an amazing husband you have! he’s a good one!” it leaves him preening like a proud bird, content with all his hobbies he’s collected in his spare time.

[risustravelogue]

reposting because the initial post didn't show up on tags smh. thanks holly for pointing out the issue with dividers… but here I am using them again anyway lmaooo

edit: it's the tags. I said "horny" in tags LMAO-

fem!reader. he calls you "girl."

I mean. I mean yeah.

just imagine...

pussydrunk alhaitham, working the magic with his precise tongue slipping in and out of your entrance, and once in a while, he gives a sloppy suckling to your clit.

he drinks you until you lose control from the orgasms he puts you through… then he pulls back and chuckles, slapping his thick, hard cock against your pussy. he pushes his swollen, leaking cockhead against your wet, puffy clit, once- twice-

then he slams his hips against yours, sheathing the whole length of his cock with your slippery walls in one thrust as he groans in pleasure beside your ear.

you feel his broad, sculpted chest against you, his whole body shaking from his own actions.

yet he thrusts his hips forward again,

and again,

and again,

until finally he spills his seed into your ready womb, pulling your body tight against him as he cums.

"that's my girl," he whispers, peppering your skin with kisses. satisfied, he buries his face to the side of your neck, inhaling your scent with every breath he takes, his cock still buried inside you.

"I love you," he mumbles as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

"mm," you reply, giving your lover's hand a gentle squeeze. you feel him smile against your skin.

-ah, if only we can spend every night like this.

© @risustravelogue 2024 • FEEDING THIS WORK TO GENERATIVE AIs IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. • do not repost. • reblogs are precious. • feel free to send an ask to suggest, chat, etc. 💖

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[willreigns]

Full House

Day 29: Circus | Drabble Challenge 2024

CW: Levi x fem!reader, civilian!reader

A/N: Takes place in the same universe as Letters from the Other Side. Part of Drabble Challenge 2024.

It’s been six years since the Rumbling.

The Ackerman home feels full. A babbling child can be heard and the smell of something delicious wafts through the house.

“It’s like a damn circus in here,” Levi mutters, eyeing the toys scattered all over. His gaze shifts to the source of the babbling, but his expression softens as your daughter bursts into fits of giggles.

“Yeah, I look funny to you?” He picks her up, her hand meeting his scarred cheek with fascination.

You smile, hand resting on your pregnant stomach. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Despite his grumbling stomach, Levi feels full.