#like i get you don’t LOVE my cats you don’t have to

[wonustars]

Your Cat Loves You (Ft. Norbert)

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 pairing: kim mingyu x f. reader 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 genre: fluff, smut (R: 18+ mdni) 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 wordcount: 2.8k

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃summary: you and mingyu finally have a moment to yourselves, or so you thought... 𖥔. ˖ ࣪  𓂃 tags/smut warnings: the way of the house husband couple, husband!mingyu, wife!reader, norbert is a silly little menace, dom!mingyu, brat-ish!reader, oral (m. receiving), creampie, dryhumping, facefucking, big dick!mingyu. 𖥔. ˖ ࣪  𓂃note: part 1 of the winter event is dedicated to @onlymingyus, ily sm marsie pie ♡! thank you to my two beta-readers! @ylangelegy and @junkissed, ily boaf what the flip!! special thanks to @cheolism and @wooahaeproductions for helping me w brainstorming ideas as well! i missed writing this couple so i hope you all enjoy hehe. lmk what you think of this one thru a reblog or a comment! see u in the next installment! - anna ♡

𖥔. ˖ ࣪  𓂃event masterpost

“I'm horny,” you pout as you place the book you’re reading down on the bedside table. 

Mingyu walks out of the connected bathroom, towel slung around his waist, eyes wide, staring at the way your figure lays sensually along the mattress. 

You’re turned onto your stomach, his large t-shirt draped over your body, the curve of your ass peeking through the bottom hem. Mingyu’s mouth runs dry, contemplating a response to your outcry of desperation. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he shrugs. 

The aforementioned towel is thrown across your bedroom with unbridled abandonment. Jumping onto the bed, he grabs your hips, turning you around as he straddles your torso. 

Calloused hands grasp onto your wrists, pinning them above your head. Mingyu dives in without much afterthought, connecting his plump lips onto yours. Raw and unashamed, there's vigour behind his actions, swallowing your lustful moans in the process. 

Unfortunately for you, there’s an abrupt pause. Mingyu pulls away from you, a frown along his swollen lips. 

“Where’s Norbert?” 

“I want your cock inside me and you’re busy thinking about the cat?” You roll your eyes, huffing out with annoyance. 

“I don’t want him seeing us,” Mingyu mumbles before standing up to check the door. 

A disgruntled groan leaves your lips. Leave it up to your husband to worry about the cat in the most compromising of situations. In other circumstances, this would’ve endeared you, but your body has been brimming with sexual tension. A tension that only Mingyu can resolve.

“Last time I checked he was sleeping in his room,” you sigh, sitting up to admire the dragon tattoo on Mingyu’s back. 

You never get tired of the black ink that adorns his skin, eyeing the way it creeps up onto his shoulders. It’s like a sweet treat every time. 

He peeks into the hallway and nods shortly after being met with the still air outside your room. No cat ready to scratch at his chest or steal his spot on your bed. As soon as he has confirmation that Norbert isn’t looming in the shadows of the long hallway, he rushes to lock the door before flopping back onto the mattress. 

Sitting against the headboard, he pulls you onto his lap, the unamused expression on your face vanishes as you feel his rock-hard length against your bare cunt. Mingyu’s groans are guttural as you hump himself along his member. Wet and ready for him to finally take you. 

“You done being paranoid?” your question comes out breathless as you continue to stimulate the nerves between your thighs. 

“Uhuh,” Mingyu mumbles. 

Large hands travel under the hem of your shirt, rubbing and squeezing your flesh before he reaches your tits. Full in his hands, he pulls the fabric till it hits your chin, perked nipples placing him in a trance. Mingyu's mind swirls as he tweaks each one between his fingers, your breath becoming ragged as his pace starts to quicken. 

The shirt you’re wearing becomes a nuisance quickly after, even though he enjoys seeing you in his clothes, Mingyu prefers when you’re wearing nothing at all. Removing the tee from your body, he drinks in your figure. 

“Fuck, this pussy is always soaking,” Mingyu mutters, eyes glued to where your bodies are connected. 

“Been trying to get to you fuck me all day,” you whimper. 

He chuckles at your desperation. Even though only two of you live in this large house, alongside your gremlin of a cat, Mingyu has found it hard to get you moaning underneath him for about a week. 

Norbert had been the number one culprit as to why you and Mingyu haven’t been able to fool around for the past few days. It started with your cat barging into your room right before anything other than a few innocent pecks were exchanged between the two of you. 

You don’t know how he’s learnt to turn door knobs, but his curiosity had been never-ending since you and Mingyu made things official. Then he started to drag Mingyu’s clothes into his litterbox. 

Neither of you knew what had caused Norbert’s spur of rebellious attitude, but you’ve slowly learned how to deal with it. Now the door to Mingyu’s closet remains locked, and you also make it a habit to lock the bedroom door each night as well. 

The sexual frustration between you and Mingyu had become so palpable that you’ve woken up to his morning wood four out of seven times this week. There have been a few blowjobs and hand stuff here and there, but you haven’t had his dick inside you for what feels like an eternity. You’re almost convinced that your cunt has forgotten what it feels like to be filled by him. 

In all honesty, you just miss the way his cum would spurt inside you every night. 

For the first time in a while, Norbert wasn’t needy for your attention, and you’d be damned to not take the opportunity while it was still in front of you. 

“God I need it so bad,” you whine. 

Nuzzling into Mingyu’s neck, your hips continue to sway back and forth, the slick between your thighs starting to coat your legs and his pelvis. 

“It’s been too fucking long,” Mingyu hums, hands tracing the curve of your ass. 

Moaning into his skin, you feel his palms squeeze the flesh with an iron grip. Forcing the fat to shake with the force of his touch. His free hand still groping your left tit. 

Mingyu almost blacks out, your hole catching his tip with each move you make. He can’t have you on top any longer. Thoughts of using you like his own personal sex doll rampage violently, his fully hard length starting to leak precum with your increasing pace. 

“Think you can take me without any prep?” he asks, and your legs visibly shake at his words. 

“I-I don’t know, probably not, you’re fucking massive.” 

A laugh bubbles up from his throat; he’s never fucked you without at least stretching you out first. But the thought is too tempting to not try at least once. 

“Willing to try for me, baby?” He whispers in your ear. 

“Mhm, I’ll do anything. Just need you inside me,” you whimper. 

“That’s my girl.” 

A hard slap comes down onto your ass, the skin stinging in a way that's both painful but so delicious at the same time. Your mouth almost waters at how good he feels against you, and he barely even touches you. 

“I’ll give it to you. But—” Mingyu starts but you cut him off. 

“But?” your pitch raises, not liking how he’s continuing to drag out the foreplay. 

“But you suck me off first.” 

“Fuck, really? That's it? Can't we do that after? I need you now,” you continue to whine, pretending like your walls aren't gushing at the idea. 

It doesn’t hurt to act spoiled once in a while. 

“You’re gonna suck me off or I’m not fucking you tonight.” Mingyu’s voice is stern. You can’t help but hide the smirk on your face. 

The pout on your lips is instantaneous. You need to see how far you can take the brat persona before Mingyu’s fed up. Hopefully, it leads to him flipping you over and fucking you into the next universe.

“But don’t you wanna fuck me now? It’s been too long,” you sigh, halting your movements to rub your hands against his muscular chest.

Your fingertips flow with appreciation for the hard muscle under your touch, his nipples erect as you swipe over them briefly. 

Mingyu’s eyebrows scrunch together, jaw slack as you continue to feel him up. Moving over to his biceps you give them a squeeze before peppering kisses along his collarbones then at the base of his neck. 

Entranced by your touch, Mingyu almost loses focus on who's really in control here. Almost. 

Throwing you off his lap, he stands at the edge of the bed. His cock bobs from how stiff he’s gotten from a bit of rubbing. Tip red and angry, the veins along his shaft almost look like they’re about to burst from all your teasing. 

“On your knees. Now.” He tells you, tone unwavering. 

With a defeated huff, you gingerly move towards the end of the bed. Your knees cause the mattress to dip, your hips in the air, giving him a little show of your ass. Mingyu’s jaw clenches, trying his best not to fold from seeing your body in such compromising angles. 

“Like this baby?” You look up at him as you prop yourself up with your elbows. 

“Good girl. Stay put for me, yeah?” 

You smile at his words of affirmation, one hand against the sheets while your other hand grips his length. There’s something about his dominating aura that radiates off of him when you’re about to blow him, it’s addicting. 

Placing his cock against your cheek, your eyes become doe-like as you stare up at him through your lashes.  

“See how big you are?” you mumble, the tip almost hitting your lashes as it’s pressed to the side of your face. 

“Fuck me…” Mingyu drawls out, unable to comprehend how sexy you look in this angle. 

Fisting your hair in his hands, he’s had enough of your attitude. Your jaw opens as if it's second nature, tongue shooting out, waiting for him to use your mouth like a fleshlight. He taps the tip against your tongue before tracing it around your pink lips. You look like an absolute dream. 

Without a second left to waste, he shoves the entirety of himself into your warm mouth, fucking it until your throat restricts and your gag reflex emerges. Groaning from above you, Mingyu continues to push your head up and down the length of his pulsating cock, relishing in the warmth that envelopes him. The heat sears into his veins, culminating before it spreads throughout his limbs. 

“Yeah, keep taking this cock,” Mingyu groans, fingers tightening around the strands of hair in his grasp. “Bet you love getting your mouth fucked, huh?” 

You moan in response to the filth spilling from his mouth. With furrowed eyebrows, you do your best to breathe through your nose in an attempt to keep yourself from gagging further. 

Mingyu’s thrusts slow down, not wanting to bust a nut until he’s inside that sopping cunt of yours. You know he’s saving the best for last as he removes himself from your mouth with an audible pop. 

“Turn around.” He grunts, but you don’t move. 

As you catch your breath, Mingyu tsks at your reluctance to do what he asks of you. Slapping your cheek, he wakes you from your cock drunk trance. 

“What did I say? You were begging for me to be inside you less than ten minutes ago,” He laments. 

“I’m tired. You do it,” your smile hidden. 

He’s right where you want him. 

You continue to lay there, waiting for him to give up and take matters into his own hands. Without missing a beat, he grapples you until your ass is up in the air. The view of your glistening folds welcoming him as if he’s carved out a special place for his cock inside you. The familiar sheen of your arousal and puffed-up clit greet his length as you wiggle your hips for him. 

The smack of skin resounds against the walls of your room, your pussy clenching around nothing as Mingyu continues to hit your cunt until the juices gush past your entrance. 

“Holy fu-uck,” you choke out, face slamming into the mattress. 

Hands clutched onto the sheets, your eyes squeeze shut as you feel Mingyu’s tip tracing around your hole. Smearing the wetness seeping from your folds before you hear him spit onto your leaking pussy. 

“Hmph, shit!” you squeak, the heat of his spit dripping down the expanse of your sex. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Mingyu praises you before plunging his cock into your awaiting warmth. 

The stretch is nearing unbearable, and the pain of his cock filling you almost causes you to pass out. But it’s satisfying all at the same time. He’s only halfway in, but your breath labours, chest heaving as you continue to take what he gives you. 

“So tight, you’re squeezing me like crazy,” Mingyu gasps, vision turning white as he continues to force himself inside you. Your moans increase in pitch as Mingyu bottoms out. Filling your walls till the hilt of his cock is pressed up right against your ass cheeks. Warm palms grope at your skin, slapping and squishing the flesh till handprints begin to appear. 

“G-gyu, please I need you to move. Fuck, I could cum right now,” you whine, squeezing his length involuntarily from how unprepared you are to take him. 

He agrees to your request without another word. Pulling back till only the tip of his cock is left only to ram his hips back into you. The sound of skin on skin hitting one another fills the room. Mingyu’s speed is steady as he thrusts in and out of you. 

The moans you let out almost sound as if you’re in pain, but it’s the complete opposite. Pleasure courses through your veins until you feel it in your toes, you’re a-dick-ted to the feeling of having him inside you. 

“You wanna cum? Show me how much you deserve to cum on this cock, baby,” Mingyu speaks through strained groans. 

Relishing in your wetness, he knows he’s about to fill you with his seed. His balls retract with each movement he makes, he can only wish to stay inside you forever. 

Without anything stopping you, your pussy convulses around him as you orgasm. The breath is knocked out of your chest, your fingers still wound tightly around the threads of your bedsheets. 

“I fucking love you, baby,” Mingyu practically wheezes, moving his hand to push your head further into your sheets. 

The flood of semen fills your walls, so much so that it dribbles past your entrance and onto both his dick and the bed beneath you. There’s so much, and it’s like his climax is never ending, cum continuing to shoot itself into your needy cunt.

Panting, you allow yourself to flop unceremoniously onto the bed. Tired and finally ready for bed, you wait for Mingyu to dislodge himself from you. A whimper leaves your lips as he finally unsheaths his softening member from your heat. His touch is as soft as a mouse, he pushes the hair out of your eyes before kissing your temple. 

“You did so good, baby. I’m gonna clean you up okay?” 

“Okay, baby,” you whisper. 

Unsure of how many seconds have passed, Mingyu comes back with a warm cloth. He wipes you and himself clean before moving you so that you’re lying on the bed properly. 

“We needed that,” he says in hushed chuckles. 

“I agree,” you laugh along with him. 

Right as you’re about to close your eyes, the door creaks open. The small shadow of your cat catches the candle's light by the TV stand. The pitter-patter of Norbert's paws fills the once-quiet room. 

Turning to Mingyu, your expression is evident that you’re ready to scold him for not locking the door. But before you can get a word in he’s already defending his case. 

“I promise, baby, I locked the door. I'm serious, please don’t kill me.” Mingyu pleads, hiding himself in your bare chest. 

“Kim Mingyu. If you locked the door, then Norbert wouldn’t be here right now,” you explain. 

Mingyu sighs, his warm breath leaving goosebumps against your skin. And he continues to swear that he really did lock the door, and even checked thrice to make sure it was secure. 

Norbert meows out, hopping onto the bed before scratching into Mingyu’s back. 

“What the fuck! Ow!” He yelps, Norbert’s claws continuing to paw at him. 

Defeated, Mingyu moves away from you. The pout on his lips accentuates as he’s forced to sleep beside your demon cat. Norbert’s scratching ceases at his surrender, moving into his rightful spot between you and Mingyu. 

Purring with satisfaction, the pleased cat purrs against you, nose nuzzling into your side. 

“Goodnight baby,” you murmur. 

The blanket is pulled up to your chest, your body facing the small cat perched at your left side. His eyes were round yet also filled with knowing. As if he did have the capability to somehow unlock the door to your bedroom from the outside. Knowing Mingyu’s forgetfulness, you decide that it’s simply not possible. 

“Goodnight,” Mingyu replies wistfully, but you send him a pointed look. 

“I’m talking to Norbert, Gyu.” 

“Whatever.” he huffs at your unamused expression, before attempting to inch closer to you. 

Norbert hisses at Mingyu’s sudden movements before snuggling closer to you. 

“Goodnight Norbert,” Mingyu sneers but pets the feline with affection despite his attitude. 

Norbert meows in return, tapping Mingyu’s cheek with his paw before settling into a deep sleep. 

Kim Mingyu - 0 

Norbert - 1

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 a/n: thank you for reading! please leave a reblog or comment if u enjoyed this little bonus scene! if you'd like to be notified when i post the next one send me an ask or fill out the taglist form located in the winter event masterpost! talk to u soon! - anna ♡

[letsgoletsgetit08]

soft hours pt. 2 - christmas

how they would celebrate christmas with you (plus a suprise they have trouble keeping secret)

maknae line

warnings: mdni, christmas fluff, smut

pairings: choi san x f!reader, song mingi x f!reader, jung wooyoung x f!reader, choi jongho x f!reader

word count: 5.8k

author's note: MERRY TEEZMAS! Here's the maknae line, finally! I picture this as slightly aged up members and their significant others, still famous and working in the industry but with solo careers (hence the ability to take actual time off for themselves). But I did try to keep that part vague. I'm not religious but I grew up with Christmas, but feel free to sub in whatever winter holiday tickles your fancy. Once again found myself writing much more for the maknae line but sue me, it's where 2/3 of my bias line lives!

likes, comments, and reblogs always welcome as long as you're not a minor!

Choi San: “Are you sure you want to do this? My family really wouldn’t mind coming to Seoul instead.” San fixed you with a worried look.

“Choi San,” you rolled your eyes, “I promise you, I’m not only happy but excited to see Namhae. It’s where you grew up, it’s important to me. I don’t care if everyone there knows your name, I don’t care if I’ll get dirty glares in the grocery store. As long as you’re with me, everything will be fine. I want to see every part of you and the town you grew up in is part of that.” 

San’s troubled expression softened, his lips curling into a small smile, dimples revealing themselves on his cheeks, “I’m the luckiest man on earth.” He picked you up before you could protest, spinning you in a circle before gently letting your feet meet the ground once again, pulling you into a swift, tender kiss, “I’m going to make it worth it for you, I promise.”

“Spending time with you is always worth it, Sannie.” You kissed his left cheek, unable to hold back any longer, his dimples having tempted you for too long. 

“Stop being so sweet or we’ll never get on the road.” He teased, planting one last kiss to your forehead before gathering your suitcases into his hands and heading outside towards the Uber. There wasn’t a great way to drive there from the city, so you’d be taking a very quick flight, likely spending just as long in the airport as you would on the plane. At least your days in economy seating were over since having started dating San. 

Airports gave you mega anxiety, and you were soon reminded of several reasons you loved your boyfriend so much. The way he could sense your nerves, keeping you close to his side, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, holding onto your ticket and boarding pass for you so you didn’t have to panic every time you thought you misplaced it, speaking softly in your ear to help distract you from your surroundings. 

He guided you in front of him through security, knowing you didn’t like feeling left behind. He was caught up with security for a minute as his bag passed through the sensor. You could see him trying to remain calm, speaking to the workers in a rushed but polite tone and wondered what the hold up was, but as soon as you were about to approach to check in, he was being waved through, an understanding seeming to have been reached. 

“Everything okay?” You asked as he approached.

“All good,” He smiled at you reassuringly, “Just couldn’t figure out what my razor was I guess.”

“Ah, yes, because you definitely wouldn’t be more dangerous with just your bare hands.” You joked.

“Exactly.” He laughed.

The rest of the flight went off without a hitch, and soon you were waiting on the curb outside of the small airport, excitedly waiting for San’s parents to arrive to take you to their house. 

You loved his family, and they were always so warm and welcoming to you. It was so nice to see them in this context, the town they knew so well and loved. 

Once at their house, you got to see something you’d been dying to witness since you met the man, “Byeoli!” San squealed as his cat trotted out and began rubbing on his ankles, purring loudly, “Hi, baby! It’s so good to see you.”

You knelt down beside San, and Byeol approached cautiously, sniffing your finger until finally deciding she approved, rubbing her cheek on your hand. 

“Look at that. My two girls meeting at last.” San beamed at you, “She likes you. But I always knew she had good taste.”

“He has the best taste, isn’t that right, Byeol?” You addressed the cat rather than San. 

After unloading your luggage into San’s childhood bedroom (still decorated the same, much to your amusement), the two of you were sent on a grocery run for some last minute things San’s mom needed for dinner that night. 

San had been right to warn you. No less than ten people in the grocery store recognized him, assessing you in varying degrees of approval, ranging from polite acceptance to obvious, poorly hidden distaste and jealousy. But the latter didn’t hurt your feelings as much as you thought it would, easy to ignore with how proud San looked when he introduced you to them. 

You adored hearing San wax poetic about his memories of his hometown as you drove around, taking an unnecessarily scenic route back home, how his face lit up when he saw that his favorite old ice cream shop was still open, the billboard with his face on it, which he blushed at the sight of, his high school, the park where he had his first kiss, his dad’s taekwondo studio. All of it was so distinctly him, painting the picture of the man with whom you were so deeply in love with as you put images to places you had only heard described to you before. 

“San,” You grabbed his hand as he parked the car back in the driveway, “Thank you for showing me.”

“It’s not much to show,” He shrugged, “But it’s part of me.”

“It means the world to me, baby. You mean the world to me, and this town is part of you. Don’t undersell its value.”

He picked up your hand that was holding his, bringing it to his lips, kissing each knuckle gently, “I don’t think I realized how important it was for you to see it until we were here.” He sighed, “So thank you, jagi.”

“Any time, my love.” You smiled at him, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the look he was giving you, amazed that after all this time, he could still elicit that sensation within you so easily. 

You pulled him into a quick, deep kiss, pulling away before the two of you got lost in it, knowing everyone inside was awaiting your return. 

San's older sister and brother-in-law arrived shortly after and you couldn't stop smiling at how happy you were with these people. You were all but estranged from your own family and before you met San, the holidays were spent either with friends or alone and it never really bothered you too much, but now, experiencing what this was like, it was making you emotional. 

As you sat by San's side on the couch in their living room while everyone got caught up, you felt a tear escape your eye, rolling warm down your cheek.

San caught on immediately as you went to wipe it away, “Hey,” he squeezed your hand, “Everything okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, “Sorry, I just really love your family. You know how mine is…”

“Oh, honey,” San wrapped his arm around you, pulling you securely to his side, “I know. You never had this, huh?” 

You shook your head. 

“Well they're your family now, too, jagi.” He assured you. 

San's sister overheard the last part, “Oh, did you already-” 

San cut her off before she could continue, ignoring the confused look on your face, “Let's do gifts!” 

Later that night, you had assured San you could be quiet when you couldn't take his teasing any longer, but you were having a hard time keeping that promise as his tongue lavished your core with expert precision, clasping a hand over your mouth as he carried you over the edge, other hand clasped tight in his hair, desperately trying to keep your movements small but unable to control your hips bucking against his face as you reached your peak, waves of pleasure rolling over you. 

He pulled back, crawling towards you again, settling in behind you, kissing all over your shoulders and neck, “I will never get tired of that.” He whispered, and you could hear the smile on his voice. 

“I hope that's true, because I sure as hell won't.” You turned to catch him in a lopsided kiss, “Let me help you, too, baby.”

“Jagi,” he kissed you sweetly, pulling away to yawn, but lining his cock up to your entrance nonetheless, “How did I get so lucky?” 

“If you're too tired-”

“Never.”

He started rolling his hips slowly, knowing the exact motion that drove you crazy. You were still coming down from your last orgasm and he built it back quickly. Soon, you were clenching around him and his hips stilled as he followed. You tried to adjust to pull yourself off of him, but he wrapped an arm around you, stopping you, “Mmh, no, just stay. You're so warm.” 

“I-” You chuckled as you heard him already breathing heavy, falling to sleep, “Yeah, okay. Anything for you, baby.” 

You awoke a little while later to the feeling of San hard inside you again, unable to stop from clenching at the feeling, realizing he was awake and was obviously trying to stay still. 

“Go ahead, baby, use me.” You whispered. 

He grunted in acknowledgement, rolling you to your stomach and fucking you slowly and carefully into the mattress, your face graciously buried in the pillow to muffle any noises that may have tried to escape. 

Before you knew it, the two of you were falling apart once again. This time, once you had ridden your orgasms out, San pulled out and allowed you to get up and go to the bathroom. 

When you returned, he was sitting up in bed, a wild look on his face as you climbed in beside him, “Jagiya, I lied earlier at the airport.”

“You what? When?” You were racking your brain for anything he had said that might have been false. 

“It wasn’t my razor that confused security,” he pulled a ring box from under his pillow, “It was this.” He opened it, revealing the ring of your dreams, “I was serious earlier though, when I said you're family now. I already consider myself the luckiest man on earth having you by my side, and I want that to be true. Permanently. Take my name. Join my family. And let's start our own someday. Please, love? Marry me.” 

“Choi San.” You felt tears well up again, “Yes, God, yes. Nothing would make me happier.” 

“Choi Y/N.” He whispered it like a prayer. You were his family now and he was yours. You could hardly sleep in your excitement afterwards, making out with your fiance into the early hours of the morning. 

Song Mingi: The bed dipping with added weight roused you from a deep sleep. Blue early morning light streamed in through the curtains as you blinked open your eyes. 

“Mingi?” Your voice cracked as you sat up, bleary eyed and disoriented, reaching for the bottle of water you kept on your bedside table. 

“Baby!” Mingi’s deep voice rattled your sleepy brain as he pounced on top of the suitcase he had just hefted onto the bed, “Can you help me out real quick?”

“What time is it?” You groaned. 

“7am! Come on, we need to be on the road at 8!” 

“Song Mingi. Once upon a time, you and I bonded over the fact that we're not morning people.” You grumbled as you tossed the comforter aside to assist your goofy boyfriend. 

“I know, that's why I was very brave and got up early to pack for us. There’s coffee on in the kitchen, cutie.” He kissed your temple hastily as you came around to help hold the pieces of the suitcase together for him to zip. 

“Okay, I forgive you- wait, is this all games? Do you really think you can get the guys to play Catan again after what happened last time?” You eyed him skeptically. 

“Wooyoung and Jongho made up a week later!” He defended himself, “You know I've gotta at least try.”

“I know, I know.” You rolled your eyes, “It's your favorite.” 

“No, baby.” He grunted as the zipper finally closed all the way, “You're my favorite.” He tackled you back onto the bed, peppering your face with kisses, ending with a slow, sweet kiss on your lips, “I love you a whole lot, have I said that recently?”

“Hmm.” You pretended to consider it, “I mean, not in the last business day, probably.”

Mingi gasped, “Inconceivable!” He practically shouted in your ear, resuming his attack. 

“You're the silliest goose on the whole pond.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. 

“As long as it's your pond.” He replied, hopping to his feet and pulling you up behind him, not awaiting your reply, “C'mon, go get dressed! I'll go pour you some coffee.” 

“You're acting more odd than normal and I'm going to figure out why.” You mumbled as you trudged over to your dresser, finding it nearly empty, “Wait, Mingi, did you pack for me, too?” You called to him in the kitchen.

“Yeah! I just grabbed everything!” He called back, “I laid you out an outfit, it's on your desk chair.”

You looked over to find a pair of his sweats and one of his oversized t-shirts with your bra and a pair of underwear laid on top. “These are your clothes!” You yelled through a chuckle. 

“You look so cute in my clothes,” He reentered the room, handing you your favorite coffee mug, “Plus, I kinda packed everything I've ever seen you wear.” 

You rolled your eyes as you began changing in front of him. 

“Ugh, baby. That's no fair.” He whined.

“What?” You asked, confused, as you pulled on clean underwear.

“You're so hot and I don't even have time to have sex with you about it.” Mingi pouted, ogling you from his position on the bed. 

You laughed, crossing over to him with only underwear on, “Not with that attitude.” 

Half an hour and three orgasms later, Mingi came up for air from in between your legs, licking his lips like he had just eaten the most delicious meal in the world - he probably would argue he had, if you'd asked him. 

“Jagi,” You gasped, still breathing hard as he kissed up your torso, “We have to get on the road.”

Mingi pouted but didn't protest too much, letting you up to get dressed and pack your toiletries. 

Yunho's lake house had become a yearly tradition for the eight of them, everyone heading there a couple of days after Christmas to stay through New Years. Plus ones were prohibited except for “serious” relationships, which they typically defined as at least engaged. You had thought Mingi might propose on Christmas, but you were even more excited at the thought of it happening on New Years Eve. 

Christmas this year had been lovely. He had an uncanny ability for gift giving, you suspected he kept a running list of every thing you mentioned vaguely wanting throughout the year, and this year was no exception. His mom had the two of you over for Christmas, feeding you far too much and giving you knowing glances like she knew what laid ahead for you in the very near future. You were so grateful with how welcoming she had been since you started dating Mingi, knowing how big of a momma's boy he was, her approval meant everything to you. You would have been happy had he proposed at Christmas, and as much as having his mom's approval meant to you, you absolutely adored the seven other members of his group, considering them to already be like brothers to you, and by how they treated you, you figured they considered you similarly. Truth be told though, you would be thrilled no matter where or when he proposed. 

Road trips were one of your favorite things to do with Mingi. They were always filled with silly made-up car games and singing along to music at the beginning, turning to comfortable silence with his hand on your thigh as he drove, talking intermittently about anything and everything and nothing at all towards the end. Most of all, you loved the uninterrupted time you got just to simply stare at him and take him in. You thought he was the most beautiful person on the planet, every detail of his face and body a work of art in and of itself. 

“...and that's why I don't think you'd ever remember it even if you had been abducted by aliens.” Mingi concluded his thesis as he pulled the car into the driveway of the lake house at last. 

“Hmm.” You considered, “I think we'll just have to agree to disagree on this one, my love.” 

“I'm taking a vote when we go in.” Mingi shot you a challenging look as he got out of the driver's seat, darting around to your door to open it for you before you could do it yourself. 

“Good, I can't wait to win the vote.” You teased him, leaning in for a kiss, gasping as he pulled a fast one on you, leaning in to return it only to turn away and deny you at the last second. 

“Song Mingi!” You chastised him, “Fine. No more kisses ever again since you don't want them.”

“What!” He pouted, rushing back over to you with pleading eyes, taking your empty threat seriously, “Baby, no! Please, forgive me, I'm so sorry, don't deprive me!” 

You snickered at him, “Aw, princess.” You pulled him close, giving him a chaste peck on his pretty lips, “I would shrivel up and die if l couldn't kiss you.” 

“You guys are disgusting, I take it back, no plus ones.” Yunho bullied you from the porch, “Mingi, go ahead and go home.”

“Hey!” Mingi barked, offended by his best friend's words. 

“We missed you, too, Yunho.” You rolled your eyes, strolling over to him as he waited with open arms for a hug. 

“It’s been too long, noona.” Yunho crushed you to his chest. You weren't exactly petite, squarely on the tall side and you could wear Mingi’s jeans pretty easily, filling them out similarly in the ass and thigh region, but he and Yunho still made you feel small in comparison. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” You answered through constricted lungs, “I do have to breathe, though.” 

“My bad.” Yunho chuckled as he released you, “I just have to make sure you know you're my favorite. But don't tell anyone.”

You crossed your heart, “It's our secret, Yuyu.” You winked at him. 

The rest of the night followed in a similar fashion, ending with all of you in the spacious living room, pleasantly buzzed. Wooyoung sat curled in San's lap, relaying a story you all had heard a thousand times but indulged in letting him tell regardless, mostly due to the entertaining way he reenacted it. Seonghwa sat on the floor in front of Hongjoong, building the Star Wars Lego set the latter had gifted him from Christmas as his husband stared at him with an endless depth of adoration in his eyes. Jongho, who was pretty perpetually single by his own choice, sat in front of the fireplace with his guitar, humming and singing quietly. Yeosang leaned onto Yunho's shoulder, letting his boyfriend play with his hair absentmindedly. You hadn't realized the two of them were dating, but you had to admit, it was rather cute. Roommates to lovers, a tale as old as time. You supposed the “engaged at minimum” rule didn't apply to the host himself. 

You felt so at peace, so at home with everyone there, so full of love for all of them. Honored to have been let in to this sacred circle and welcomed with open arms. 

The next few days were spent playing games - including, much to your surprise, an oddly civil game of Catan - or with Wooyoung and Mingi in the kitchen, San, Yunho, and Seonghwa fighting like siblings in the snow, Hongjoong and Jongho writing and singing songs together, you and Yeosang watching movies and discussing the quirks - some endearing, some harder to stomach - of your significant others, the two of whom had known one another since middle school. You were so excited for this to be your family, you could hardly wait for New Years. 

When the night in question finally came around, though you knew it was coming (Wooyoung had barged in as you were getting dressed earlier, making sure your fingernails were painted), Mingi’s proposal still managed to surprise you. 

Right before midnight, champagne flutes passed out, all of you dressed in cocktail formal, excited for an excuse to get dressed up after a week of sweats and pajamas, Mingi tapped his flute with a knife to get everyone's attention, “A toast! To my friends, who have been with me through everything, the ups and downs of being idols and just life in general, and most importantly, who have listened and advised me on my relationship with my beautiful girlfriend. It means the world to me that you all love her so much. I consider us to be family,” he turned to you then, fishing in his pocket, “But I'd really like us to be family officially. If you'll have me, sweetheart. Nothing could make me happier.” He knelt down, opening the ring box with one large hand, showing you the most perfect ring you could have dreamed of. 

“Mingi,” you beamed at him, “Yes, of course, baby. You better fucking marry me, you goose.” 

“As long as I'm your goose.” He rose, removing the ring and guiding it gently onto your ring finger. 

“Always.” You promised. 

“Ten!” Wooyoung began the countdown to midnight. 

“Nine!” The others joined in, yourself and Mingi included, waiting for the clock to strike twelve before you sealed the moment with a kiss. 

“Eight!” You all chanted. “Makes one team!” You added in between, garnering laughter from the group. 

“Seven!”

“Six!” 

“Five!”

“Four!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!” 

“Happy New Year!” 

It wasn't your first kiss, obviously, but it might as well have been, the way the butterflies in your abdomen danced at the contact, face going warm as several of the boys wolf whistled at the display. It only served to egg Mingi on, and he swung you down into a deep dip, never breaking your kiss. 

“Okay, okay, ew. Enough. Save it for the wedding.” Jongho pretended to complain from across the circle. 

“Booooo!” Wooyoung shot back at him. 

“Be nice, baby.” San half-heartedly scolded him. 

“He's being rude!” Wooyoung defended himself.

Mingi brought you back to your feet as the bickering escalated in the background, wiggling his eyebrows at you conspiratorially. 

You nodded, grabbing his hand and sneaking away as the other seven continued their nonsense, too absorbed in it to realize the two of you had made like bandits for the bedroom. 

Mingi didn't even scold you for getting distracted by your new ring as you straddled him and rode his cock for the first time as an engaged couple. In fact, you're pretty sure he only fucked you harder for it. 

The two of you eventually collapsed onto the bed in a pile of tangled, sweaty limbs after round three, completely blissed out on the love you had for one another and excited for the future together that awaited you. 

Jung Wooyoung: Sure, introducing your Harry Potter-obsessed boyfriend to the Lord of the Rings trilogy was a calculated risk. They had always been your favorite Christmas break movies and you wanted to share that tradition with Wooyoung. You had predicted he would like them, but what you hadn't been prepared for was just how much he liked them. You would be spending a belated Christmas with his family, postponed a few days due to his older brother's work schedule, so Christmas Eve and Day would be spent just the two of you at your apartment together. 

Little did you know, Wooyoung had been planning. 

The unmistakable noise of clattering pots and pans in the kitchen served as your alarm that morning, followed by a hushed curse under Wooyoung’s breath. You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you dragged your still sleep-laden body out of bed, donning Wooyoung’s discarded sweatshirt on your way into the kitchen. 

“Everything okay, baby?” You asked, your voice still gravelly with sleep. 

Wooyoung jumped at the sound of your voice, clearly deeply concentrated as he stirred the pot on the stove, “Ah! Fuck! You scared me!” 

You chuckled, coming up behind him, wrapping your arms around his sinfully slutty waist, “Sorry, kitten,” You apologized, “I just heard a noise and wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

“Dammit.” Wooyoung pouted, “I wanted to wake you up with breakfast, I’m sorry.”

You kissed his cheek, “There’s nothing to apologize for. Want me to go back to bed so you can do your original plan?” 

Wooyoung turned around in your embrace, kissing you on the nose, “No, baby, not unless you want to. It’s almost done and I love your company.”

“Okay, but, um…” You trailed off, hating to ask for something when he was already doing so much, “Nevermind, I’ll do it.”

Wooyoung grabbed your wrist to stop you, “Absolutely not! My baby is not lifting a finger today. What did you need, jagi?”

“I just wanted some coffee.” You smiled at him sheepishly.

“Say less.” Wooyoung beamed at you, planting a swift kiss to your lips before breaking off and moving to make you coffee. 

An hour later, three cups of coffee in, Wooyoung was placing the last pastry on the table after putting a different dish he was preparing for later in the oven. 

“If you want me to die in a food coma, just say so.” You teased him as you sat down to indulge yourself on his delicious-smelling baked goods. 

“No, sweetheart, I just want you to enjoy yourself.” Wooyoung couldn’t contain his smile as he watched your eyes roll back at the first bite of his creation. 

“Baby. No offense but I’m breaking up with you for this danish.” You joked.

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped in fake offense, “But wait! That danish can’t get you off!”

You shrugged, “Ah, well. Good thing I have a vibrator.”

Wooyoung stuck his bottom lip out, “You know good and well you like my dick better.”

“Hm…” You pretended to consider his words, “My memory is hazy, maybe I need a refresher before I can answer that completely honestly.”

The Fellowship of the Ring played in the background as Wooyoung fucked you over the back of the couch, but neither of you were paying attention to the movie. 

“Admit it.” Wooyoung growled in your ear, “My cock is the only thing that can truly satisfy you.”

“God. Fuck, yes, Youngie. Your cock is the only thing now please fuck me harder.” You begged, sweat dripping down your brow as your boyfriend pounded into you painstakingly slowly, knowing he was driving you crazy. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Wooyoung obeyed, picking up his pace until the two of you were panting as you were finally able to release. 

The rest of the day passed much the same way, between eating, fucking, watching movies, exchanging gifts, and nodding off in between. Hours past sunset, the two of you were back in the kitchen, lethargic from your day of consuming calories and quickly turning around to burn them in the most hedonistic ways possible, washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Wooyoung paused after he put away the last plate you handed him, “Oh, wait! I forgot! I have one more gift for you!”

“Wooyoung!” You protested, “You got me more than enough!” 

“I really think you’ll want this one, though.” Wooyoung winked at you before darting out of the kitchen only to return a few minutes later, hands behind his back, kneeling down in front of you, revealing the ring box he had grasped in his hands, “Baby, you’ve been nothing but a bright spot since you came into my life. I want to spend the rest of it teasing you, spoiling you, and making you laugh. Will you make me the happiest Hobbit in the whole Shire and please marry me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his silly proposal, “Yes, but try again without the references.”

“Oh, if that was an issue, I’m afraid you’ll hate what I engraved the ring with.” Wooyoung blushed. 

“You didn’t.” You buried your face in your hands, “Good Lord. I should have never introduced you to Tolkien. Yes, Jung Wooyoung. Of course I’ll marry you.” 

“Yeah?” He stood up quickly, opening the ring box to show you the most intricate, most you ring of all time, sure enough, engraved with “one ring to rule them all” on the inside of the band. 

“Yes, honey.” You pulled him in for a kiss before he could fit the ring onto your finger, “I never want anyone else.” 

“I’m the happiest man alive.” Wooyoung’s smile reached from ear to ear. 

“I’m incredibly happy, too.” You returned his smile, “But we are not having a Lord of the Rings themed wedding.”

“Right. Harry Potter themed.” Wooyoung nodded, like this was the only answer. 

“Hell fucking no.” You tickled him, “We can plan later, though. Right now I need to show you my secret cave.” 

“Ooh, is Gollum in there?” 

“Only if you’ve decided to call your dick ‘Gollum’, then I guess so, yes.”

“I prefer to think of it as more of a Smeagol.” Wooyoung took your hand dragging you to the bedroom. 

“Just please don’t try to do the voice.” You pleaded.

He didn't oblige. You were going to marry the fuck out of him anyway. 

Choi Jongho: You could always tell when Jongho was up to something, and this week, the week leading up to Christmas, was turning out to fall directly into that category. A mischievous glint sparkled in your boyfriend’s eye all week. The two of you had been dating for a few years now and you suspected he would propose at some point in the near future, but you honestly had no idea when. The man lived to keep you on your toes. 

He didn’t do it while the two of you celebrated Christmas with your family. 

He didn’t do it while the two of you celebrated Christmas with his family. 

He didn’t do it as the two of you opened your gifts to one another late at night on Christmas Day. 

No. Why would he? He just spent the entirety of both days tricking you into thinking he might do it. He had handed you a conspicuously sized square box wrapped in paper. Earrings. They were beautiful, of course. He knew your taste well. 

He had taken you on a scenic walk, kneeling down at the overlook, only to tie his shoe, laughing at your face, poorly disguised in shock, disappointment, then frustration, all in quick succession. 

He had asked to make a toast at your family’s Christmas dinner. Didn’t propose.

Your boyfriend might be a little evil. 

Christmas with him had always been somewhat like this, with him feeding you false leads about what gifts he was getting you, especially as it got closer to the actual holiday, only to have gotten you something better than what he was alluding to the whole time. On top of everything, of course he was an annoyingly good gift giver. 

It was December 27th and you were nearly at your wit’s end. The two of you were still off work and with everything temporarily back open between holidays, Jongho had planned something incredibly special for the two of you, much to your surprise. You honestly had no clue how he was so damn talented at hiding things from you. Maybe you just weren’t as observant as you thought you were. 

Dinner at a nice restaurant turned into a carriage ride around the park, ending with the two of you slow dancing in a gazebo to a song that he had written just for you. 

“I mean every word, you know.” Jongho whispered as the gravity of his lyrics rushed over you. For as often as he was impish and playful, he was at other times, equally as genuine, vulnerable, and honest with you. It nearly broke your heart every time he shared that side of himself with you. 

“Jongho…” You didn’t know what to say, “You mean so much to me, baby.” 

“And you to me.” He answered, leaning in to kiss your cheek. 

You waited with bated breath, thinking that this might be it, it might be time for him to finally pop the question, but instead, he simply carried on dancing with you. 

You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes, throat constricting with your frustration. 

“What’s wrong, honey?” Jongho looked at you, concern evident on his face.

“Nothing.” You lied. “Sorry. Today has been wonderful, I just feel like I’m going crazy.” 

“Crazy?” He cocked his eyebrow at you. 

“Yes, Jongho.” The tears fell genuinely now, “It’s probably stupid, I don’t even know if it’s where we’re at, I thought I did, but now I’m confused and I feel stupid for ever thinking it-”

“Thinking, what, baby?” Jongho pushed the hair off of your forehead. 

“All week you’ve been doing little things that I keep misinterpreting as you being about to propose. It’s stupid. I’m probably just delusional.” You sobbed then, pulling away from him. 

“Oh, no, sweetheart.” Jongho pulled you back to his chest, “I’m so sorry. I was just being a problem to mess with you. I never should have gone this far. You’re not crazy, though. I promise.” Jongho kissed your forehead before kneeling in front of you, reaching into his jacket pocket, “I’ve had this for about three months now. It’s just a weird tradition in my group to propose on Christmas so I wanted to make our anniversary different from theirs. I’m so sorry, darling. I want nothing more than to call you my wife. I’ve known I wanted to marry you since our first date. I’ve worked to be the man you deserve every day since then and I never plan on stopping, though I don’t see myself as ever reaching that goal, because you deserve better than I can ever give you. But I never want to stop in my pursuit. If you’re not too terribly mad at me, will you please consider? Marry me, my love.” 

The tears streaming down your face took on a whole different meaning at his words, “I feel so silly.” You sobbed, “But yes. Yes, please, Jongho. I’d be so happy to.”

It took the loud clearing of a passer by’s throat to break the two of you out of your public makeout session, both of you agreeing that your activities should move back inside your apartment. 

The way he took you apart so devotedly, so lovingly, bringing you wave after wave of pleasure on his mouth, his hands, and his gorgeous cock that night made you more sure than ever of your decision to marry him. He kept you on your toes and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[esouliie]

Christmas at the Romanoff’s

(natasha romanoff x reader) & (platonic!yelena belova x reader)

tags | christmas headcanon – friends to lovers, first kiss, fluff and comfort!

notes | hello, pls take this small headcanon as a thank you for reading and supporting all my fics even though i cannot keep up with demand lmao. i promise to do better in the new year. merry christmas! <3

It’s your first Christmas with Natasha, and you quickly discover that the Black Widow is… not exactly a holiday enthusiast. At least, not in the traditional sense. When you first arrived at the apartment she shares with her sister, you were greeted by Yelena’s unholy mix of holiday cheer and chaos. Mismatched ornaments hung precariously from a tree that was way too big for their living room, a plate of burnt cookies sat on the counter, and garish Christmas music blared at an almost concerning volume. Natasha, however, looked like she was about two seconds away from wrapping the excessive lights around her neck.

“I hate Christmas music,” Natasha mutters under her breath as you hang up your coat. Yelena’s halfway through yelling “All I Want for Christmas is You” with a Santa hat perched at an angle on her head. “She’s been doing this for weeks,” she adds, her voice low like it’s some covert confession. It takes you all but twenty minutes to realise that Natasha has a very complicated relationship with Christmas. She doesn’t hate it exactly—she just doesn’t really know what to do with it. With all the joy. When you try to hand her a burnt gingerbread cookie, she looks at it like it’s some kind of alien artifact. “Why would I eat a cookie shaped like a man?” She asks flatly, before breaking it in half like it personally offended her.

She then proceeded to argue how she’d be more likely to eat one of these ‘monstrosities’ if it was shaped like a woman…

But there are little moments where she tries, and it’s adorable in the most understated way. You catch her quietly fixing the crooked ornaments on the tree when she thinks no one’s looking, muttering under her breath about how “the reds need to go next to the greens.” One night, after Yelena goes to bed, you find Natasha scrolling through YouTube tutorials for how to wrap presents, muttering curses in Russian every time the tape sticks to her fingers.

And then there’s the stockings. Yelena insisted everyone have one, even though Natasha grumbled about it. But before you went to bed on Christmas Eve, you noticed that Natasha’s stocking was the most stuffed. There’s a random assortment of things crammed in there—protein bars, an extra pair of thick socks, a tiny first aid kit. You don’t have to ask to know that she filled her own stocking, long before Christmas Eve. The thought makes your heart ache in the sweetest, saddest way. She spent so many holidays alone that it just… became her normal.

Finally, it’s Christmas morning and Natasha is draped over the couch like a cat, one leg tucked under her, watching as you and Yelena clean up the mess from last night. She’s quiet, sipping a mug of tea, but you’ve learned by now that quiet Natasha doesn’t exactly mean unhappy Natasha. In fact, she looks content—eyes crinkling every time Yelena grumbles about your “lack of enthusiasm” in picking up all the decorative pillows.

What really steals the show, though, is the mountain of presents you’ve brought. You didn’t mean for it to get out of hand, but once you started, it was impossible to stop. You’d see something and think, Yelena would love this, or Natasha would smile at that, and next thing you knew, you were hauling six bags into their apartment like some sort of festive mule. When the gift exchange begins, Yelena dives into her pile like a kid on sugar overload. Her laughter is infectious as she opens each one: a set of retro pins for her jacket, a waffle maker, a framed picture of you and her after a mission (that one earns a rare hug). She’s glowing, grinning so wide it’s almost blinding. Natasha just sits there, watching her sister, her fingers loosely holding the edge of the blanket draped over her lap.

You notice she hasn’t opened her gifts yet—not even the ones with her name written in your careful handwriting. You nudge her gently, teasing, “what’s the matter, Romanoff? Afraid you’ll cry if I outdid you?” She gives you a half-smile, the kind that makes your chest ache a little because it’s soft in a way she rarely lets herself be. “Just... enjoying the show” She says, her gaze flicking back to Yelena, who is now holding up a pair of horrible light-up slippers you found at a charity shop.

When Natasha finally opens her gifts, it’s much slower, deliberate. You’re nervous, even though you know she’ll never let you see it if she doesn’t like something. But the small things you picked—a leather journal, a new cream scarf, a rare first edition of a spy novel she once mentioned—earn a quiet “thank you,” each one accompanied by that little smile. It’s the last gift, though, that gets you. It’s a snow globe. Inside, there’s a tiny replica of a mountain standing tall in the heart of Russia, the one Natasha had mentioned missing when she told you about her childhood. The one she only saw once and yet managed to comfort her throughout her life. Her fingers tighten around it, and for a moment, her expression shifts—just enough for you to catch it. Sadness, maybe, or longing.

She doesn’t say much after that. But when you look at her later, as Yelena’s dancing around in her ridiculous slippers and yelling about how she’s making everyone waffles tomorrow morning, Natasha’s looking at you like maybe you’re the best gift she’s ever gotten. And maybe she wouldn’t mind Christmas each year if you were around.

Later that night, you find her in the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate she swore she didn’t want. The two of you stand there in the soft glow of the tree lights, listening to Yelena snore on the couch. “I don’t really get Christmas.” She admits softly, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fake fireplace video Yelena left running on the TV. “But… I think this year was nice.” And when she looks at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips, you know she means it.

Without thinking, you step closer, reaching out to brush a stray curl from her face. “It’s more than nice. I’m so happy.”

And that’s when you hear it—a distant jingle. You glance up, realising Natasha’s holding a tiny branch of mistletoe above your heads, her expression smug but her cheeks just the faintest flush of pink. “Well, would you look at that…” You murmur, before giggling at her antics. She leans in slowly, her breath warm against your skin. The kiss starts soft, hesitant, like she’s testing the waters. But when you cradle her face in your hands, she melts into it, kissing you deeper, with a tenderness that leaves you breathless.

And when you finally pull back, her forehead resting against yours, she exhales a quiet laugh. “Okay,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper, “maybe Christmas isn’t that bad.”

From the living room, Yelena’s snore breaks the silence—loud and obnoxious. Natasha groans, but you can see the affection in her expression when she shakes her head. “Don’t tell her I said that.” She adds, smirking. And just like that, the moment is gone, replaced by the familiar warmth of Natasha’s dry humor.

But later, when you catch her adding an extra blanket over Yelena on the couch, you realise that maybe, Natasha likes Christmas more than she’d like to admit. And maybe this Christmas might bring more than just holiday cheer.

[isadelusions]

Daisuke [Mouthwashing]

| vlogger x editor(reader) au | fem reader | fluff | pt1 > pt2

┊͙ ⋆. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄ ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄┊͙

Pretty Duo hm?

- He’s been making videos for quite a while and hired an editor because he isn’t too experienced with editing.

- He makes a video pretty much every week, sends it to you, tells you some details he would for his video with a little, you’ll edit, sends the finished product, he loves it and post. Repeat.

- After a few weeks, the both of you started chatting with each other regularly,checking up on each other, talked about the similar hobbies you guys share, laughing at each other’s cringe roblox usernames. You guys even decided to have matching avatars.

-From chatting daily to having voice calls for random game nights to FaceTiming. You were shy at first to reveal your face but as time goes by, you eventually got comfortable with it. (Bro was gagged by your face card)

“I must be lucky to have a pretty editor like you. ;)” ,that line totally send butterflies to your stomach.

- One time he asked if you would like to be in a video and play roblox with him. At first you were quite hesitant since his number of followers were slowly rising and afraid that it would destruct his fans.

“Well if they start hating me, just let them. I rather have that then having some fake fans you know??” “Plus I’m just here to have fun so what can they do? Mhm?”

- After his reassurance, you agreed and record the video together online.

—— ✿ ——

“heyyy guysss I’m back again to play some roblox BUT this time with some company, guys act shocked act shocked,just kidding. Anyways this time I’ll be playing with my lovely editor~”, his screen showing both him and your avatar, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

There was a long pause. “Um…hi?” You said awkwardly as you don’t have much experience being recorded.

But after a while,you got used to it and the both of you decided to play some two player obbies. At first it was going smoothly, just simple jumps and walks. However, when you guys got closer to the end, the difficulty rises.

“DAISUKE PLEASE DONT MISS THE JUMP OR I MIGHT ACTUALLY BREAK. DOWN.”

“STOPP,YOUR STRESSING ME PRETTY GIRLL”

Your skin tingles every time he calls you that but it didn’t make you feel better. He indeed did miss the jump.

…a very long silence

“Alright,breathe in….and breathe out… We can do this..”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, let’s try one last time before I might actually start raging”

You guys were extremely locked in and passed the final stage miraculously.

“WE DID ITTT (y/n), YAYYY”

“EYY GOODJOBB”

You made your character walk in circles around daisuke’s character and he mirrors your actions too.

You then looked at the time to realise it took almost two hours to complete the obbies, it’s already 1am which is quite alright since we’re used to it but you suddenly remembered you had other ‘important’ plans in the morning and cut off daisuke’s next sentence.

“hmm what should we play next-”

“As much as I would love to continue this all with you but I really have to head to bed right now”

“Ouh finally sleeping quite earlier then usual, aren’t we?”

“well I do have plans for tomorrow, quite important to me heh..”

“Okayy then, have a good sle-” he then pauses, his mind recalling his previous chats with you and the puzzle pieces matched. “Wait, your going to that cat cafe you talked about right??? I do remember you sending me a post about it opening for tomorrow or more like ‘later in the morning’ hmm?”

“Yeaaa, oh wait I did told you about it.”

“Could I go with you,pleasee. It’s not too far from my area and plus you get to meet ‘this gorgeous cool guy’ for first time in your lifeee.”

You felt ??? by the sudden plan of his, “mhmmm sure I don’t mind honestly”

“wait really??” “Ofcourse”

“I’ll text you the details later before I head to bed, I gotta go get myself cleaned up. Do remember to send me the clips before heading to bed. Soo I’ll see you tomorrow then hm? ;)”

“Yupp, I’ll see ya tomorrow. Have a good sleep if it’s possible~”

“Alright, goodnight pretty boy” You immediately left the call and got up from your seat, heading to the bathroom to get a quick wash up.

The excitement for ‘tomorrow’ was rising in you but yet feeling nervous and curious. How tall would he be? Would his behaviour be completely different? The thoughts were filling up your mind.

You head to bed with your phone, texting him about the plans while your allow your body to lay on the bed,sheets covering your body, head against your soft pillow.

“How about we meet up at a metro station first? Then we could walk tgt to the cat cafe? How does that sound to you?”

“That sounds great to me;)”

Daisuke replied almost instantly and brought up about having matching outfits and of course you couldn’t turn that offer down.

“hmm let’s match in colours then?”

“Suree”

“Any colours in mind?”

“Hmm, not really”

“Me too honestly. How about I’ll choose it tmr while I pick my outfit hm?”

“Sure but don’t be too lateee”

“Says the one who rarely reads chats in the morning”

“Man shut it, as if you’ll wake up in time”

“Okay okay you win. I guess I gonna sleep now or I’ll be late right, pretty?”

“Alright, goodnight to you”

“Night to you as well”

A small smile plastered across your face as you place your phone onto the small table beside you.

It def took you almost like an hour to only fall asleep due to your own excitement.

-I can picture daisuke kicking his own legs before having his sleep lol

┊͙ ⋆. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄ ೃ࿔*:･. ˚◞♡ ⃗*ೃ༄┊͙

I think it will take a long while for me to post parts for this,I’m still new to writing and honestly I’m scared I won’t be able to write the next part. Anyways I hope you guys had a little joy in reading this,take care of your health!loveyouu byee~ :o

[lieslab]

The house is white and the lawn is dead

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Hyunjin X gn reader

Summary: You're struggling with a past sibling relationship when Hyunjin takes notice.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 2.4K

Domestic abuse resources

Trigger warning: Insecurities, anxiety, domestic abuse, verbal abuse, descriptions of injuries from physical abuse, and grieving sibling-related trauma.

A/N: This is a request from quite a while ago and I hope you know that you deserved so much better than what you dealt with. I hope this hits the mark and I hope you have a good holiday that's full of love and appreciation. If nobody else is going to tell you, I will. I appreciate you and thank you for sticking around, even though you've fought internal silent battles <3

_ _ _

Australia was much warmer than you expected. The deep blue sky layered with cotton clouds and even though it was December, the temperatures were still pretty warm. You could get away with wearing a t-shirt and shorts without much of an issue. 

The Stray Kids members were on tour and since you and Hyunjin were a thing, you were offered an invite. You declined in the beginning, but Hyunjin begged and pleaded, even going as far as getting down on his knees and bowing to you. With his head level with the tip of your toes, he patted the top of your bare feet and said all the right words. 

When you finally agreed, he picked you up and swung you around. Laughter fell from your lips and he grinned. “We’re going to have so much fun! Just you wait! You’re going to love Australia, it’s my second home!” 

That was a few weeks ago and here you were now. Your fingers curled against Hyunjin’s hands as the two of you walked in the direction of the beach. Felix and Chan had been raving about the water. Salt has been in their bloodstream since birth. 

Growing up near the azure colored water, their families often took them to beaches to cool off. Beneath the scorching sun, the warm water provided much needed relief. The memories of their youth-filled days stuck to the sides of their brains. Coming back to the Pacific Ocean, it was finally like coming back home. 

The rest of the band members had scattered off in different directions. Minho and Han ventured towards a less noisy area of the beach. Seungmin and Jeongin padded after them. Changbin screeched, stuck his hands up, and took off towards the rolling waves. 

Beside you, Hyunjin chuckled and shook his head. “We have our own beaches and yet, it’s like he’s never seen one before.” 

“It’s the Pacific Ocean,” you joked, “that makes it special.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

You watched Changbin rush the waves and dive in head-first. The smile on your face began to disappear when you heard a scream from your right. Your head whipped over and it was there that you found Chan’s younger sister running away from him. 

“Get back here!” Chan yelled. He propelled after her with his arms outstretched. His bare feet kicked up sand as he chased her. Her laughter mixed with the sound of waves. “Hannah, get back here!” 

Felix’s own sisters shared a mischievous glance. The older one began to grin and when Felix realized it, his eyes widened. “Oh no, wait a minute, please don’t-” 

“You better start running for your life.” 

He rushed around and took off sprinting. “Bang Chan! Help me! Hyung, save me! Save me!” 

His sisters laughed and took off after him. Chan glanced over his shoulder and when he did, his own sister took advantage of this. She shifted directions and began to sprint back after him. 

What started as a simple joy, turned into a complex game of cat and mouse. The three girls ran after Felix and Chan while sharing giggles. Olivia, Rachel, and Hannah had been close for a while. It was easy to share the longing and loneliness of missing their brothers. 

Hannah and Chan had a younger brother, but he wasn’t the same as having an older brother. Hannah grew up with her older brother and then he disappeared. It was difficult to be so young and fathom that your older brother was hundreds of miles away. 

For Olivia and Rachel, it was the same way. Felix was the middle child and smothered with love and taunts. As the only brother, it was foreign to have him there all the time and then disappear to follow his dreams. 

Each sibling had their own lives and their own goals. Despite that, when they all visited with each other, they tried to make as many memories as possible. Who knew when the next visit would be. 

Your fingers were still entangled with Hyunjin’s hand while you watched them. Changbin realized his band members were being chased by their siblings and he gasped. He sprinted out of the waist-high water and rushed towards them. 

“Felix! Channie-hyung! Hold on! I’m coming!” 

Hyunjin’s fingers untangled from yours and he reached down to get his phone. He wanted to capture this moment and send it to the guys later. This was something they’d be able to look back on and laugh about. 

Too distracted by capturing the moment, he didn’t realize you walked away from him. You turned your back and began to head away from the laughter and fun. Your arms wrapped around your torso and you sucked in a deep breath. 

You had an older brother once upon a time too. Unfortunately, your time together wasn’t remembered with fond conversations and melodic laughter. Instead, when you thought back upon it, you remembered the worst parts. 

You remembered the harsh insults that were spat at you. As if you weren’t formed in the same womb and shared the same half of your parents. Words stung, but being backhanded and knocked to the floor hurt much worse. 

Once upon a time, you had a brother that you loved more than anything, but as the formative years began to progress, so did his hatred for you. What you did, you didn’t know, but you knew the harshness of a man. 

The betrayal of blood that tastes like iron. Bright crimson staining your cracked open bottom lip. It’s a plum purple and a darkening blue. A touch of brown that’s sprouting a rotten yellow amongst the edges. 

You asked that question over and over and over again. He moved out months ago, but the hurt still lingered. That harshness stapled to your soul and each time you tried to peel it back, to remind yourself that you deserved better, the rusty staples still clung. You hadn’t figured out how to feel worth it yet. 

When you looked into Hyunjin’s dark eyes, sometimes there was a tug on your heart. A cupped fear always lingered deep down. Would he eventually see you as your brother had? Something not worth fighting for? Someone so disposable that it wouldn’t hurt to let go?

Old wounds scabbed over and healed, but the scars never left. When you laid down in your bed and snuggled next to Hyunjin’s warmth, you could still feel the phantom pain every now and then. The way the tangled carpet strands brushed against your bare knees and wore away the top layer of your delicate skin. The pain that shot through your elbow and lingered in your shoulder when you hit the ground. 

Your brother’s untamed anger was uncontrollable. He was a vicious beast that would launch at you any moment. Whether it was verbally or physically, he’d beat you down without a second thought. 

Maybe your parents knew or maybe they just didn’t care. Maybe they too were ashamed and disappointed by the child that they raised. The two of you shared the same womb, but your brother viewed you as if you grew up in a womb of venom. It seeped into your bloodstream along the way and poisoned your entire sense of self. 

He darkened your childhood and the days that should have been full of wonder and entertainment were instead filled with fear and anxiety. Every time you interacted with him, you never knew what lay ahead. The unknown future brought you more anxiety than you ever could have possibly imagined. 

You grew up. You moved out. You lived your own life, but the hurt still lingered. When you tried to go back home, your throat closed up. Your adult body remembered that adolescent fear. Your knees wobbled and tears pricked your eyes. Your brain screamed at you to stop. 

You moved far away and tried to forget, but it was moments like these where you truly struggled. You wanted to be happy. You knew Chan and Felix were good brothers, but there was resentment tucked behind your heart. Why couldn’t your brother be a good brother too? 

Hanging around Hyunjin, you hung out with members of the band too. So many members had siblings and they were decent brothers. Changbin always tried to meet up with his sister to have a meal together every now and then. He always paid for it without complaint. 

When Seungmin went back home to his parents house, his older sister babied him. He swore that he hated it, but deep down, you knew that he appreciated it. He still liked to be cared for. 

Chan and Felix were constantly updated with their siblings. Han liked to taunt and tease his older brother for the fun of it. Jeongin actively liked to find items for his brothers and save them until it was a holiday season or their birthdays. 

Hyunjin and Minho were the only members without siblings. Even without siblings, they didn’t know what it was like to face abuse from them. They didn’t have to worry about coming home from school and facing the wrath of the devil. 

“Are you crying?” 

The sudden voice caused you to open your eyes. In front of you, Hyunjin frowned and studied your face. He reached up with his thumb and gently wiped away a fallen tear. 

You mumbled an apology and stepped back. With a sniffle, you wiped your arm across your eyes. The scent of coconut sunblock hit your nose. Chan wouldn’t let any of you outside without some sort of sun protection. The Australian sun was scorching and you burnt easily. 

“Did something happen?” He reached out and grabbed your arm. Slightly lifting it, he inspected your body for some sort of damage. “Did you fall and get hurt?” 

“No.” You shook your head and pulled away. “I was just thinking about some stuff. It’s kind of stupid, really.” Your eyes went down to the sand and you curled your toes. They dug into the white sand and disappeared. 

“It’s not stupid if it’s causing you to cry.” 

“I was just watching everything down there and needed a moment. Felix and Chan are good brothers. They’re having so much fun down there and I’m happy for them.” 

“But?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“I had a brother too, but he wasn’t like that. He was mean and cruel.” You wiped away another forming tear before it fell. “I just wish my brother could have been more like them and less like he really was.” 

“I’m sorry that he wasn’t who you needed him to be.” 

You shrugged and tried to swallow the lump in your throat. “It doesn’t really matter. What’s done is done and nothing can change it. Life goes on, the earth keeps spinning, and the sun still shines.” 

You glanced over his shoulder. All three of the guys and the girls were now in the water. They were splashing each other with water. Hannah splashed foamy waves at Chan. He spit the water back out at her and she shrieked. “You jerk!” 

When Felix sent water her way, his own sisters teamed up against him. One disappeared beneath the shallow water while the other distracted him with splashes. He yelped as his ankle was grabbed. Caught off guard, he tipped into the water. Olivia broke the water giggling as Felix flailed with a yell. 

“You know, I didn’t grow up with any siblings, but I met the guys. They might not be related to me through blood, but we’re definitely related through our experiences and our careers.” 

He cautiously reached out an arm and wrapped it around your shoulders. Your head shifted to the side and laid upon his shoulders. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear and didn’t take his eyes off you. 

“If you want them to be, they can be the brothers you never had too. You’re already taken by me, so they already view you as a family member.” 

“Why does it feel like you’re lying to make me feel better?” 

“If you didn’t mean anything to me, I wouldn’t have brought you on this trip. Although we’re not from Australia, it’s special to all of us. Felix and Chan left this place to take chances and follow their dreams. That’s not something that any of us forget about. They left their families to take a huge chance and along the way, they found us.” 

“I wouldn’t have shared this experience with you if I didn’t love you. You can let them in and lean on them if you need to. You’re part of our lives and you help us out if needed. The least that we can do is care about you.” 

You blinked rapidly as your vision blurred. Tears began to fill up as you thought about the moments you shared with the guys. Just this morning, you helped Minho make everyone breakfast. 

The two of you laughed and joked around in the kitchen. When you accidentally cut yourself with a pairing knife while chopping vegetables, he lightly lectured you, cleaned the cut, and bandaged it. 

Once he finished, he showed you the proper way to hold the knife, so you didn’t catch your fingers with the blade. Once he was satisfied and sure you weren’t bleeding through the bandage, he left you, so he could go back to preparing the meat. 

“I don’t think I deserve you all sometimes,” you finally uttered weakly. 

“And at times, I feel the same way about you. So what are you waiting for? Come on!” he held his hand out towards you. “Your brothers are waiting.” 

When you didn’t move quick enough. He grabbed you and tossed you over his shoulder. You shrieked and gripped the back of his shirt. “Hyunjin! What are you-” 

He laughed and hauled you back to the water. “Felix, look what I caught!” He dropped you into the water and you gasped as warmth caught you. “Sick ‘em!” 

“Leave them alone!” Rachel howled. 

The three girls approached you to form a protective shield. Chan, Felix, Changbin, and Hyunjin began splashing the water. You shrieked and ducked behind the girls to take cover. Water splashed in every direction. 

Since Hyunjin was taller, he could see over the girls. When he did, he caught the smile on your face. Despite the rocky waves and their splashing, you were holding up just fine. The aching sadness replaced itself with comfort. 

You fit right in, like the final piece of the missing puzzle. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

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Ko-fi

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceres Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Tags: Angst, Found Family, Dark Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy Drama, Unreliable Narrators.

Warnings: Body Horror, Mentions of Emotional Neglect, Pregnancy Complications, Nightmare Imagery.

A/N: The mystery Hunk is finally here! We’re diving headfirst into the start of an alternate ending I had previously intended for this fic mid first scene, so buckle up. I promised this chapter wouldn’t have funny bits, but apparently, Mystery Hunk had other plans. Also, the husbands will be getting an earful of their own shit. If you’re here for cursed energy-infused pregnancy drama and Mystery Hunk stealing hearts with his black cat husband energy while side-eyeing Karens, you’re in the right place, and yes, he’s stealing the spotlight unapologetically. Let me know in the comments: Is he the best worst fake husband ever?

Previous Chapter 4 - The Gravity of Running (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 5 - Something Soft, Something Sharp

You didn’t even have time to react before his hand snaked around your leg. The two of them dragged you out of your hiding spot, your thrashing limbs no match for their combined strength.

They had found you.

“Running away doesn’t suit you,” Gojo said, his tone mocking, dangerous.

You glared at him, removing the scarf from your mouth, your movements jerky, your hands trembling as you shoved both their hands off you. “Don’t touch me.” You tried to stand.

The effort was futile—your legs buckled, and you sank back down. Pain radiated from your swollen belly, grotesque.

Their gazes dropped to your stomach, the sheer size of it impossible to ignore, finally noticing what you’d been trying to hide.

Even at just five and a half months, your uterus had already distended to a grotesque parody of its former shape. The two tornadoes brewing inside you made you look eight months pregnant, their relentless growth stretching your abdominal wall to its limits. Your stomach bulged outward, a taut and swollen orb that seemed to strain against the confines of your skin, as if the very fabric of your body was being slowly, inexorably torn apart from the inside out.

Nanami’s eyes widened. “You’re…”

Gojo’s expression cracked, his six eyes glowing faintly as they locked onto your swollen stomach. “You’re pregnant.”

The twins squirmed beneath their stares, sending sharp jolts of pain through your abdomen. You bit your lip, refusing to show weakness, to clutch your belly, even as your body betrayed you.

You didn’t dignify their obvious revelation with a response, focusing instead on pulling yourself upright. Every attempt to rise felt monumental, the strain making your head swim, but you managed to straighten up, your breathing ragged. Their awkward, hesitant hands reached toward you, only for you to glare them down.

They stood there, helpless, as you hobbled past them toward the living room. Each step felt like dragging yourself uphill in a storm, the strain making your vision blur. By the time you reached the couch, you were shaking so badly that you had to clutch the back of a chair for balance. Lowering yourself onto the cushions was its own Herculean task, the pain so intense you had to bite back a scream. Your hand moved instinctively to your belly, rubbing slow, trembling circles over the taut, aching skin.

You spoke low but firm, “Leave.”

“We’re not leaving,” Nanami replied, his voice firm but strained, his face a storm of conflict. “You’re pregnant, my love. You didn’t even tell us.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. “What’s there to tell? It’s just a medical condition, right?”

“At least lie better,” Gojo said, his tone mocking as his eyes lingered on your stomach, then continued, “Although I thought you had had a hysterectomy?”

Nanami’s hand twitched; his jaw tightened at Gojo’s casual demeanor. “Don’t.”

Your anger flared, the months of humiliation and abandonment clawing their way to the surface. “Don’t what? Diminish it? You mean like you two diminished me?”

You had deduced earlier that Gojo’s RCT might have detected your lack of a uterus and classified it as an error, then corrected the said error. Or perhaps it was Nanami’s RCT’s doing, considering he could now heal himself and was immune to attacks like fire since becoming a special grade. Although as far as you knew they couldn’t heal people but it might have changed when they would have been inside you. You didn’t care to find out any more, and you certainly wouldn’t let them in on it.

The words hit like a slap, the air between you crackling with tension.

“It’s none of your business,” you spat, your voice shaking with rage.

“None of our business?” Nanami’s voice was low, his usual calm cracking. “We’re your—”

“You’re nothing to me anymore,” you interrupted, your tone icy. “You made sure of that.”

“That’s not true,” Gojo flinched as if struck, his voice breaking in a way like it was about him, making you hate him more. “We—”

“You abandoned me!” The words tore from your chest before you could stop them. “You left me alone for months! You laughed, you fucked each other, then posted all your OMG-I’m-so-in-love photos online for my employees to stare at and give me looks of sympathy. While... while I sat there and died inside!”

“You left without telling us!” Gojo’s voice rose, desperation creeping into his tone.

“And you didn’t notice for six weeks!” You yelled, your voice breaking. “You were too busy fucking each other to even see me! I could have been tortured, raped, killed and buried long ago with evidence wiped, but you both were too busy fucking each other to see me!”

Gojo’s expression twisted, the pain in his eyes cutting deeper than any accusation. “We didn’t know how to reach you. We thought you needed space.”

“Space?” You laughed again, the sound hollow. “You gave me space to suffocate. 

Nanami visibly recoiled, guilt carving deep lines into his face. “We made a mistake—”

“Mistake?” You cut him off, your voice cracking under the weight of your fury. “Mistakes don’t last for months. Mistakes don’t make someone feel so invisible they disappear. Mistakes don’t force someone to flee halfway across the world just to fucking breathe! You think I’ll forgive you just because you decided to find me now?” You huffed and continued, “Well, guess what? I learned to live without you two a long time before I left, so why don’t you both go fuck each other some more and leave me alone!”

Gojo spoke softly, inching to touch you. “We’re here. We care about you.”

“Care?” You laughed bitterly, tears spilling down your cheeks. “You humiliated me. Your stunt at my office nearly destroyed everything I’ve built. Do you think anyone respects a CEO whose husbands storm her building and beat up her employees?”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor, his fists clenching at his sides. Gojo opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

“And let’s not forget the internet is a circus, and you’re the clowns.,” you hissed, your voice shaking, ears burning with humiliation. “I’m being dragged into the spotlight for something I never wanted public. All because of you. They’re calling me a sexual deviant and undermining everything I have ever done while simultaneously thirsting over you two, because, of course, men don’t get the same treatment. #TwoHolesForAReason is still trending. What the actual fuck, Nanami? You too?”

Your voice trembled with a mix of anger and despair, and your breathing grew heavier, each word feeling like a weight pressing down on your chest. The injustice of it all clawed at you, the betrayal stinging sharper than any physical wound. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly powerless as the world turned your life into a spectacle, and the very people you loved were at the center of it.

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mix of anger and sorrow. “We were wrong. We should have been there for you. We should have…” He trailed off, unable to find the words.”

You could see the guilt etched on their faces, the way they shifted uncomfortably, as if your words were a physical weight pressing down on them.

“Tell me,” you said, your voice low and trembling, “did you even think about me when you were together? Did I ever cross your minds?”

Gojo opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, he looked at Nanami, a silent plea for understanding passing between them, but Nanami kept staring at your stomach. The moment stretched, and you could feel the desperation radiating from them, but it only fueled your anger.

“Don’t look at him,” you snapped, your voice sharp. “You both made this choice together. You both decided I was expendable.” The image of Gojo grabbing Nanami’s pecks mid-fight at your company came to your mind, and you resisted the urge to bash his head in.

Nanami’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining from him. “We were selfish,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. 

Gojocut him off, his hands trembling like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “We love you.”

“You love each other,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, breaking. “And I was just... there. An afterthought. An inconvenience.”

Silence.

Nanami stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively, but you shrank further. “Please,” he said softly. “Let us help.”

Gojo stepped forward, his hands outstretched, but you recoiled, the instinct to protect yourself overwhelming. “Don’t,” you warned, your voice trembling. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

The hurt in his eyes was almost unbearable, but you couldn’t allow yourself to feel sympathy. Not now. Not when the wounds were still fresh, still bleeding.

“Just go,” you said, your voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.”

Nanami’s face fell, the weight of your words crashing down on him. “We can’t just walk away,” he said, desperation creeping into his tone. “We love you. We want to be here for you. And the babies.”

You wrapped your arms protectively around your belly, your body trembling from the effort of holding yourself upright, the weight of their presence suffocating. “I don’t need you. We don’t need you.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, betraying the pain you’d tried so hard to hide.

The finality of your words made them both freeze, their faces pale and stricken.

You turned your face away, unwilling to look at them any longer. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing.

(alt ending 1.1)

“You heard her.”

The voice from the doorway made you freeze.

Sukuna leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his tattoos stark against his pale skin. His grin was sharp, dangerous, and entirely out of place in your tiny apartment.

“And who the hell are you?” Gojo snapped, his six eyes narrowing as he turned to face the intruder.

Sukuna’s smirk widened. “None of your concern. But unlike you two, I don’t barge into her life uninvited.”

Nanami stepped forward, his gaze calculating. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does when you’re upsetting her,” Sukuna said, his tone light but edged with menace. His crimson eyes flicked to you, softening slightly. “You good, princess?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m fine. Just… please get them out of here, Ryo.”

The way you said his name weakly made Sukuna straighten, his grin turning feral as he rolled his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. “You heard her. Time to go.”

Gojo stepped toward Sukuna, his grin tight, his energy shifting. “You think you can just waltz in here and—”

Sukuna cut him off by closing the gap in a single step, towering over him. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Try me, pretty boy.”

Nanami's shoulders squared, his gaze calculating. “Leave. This doesn’t concern you.”

Sukuna’s eyes flicked between them, his lips quirking into a smirk. “I’m here because she wants you out. Seems like it’s very much my concern.”

Gojo rolled his shoulders, the first hints of tension seeping into his movements. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, pal. She’s our wife. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Both your wife. Eww, Sukuna grimaced.

Before Sukuna could continue berating them, Nanami moved. His fist lashed out, aimed for Sukuna’s jaw.

Sukuna caught it with an open palm, the force reverberating through the room.

“Oh, we’re doing this,” Sukuna said, voice maniacal, before pushing Nanami’s fist just enough to force him to step back.

Gojo lunged, his speed almost imperceptible, but Sukuna sidestepped him lazily, his movements fluid. “Do you two always resort to fists first?”

“Do you always waltz into someone else’s business uninvited?” Nanami countered, already throwing another strike.

You tried to rise, your voice strained. “Stop—”

Your attempt was cut off by a sharp, tearing pain in your abdomen. A cry escaped your lips as your hands instinctively cradled your belly.

Nanami faltered mid-punch, his head snapping toward you. “She’s in pain. Gojo, stop!”

Gojo hesitated, his fists lowering as he glanced back at you. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

You couldn’t answer, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Sukuna moved before either of them could, crossing the room in a few steps. He knelt in front of you, his large hand resting gently on your knee.

“May I?” He asked, his voice calm.

You nodded weakly, unable to muster the energy to speak.

Sukuna’s hand moved to your belly, his palm warm against the strained skin. A faint glow surrounded his fingers as his RCT began to work. The relief was almost immediate, the tightness easing as the twins’ restless movements stilled.

Nanami stepped towards you, his fists clenched. “Get your hands off her.”

Sukuna didn’t look up, his focus entirely on you. “She needs this. Or would you rather let her suffer while you two throw tantrums?”

Gojo bristled, his hands twitching at his sides. “I don’t trust you.”

“Good,” Sukuna replied smoothly, his tone almost mocking. “I wouldn’t trust me either. But I’m not the one who left her to deal with this alone.”

That struck a nerve.

You let out a shaky breath, your body finally relaxing as Sukuna pulled his hand away. “Better?” he asked, his gaze meeting yours.

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes.

Sukuna stood, his movements unhurried as he turned to face the two men. “She’s carrying enough weight without you two adding to it. If you really care about her, prove it by doing something useful. Like fucking off.”

The tension in the room was palpable as Gojo and Nanami glared at him, their fists tightening at their sides.

Before Gojo could move, Nanami placed a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Enough. This isn’t good for her.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t resist.

“We’ll be back,” Nanami said, his gaze steady as it locked onto yours. His voice was low, carrying both regret and resolve.

Sukuna snorted. “Not if I can help it.”

Without another word, they turned and left.

Once the door clicked shut, the silence rushed in, oppressive and heavy.

Sukuna turned back to you, his expression softening. “You need to rest.”

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Stay?”

He smiled faintly, taking a seat next to you on the couch with respectable space between you two.

Your head swam, a sudden wave of dizziness taking hold. They were coming more frequently now, spells that left you breathless and trembling.

But before you could fall off the couch on your head, Sukuna was there, one of his large, calloused hands wrapping securely around your upper arm. The heat of his touch grounded you as he guided you carefully to the other side of the couch.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble. The sharp edge was still there, but muted, like a blade sheathed. “You don’t need to waste energy on those idiots.”

A weak laugh slipped past your lips as you wiped your eyes, though it sounded more like a gasp. “They’re not idiots. They’re just… pain in my ass.”

His eyebrow arched, he chuckled, the sound warm. “Could’ve fooled me. Barging in here like they own the damn place. If it were me—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, shaking your head even as your hand trembled against the couch cushion. “I don’t need more madness, Sukuna.”

His grin softened, though it didn’t lose its devil-may-care quality. “Fair enough. But you’ve gotta be smarter about this. They’re not going to stop just because you want them to.”

“I know,” you whispered, barely audible, as your hands cradled your belly. The motion was protective, almost subconscious, as you rubbed soothing circles on it.

His sharp crimson eyes followed the movement, narrowing as they settled on the curve of your stomach. “You gonna tell me the truth now?”

Your throat tightened, the walls closing in as panic tried to claw its way to the surface. “I—”

“Relax.” His voice dropped lower, almost a purr, as he leaned back against the couch. “I’m not here to judge. Just saying, if you need someone to run interference, I’m your guy.”

You blinked at him, your heart hammering as you searched his expression. “Why are you helping me?” You asked, the words trembling in the air.

His grin returned, sly and self-assured as always. “Because it pisses them off. And because I like you, princess. Not in a ‘love thy neighbor’ way, but in a ‘let me take you on a date’ way. You’ve got guts.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, shaky and wet with leftover tears but real nonetheless. “Thanks, Sukuna.”

“Anytime.” He shifted, his arm draping casually over the back of the couch, though the movement seemed deliberate, protective. “Now, what’s the plan? Because those two aren’t going to stop sniffing around just because I scared them off.”

You let your head fall back, exhaustion pulling at your limbs, heavier than ever. “I don’t know. I just need... time.”

“Then time’s what we’ll give you,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Let me handle the sorcerer boy band.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt a small flicker of hope.

-

Sukuna didn’t waste time. The same night, after Gojo and Nanami showed up, he had you telling him what you wanted packed. His demeanor calm, though his crimson eyes burned with quiet determination.

“We’ll leave at midnight,” he said, tossing your suitcase onto the bed. “New place, new names.”

You hesitated. “Sukuna, this is… too much.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his grin not unkind. “It’s not. They’re sorcerers, princess. And the strongest too, but not stronger than me.” His tone was laced with a smug confidence. “If you want to stay hidden, you don’t half-ass it.”

By dawn, you were in another country; your new apartment was upscale and screamed money, but it was cozy too. The marble floors, high ceilings, and soft leather couches were a far cry from your tiny space.

Sukuna waved off your questions about how he’d managed it all so quickly, his smirk the only answer you’d get. He had taken care of everything—paperwork, flights, even a fake backstory in case anyone asked too many questions.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he said, tossing you the keys. “Welcome to your new life, and just enjoy the upgrade.” He lounged on your new couch, his relaxed posture a stark contrast to the turmoil inside you.

He refused to leave your side, and you didn’t argue. It was a relief to have him there, especially since you were certain they would show up eventually. Also, you needed someone around, not just for protection but also because you weren’t exactly the icon of flexpertise right now. The morning sickness and dizzy spells had become a regular part of your day, making even simple tasks feel daunting. Plus, he could help pick things up from the floor and assist you when you needed it. His RCT would also come in handy if you got sick.

The following days blurred into one another, Sukuna taking charge in ways that left you both grateful and unsettled. He was relentless, managing everything from your meals to your prenatal vitamins.

One day he dragged you somewhere the sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets as Sukuna pulled you along, his grip firm yet gentle around your arm. You could feel the heat radiating from the pavement, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers and street food. It was a stark contrast to the anxiety swirling in your chest.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, glancing around nervously. The last thing you wanted was to run into someone who recognized you from the controversy that had followed you like a shadow. The thought of being exposed made your stomach churn, the twins inside you shifting restlessly in response to your unease.

Sukuna paused, turning to face you, his crimson eyes piercing yet reassuring. “Trust me. No one will recognize you here.” He flashed a grin, the kind that made your heart race despite the worry gnawing at you. “Besides, I’ll be your husband today. No one will question us.”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “Husband? What if someone asks questions?”

“Then I’ll just tell them I’m the luckiest man alive,” he replied smoothly, his tone playful. “And you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if anyone gets too nosy, they’ll be disposed off.”

You thought he was just joking at the last bit, but little did you know he was serious.

You couldn’t help but smile at his bravado, even as a flutter of anxiety twisted in your stomach. “You really think this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely,” he said, resuming his pace, his hand still firmly guiding you by the arm. “You need to get out, meet other birthgivers, and enjoy this experience. It’s good for you and the brats.”

As you approached the community center, the sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the soft strumming of a guitar. The vibrant colors of the decorations and the cheerful atmosphere were infectious, but your nerves still danced beneath the surface.

Sukuna opened the door for you, his demeanor shifting to one of quiet authority as he ushered you inside. The room was filled with expectant mothers, some cradling their bellies, others bouncing babies in their arms, some even with their partners. You felt a pang of envy at their ease, their confidence radiating like the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“See? Just regular people,” Sukuna said, his voice low and steady as he scanned the room. “You’ll fit right in.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “What if someone recognizes me?”

“Your mask won’t let them. And if someone does recognize you, I’ll tell them you just look like the CEO, but you have been my wife and have never been to Japan,” he replied, his tone light but firm. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll make sure they forget they ever saw you.”

His confidence was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly as he led you to a circle. He settled beside you, his presence a comforting weight. As the instructor began to speak, you felt Sukuna’s hand rest on your knee, a grounding touch that eased the tension in your body.

After a brief round of introductions, the instructor clapped her hands, her voice that chipper mix of optimism and oblivion. “Alright, everyone, before we start our poses, let’s share a bit about our experiences as parents! Who’d like to go first?”

Sukuna leaned back, arms draped lazily over his knees, his smirk sharp enough to slice through the tension. “I’ll go,” he said, his tone dripping with casual confidence. “So there we were—me and my lovely wife—on a little trip to the beach. You know, just a casual day in the sun.”

The other mothers leaned in, their eyes sparkling with interest, while their husbands shot daggers at Sukuna, their expressions a mix of envy and irritation. He was tall, muscular, and exuded an effortless charm that made him the center of attention. You could practically feel the heat radiating from the glares directed at him, but Sukuna seemed unfazed, basking in the admiration like a cat in a sunbeam.

“Of course, I had to carry her to the water,” he continued, gesturing dramatically. “She was so heavy with those twins, I thought I might need a forklift!” Laughter erupted from the mothers, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Turning back to you, his expression triumphant. “So, I heroically carried her through the waves, and she screamed like a banshee when the water hit her feet.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation washing over you. “I did not scream like a banshee!” you protested, but the laughter bubbling up made it hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure you did,” he teased, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I was the brave knight saving you from the evil ocean.”

“Look at him,” one mother whispered to her friend, her eyes sparkling. “He’s like a model or something!”

“Right? And he’s so sweet with her,” her friend replied, glancing at you with a mix of admiration and envy.

Soft giggles bubbled through the room, accompanied by fluttering lashes and whispers. Sukuna exuded a kind of dangerous magnetism.

One mom whispered too loudly, “He’s like... a walking romance novel,” her husband coughing pointedly beside her.

Sukuna caught the comment and scowled. “Eyes up front, lady,” he muttered under his breath, annoyed but not surprised. When another woman blatantly winked, he leaned closer to you, slipping an arm around your waist with exaggerated intimacy. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” he cooed, voice low enough for only you to hear. “These vultures are giving me a headache.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him off.

The instructor spoke. “Okay! Let’s get into couples’ poses. First, the trust fall!”

Sukuna stood, cracking his neck like he was prepping for a fight. You shot him a warning glance. “Don’t drop me.”

He smirked. “No promises.”

As you leaned back, trusting his arms to catch you, another mom muttered something about his “strong, capable hands.” Sukuna sighed, catching you effortlessly before twirling you upright with unnecessary flair. “Keep staring, and I might start charging admission,” he called out, his voice a mix of annoyance and smugness.

“I got one more.” He didn’t wait for approval, because, of course, he didn’t. “So there we were, me and my beloved wife”—his crimson eyes flicked to you with a smirk that screamed chaos—“on a romantic hike in the wilderness. Out of nowhere, she decides to wrestle a goat because it wouldn’t let her pet it.”

The room froze. A couple of moms paused mid-stretch, their jaws dropping like they’d just heard the start of a soap opera. The dads exchanged side-eyes that translated roughly to, Who the hell is this guy?

“And, naturally,” Sukuna continued, his voice syrupy with faux affection, “I couldn’t let her handle it alone. She’s fearless, sure, but not exactly built for a one-on-one with livestock.”

“Oh my god,” you hissed under your breath, digging your nails into your mat. “Stop lying.”

Sukuna ignored you, gesturing dramatically like he was recounting a battle for survival. “So I stepped in, took down the goat, and carried her—my delicate, fragile wife—back to safety.” His grin widened, exposing sharp canines. “All in a day’s work.”

A collective sigh swept through the room, a mix of disbelief and blatant swooning. One mom muttered, “That’s so... romantic.” Another just stared, eyes tracing the veins in his forearms like she was drafting fan fiction in real time.

The dads? All glaring, but none of them dared to say a word. Sukuna, at 6’6” with biceps that looked capable of cracking skulls, radiated the kind of energy that said, Try me. I dare you.

“Alright, Romeo,” you muttered, elbowing him. “Enough.”

Before he could retort, a woman in leopard print, Karen—yes, she had the haircut and everything—stood up, arms crossed and nose wrinkled like she smelled bullshit.

“Excuse me,” she said, voice whiney, “but that story sounds ridiculous. And frankly, this is a yoga class, not open mic night.”

Sukuna turned his head slowly, like a predator catching the scent of fresh prey. “Oh? Didn’t realize we had a fact-checker in the room.”

Karen puffed up, undeterred. “I just think it’s important to set a good example for our kids. You’re just trying to make yourself look good in front of all these women. What kind of husband are you, anyway? And lying—”

“Lying?” Sukuna interrupted, his tone dangerously sweet. “I don’t lie, sweetheart. Some of us just have a sense of humor. You want proof? I’ll take you hiking. Maybe you’ll end up wrestling a goat too.”

Karen crossed her arms with a smug smile on her face and leaned in with a condescending tone. “So, what exactly makes you think you’re qualified to be a husband? I mean, can you even handle a simple pregnancy without making a joke out of it?”

Sukuna’s voice dripped with mock sincerity. “You’re absolutely right. I’m a terrible husband. I should’ve let her handle the goat alone, huh? Really prove her mettle.” His smile dropped as he deadpanned, “Maybe next time, I’ll wrestle your husband instead.”

The room went silent, save for a muffled snort from someone in the back. Karen’s husband, who had been trying to become one with the floor, suddenly found the need to tie his shoelaces.

“Well, no real husband would let his wife wrestle a goat. And clearly, this yoga class is for serious parents, not... posers. Some of us treat the miracle of life with the respect it deserves. I mean, she probably got pregnant out of wedlock, and you’re probably the chump who got stuck with it,” she spat, her eyes narrowing as she regarded you with open disdain.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sukuna stood up, towering over her with an intimidating presence. The air crackled with tension as he leaned in slightly, his voice low and menacing.

“For the final time, I. AM. HER. HUSBAND. The kind who’s here to support his wife, unlike some people,” he said, his tone dripping with a dangerous edge. The room fell silent, the other husbands shifting uncomfortably, their glares intensifying as they sensed the storm brewing.

“Back off, lady,” one of the husbands muttered, clearly not wanting to get involved but unable to resist the urge to defend his pregnant wife.

Karen’s husband made a strangled noise, somewhere between a cough and a plea for help. Sukuna glanced at him, sizing him up like he was calculating the time it’d take to fold him into a yoga block. “You good over there, champ?”

The instructor, visibly sweating, clapped her hands again. “Okay, time for the next pose, the Partner Downward Dog! Let’s channel all that energy into our health!”

Sukuna groaned, muttering under his breath, “This woman and her yoga cult...” He shot a glance at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “You good to do this, or do I have to carry you like the delicate little penguin you are?”

“I’m fine,” you shot back, already struggling to maneuver your cumbersome body into position. Your stomach felt stretched beyond reason, and every movement brought a new kind of discomfort.

Sukuna was behind you in an instant, his large hands steadying your hips. His touch was firm but not rough, a quiet kind of reassurance he’d never acknowledge. “Alright, lean forward. I’ve got you.”

You could feel his gaze linger—not on the curve of your belly but lower. “Are you ogling my ass?”

“Shut up and focus on not falling,” he grumbled, though his smirk gave him away.

The instructor clapped again, her forced cheerfulness grating. “Great job, everyone! Now, onto the partner wheelbarrow pose.” 

You groaned, already dreading it. Sukuna, however, was unfazed. He easily lifted your legs, holding you steady as you awkwardly braced your arms on the mat.

Karen, the reigning queen of unsolicited advice, determined to assert dominance. “You’re supposed to engage your core more,” she said, her voice cutting through the room like nails on a chalkboard.

Sukuna didn’t even glance at her. “You’re supposed to shut up, Karen.”

She gasped. “My name is not…How dare you—”

“Don’t care.” Sukuna set you down and stood, cracking his knuckles. “Focus on your own yoga or let’s take this outside, or are you gonna send your husband?”

Karen sputtered, her face turning red as her husband tugged nervously at her sleeve. Now actively sweating. “Uh, babe, maybe let it go.”

Karen turned on him. “Are you scared of him?!”

“...Yes.”

“Don’t you start!” She snapped on him.

“...Okay.” He shrank back, clearly regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Meanwhile, the instructor was frantically flipping through her clipboard. “Uh, next pose! Let’s try... uh, partner flying boat!”

Sukuna raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “Flying what now?”

“Just lift me,” you muttered, too tired to argue.

With an exaggerated sigh, he grabbed your hands and hoisted you into the air. The ease with which he balanced you on his feet was almost insulting. He looked up at you, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “See? I’m a natural.”

“You’re a show-off,” you grumbled, though the slight flutter in your chest betrayed you.

Behind you, Karen tripped over her mat again because her husband was clumsy, landing face-first with a muffled shriek.

Sukuna grinned, all teeth. “Careful, Karen. Wouldn’t want your husband to have to wrestle me over that.”

Her husband? Already halfway out the door.

He didn’t stop there. With unnecessary flair, he spun you around, earning gasps from the other moms. “He’s so strong,” one whispered, her voice tinged with awe.

“I can hear you,” Sukuna said sharply, his glare cutting through the room like a knife. “Eyes off.”

The mom in question flushed, looking away quickly. Even Karen seemed momentarily stunned into silence.

When Sukuna finally set you down, his hands lingered on your arms, steadying you. “Alright, you’re done for today,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you protested weakly, already too exhausted to stand.

“I just did,” he shot back, his voice softer than usual as he guided you to sit. His attention was back on you, the rest of the room forgotten. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, leaning against him. Despite his gruffness, you couldn’t deny the safety his presence brought.

Throughout the class, Sukuna was incredibly attentive, fetching water for you whenever you needed it and ensuring you stayed focused. You found yourself laughing openly after months, his unhinged stories and sassy comments bringing a lightness to the atmosphere. He reminded you of Megumi’s dad from years ago, the way he openly showed affection to Megumi’s mom. You couldn’t help but wonder how they were doing after his father passed away long before you reconnected with Megumi in college. The last you heard, his father had left a substantial sum to his mom to start their security solutions business, which Megumi had been managing while also pursuing his psychology degree.

He was quite a few years younger than you, and despite the years of no contact, he had come through for you when you needed him. But you couldn’t reach him now; he had a knack for tracking people down like his father. You remembered Megumi’s frustration when you had to leave your home country to marry the two men. He had been openly against your decision ever since he met them—he could warm up to Nanami, but Gojo? Marrying two men? That was a different story entirely. A wave of nostalgia washed over you as you realized how much you missed your college friends.

As you watched Sukuna’s antics, a swell of gratitude filled your heart. His unwavering support was a comforting presence, even as the reality of your situation loomed in the background.

After the class, as you stepped outside into the warm sunlight, Sukuna turned to you, a satisfied grin on his face. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You shook your head, a smile breaking through your earlier anxiety. “No, it was actually… nice.”

“Good. We’ll keep doing this,” he said, his tone resolute. “You need to enjoy this time, and I’ll make sure you do.”

As you walked back, the warmth of the sun on your skin and Sukuna’s presence beside you, you felt better. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to navigate this new life, one day at a time.

A couple of days later, the hum of your laptop was the only sound in the room, save for the occasional clack of your nails on the keyboard. Deadlines loomed, projects needed greenlighting, and your inbox was a battlefield of investors, board members, and department heads vying for your attention. You weren’t just the CEO of your company—you were the company. And even now, with your back aching and your feet swollen beyond recognition, you were determined to stay on top of it all.

Then, of course, Sukuna had to barge in.

“Are you seriously still working?” he drawled, leaning an arm against the door frame with that maddeningly smug look on his face.

You didn’t bother looking up. “I’m busy.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“And?”

“And you’re about to take a damn break,” he said, stalking into the room like a cat ready to knock something valuable off the table.

You scoffed, glancing at him over the rim of your blue lens glasses. “I can’t just stop working. This company doesn’t run itself.”

“Funny, I thought you hired executives for that,” he shot back, his crimson eyes narrowing.

“They still need me.”

Sukuna crossed the room in two strides, towering over you like a thundercloud. Before you could react, he reached down and unplugged your laptop with a decisive click.

“Hey!” you protested, scrambling to grab the cord, but he was faster. With infuriating ease, he tossed the power adapter onto a high shelf you had no hope of reaching in your current penguin state.

“What the hell, Sukuna?”

“Watch me,” he said, smirking. “Your job is to grow those little gremlins, not work yourself into the ground.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. The exhaustion hit like a freight train, your body sagging into the chair as if it finally realized it had permission to rest. Your glare softened, replaced by a quiet sigh of defeat. “I can’t just... stop,” you muttered, weaker now.

“You can,” he countered, crouching to meet your eye level. His voice was softer this time, the sharp edges smoothed out. “The company will survive without you for a few months. You? Not so much if you keep this up.”

He had a point, damn him.

“I still need to make arrangements,” you mumbled, leaning back and pressing a hand to your belly. The twins kicked in response, as if to echo his sentiment.

“Then make them,” Sukuna said, standing up and pulling your ergonomic gaming chair—he had gotten you one in your fav color—away from the desk with a gentle tug. “But from the couch. And only after you’ve eaten something.”

You wanted to argue, but the idea of sinking into the cushions and delegating for once was too tempting. “Fine,” you relented, glaring half-heartedly as you stood. “But only because you’re being annoying.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, penguin.” His smirk widened as he helped you waddle toward the couch, ignoring your threats of retaliation.

And maybe, just maybe, you felt a little lighter knowing he was right there to catch you when you needed to let go.

The pregnancy itself felt alien. Your body, once familiar, now seemed foreign, stretched to the limits of what it could endure. Veins stood out like rivers on a map, and your skin itched with a ferocity that no cream could soothe. At night, under dim lights, you swore you saw the twins moving just beneath the surface, shapes pressing against your belly as if testing the boundaries of their world.

But when you spoke to them, the chaos stilled. Your voice, soft and uncertain, seemed to reach them in a way nothing else could. “You’re being good today,” you murmured one evening, your hand rubbing olive oil on the tight curve of your stomach. The twins stirred beneath your touch, a gentle nudge pressing against your palm as though answering your unspoken thoughts. Tears welled in your eyes as a fragile smile tugged at your lips. You blinked them away.

From the doorway, Sukuna watched, arms crossed and face unreadable. His presence was always imposing, even when he wasn’t trying to be, but tonight there was something almost tentative about the way he lingered.

“They listen to you,” he said finally, his tone an odd mix of observation and something softer, almost vulnerable.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The moment felt too delicate to break with words.

Sukuna pushed off the doorframe, his steps heavy but measured as he crossed the room. He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the chair, shaking it out with a flick of his wrist before tucking it carefully over you. His hands moved with an ease that belied his usual brashness, adjusting the pregnancy pillows he’d insisted on buying—three of them, because one wasn’t enough, apparently.

You watched him as he worked, the sharp lines of his face softened by the dim light. He paused when he caught you staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

He snorted, clearly not buying it, but didn’t press. Instead, he stepped back, as if retreating to a safe distance.

“Sukuna,” you said suddenly, your voice breaking the quiet.

He stopped, half-turned toward the door.

“Do you want to feel them?” You gestured to your belly, your voice laced with genuine curiosity.

His reaction was instant and comically transparent. His shoulders stiffened, and his crimson eyes darted to your stomach like it might explode. “What? No. Why would I want to do that?”

You tilted your head, your smile turning sly. “Because they’re your kids, oh faux husband?”

“They’re your kids,” he shot back, his voice gruff, but the tips of his ears betrayed him, turning a faint shade of pink.

You laughed, low and amused. “You’re scared.”

“Am not,” he snapped, but the defensive edge in his tone only confirmed it.

You pressed, grinning now. “Big bad Sukuna, terrified of a couple of unborn gremlins?”

He glared, sulking. “I’m not scared. I just... don’t see the point.”

“Right.” You patted the space next to you on the bed. “Come on. They won’t bite.”

He hesitated, looking like you’d asked him to stick his hand into a nest of vipers. But after a moment, he moved closer, his movements awkward and deliberate, like he was approaching a wild animal.

“Here,” you said, taking his hand and placing it gently on your ginormous stomach. His palm was warm and rough against your skin, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

Soon, a tiny kick met his hand, tentative but unmistakable.

Sukuna froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, the briefest flicker of something raw and unguarded crossing his face.

“They’re saying hi,” you teased, your voice soft.

He pulled his hand back like he’d been burned, stuffing it into his pocket and muttering, “Yeah, well, tell them to keep it down.”

You laughed again, a sound that filled the room and made his scowl deepen. But there was no mistaking the way his gaze lingered on you, softer now, as if the weight of the moment had settled somewhere he desperately wanted to acknowledge.

After ensuring you were comfortable, he retreated to his usual spot in the next room. You heard the creak of his bed as he settled in, close enough to hear you if you called out. The bed wasn’t weak; he was just a giant sequoia tree.

Later that night, when the nightmares came—vivid and merciless—you woke trembling; the images of Gojo’s cold eyes and Nanami’s unforgiving hands lingered, still fresh in your mind, as though they were still in the room. Sukuna was there before you could fully sit up, his hands steady on your shoulders.

“Breathe,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind.

When your breaths came shallow and quick, he didn’t leave. Instead, he sat with you, his presence solid and grounding as the panic ebbed.

“You’re fine,” he said, his tone gruff but edged with a care he’d never admit. “I’ve got you.”

And he did. Even when his hands trembled just the faintest bit from exhaustion, you knew he wouldn’t let go. You noticed his long nails were filed down now.

His care was relentless, though not without its abrasive edges. He harassed you to eat, to drink water, to rest. When you tried to push back, his response was always the same: “Argue all you want, princess, but I’m not going anywhere.”

And he didn’t. You felt a sense of comfort in that. Your actual husbands, the fathers of your babies, had abandoned you months ago, while this man—who had no obligations to you—loved you as easily as breathing. You could see it in the way he ensured everything was always within reach for you, even when he wasn’t around. If you asked him for water fifteen times in a night, he’d fetch it for you every single time, despite his fatigue. He’d grumble and yell, but he’d still bring it to you without fail.

He hadn’t even mentioned the date he wanted since that day; he gave you the space you needed until you were ready. He did all of this for you without asking for anything in return. Even when you felt like a human submarine, he found ways to compliment you in his own unique manner, while your husbands had long ignored your existence, even before your pregnancy. You felt desirable, but right now, you simply didn’t have the energy to reciprocate anything.

One day the air in the apartment was stifling, even with the ocean breeze teasing the edges of the balcony curtains. You leaned against the railing, letting the salt-tinged wind kiss your skin. Sukuna was out, and for a few minutes, you allowed yourself a moment to enjoy the ocean breeze, to imagine a life where your past couldn’t find you.

Then you saw them.

Gojo’s stark white hair caught the light first, gleaming like a ghost under the streetlamp’s glow. His figure was impossible to miss, a beacon of anarchy, while Nanami’s shoulders were squared, his sharp gaze cutting through the night like a blade, locking onto you with unrelenting sharpness. His arm rose, a silent gesture to Gojo, and together they moved, their silhouettes bleeding from the street into your sanctuary like shadows with intent.

You immediately grabbed your phone.

Ryo: Please come home fast.

The knock was more a warning than a courtesy. Gojo didn’t wait for permission; the door swung open with an ease that felt invasive, wrong. They stepped inside, their presence heavy, oppressive, as if the air itself recoiled from their arrival.

“You’ve been busy,” Gojo said, his voice unnervingly calm. The cocky lilt you knew so well was gone, replaced by something jagged, something that cut.

Nanami’s eyes drifted downward, catching the curve of your stomach. His brows furrowed, confusion twisting into something darker as a ripple moved beneath your skin. It wasn’t subtle—an inhuman and ugly stretch, limbs pressing outward like trapped spirits testing the walls of their cage. You cursed yourself for wearing a crop top, but nothing else fit you these days, and it was too warm here in Schelles. His gaze snapped back to your face, but the damage was done. You saw it: the revulsion, the disbelief.

The air between the three of you crackled, silent but electric. Gojo’s eyes were locked onto yours, an ocean of emotions churning beneath the surface—rage, fear, something almost resembling grief.

“What’s going on?” Nanami finally asked, his voice tight, controlled, but teetering on the edge.

Your throat burned as you swallowed, the words threatening to choke you. Still, you forced yourself to stand straighter, your nails digging crescents into your palms. “Fine. You want the truth?” Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it. “They’re Sukuna’s. I’m pregnant with his twins, and since he’s half a curse, so are they.”

The room plunged into a suffocating silence.

Gojo’s grin faltered, the carefully constructed mask he wore slipping. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. Nanami’s face was a study in restraint, but the tightness of his jaw betrayed him.

“You’re lying,” Gojo said, his voice low and icy.

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Why would I lie? You ignored me. You left me in a country where I didn’t even understand the language. Sukuna didn’t. He took care of me when you didn’t even notice I was breaking.”

“Disgusting,” Gojo spat, his words venomous.

Your vision blurred, but you refused to break. Not in front of them. Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the counter, the only thing keeping you upright. “Then leave. And don’t come back.”

Nanami flinched—a small, almost imperceptible movement, but enough to make your chest tighten with anger. “You expect us to believe that you… cheated?”

“I expect you to believe whatever lets you sleep at night,” you snapped, your voice trembling but resolute. “Because the truth doesn’t matter to either of you. It never did.”

Gojo’s hands shook now, the façade of control crumbling. “You think this is about us? Do you know what I’ve been through? What we’ve been through? I had to kill my best friend. Suguru—” His voice cracked.

“I don’t even know who that is,” you hissed, your anger flaring. “You’ve never mentioned him before. I don’t understand why you’d react like this over killing some long-lost friend I’ve never even heard of. You’ve spent years with Nanami—more time than you ever did with whoever that is, so for all intents and purposes, he should be your best friend. And even if you were so sad over your so-called best friend, why am I the one left to bear the brunt of your grief? What did I do to deserve this?”

You aggressively wiped the single tear that rolled down your cheek and continued, “I begged you—both of you—for any semblance of affection. I told you I was drowning, and you just... left me. You fucked each other for months while I cried myself to sleep in a corner of your penthouse, wondering why I was even there.”

Nanami stepped forward, his voice steady but strained. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Your voice was a blade, sharp and unforgiving. “When I came back to confront you, you were sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms. Like I didn’t exist. Like I wasn’t your wife.”

The words landed like physical blows. Neither of them moved.

“I’m sorry,” Gojo whispered, the words fragile, brittle.

You shook your head, tears burning tracks down your cheeks. “Sorry doesn’t fix this. Sorry doesn’t erase what you did. You don’t deserve forgiveness. And even if I could forgive you, I will never forget the night I became an intruder in my own marriage.”

Nanami reached out, his hand hovering near your arm, but you recoiled, crossing your arms protectively over your stomach. “Don’t. You don’t get to touch me!”

Gojo’s voice dropped, desperation leaking through the cracks. “We didn’t know you were pregnant.”

“Of course you didn’t,” you said, your voice shaking with fury. “You didn’t care enough to notice. Even with your six eyes and your oh-so-great curse signature reading abilities you always bragged about, you didn’t.”

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet but unyielding. “Leave. Sukuna will send over the divorce papers. Sign them and don’t come back.”

They hesitated, their expressions unreadable, but when you pointed toward the door, they obeyed. The sound of it slamming shut echoed through the apartment, leaving you trembling in its wake.

It had to be this way if you were to keep your babies safe, away from the dangers of the sorcery world. You needed to ensure that no one could take them from you.

A few minutes later, Sukuna returned. Finding the front lock broken, he rushed inside, his presence filling the space with a warmth you hadn’t realized you needed until now. He took one look at your tear-streaked face and the shattered pieces of your resolve and said nothing. Instead, he crossed the room, his arms enveloping you in a hug, firm and grounding.

“They were here,” he stated, not asked.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I told them the twins are yours; I’m sorry nothing came to mind.”

He tilted his head, his crimson eyes studying you. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of them when they come back.”

“They won’t,” you said, your voice hardening. “They don’t deserve to know them. Or me.”

Sukuna smirked, but it wasn’t mocking. “Good.”

And when he sighed, content, for the first time in a long time, you truly felt that you were safe.

You peered up at him.

Sukuna smirked, his arms still holding you close. “Told you I’d take care of you, princess.”

But even as you closed your eyes, the weight of your choices pressed down on you, heavier than ever.

-

The hum of the plane’s engines was a constant, hollow noise, drowning out the world outside. The cabin was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a reading light over Nanami’s seat. He stared blankly at the leather-bound hardcover of The Myth of Sisyphus in his lap, its pages untouched. Beside him, Gojo leaned against the window, his long legs stretched out in the aisle, his eyes obscured by the darkened lenses of his sunglasses.

Neither of them had spoken since takeoff. The silence between them was heavy, a chasm filled with unspoken truths and raw, festering wounds.

“She’s lying,” Gojo said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, like speaking it aloud would make it more real. “The twins… they’re ours.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately. He flipped the book closed and placed it on the tray table in front of him, his movements deliberate, mechanical. “I know.”

Gojo let out a hollow laugh, pressing his knuckles against his lips. “She doesn’t understand these things because she can’t see them. Those… those legs under her skin.” His voice cracked, and he turned his head toward the window, the faint reflection of his face pale and gaunt. “That’s not Sukuna’s cursed energy. One of them is mine, and one is yours.”

Nanami’s hands gripped the armrests until his knuckles turned white. “It doesn’t matter.”

Gojo turned to look at him, his sunglasses sliding down his nose enough to reveal his bloodshot eyes. “How can you say that? They’re our kids, Kento. She—she’s going to raise them with him.”

Nanami closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, as if releasing the air from his lungs could somehow ease the ache in his chest. The weight of his thoughts pressed down on him, a suffocating reminder of the choices they had made and the consequences that followed. “And what would we offer them, Satoru? A life filled with curses? A life of blood and death?” His voice trembled slightly, betraying the turmoil within. “She’s better off with him, away from us.”

He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the seat in front of him, as if the fabric could somehow absorb his pain. “I’ve looked into him—he abandoned sorcery long ago and holds no loyalty to its hierarchy. He’s free from the chains that bind us, free from the expectations and the endless cycle of violence that defines our lives. He will prioritize her, unlike us, always off on missions with no guarantee of return.” The bitterness in his tone deepened, each word laced with regret. “He will be there for her, keeping her and the kids safe.”

Nanami’s mind raced with images of what could have been—a life untainted by the darkness of their world, where laughter replaced the echoes of sorrow and love flourished without the shadow of fear. He could almost see you smile, the warmth of your presence, and the innocence of their children, untouched by the burdens they carried. But that vision felt like a distant dream, slipping further away with each passing moment.

“Do you think we could have given them that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the thought aloud would make it more real. “A chance at a normal life, free from the horrors we’ve faced? We’ve only ever known how to fight, how to survive. What kind of future is that for them?”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of unspoken truths and the haunting realization that they had failed not just you, but the very lives they had hoped to protect. Nanami’s heart ached with the knowledge that their choices had led them to this moment, a crossroads where love and duty collided, leaving only fragments of what could have been.

Gojo slammed a fist against the armrest, the sound startling in the quiet cabin. “We didn’t even fight for her. Not once. We just… let her slip away. What the hell is wrong with us?”

 The weight of Nanami's eyes settling heavily on Gojo. “We broke her, Satoru. Piece by piece, until there was nothing left of the woman we claimed to love.” His voice was steady, but his words were sharp enough to cut. “And now she’s gone.”

Gojo’s head dropped into his hands, his shoulders trembling. “I thought… I thought I was doing what I had to. After Suguru, after everything, I just—” He choked on his words, his breath hitching. “I couldn’t lose you too. And I did. I lost both of you.”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor, his voice quieter now. “She begged us to see her. To hear her. And we didn’t.”

Gojo dragged a hand down his face, the stubble on his jaw rasping against his palm. “She looked at me like I was a stranger, Kento. Like I wasn’t even human. Like she was scared of me.”

“She had every right to,” Nanami said, his voice carrying a weight of finality. “We left her alone. We left her angry, grieving, and drowning; we made her feel like she didn’t belong in her own home. Then we chased her relentlessly from one country to another. Any woman, pregnant or not, would be scared.”

Gojo’s laugh was bitter, devoid of humor.

The silence returned, heavier now, punctuated only by the muffled sound of Gojo’s uneven breathing. Nanami sat motionless, his hands resting limply on his lap; he looked utterly shattered.

“Do you think she’ll forgive us?” Gojo asked, his voice barely audible.

Nanami didn’t answer immediately. He stared out at the endless expanse of clouds outside the window, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think it matters.”

Gojo’s breath hitched again, and he leaned back in his seat, tilting his head to the ceiling as if he could somehow escape the crushing weight of his own guilt. He murmured. “We could’ve—”

“Could’ve doesn’t change anything,” Nanami interrupted, his voice harsh. “She’s gone, Satoru. And she’s not coming back.”

The finality of those words settled between them, cold and unrelenting. Gojo turned his head toward the window, the light from the wing of the plane catching on the tears that slipped from beneath his sunglasses. Nanami sat motionless beside him, his gaze fixed on the book in front of him.

Neither of them spoke again for the rest of the flight. The weight of what they had lost, what they had destroyed, was louder than any words could ever be.

-

The days after their visit felt heavier than anything you’d endured. The lie sat like a stone in your chest, each passing moment adding to its weight. You told yourself it was necessary, that it was for your children. But it didn’t stop the nightmares that came in fragments, jagged and disjointed, like shards of a shattered mirror slicing into your subconscious.

You stood in a darkened room, the walls pulsing faintly as if alive. A sickly red light seeped through the cracks, casting terrifying shadows that writhed and twisted. Your breath fogged in the cold air, the chill sinking into your bones.

Gojo was there first, his white hair glowing unnaturally in the dim light. His face was obscured, his features blurred as if smudged by unseen hands. But his voice was clear, cutting through the oppressive silence like a knife.

“You’re disgusting.”

The words echoed, multiplying, each iteration louder than the last until it became a deafening chant. His silhouette loomed larger, his hands outstretched, fingers impossibly long and claw-like. They reached for you, dragging through the air, each swipe leaving behind trails of darkness that spread like ink.

You tried to move, but your feet were rooted to the ground. When you looked down, black tendrils coiled around your ankles, slithering up your legs. They were cold and wet, like the touch of something ancient and decayed.

Behind him, Nanami appeared, his back to you. His suit was untouched by the darkness that surrounded you both. You called his name, your voice trembling and weak, but he didn’t turn.

“Ken!” you screamed, desperation clawing at your throat.

When he finally moved, it was slow, deliberate. His head tilted slightly, just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile. His lips parted, but no sound came. Instead, his skin cracked, fine lines spreading across his face like a porcelain doll dropped from a great height. From the fissures seeped black ichor, thick and oozing, dripping down to pool at his feet.

He turned fully then, and you wished he hadn’t. His eyes were empty voids, twin abysses that seemed to pull you in. His expression was blank, his mouth set in a line of quiet condemnation.

“Why did you lie?” His voice was soft but burrowed into your mind like a parasite.

“I had to,” you whispered, though your words felt small, swallowed by the growing shadows.

“Did you?” he pressed, his figure growing distant even as he stood still.

The tendrils tightened, pulling you downward. You clawed at them, your nails splitting as you tried to free yourself. But they only tightened, dragging you into the floor that had become a gaping maw, teeth lining the edges of the pit.

As you sank, Gojo and Nanami stood above you, unmoving. Their faces blurred together, features melding and twisting until they became something monstrous. Gojo’s laughter echoed, sharp and cruel, as Nanami’s voice droned in an endless loop:

“You should’ve told the truth.”

The last thing you saw before the darkness swallowed you whole was the faint ripple of movement beneath your skin, something inside you fighting against the pull. But even that wasn’t going to be enough.

You woke gasping, your hand clutching your stomach as though to protect the life within. The room was quiet, the shadows still. But their voices lingered, whispering accusations in the corners of your mind.

Sukuna was always there in an instant, holding you as you fought through the panic attack. He rubbed circles on your back and forced you to count and breathe.

A/N: So, mystery hunk (™) is officially in the chat, and yes, he’s soft for our girl in his own chaotic way. Also, the part about Nanami reading Camus? That wasn’t just for flavor text—yes, I went there. If you’ve ever wanted to cry about The Myth of Sisyphus and think about how life is just a series of rolling boulders uphill, congratulations—this chapter’s for you! What do you think Sukuna’s Ryo-side would say to Nanami’s Sisyphus-side? Also, people who are grumbling about Sukuna being our guy, I have my reasons; hear me out: Gojo and Nanami are both special grades in this fic, so you need someone stronk who can proteck and attack you/for you. I will write more fics in the future where you'll have your fav guys as your saviors, so in the meantime, if you have ideas or just want to yell at me, send them on my asks. I’m curious: do you think Gojo’s breakdown was justified, or was he being selfish again? Let’s talk about it! Oh, and if you had to wrestle a goat, which JJK character would you pick to help you? (Sukuna’s banned. Too OP.)

Also this is your manz -

And this is what you married -

Even the stable one is weird -

Next Chapter - Will try for Monday

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy

Disclaimer - I found these memes randomly on Pinterest, so lmk the creators if you know so that I can tag them.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Bangtan Christmas ‘24 | Jimin fic recs

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays! ❄️🎄

As the twinkling lights of the season surround us, I hope you’ve found some warmth and joy in the fics shared over these past 24 days. Whether you’ve devoured them all or haven’t had the chance to dive in yet, don’t worry—I’ve saved the best for last; a rec list ✨ This special rec list is my gift to you, filled with winter and Christmas-themed stories that bring me endless joy every year 🥰 It contains the fics I’ve reblogged all throughout December, BUT—also many Jimin stories that I sadly didn’t have the time to read, but was on my Christmas to read list. Sometimes life just hits you… and I really wanted to include them to make the most spectacular rec list so that’s why they’re included ✨

A kind comment, a heartfelt message, even a simple like or reblog—it all makes a difference. You never know how much warmth a few words can bring to a writer’s heart, especially during the cold days of winter. And even if some of them are on hiatus and don’t respond, know that your appreciation is felt.

Before we dive into this treasure trove of stories, I want to take a moment to say an enormous thank you to all the writers out there. Your words weave wonders, creating characters and worlds that have made me smile, cry, and above all, feel deeply. So, thank you for crafting such brilliant art with your writing. You are a gift to this community, and we’re all better for it 💜

[Bangtan Christmas ‘24 masterlist] Note: the stories that I sadly didn’t get to read are marked with *.

⭐Locked in Love @parkmuse [24k] ⭐Snow, Don’t Tell @stutterfly [27.2k] ⭐The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (1) + The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (2) @kpopfanfictrash [44.4k] ⭐Stuck in a snowstorm @/kingofbodyrolls [6.1k] ⭐Stuck at a Christmas party @/kingofbodyrolls [5.1k] ⭐Stuck in a Cabin @/kingofbodyrolls [5.5k] ⭐Stuck in a Cave @/kingofbodyrolls [9k] ⭐Sleepless Night @kwanisms [7.5k] ⭐Running Through the Night @sketchguk [15.3k] ⭐The Perfect Gift @moonleeai [6.3k] ⭐Coming Home to You @/kingofbodyrolls [11.7k] ⭐Antifreeze @winetae [11.7k] ⭐Last Christmas @jiminniethemarshmallow [11k] ⭐Grinch in Law @mercurygguk [14.8k] ⭐Mutual Muses @army-author [2.5k] ⭐Choc n’ Chill @mixedl [3.3k] ⭐Ho-Ho-Home* (completed series) @jjungkookislife [N/A] ⭐Off the Grid* (completed series) @xpeachesncream [N/A] ⭐How Jimin Stole Christmas* @acc3ssdenied [8k] ⭐First Snow Last Kiss* @taeshobipop [154.5k] ⭐Cry me a Galaxy* @army-author [4.9k] ⭐Mistletoe* @hamsterclaw [1.7k] ⭐Cookies & Keys* @smartkookiee [4k] ⭐A Christmas Date* @jjungkookislife [2.4k] ⭐Twenty-eight Minutes* @taegularities [1.8k] ⭐Viscum: Dark Parasite* @darknytemare [7.7k] ⭐The Waltz Between Us* @ [15.7k] ⭐The Christmas Spirit* @for7 [3.5k] ⭐Stray Cats* @mintjoonlep [N/A] ⭐Snowed In* (discontinued series) @mrsparknamjoon [14.6k] ⭐Secret Santa* @aredheadedmess [1.5k] ⭐Pyxis* @bangtanpromptsfics [3.4k] ⭐Amoris et Decorare* @writtenwhalien [12k] ⭐Cookie Charades* @btsmakesmehappy [4.5k] ⭐You’re my Present* @joonthighs [5.2k] ⭐Warm Hands (Ice Cold Heart)* @hobidreams [10.7k] ⭐Spirits Bright* @pjmmania [N/A]

I truly hope you find joy in diving into all these wonderful stories! 🥰 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to explore this rec list. I couldn’t resist creating another one—I’ve missed it dearly. I know some of you enjoyed the monthly rec lists, so I hope this little collection brings a spark of joy to your holiday season.

If this list has brought a smile to your face, I kindly ask that you consider reblogging it. The more it’s shared, the more people can discover these incredible stories, and together, we can spread even more holiday cheer to the talented writers who make this season a little more magical with their words ❄️✨

Hello, lovely people! I’m Lissa, both a reader and a writer at heart. Though I don’t write much fanfiction these days, my love for reading and recommending fics burns as bright as ever. If you’re looking for more Bangtan fanfics to cozy up with, you’re more than welcome to follow me, or simply explore my rec library. There’s always something special waiting for you.

With all my love, and borahae always 💜

[yurinaa-world]

Hi! Could you make an artist reader? Basically a painter who draws his partner or cats, etc?

With the characters Aventurine, Sampo, Moze, Dan Heng (I'm using this with a translator so I don't know if it's spelled correctly...)

2#"𝓓𝓻𝓪𝔀 𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Aventurine, Sampo, & Moze x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who's an artist

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling mistakes

💫Dan Heng's part is here: 💫

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

“Not bad, not bad at all. You really know what catches my good side.”

It was supposed to be a gift painting of him, your delicate, nimble fingers first sketched it out before picking out colours and finally taking a brush and painting over the canvas sketch with extreme eye for detail.

He always loved to barge in whenever he felt like it, but now it is a very bad moment! He saw it when you were almost finished! Seriously, you wanted to surprise him so badly. You whirl around cheeks already flushed from the intensity of your concentration, now burning hotter with embarrassment. 

"Y-you weren’t supposed to see it yet!" you stammer, instinctively moving to shield the canvas with your arms, though it's far too late. He smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. 

"Oh, come on. You can't blame me for being curious. I mean, you’ve been holed up in here for days, looking all suspicious."

He goes silent for a bit, staring at the painting for a while…

He's sort of left completely speechless by you.

“Wow, what detail. How about I put this up in my office.” he grinned, while you completely protested the idea because you weren’t finished 

“No way! It’s not finished.”

💫𝒮𝒶𝓂𝓅𝑜 𝒦𝑜𝓈𝓀𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇-𝒯𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓃"

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He whined and cried till his throat went dry, but even then that wouldn’t stop his extremely annoying cries. All while you listen and skim through your supplies, nit-picking at what you need all while your canvas is stood in front of a Sampo who’s tied to the chair. 

“Dear Sampo just wanted to make some profits, and those paintings have been there for years, I was just doing you a favour!”

You only sigh at his words. You don’t like to sell your painting, especially with a vendor like Sampo of all people. It may have been ancient yet you didn’t want to get rid of it.

the idea that it may be hanging on a wall in some random place, bought by Sampo’s tricks at a higher price, gave you an unpleasant feeling in your mouth. “You are something, you know,” you whispered, taking a palette knife and twirling it around in your fingers. Not for a show of power—even if you’d like Sampo to see it that way—but because it helped your mind stay focused.

At an exaggerated rate, Sampo shrank back while his chair was making a squeaky noise, signifying his discomfort. “I mean, come on, be realistic, let’s think logically about it! I’m only the middleman in the process here, attempting to make your raw talent the new trend!” 

“You’re right, so in turn for your service I decided to give you something to sell as well.” you smile with joy, as you sit down on the chair in front of my canvas, which makes him sweat dearly on what you’re about to do. 

You lean back, tilting your head as if to get a better view of your subject. “You’d make a... striking muse, don’t you think?” Sampo’s cheeks flush a deep red. “Striking? I—I mean, I am a good-looking guy, but—wait a second! What kind of striking are we talking about here?” 

“You're right, someone would like a painting of a guy like you, I wonder in what position though,” you mutter that last part but you know he heard “Your beauty will sell for millions just like you wanted.”

💫𝑀𝑜𝓏𝑒 “𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝒢𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔”

“Moze.”

One call of his name and he’ll be landing at your feet to see what you need him to do. Appearing behind you, his hands gently landing on your shoulders—still scaring you to death, before whispering “You called” under his breath, yet loud enough for you to hear.

Immediately turning around and clasping your hands with his, along with a giant smile on your face. “Moze! Could you be my subject!”

He (easily) caved and became what you needed him to be most, your subject in your painting. He’s so awkward when posing! You had to personally move him around a couple of times since he’s made all of the poses you put him in awkward somehow.

Which leaves you to have your hand on your chin, staring at him with a precise gaze, that is the same as his, yet, yours was made to find beauty in hopeless things.

 “Hah…how should I pose you.”

Taking his one hand in yours while your other hand goes to his hood, you gently pull it down, revealing his slightly messy hair. “You hide so much behind this,” you say softly, smoothing a few strands away from his face. 

“I think… maybe something natural,” you mumble, tilting your head to examine him from another angle. You guide him to sit on the chair near the window, where the soft light filters through the curtains. “Lean back, like this,” you murmur, adjusting his shoulders to relax against the chair. “And look out the window… like you’re lost in thought.”

Moze does as you say, his hands gripping the edge of the chair a little too tightly. You shake your head with a small laugh and pry his fingers loose, placing one hand on his lap and letting the other dangle over the side of the chair. “There. Try to look more relaxed.”

He’s honestly trying the best he can, his shoulders less tense and face less serious—even though that’s basically all he knows to do. “Thank you.” You smile gently at him before pecking him on the lips as a thank you, before finally starting at your sketch.

He can’t forget your pretty smile. He helped you. He wishes he had his hood on now.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[sky-scribbles]

Rook's notes for the team in the event of my (probably impending) death:

Lucanis:

My swords are yours. Like yours always were mine, when I needed them.

My spicy soup recipe is inside my Rivaini dictionary.

Spite:

You can have my poetry books.

Bellara:

I entrust you with all the elven artefacts that I’ve collected in my room. Keep anything that speaks to you, and make sure our people get the rest.

Please make sure my translation of that elvhen narrative epic is published. It was eight years of work.

Thank you for being my family.

Lace:

My bow is yours. I’m sorry it’s too big for you to use, but… it took care of me. I want it to go to someone who will take care of it.

Show Emmrich more of the world, since I cannot.

Taash:

My chocolate stash is in the bronze puzzle box. Good luck.

It has been such a privilege to watch you embrace who you are.

Davrin:

I know you’ve been coveting my halla horn charm. It’s yours, and if you find the craftsmaster of my clan, she’ll teach you how to carve them.

Pet every griffon for me. Pet them twice.

Neve:

Please take care of my cat.

Emmrich:

If you’re not too busy overthinking every little thing

We’ve been happy. I don’t understand why now

Do you think I don’t

Sorry. I understand being afraid to say what you feel. You know that I do.

I was afraid to love you too, in the beginning. I’m terrified of what it would do to me to lose you now.

I don’t regret a single thing.

As I have before, I entrust my body into your hands. Bury me in the Memorial Gardens. I love it there; it is a kind place. Raise no stone for me, but plant a tree over my body, and promise that my bones will stay below the earth. I will return to the soil. That is the Dalish way.

Anything I have not bequeathed to another is yours. As is my heart.

I hope that when your time comes, you will no longer be afraid to say that you loved me. I hope you will not be afraid at all. But if you are, know this: if any last spark of me remains beyond that final veil, it will be waiting for the last spark of you.

Manfred:

Yes, you can have that scarf you thought I didn’t see you trying on.

Take care of Emmrich for me.

[sparks-and-smoke]

Hello! Could I get a fic about Bucky accidentally finding the reader’s Christmas gifts to him? Maybe he tries (and fails) to act surprised?

Thank you (ps I know it’s after Christmas, sue me)

Aww~ I don't care that it's too late for the holidays. It's cute! Merry Christmas (belated)

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader (code name honey)

Content/Warnings: none it’s just goofy holiday fluff

Author Note: merry late Christmas, this may or may not be loosely based in the Fate Stone AU I have brewing. (which since you are my beta reader ;) you already know about it.)

You are a notoriously bad gift giver, Bucky had been warned many times. He didn’t really care. As long as it came from the heart it couldn’t possibly be that bad. He could put up with socks or a cheesy mug as long as it came from you. But this was worse, so much worse. 

“Sam, I don't even know what to do with it.” Bucky rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands, confiding in the only other person he knew that wouldn’t immediately tell Honey. “Can I be honest here, it’s hideous.”

Sam was keeping a pretty good poker face over his mug poker but the situation was undeniably funny. “It can’t possibly be that bad.” But Bucky’s mortified face said it all. “Why were you spying on her gift away?”

“I didn’t mean too! Necessarily. She hid it in the bottom of the closet, man. She didn’t even hide it well... I’m a spy, I notice things. Plus it was pretty hard to miss.” The blanket had been tucked away in the back of the walk-in closet under a few other things. But the obnoxious colors of the corner peeking out from under the folded jeans had caught his eyes. They didn’t own anything in orange. Anything.  

His honey had gotten him a blanket, which would normally have been so very sweet seeing how Bucky hated being cold, but it wasn’t just a blanket. It was one of those viral blankets, the ones that are loosely based on 70’s rock band merch with lighting and thunder clouds rolling in the background. It’s featured pictures of Alpine, every goofy spastic picture of the cat that his girl could find with her name in the boldest font Bucky had ever seen. Honestly it hurt his eyes, and as Bucky went about describing it to Sam the other man damn near fell out of his chair. 

“That is perfect. No really I think she might be a genius. I’m gonna need a video of you opening that one.” Sam goaded.

“You're not helping.” Bucky growls, guilt twisting in his guts like a worm, but Sam was too busy laughing to try and give a shit. “How am I gonna act surprised now? Let alone be excited?”

“I don’t dude, I guess you need to start taking an acting class.” Sam wiped the tears from his eyes.

~~~~

Bucky watched with crinkled eyes as you opened your gifts from him. A nice wool winter coat because all you owned was a puffer, and while it was adorable on you and always kept you warm you always said you wanted something dressier for date night. And in your stocking an assortment of your favorite treats, skin care you were low on, and that perfume that you had been drooling over since October but always talked yourself out of because of the price tag. Bucky had been making a list since your birthday, keeping tabs on what you lingered on in stores and what you sighed at as you scrolled. He knew his girl and he knew her well. And the way you lit up with every item told him he hit it out of the park. 

“Do you like it Honey?” he asked, his chin propped on his hand. His face couldn’t have been softer or voice more full of love as he watched you glow with joy. 

“I love it. How did you even know what eye cream I use?” 

“It wasn't that hard doll.” Bucky laughed, it sits in a clear box on your vanity of course he knows. 

“Here! Open yours.” You hand him his stocking and the present wrapped in pretty silver paper, looking so excited you may vibrate across the floor. He plastered on his best game face as his stomach did a little flip. Do not ruin this for her Barnes. 

He starts with the stocking. Pulling out body wash and a cologne scented with that smoky bourbon and apple scent you were fond of, along with a small batch roasted coffee and some new gloves. So far so good, and he made sure to kiss you. “I love it honey.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t opened your big one.” you say with a twinkle in your eyes that makes him wanna melt into the floor. Should he tell her, confess he saw it? Risk it and pretend he loves it? 

“You’re right I haven’t.” he corrects himself with a smile picking up the package. It was instantly heavier than he remembered and as he tears open the package he has a brief (very guilty) moment of hoping that maybe he was wrong…

But no there it is. That hideous blanket that he knows instantly from the look on your face he is gonna end up snuggling under for the rest of time just to see you smile the way you are right in this moment. He opened his mouth to tell you thanks as genuinely as he could muster but honey was already biting her bottom lip. A fit of giggles falling out of her. “You already saw it didn’t you!” she managed to get out between chitters. 

“What?! No- I…” 

A pillow from the couch flew at his head. “I knew you would. You little sneak, you do this every year!” Honey chastised as Bucky dodged another swing with the pillow. 

“Hey! Whoa!” Bucky's arms go up in a weak attempt at blocking her little onslaught. “I didn’t mean too!”

“Bullshit James Buchanan!” thump, a hit to his ribs. “You did it on your birthday.” Whack, a bump to the top of his head. “You somehow sniffed out the tickets I bought to Coney Island.” one more swing but this time Bucky caught the pillow, pulling you into his lap with it. 

“I did not do it on purpose!” he defended, but he was beaming. Eyes crinkling in the corner as she glared playfully. “I didn’t!” 

“Yeah, you just somehow stumbled upon the blanket I hid under the laundry in the back of our closet.”

“I was looking for my coat!” 

“On the ground?”

Bucky was caught, because yes he had been looking. He always did. The man couldn’t help it, he always was just too curious. “Yea, I thought so you little rat! Do you like it?” she asks earnestly. And Bucky feels that gnawing feeling again, trying not to let it show on his face. 

“It’s… super fluffy.” he tries to deflect, hating to lie to honey, but her face is already breaking into a grin. What the hell?

“You hate it.” she beams. “It’s hideous huh?”

Bucky frowns, slouching back in his chair. Did she want him to hate it. “Uh, yeah it is..” 

“Good thing it’s not your actual present huh.” 

Bucky's eyes narrow. “You little-” She did this on purpose, hid the most outrageous thing she could find just to punish him for spoiling presents. Clever girl. Weeks of fretting over how he was gonna pull this off and SHE KNEW THE WHOLE TIME. With a giggle honey climbs off his lap and back behind the couch, pulling out a slim package from the cavern behind, and Bucky’s face nearly splits in half. 

“Here. Merry Christmas.” She offers him the parcel with a kiss, sitting in his lap as he unwraps it, and he feels his heart flutter a little. It’s a scrapbook. Full of pictures of him, her, Alpine and their friends. Taken by everyone who has known them the last few years. There isn’t a lot, he doesn’t like taking pictures, preferring to take them. So she must have scoured their friends' phones to find all of these and Bucky can feel tear picking the backs of his eyes. Good tears. 

“Thank you Honey. I love it. I love you…”

[nurse-floyd]

Lestappen, Lozengers and Lizard Soup?

Word Count: 890

Pairing: Lestappen

Warnings: None

For my dear @biancathecool, thank you so much for the donation sweetheart.

If you’d like a fic or a moodboard, please consider donating to the link in my description, all proceeds are going to surgery for the stray cat I recently took in.

It was just typical that Charles would come down with the flu on the summer break. The constant travelling, long days training and late nights had all caught up with him and weakened his immune system and had made him susceptible to all sorts of bugs.

He’d been absolutely miserable.

It was a miracle Max hadn’t caught whatever had taken the Monegasque down, having spent the past few days leading up to his illness practically on top of the man, sharing the same bed and being his nurse while he’d been laid up in bed.

Max opened the door to their bedroom, seeing the Charles shaped lump bundled under the covers. He made his way further into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as Charles poked his red and stuffy nose out from the covers. His bedside table was covered in empty wrappers of throat lozenges, cold and flu medicine and used tissues. Being truthful, Max thought the love of his life looked disgusting, not that he’d ever admit that.

Leo was curled up at the bottom of their bed, wagging his tail excitedly at Max’s arrival. He gave the dog a few scratches before he knelt by the head of the bed where the other driver was hiding beneath the covers from the light.

“Okay,” Max began, “I think I’ve raided every pharmacy in Monaco for you and I stopped off and got you some of that soup you like, my cooking will only make you sicker.”

Charles just blinked up at Max as he began unloading the shopping bags. “I grabbed you some more flu medicine but I also couldn’t sleep last night and found a whole article about natural remedies for colds and the flu and thought they could work since you’ve been sick for a few days now.”

Charles didn’t reply, instead releasing a few harsh chesty coughs before groaning.

“Oh, Liefje…” Max cooed as he smoothed back the soft curls from Charles sweaty forehead. “You’re still burning up.”

Max was willing to try anything if it meant Charles wouldn’t be sick for much longer, and at this point Charles was beginning to think the same.

“Okay, so this article said rubbing vapour rub on the soles of your feet before your socks is meant to help with congestion,” he explained as he pulled out a small glass jar. “I also read that stuffing an onion in your socks can help, but that’s just weird and would make the bedroom smell.

“Max…” Charles croaked, but Max was on a roll.

“Eating raw garlic is supposed to also help because it's antibacterial, but I couldn’t kiss you after you’ve been eating that…”

If Charles didn’t already have a headache, he’d find Max’s rambling utterly adorable.

“Max…sweetie,” Charles whispered, “do you know how to look after a sick person?” He snapped the last part a little harsher than he meant to.

“Well…I guess you won’t want any hot chocolate then,” Max replied almost smugly.

Charles squinted back, wondering if there was some sort of catch. “Well…I wouldn’t say no…”

Max held up his index finger, “you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t want to try any weird remedies and just want to sleep’ so I might just have to enjoy a mug all by myself while you sleep,” he teased.

Max wouldn’t hide his smug grin as he saw the pout grow on Charles' face. He reached out a hand and messed his hair a little, “okay. Okay. I’ll get you a mug, but you are taking more of your medicine.”

“You know…you say my remedies are weird, but a study found that cocoa can help suppress coughs more than some medication,” he rattled off as he carried two steaming mugs of hot chocolate into the bedroom. “And the warmth will probably be good for your throat too.”

Max helped Charles to sit up, the covers falling from his bare chest, also glistening with sweat in the glow of the bedside lamps. If it were any other time, the hot chocolate would definitely be abandoned for other activities, but Charles was definitely not in any state.

The pair sat in silence for a moment, each taking sips from their mugs and groaning at the sweet taste. Charles was silent for a moment before he cleared his throat, “so…you can find research on all of that but you didn’t read anywhere that rest, medicine and fluids are best for a cold?”

“I mean…whenever I got sick as a kid I was told to just get over it,” Max shrugged.

Charles hated moments like that, the little jokes from Max about his upbringing, where the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. He vowed to himself the moment they got together, that Max would never be made to feel like that again.

Once they’d finished their mugs, Max placed a kiss on Charles cheek. “No no no,” Charles began to say as Max leant in, “I don’t want you to get sick, Amour!”

“At least I know you’ll take care of me,” Max replied and kissed him again. “If we were in China, you could be eating lizard soup…I think it isn’t any different to chicken noodle. The hot liquid would help with your throat and help replace fluids.”

“I think I’ll stick with the hot chocolate, Amour.”

[satoruswifeyyyy]

taking whiny toge to the dentist

masterlist

taking toge inumaki to the dentist was the emotional equivalent of babysitting a hyperactive cat that had just discovered lasers. he was clinging to the armrest of the waiting room chair like it was his last tether to this mortal realm, wailing about betrayal.

“this is a betrayal of the highest order,” toge whined.“i thought you loved me. i thought we were a team. but no, you’ve joined the enemy. you have aligned yourself with the oppressors!"

you just rolled your eyes as he continued whining,"what’s next? are you gonna sell my secrets to the government? are you even my girlfriend anymore, or are you just an undercover dental spy?”

you stared at him, unimpressed. “your ‘secrets’ are that you ate two whole cheesecakes for breakfast and cried watching a hamster video. you’re not exactly national security material.”

“i was vulnerable!” he shot back, pointing dramatically at you. “and you’re supposed to protect me in my time of need, not sell me out to the tooth tyrants! what kind of a girlfriend are you?”

“the kind who makes sure her boyfriend doesn’t get gum disease,” you quipped. “now stop being dramatic. you’ll survive a cleaning.”

he groaned, tossing his head back dramatically like he was auditioning for a soap opera. “i don’t need a dentist. my teeth are fine. i’m built different. i’m an alpha wolf!”

“alpha wolves don’t cry at 3 a.m. because their molars are ‘planning a coup,’” you pointed out.

“they betrayed me first!” he shot back, jabbing a finger toward his mouth. “i was eating a cinnamon roll, minding my business, and my tooth said, ‘nah fam, not today.’”

“and yet, here we are,” you said, gesturing to the waiting room of smiley pearly dental care, questioning every life choice that had led you to this moment.

he narrowed his eyes, leaning closer. “would you still love me if i had no teeth?”

“yes, toge, but only because your gums would match your brain: smooth.”

he paused, comprehending what you said but he couldn't. so he just ignored your insult and wept dramatically, "you all are conspiring against me! this is a conspiracy!"

“a conspiracy to clean your teeth and save you from cavities?” you deadpanned. “yeah, sounds real sinister.”

before he could reply, the hygienist called his name. toge froze, his grip on the chair tightening. “nope. no. not happening. this is where i draw the line. you can’t make me go in there.”

you just glared at him and mouthed a "go". he gulped, "don't you care about me? what if i don’t come back, tell my story. make sure the world knows i went out bravely.”

“sure, toge. i’ll make you sound like a hero,” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself.

"kitty cat nooooo! please i will wear the maid outfit with the kitty ears, please no!"

you raised an eyebrow, leaning down so your face was inches from his. “do you want me to carry you in bridal style? because i will.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

five minutes later, you were hauling a squirming toge through the dentist’s door, his legs kicking wildly as he whined like a toddler being dragged away from a candy aisle.

“this is ABUSE!” he yelled, clinging to the doorframe like it was the edge of a cliff. “i’ll sue you! i’ll sue everyone! i’ll call my lawyer!”

toge flopped down with all the grace of a dead fish, arms crossed, glaring at you like you’d just sold his nintendo switch. “you’re lucky you’re hot, or i’d break up with you on the spot.”

“noted,” you said dryly, waving at the hygienist before heading back to the waiting room.

as you sat scrolling through your phone, muffled yelling drifted out from the exam room.

“OW! MY SOUL!”

“sir, i’m just applying the fluoride.”

“MY SPIRITUAL ESSENCE! STOP ATTACKING ME!”

you buried your face in your hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. this boy was impossible.

twenty minutes later, toge stumbled out of the room, looking like a lost puppy who’d seen too much. he had a tissue in his mouth, a blank expression, and a shiny sticker that said, i was a brave patient!

“they touched me without my consent, it was a gangbang. infinite backshots,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the gauze.

“they cleaned your teeth,” you corrected, standing up.

“same thing,” he said, holding up the sticker like it was evidence of his suffering. “and they gave me this. it’s a bribe. they’re trying to silence me.”

“you’re impossible,” you said, laughing as you grabbed his hand and started leading him out. “i’ll never recover from this. i’m emotionally scarred.”

you stood on your tip-toe, patting his shoulder sympathetically. “there, there. let’s go home so you can eat some nice, soft soup.”

he looked up at you, eyes wide. “...can i have ice cream instead?”

“not a chance.”

he groaned so loudly that an elderly man in the waiting room gave him a concerned look, but you just rolled your eyes, tugging him toward the car.

“one day,” he muttered, “you’ll miss me when i’m gone.”

“yeah, gone to the dentist again,” you teased.

you, then, grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the office, laughing.

and despite his grumbling, you couldn’t help but smile. this boy was ridiculous, dramatic, and downright exhausting—but he was yours. and honestly? you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

[vintage-love-nasha]

To be honest, I know things get worse.

I went for Umrah and really prayed for things in my life to improve . But you know how sometimes you feel so helpless that you want to give up on everything in life? That’s me right now.

I feel very helpless . I’ve lost control of my life . I tried my best to make things work. Tried my best to get a stable and good job , tried my best to not be in my own cave and go out and socialise.

But I have failed. In the last 10 years , I have done everything by myself . I’ve found my own way out in life with zero help, although im proud sometimes I feel if I had some sort of backing or incredible support my luck would’ve improved .

Such as friends who would refer me to better jobs or ways to invest for a better future . A partner who would guide me how to love and let go of my anger . At one point in my life , every time I felt sad I had an incredible friend who would go and have pastamania with me, which is my comfort food . Just one call away and we would have sausage pasta (spicy) with coke and waffle fries. Now she’s married just like everyone else .

Sometimes I can’t get over the feeling of my own حسرت— why is it that all the girls always get good partners . All my friends got good partners , no one ever thought about me , no one ever approached me for marriage. Even if they did, there was always another girl who was better than me and beat me to it. Always. It’s like as if all the time and energy I invested in a man, all the love I had for him was worthless, it is like as if I am invisible and don’t even matter . But the other girl always wins in life . She gets the life I always desired meanwhile I have to pick up all of my scattered love, reshuffle and think— where do I put it? I have nowhere to put it! Why must things get destroyed for me? Why must I be the one suffering ? I am not even a chaalak person, I am homely . I like to do ghardaari but I am never the chosen one . I am also loyal but never chosen.

Now, I just have pastamania alone because I lost my friends , I have no one to eat with , no one to chill with: I spend so much time with my cat and watching Pakistani dramas . I listen to coke studio and Atif Aslam. I love Honey Singh.

It’s so difficult to explain to someone who sees you as a stranger and hater that I have been holding my own fort for the longest time . That even if I get angry please understand it is due to incredible stress. If you think you can’t handle and I deserve to be blocked or never spoken to , go ahead maybe that’s all im worth .

I’ve always asked for strength to keep going but I find myself running out of strength .

Support builds character , growth and good mindset . It has been very difficult to be alone in my 20s. My sisters got married , and after my second sister got married , I felt so alone at home . Now I am exactly 30, it’s overwhelming to grow old .

I’m lucky to have my parents , but caring for them and worrying about their health every single day eats into my strength.

Whose shoulder do I cry on? I hate crying in front of my parents because I need to be their strength .

I don’t know what to do. I have tried everything’. Everything that I possibly could in my hands .

I wish that someone would just sit with me and say to me “I genuinely care about you. And your well being”.

I wish I wasn’t suffering . My brain is going to explode with all the sadness.

X

Bird (Andrea Arnold, 2024)

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙚 (𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙫𝙚𝙧.) 𝙘𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 — 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣'𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 1.2k

𝙖/𝙣: merry christmas, my sanshines! here's my christmas present to you all <3

𝙩/𝙬: accidental restraints, rough and soft tickling

𝒍𝒆𝒆: minho

𝙡𝙚𝙧: chan

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117 @minnielvrr

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

The only thought in Chan’s Santa hat clad head was what was for dinner. He knew a frenzied Minho was probably cooking up a storm at home and he couldn’t wait for the fresh aroma of whatever the younger made. 

The sad ache of not being able to decorate the dorm due to schedules had long faded, and Chan knew far better than anyone else that a Christmas with the members was better than any tree or pretty string lights. 

He arrived at home, white puffs of air leaving his freezing lips as he anticipated the warmth of the dorm after the long day. The others had long gone to a party, and Minho had gleefully counted himself out. Chan had stayed behind mainly to take care of the cat butler at home. 

“Minho-yah! I’m home!” Chan kicked his shoes off, half expecting Min’s scolding face to show up in front of him, chiding him for not keeping them neatly on the shelf. However, no cat butler. 

Channie’s breath left him as he took in the brightly decorated dorm living room. Tears filled his eyes. “Minho…oh, kitten,” He whispered, a hand to his mouth as the lights twinkled invitingly. 

He wondered around the apartment in search of Minho. Why is it so quiet? Chan heard a muffled shriek and a thud from the bedroom, and he stifled a laugh as he walked towards it. 

“Minho, yah, what are you—” Chan cut off his own sentence with a wide eyed stare as he took in the chaos that was the bedroom floor. 

Clearly, Minho had been trying to hang up some string lights by the time Chan had gotten home, along with some pretty ribbon bows along the walls. Let’s say that plan didn’t turn out so well. 

The lights were tangled around poor Minho’s arms, pinning one up and the other snug to his side, while the ribbons were tangled in the lights, a bow sitting snug on top of his head. 

One of the ribbons snaked around his lips and muffled every sound Minho made. “Hnnngh…” He whined pitifully as Chan burst into laughter, clutching the door frame as he watched the poor cat wiggling around on the floor, looking like a frustrated mess with disheveled hair. 

“Oh, Minho…what have you gotten yourself into?” Chan cooed, kneeling down beside the teary eyed boy and pulling the ribbon out of his mouth. 

“Hyuuung!” He wailed as Chan let out another peal of delighted laughter, the leader adjusting the bow on top of Minho’s head and kissing the crown of his head. “I was just trying to decorate!”

“Oh, I know…I know, and you did so well, kitten,” Channie chuckled warmly, pulling Minho into a more comfortable position, the younger’s arm sticking up awkwardly as he pouted. 

“Don’t you dare say a single word.” Minho groaned and Chan grinned back in all his dimpled glory. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” He nodded, though it didn’t seem very convincing. 

“Well? Help me out of this!” Minho demanded, tugging at the string lights and trying to escape them without snapping the cords. 

“Hmmm…I have a more interesting idea…” Channie’s grin turned evil so quickly Minho’s fear spiked unnaturally. 

“What…What do you mean?” Minho stammered, trying to scoot away and finding it hard due to his pinned arms and tied legs. 

“Well, I just think I should get my Christmas present early. I mean, you’re dressed the part,” Chan gestured to the small bow resting on Minho’s fluffy hair. 

The younger glared at him. “Christopher Bang if you get even five feet within my personal bubble I swear I’ll—AAH!!” Minho screamed as Chan grabbed his outstretched arm, pinning it down before the leader teasingly wiggled his free hand over Minho’s exposed armpit. 

I really should not have worn a tank top. 

Minho yelped and tried to wiggle away frantically, his other arm frustratingly pinned to his side, his legs kicking desperately as nervous giggles poured from his lips, and the sight of Chan wiggling his fingers in that horribly ticklish way only made it so much worse. 

“Oh you’re not going anywhere,” Chan laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he gripped tighter, his other hand finally descending onto Minho’s hypersensitive underarm. 

Minho let out an undignified shriek, strained laughter pouring from him as Channie’s fingers attached, scratching in a rhythm that nearly sent poor Minho into a hysterical frenzy. 

“STOHOHOHOP!! Youhuhure so dehehehehead!!” He cried out, grunting in frustration as he tried to squirm out of the string lights. 

“If I’m gonna be dead, might as well go all out while I can,” Chan grinned, straddling Min’s thighs and moving to his sides, using both hands to squeeze at the soft skin of the left side. 

Minho’s socked feet kicked frantically as he jerked to the right, his laughter freeing itself as his eyes squeezed shut, and he arched his back in desperation as Chan moved to his lower belly, pushing in with his thumbs. 

“Awhhh, is the kitten too ticklish? Can he not handle it?” Chan pouted, the mock sympathy making Minho cackle, stomping his feet as he twisted side to side. “Too bad the little kitten is stuck with me~”

“NOHOHO TEHEHEHEHEASING!! Leheheehehet me gohoho—OHHAAAHAHAHAA!!” Minho shrieked, shrill and high pitched as Chan switched spots quickly, his thumbs now kneading circles into the hollows of his hips. “Look at these wiggly hips!~”

“NOHOHOHO—Nohohot the hihips!! NAHAHAHAAT THE HIPS EEHHAHAHAHAHA!!” Minho laughed, his voice turning squeaky with embarrassment and laughter. 

“Oh, yes the hips. It’s one of my favorite spots on you,” Chan replied nonchalantly, pressing in deeper and making it so much worse, earning a high pitched squeal from the kitten beneath him. The leader switched directions, turning so that he was now facing Minho’s legs. 

“Hyung—Hyung please!! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE!!” Minho howled, Chan happily going to town on his knees. 

Minho hadn’t even been aware of how sensitive his knees were, and now that Channie’s hands were freely squeezing and working into the parts beneath, he wondered  how Jisung survived all of the sessions on his knees, now feeling the torture. 

“GAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!! STOP!! Hyung—Chaahahahahannie hyung Ihihihim sohohhohorry!! JUHUHUST STOP TIHIHIHICKLING ME!!” 

The younger’s voice quieted as Chan removed the restrictive lighting from his arms and wrists, just to grow horrified as Chan scooted further down, grabbing at Minho’s ankle and removing his fluffy socks. 

“Noho…NO!! No, hyung, please…not my feet!!” Minho begged, squeezing his eyes shut. He pleaded all he could, his face flushed in laughter and he was completely at Channie’s mercy. 

Minho screamed, throwing his body up against Chan’s back as fingers scratched up and down his feet. It was unbearable, sensation shooting up his legs and setting every nerve on fire. 

“IHIHIHITS TOOHOHHOHOO MUHUHUUHUHUCH!!” He howled as Chan was unrelenting, even as Minho slapped at his back and grasped at his waist desperately. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

Chan held the top of Minho’s foot, using the nails of his other hand to scritch scratch in tiny, quick movements along the tender arch of Minho’s foot. 

“AAAAHH!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

Tears spilled down Minho’s cheeks as he howled for mercy, screaming Chan’s name and pounding at his back hysterically and nearly killing the leader’s spine. 

Finally, a grinning Chan let up, turning to scoop an exhausted Minho into his arms. “Who’s the ticklish kitty, hm? My little Christmas present,” He mused, nuzzling into Minho’s wet cheek and adjusting the bow on top of the cat’s head. Minho melted into his embrace, eyes dropping as he let Channie hold him. 

Chan smiled down at him. “Love you, Minho-yah,” He chuckled. “Merry Christmas.” He relished in the small moment he had with Minho, where the younger wasn’t fighting back against his affection. 

Minho’s cheeks flushed in shyness. “Merry Christmas, hyung. I love you too.”

[papasyapperia]

Okay but I love thinking about how the cat kings cat attributes might still affect him in human form so please enjoy a bulleted list of funny scenarios I made up.

While meeting with him, one of the boys (really either of them would be good) slowly pulls out a laser pointer from their coat pocket. TCK is like “please don’t” right as they flick it on and start darting it across the floor. TCK chases after it, still in human form.

TCK is liable to just walk away mid conversation because he saw a bug in the corner of the room that he’s compelled to sit and stare at, occasionally batting it around limply. (This is kind of based off of my cat, who is many things, but a hunter is not one of them)

Will 100% gag dramatically at any kind of smell or taste he doesn’t like. If you have cats you know exactly what kind of gag I’m talking about.

Rolls catnip joints and smokes it like weed. Basically just makes him crazy and out of his mind for a while.

Gets the zoomies. Will wake up from a dead sleep to run around in circles for a while.

Speaking of sleep, falls asleep in the weirdest wackiest positions ever. Like you’d thing he’s trying out some weird yoga but no, he’s just asleep.

[angstywaifu]

Secret Relationship - Brennan Sorrengail x Reader Riorson

A/N: You guys seem to really want Brennan in a secret relationship with an older sister of Xaden. I literally have 4 requests for this. So I’m just gonna mash them all together. So for the 4 of you that requested some Brennan with Xaden’s older sister. Enjoy.

Prompts/Requests: Brennan and Xaden older sister who have a relationship while at Basgiath and reunite in Aretia and she finds out he's alive. Xaden walking in on Brennan and his older sister. Warnings: Mentions of death, Fluff and minor smut.

Masterlist | Support Me

Home. I hadn’t been here in so long. But it feels like a day hasn’t passed since I was last here. Thankfully most of the damage from all those years ago has been repaired, only a few spots not looking quite how they use to. Part of me was annoyed Xaden had requested my help and appearances elsewhere, but it needed to be done. And now, after all these years, I was home.

My dragon turns and banks downwards towards the clearing below where a few people await our arrival. I can easily spot Xaden amongst them. Even from here I can tell how much he looks like our father. Gods, I could even mistake him for him if I looked quick enough.

As soon as my dragons feet touch the ground I jump from their back, rushing towards Xaden who is already heading towards me. Immediately he pulls me into his arms and crushes me into a hug. I swear he’d grown again since I’d last saw him. His head easily resting atop my own. So much for being the little brother.

“You need to stop growing. You’re meant to be my little brother.” I joke as I step out of his arms.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Wait till you see Garrick then.”

I go to respond, but as Garrick’s familiar face appears from behind Xaden i stand their shocked. He’s easily a few inches taller than Xaden. Last time I’d seen Garrick was just before the rebellion had started, and back then he wasn’t that much taller than me. Now I just reached over his shoulder.

“Bloody hell. I’m going to need some heeled boots to stand next to you guys, I don’t like this feeling short thing.” Both of them laughing at me.

”Don’t worry, Xaden’s girlfriend can make you feel tall.” Garrick teases, earning a glare from Xaden.

”Girlfriend? What happened to Cat? Weren’t you engaged to her or something?” Least that was the last I’d heard from Xaden. Though we didn’t really talk about it much.

”Don’t get me started about it.” Xaden says with a sigh. “And she’s not my girlfriend. It’s…. Complicated.”

I shake my head. “What did you do?”

”What didn’t he do.” Garrick jokes before stepping out of Xaden’s reach as he goes to shove him away.

Gods, I’d missed this. I hadn’t been alone while I was away, having a squad of my own who had chosen to pretend to be dead and do anything Xaden and the rebellion needed of us. But nothing beat the feeling of being around the ones you called your family. The ones you loved. The ones you would do anything for. I push down the feeling of sadness that wants to creep its way in. Push down the urge to look over my shoulder at the spot I last saw them that day.

“Come on, let me take you to your room.” Xaden says, ignoring Garrick who is currently chuckling to himself before turning away and walking towards the our home.

I quickly hurry after him despite the fact I know the way without him. We fall into a comfortable silence as we walk together. Neither of us needing to speak as we take in the feeling of being back here together for the first time in a long time.

It was odd walking these halls with Xaden. It felt familiar, but also not at the same time. Last time we both did this we were a lot younger, a lot was different, and a lot more people were alive. The usual commotion of the house no longer there. Least not the commotion I was use to.

Xaden pushes open the door to my bedroom, holding it open for me as I walk past him. Not a single thing had changed. It was exactly as I’d left it. Except for the bed. I’d left it in a mess last time I was here. Hopefully who ever made it had also changed the sheets. I hated to think how gross they’d be after all these years.

“You doing ok?” Xaden asks after a few moments of me walking around the room.

I nod. “I will be. It just feels…. Weird. Being back here I mean. Everything is so different now, but this place still looks the same.”

”You get use to it after a few days. I felt the same when we first got back here properly a few weeks back.” He tells me before a soft knock sounds at the door.

I furrow my brow in confusion, who could be knocking at my door? It can’t be Bodhi, he would have just barged in here, pulling me into one of his hugs, which I had a feeling would be a lot more bone crushing than they use to be the last time I saw him. I hated to think how much he had grown since I’d last seen him if Xaden and Garrick were anything to go by.

”Promise to not get angry.” Xaden says as he looks back at me, as he walks towards the door.

“Why would I-“

My words die on my tongue as Xaden opens the door revealing who had knocked. The same curly auburn hair, shaven on the sides just as I remember. Same amber coloured eyes, now just with a few lines at the edges. Same indent from where his dimple sits when he smiles. All I can do is stand here and look at him.

There’s no fucking way he’s there. I have to be hallucinating. He can’t be here. I watched him die. Watched Naolin try to save him. Watched Naolin kill himself trying to save him. He steps into the room, nodding at Xaden in greeting who nods back as if this is normal. Why is Xaden not shocked like I am? How does Xaden even know him? What the hell is going on?

I’m jolted from my thoughts as Xaden steps out of the room and closes the door behind him, leaving Brennan and I alone for the first time in years. Brennan cautiously walks towards me, almost like he’s approaching a dragon during threshing.

“Hi.” He says as he stops a few feet away from me, fidgeting with his hands ever so slightly.

“Hi? After all these years of making me think you’re dead, all you say is hi?” I say harshly, watching as he swallows nervously.

”I didn’t really know what else to say. How to explain what’s happened.”

”How about starting with how to hell you’re alive?” I snap at him.

”Right, that might be a good place to start.” He says quietly before walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge, resting his arms on his knees as he leans forward and looks down at his hands. “Whatever Naolin did worked. Clearly not straight away, but it worked somehow.”

”Least he didn’t die for nothing.” I add, Brennan nodding in agreement. “Have you been here this whole time?”

Part of me wants him to say no, to make this a little easier. But as I look over at him and meet his gaze I already know the answer.

”Yes. The rebellion took me in, healed me and looked after me. All without knowing who I was. And when you’re brother came back, he put me in a leadership position, help run things while he was at Basgiath.”

All this time Brennan had been the one calling the shots in Xaden’s absence. Keeping everything running while Xaden couldn’t. He’d been the one giving me my orders and updates.

”Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh. That’s you isn’t it?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

Yet again he nods. I shake my head in disbelief, racking my head for any sign or hint that it was him in those letters. But I know there wasn’t. Otherwise I would have picked up on it. Seen something that hinted it was him.

“Trust me when I say I wanted to tell you.” He says as he stands and walks over to me. “So many times I wanted to give you some sort of hint that would make you realise. But I couldn’t risk it.”

I take a step back and avert my gaze. He’s right. I hate that he’s right. But it doesn’t stop the hurt. The betrayal I’m feeling. Even though there’s a larger part of me that wants to jump into his arms and never let go. Even though it had been years, there was a part of me that could never get over him.

“I get it. I understand.” I say, trying to hide the hurt in my voice.

I gasp as he reaches out and grasps my hand in his and pulls me towards him. I try to pull away but he just grips my hand tighter, his other hand coming to rest on my hip. I keep my eyes lowered, focusing on one of the buttons of his jacket.

“Mo Chroí, look at me. Please.” He pleads as he pulls me closer.

I can’t help but look up at him as he addresses me with the Tyrrish phrase he use to use all those years ago. The same one my father would use when I was little. As my eyes meet his, he smiles down at me, his dimple becoming more obvious at the movement.

“There she is.” He whispers, his hand letting go of mine as he cups my cheek.

I’m not sure what comes over me, but I grasps his jacket in my hands and pull him down to me. His breath hitches, warm against my skin as his face hovers just inches from mine. For a moment, time slows. The sound of our breathing fills the space between us, and I can feel his heartbeat racing beneath the layers of fabric.

He opens his lips, but I silence his words by pressing my lips to his. The world falls away, and all that remains is the heat of the kiss, the way his hands move hesitantly to my waist, then quickly righten as if he’s afraid to let me go. Afraid to lose this moment. I don’t know if this is right, or if I’ll regret this later, but right now, none of it matters. Right now, he’s here and alive, and so am I, and that’s enough.

I loosen my grip on his jacket, reaching up to push the material from his body, Brennan manoeuvring his arms to let the clothing fall to the floor. I feel his eyes on me, his presence commanding every inch of space between us. I can feel the heat radiating from him, an intoxicating warmth that wants to draw me in.

”Are you sure?” His voice is low, husky, and laced with something that feels like both desire and restraint.

I now, swallowing hard, my own voice barely above a whisper as I grasp the bottom of his shirt in my hands. “Yes.”

My heart races as I fumble to pull the material up his torso, Brennan releasing me from his grasp to reach down and pull the fabric from his own body. I don’t know what I expected him to look like, but it wasn’t this. With the material now gone, it reveals the sharp lines and smooth planes of his chest, freckles dotted here and there from training outdoors more than likely.

Brennan reaches out and pushes my jacket from my arms, throwing the clothing to the corner of the room before quickly grabbing my shirt in his hands and pulling it up my body. His lips capture mine again, this time tentative as though testing the waters. But the second I respond, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, something shifts. The kiss deepens, a fire igniting between us, burning away any common sense or anger I had left.

I push him back towards my bed, Brennan stumbling backwards as his knees hit the edge, grabbing my hips and pulling me into his lap, my legs sitting either side of his as I straddle him. I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin as his lips trail down my jawline, grazing the sensitive spot just below my ear, sending shivers cascading down my spine.

”Gods, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles against my skin as he kisses down my neck causing me to arch into his touch, a moan escaping my lips.

He turns his head back up to me, his lips ghosting over mine as the door to my room swings open.

”You better not have killed my-” Xaden starts as he walks into the room, stopping in his tracks as he sees me straddling Brennan on my bed, both of us half dressed.

Seconds tick by as he just stands there and looks at us as we both stare back.

”Well least you haven’t killed him.” He says with a smirk.

I growl at him before grabbing the closest thing to me, which happens to be a pillow, hurling it towards him as he dodges it with ease as he closes the door behind him, his laughter echoing in the hallway.

”Least you don’t look like you want to murder me anymore.” Brennan mumbles against my jaw as he presses soft kisses along it in an effort to get my attention back to him.

”Don’t push your luck.”