#like it was so soft and tender and they loved each other so much

[wchswift]

ଓ Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Logan Howlett x latina!fem!reader Summary: you're finally dating Logan, and this year for Christmas, your family, not very mutant-friendly, invites you and Logan to the holiday. Content: fluff, a lot of feelings, slightly angst, established relationship, complicated parents but they redeem themselves, not proofread, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 5k (I got a little carried away) A/N: like I said christmas prompts are all my head has been coming up with lately lol. This one is totally self indulgent... I'm sorry (not really). I really think Logan would get along great with my latin family so this is what I wrote! Merry Christmas to you all!!! 🎄

mdni 𖤐 18+

The world outside was muffled in white. Snow blanketed the grounds of the X-Mansion, smoothing over the jagged chaos that typically defined the lives of its residents. But here, in this room, everything felt still, warm, and safe.

You blinked awake slowly, your cheek resting against the solid plane of Logan’s chest. His steady breathing was a low hum beneath your ear, and the arm he’d slung across your waist anchored you in place, as if he thought you might disappear if he let go.

For a while, you stayed like that, letting the lazy warmth seep into your bones. Mornings like these were rare. Most of your days started with some crisis or other, but the mansion had gone blessedly quiet for the holidays. Even the younger mutants seemed to understand the sanctity of this lull, their usual chatter and chaos replaced with soft laughter and the occasional sound of Christmas music echoing faintly through the halls.

Logan shifted beneath you, his muscles flexing under your cheek as he adjusted his grip. The calloused pads of his fingers traced absentminded circles on your back, a tender gesture you’d come to treasure.

“You’re quiet this morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. “Something on your mind?”

You smiled, too comfortable to move. “Just appreciating this.” You turned your head slightly, nuzzling against him. “Don’t ruin it by talking too much.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Fair enough.”

The quiet stretched out again, the two of you wrapped in the soft cocoon of blankets and each other. You let your thoughts wander, enjoying the rare chance to simply exist without the weight of responsibility pressing down on you.

And then your phone buzzed.

You groaned, burying your face against Logan as the sound shattered the tranquility. “No,” you mumbled. “Not yet.”

Logan reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the offending device without letting you go. “You gonna answer this, or am I tossing it out the window?” he asked, holding it just out of your reach.

You sat up reluctantly, frowning at the screen. The familiar number made your stomach twist, a mix of excitement and apprehension knotting your insides.

“It’s my family,” you said softly.

Logan’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He just handed you the phone, his steady gaze enough to ground you.

You hesitated, then swiped to answer. “Hello?”

“¡Mija!” Your mother’s voice filled the line, bright and cheerful as ever. “You sound tired. Are you resting enough? Eating well?”

You smiled despite yourself. “Hi, mamá. I’m fine, I promise.”

“Good. Listen, I have some news.” Her tone turned conspiratorial, and you could almost picture her leaning closer, as if you weren’t miles away. “We want you to come home for Christmas. Your papá and I were talking, and it’s been too long since we’ve all been together.”

Your chest tightened. It had been too long. Ever since your powers had manifested, there had been tension, distance. But in recent months, your family had made an effort to mend things, to accept you for who you were. And now, this invitation felt like another step forward.

“I’d love to,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now. “I really would.”

“Good, good. And—” She hesitated, then plowed ahead, her excitement spilling over. “Bring your boyfriend. Logan, right? We want to meet him.”

You froze, your gaze flicking to Logan, who was watching you with mild curiosity. Your mother’s words echoed in your head, and suddenly, the cozy warmth of the room felt stifling.

“Mija? Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” you managed, your throat dry. “I’m here.”

“Well, bring him. And don’t worry—he’s family now, too. We’ll take care of him.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you. After a few more pleasantries, you ended the call and set the phone down, your hands trembling slightly.

Logan tilted his head, his dark eyes narrowing. “What was that about?”

“My family,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. “They want me home for Christmas. They want us home for Christmas.”

His eyebrows lifted again, but there was no hesitation in his response. “All right.”

“All right?” You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re okay with going?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He shrugged, his tone casual, but you could see the flicker of something deeper in his expression. “It’s your family. They’re important to you.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your hands. “I just… I don’t know how they’ll react. I mean, they’ve been better about accepting me, but this is different. And you…” You trailed off, struggling to find the words.

Logan reached for you, his hand warm and solid as it cupped your cheek. “Hey,” he said softly. “Stop overthinking it. If they’ve got a problem with me, that’s their issue, not yours. But if you want me there, I’m there.”

His certainty steadied you, and you leaned into his touch, releasing a shaky breath. “Of course I do! I do want you there. I just—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted gently. “Stop worrying. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Okay. Together.”

Logan leaned back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you were curled up against his side again. The knot of anxiety in your chest loosened slightly, replaced by a tentative sense of hope for having Logan by your side.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, and for a little while longer, the two of you stayed wrapped in the quiet, preparing for the journey ahead.

When it was no longer possible to extend the moment with Logan, you got up and started your day. Since it was close to Christmas, the mansion was quieter and less crowded, giving you a chance to relax alone for a while.

The snow seemed endless, a quiet ocean blanketing the world outside. From the wide windows of the X-Mansion’s common area, it stretched out in every direction, softening the edges of the landscape until it looked like something out of a dream.

You sat on the arm of the couch, watching the scene unfold with the same stillness it seemed to demand. Logan was a shadow in the corner of the room, leaning casually against the doorframe. His presence was like gravity—solid, constant, something you could always feel even when you weren’t looking.

But now, his gaze was fixed on you, sharp and unwavering.

“You’ve been quiet all morning,” he said, breaking the silence. There was no accusation in his tone, only a quiet observation. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You sighed, your breath fogging up the window for just a moment before it vanished. “It’s nothing.”

He let out a low hum, the kind that told you he didn’t believe a word of it. He crossed the room in a few steps, coming to stand beside you. His reflection joined yours in the glass, his dark eyes meeting yours in the faint, distorted version of the world.

“Try again,” he said, his voice softer now.

You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “It’s just… the idea of going home, after too long. And bringing you with me.”

His reflection didn’t waver. “You don’t want me to come?”

“No!” The word burst out of you too quickly, and you winced at the sharpness of it. “That’s not it. I already said, course I want you to come, Lo. It’s just—” You hesitated, your thoughts tripping over each other in their rush to the surface. “I don’t know how they’ll be. My family, I mean. They’ve gotten better about… about everything, but it’s still complicated. And you going too—”

You glanced at him, struggling to find the right words. “You’re not exactly… subtle, Logan. You literally have mutant written all over you. You’re like a storm—intense and impossible to ignore. And I love it so much, but my family, they’re…”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“They’re the kind of people who smile through awkward silences and sweep anything messy under the rug,” you finished weakly. “I just—I don’t know if they’ll know what to do with you. And I don’t want them to make you feel like you don’t belong. I don't want them to treat you differently.”

Logan was quiet for a long moment, his gaze still fixed on you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, like the rumble of distant thunder.

“You think I care what they think?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“They’re your family,” he said simply. “I’m not going for them. I’m going for you.”

There was something so unshakable about the way he said it, as if the answer was as obvious as the ground beneath his feet.

You let out a shaky laugh, your breath fogging up the glass again. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is,” he said, and the quiet conviction in his voice made your chest ache. “They don’t have to like me. Hell, they don’t even have to understand me. But if they love you, then they’ll respect the choices you’ve made. And if they don’t—” His reflection smiled faintly, a wry twist of his lips. “Well, they’ll have to deal with me.”

You shook your head, a reluctant smile tugging at your own lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “But I’m yours. That’s all that matters.”

Something in your chest unfurled at his words, the knot of anxiety loosening just enough for you to take a deep breath. You leaned against him, your forehead resting against his shoulder. He smelled faintly of pine and smoke, like the forest itself had come to life and taken human form. It was so comforting.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“For what?” he asked in a low voice, his hand coming up to rest on the back of your neck.

“For being you.”

He huffed a soft laugh, and you felt his lips brush against your hair. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me now, sweetheart.”

You laughed, the sound lighter now, like the snowflakes falling outside. For the first time all morning, the weight in your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy.

The road stretched ahead of you like an endless ribbon, winding through snow-draped trees and frozen lakes that glittered faintly in the pale winter sunlight. The hum of the car engine was the only sound for a while, a quiet rhythm that matched the pulse of your thoughts.

Logan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console where his fingers occasionally brushed against yours. It was a casual touch, almost absentminded, but it anchored you to him in a way words never could.

You watched his profile as he drove, the sharp lines of his face softened by the morning light. There was a quiet intensity about him, like a storm that seemed less threatening and more comforting. He was like a force of nature, capable of demolishing obstacles while also providing a protective haven —a force of nature that could tear down walls and shield you from the worst of the world all at once.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked without taking his eyes off the road.

You smiled faintly. “Are they worth that much?”

“Probably more,” he said, his lips twitching into the smallest of smirks. “But that’s all I’ve got on me.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing the tension in your chest. “I was just thinking about how far we’ve come. I mean, from where we started… to this.”

Logan glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “This isn’t just ‘far.’ This is everything.”

His words were so simple, so unshakable, that they left you momentarily speechless. He had a way of doing that—cutting through your overthinking with a clarity that left no room for doubt.

You turned to look out the window, the snow-covered landscape blurring past. “You know, when my powers first showed up, I thought… I thought I’d never have this. A life. Someone like you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but you felt his hand move, his fingers intertwining with yours on the console. “Guess I’m lucky you were wrong.”

You blinked, surprised by the softness in his voice. When you looked at him again, his eyes were fixed on the road, but there was something unguarded about his expression—a glimpse of the man behind the claws and the growl.

“Logan…”

He shook his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t go getting mushy on me now, sweetheart. We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

You snorted a laugh, leaning back in your seat. The warmth of his hand in yours stayed with you, a quiet reassurance that no matter what waited at the end of this journey, you wouldn’t face it alone.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Your family’s house was just as you remembered—warm, inviting, and alive with the kind of chaos that only the holidays could bring.

Lights twinkled along the roofline, and the faint sound of music spilled out into the crisp evening air. As Logan helped you with the bags, the front door swung open, and a wave of noise and warmth hit you like a tidal wave.

“¡Cariño! ¡Por fin!” Your mother was the first to greet you, wrapping you in a hug so tight it stole your breath. “I’ve been waiting all day!”

“Mamá,” you managed, laughing as she fussed over you.

And then her attention shifted to Logan. Her eyes softened, though her tone remained brisk. “And this must be Logan.”

He nodded, his posture relaxed but his expression carefully neutral. “Ma’am.”

Your mother’s lips twitched, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she turned to usher you both inside, chattering about the food, the decorations, and how your father was already working on his second plate.

The rest of the family followed in quick succession, a whirlwind of introductions, hugs, and rapid-fire questions. Logan handled it all with a quiet patience that surprised even you, his gruff demeanor softening just enough to put them at ease.

Your younger cousin tugged at his sleeve, wide-eyed. “Are you really Wolverine? Like, claws and everything?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as if to ask, 'Should I?'

You shrugged, trying not to laugh. “Might as well get it over with.”

With a sigh, he extended one hand, the metallic claws sliding out with a faint snikt. Your cousin’s eyes widened further, her jaw dropping.

“Whoa…”

The rest of the family crowded around, their curiosity breaking any lingering tension. Logan didn’t say much, but the faint smirk on his face told you he didn’t mind the attention nearly as much as he pretended to.

As the evening wore on, the chaos began to settle. The smell of food and cinnamon filled the air, and the house hummed with laughter and music. Logan had drifted to a corner of the room, where your father showed him an old photo album.

You watched them from across the room, your heart swelling at the sight of Logan fitting into this world you’d been so afraid to share with him.

“Mija,” your mother said, pulling you aside. Her voice was softer now, her eyes warm. “He’s good for you. I can see it.”

You smiled, your chest tightening with emotion. “He is. More than I ever thought I deserved.”

She cupped your face, her hands warm and familiar. “Don’t ever think that. You deserve everything, and more. I wish I had told you that more often. I'm sorry, nena.”

For the first time in a long while, you believed her.

Dinner had barely ended when the music started, a lively rhythm spilling from the speakers and filling every corner of the house. Chairs were pushed back, plates cleared away, and the living room became an impromptu dance floor.

You watched from the edge of the room, laughing as your cousins dragged reluctant uncles and aunts into the fray. The Christmas lights blinked in time with the beat, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the scene.

And then you felt a hand on your wrist.

“C’mon,” Logan said, his voice low and warm.

You stared at him, incredulous. “You? Dance?”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve been around long enough to pick up a thing or two. Don’t make me regret this.”

Before you could protest, he pulled you onto the floor. The music swelled, and for a moment, you forgot the chaos, the noise, everything but the warmth of his hand on yours and the steady strength of his other hand resting lightly on your waist.

He wasn’t perfect—his steps were a little stiff, and his timing faltered now and then—but his confidence made up for it. You couldn’t stop smiling, even as your family whooped and cheered around you.

“Not bad for a grumpy old man,” you teased, your voice just loud enough for him to hear over the music.

“Careful,” he warned, his smirk widening. “We are at your parents' house but if you keep this up, that won't stop me from punishing you." He whispered against your ear for only you to hear, his voice firm but with a hint of humor.

You laughed, the sound pure and unrestrained, and for the first time that night, the weight of your nerves began to lift.

Later, as the music faded into softer melodies and the crowd thinned out, you found yourself in the kitchen, refilling glasses and helping your mother plate desserts.

“That Logan,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “He’s different.”

You froze, unsure of where she was going with this. “Is that… bad?”

She shook her head, her hands deftly arranging cookies on a platter. “No. Just… surprising. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, you can tell he means every word. And the way he looks at you…” She paused, her gaze softening. “You deserve that kind of love, cariño. The kind that doesn’t waver.”

Your throat tightened, and you turned back to the counter, suddenly very interested in the stack of plates waiting to be carried out. “Thanks, mamá.”

But before you could continue, the sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. Your aunt appeared in the doorway, her ever-present smile firmly in place.

“There you are!” she said brightly, stepping into the kitchen as though she hadn’t just been eavesdropping. Her gaze flicked between you and your mother, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “What are we talking about?”

“Logan,” your mother replied, her tone light but guarded.

“Ah,” your aunt said, her smile sharpening at the edges. “He’s… an interesting choice.”

You stiffened, the warmth from your mother’s words quickly fading. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” your aunt said breezily, but there was a calculated edge to her voice. She picked up a cookie, examining it as though it were the most fascinating thing in the room. “It’s just—well, a man like that doesn’t seem very… stable.”

Your mother frowned, "Paloma don't start…" she said with a warning tone, but even so, your aunt continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “No, I just mean, he's a mutant! And with his background—and those claws… He seems a little aggressive too, It must be exhausting, keeping up with someone like him.”

The words hit like a slap, dredging up the old insecurities you’d worked so hard to bury. Your grip on the platter tightened as you struggled to steady your voice. “Don't you dare! You don't know anything about him. Logan is not aggressive, he is a good man, kind and caring.” you said evenly, refusing to rise to her bait.

“Of course, I’m sure he is,” your aunt said, her smile widening. “But he is still a mutant, don’t you think—”

"And my daughter is also a mutant, Paloma, so you better stop this, " your mother replied, her face completely serious now.

"I didn't mean to offend, I'm sorry," she said sarcastically. "But it's funny you should say that since you never were okay or wanted to deal with the fact that she was a mutant either."

Your breath caught your throat, chest tightening as you felt anger take over.

"You're right, I lost my relationship with my daughter just because I didn't understand her, and I was wrong. All I want most is to make up for it and change. So I won't accept any more of your prejudice, not with my daughter or with Logan." Your mother's voice was firm and steady, her posture confident and despite the moment I smiled to see the change in her. The way she defended you.

“Everything is fine? Anyone got something to say about me?”

Before your aunt could answer, the deep, gruff voice cut through the air like a blade, silencing the room. You turned to see Logan standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable but his presence commanding.

Your aunt faltered, her confidence wavering under the weight of his gaze. “I—no, of course not,” she stammered, her smile faltering as she fidgeted with the cookie in her hand.

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, and his voice was calm but firm as he added, “Good. We wouldn't want to cause a scene on Christmas, right?”

Your aunt nodded, muttered something about needing to check on the drinks, and scurried out of the kitchen, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

Logan crossed the room in a few strides, his hand finding yours. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, grounding you. “You okay?” he asked softly. “Need a hand?” This time he looked at your mother, his gaze light and tone gentle.

Your mother stepped aside with a knowing smile. “She’s all yours.”

You smiled, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Logan’s hand tightened around yours. “C’mon,” he said, his voice low and meant only for you. “Let’s get out of here for a minute.”

The night had settled into a comfortable lull by the time Logan led you outside. The snow had stopped falling, but the cold still bit at your cheeks and turned your breath into faint clouds in the air.

“Busy night,” he said, his tone dry but not unkind.

You laughed softly, the sound muted by the quiet of the world around you. “You handled it pretty well.”

He shrugged, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. “Your family’s all right. Loud, but all right.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “That’s high praise coming from you.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The silence stretched out, not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Finally, he turned to you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. “You were scared about bringing me here,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble.

You let out a breath, watching it curl into the night air. “I didn’t want it to go wrong—for you, or for them. I thought maybe… maybe I was asking too much.”

Logan stepped closer, his presence like a shield against the cold. “You never ask too much from me,” he said firmly. “But you’ve got to stop carrying all this by yourself. You’re not alone in this anymore.”

His hand found yours, the roughness of his fingers a contrast to the gentleness of his touch. “You don’t need to protect me. And you sure as hell don’t need to protect them from me. That’s not how this works.”

Your throat tightened, his words cutting through the tangled mess of your insecurities. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

He tipped your chin up, his eyes locking onto yours. “You won’t.” The certainty in his voice was unshakable, and it felt like he was holding more than just your gaze—it felt like he was holding you together.

"I can't lose you, Logan," you breathed, desperation lacing your words. "And sure as hell I wasn't going to lose you because of my family." As he leaned closer, the frigidness of the world outside seemed to fade, replaced by the warmth radiating from him. His forehead grazed yours, a gentle touch that sent a shiver of connection coursing through you.

His breath was warm, his voice a whisper that carried only for you. “Whatever happens, it’s you and me. That’s not changing.”

The words wrapped around your heart, soft and unyielding all at once. “I love you,” you whispered, the confession slipping out before you could stop it.

He smiled then, a rare, fleeting thing that lit his face like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I love you too,” he said, the rough edges of his voice softening with the weight of the truth.

And then he kissed you, slow and deliberate, like there was nothing in the world but this moment. His hands moved to your waist, grounding you, making you feel like everything would be okay.

Later that night, the house was quieting down. The children had been sent to bed, though the muffled sound of giggles hinted they weren’t asleep just yet. Most of the adults had retreated to the kitchen for coffee and one last helping of dessert. You sat with Logan on the couch, the glow of the Christmas tree casting soft shadows across the room.

The space felt smaller now, more intimate, as if the noise and chaos from earlier had wrapped itself around the house and left behind only warmth. Logan had his arm draped along the back of the couch, and you leaned against him, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice low, “I’ve been around a long time. Seen a lot of families. Never really… been part of one.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, surprised by the confession. “Not even before—?”

He shook his head, cutting you off gently. “Never had anything like this. The noise, the mess, the way they’re all in each other’s business.” He chuckled softly. “It’s good. Feels like life.”

You reached for his hand, your fingers lacing with his. “They’ve accepted you, you know. You might not think it, but they have.”

He looked down at you, his brow furrowed. “How can you tell?”

You smiled. “Because they’re treating you exactly the same way they treat me—asking too many questions, teasing you, shoving food at you like it’s the answer to everything. That’s how they show love.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, his eyes glued to your intertwined fingers. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “It’s nice. It’s… good to feel that. To feel like I’ve got a place.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, your heart swelling at the vulnerability he rarely let show. “You do. With them, and with me.”

The sun was barely rising when you woke the next morning, the soft glow of dawn spilling into the room. Logan was still asleep beside you, his breathing slow and even, one arm draped possessively over your waist. For a moment, you just watched him, marveling at the way the years seemed to fall away when he was at peace.

The sound of children’s laughter broke the stillness, followed by the creak of floorboards and the distant rustle of wrapping paper. Logan stirred, his eyes blinking open as he looked at you.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered, leaning down to brush a kiss against his lips.

He smiled against your mouth, his hand moving to the small of your back to pull you closer. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

The two of you made your way downstairs, where the living room had transformed into a chaotic wonderland of presents and decorations. The children were tearing into their gifts with wild abandon, while the adults watched with coffee cups in hand and fond smiles on their faces.

“¡Mija! ¡Logan! Ven acá!” Your father waved you over, a brightly wrapped package in his hands.

You sat on the floor beside Logan as your father handed you the gift. “This is for you two,” he said, his voice warm.

Inside was a framed photo of the family taken the night before, everyone crowded together under the Christmas lights. In the corner, Logan stood beside you, his expression reserved but his hand resting on your shoulder.

“We wanted you to have something to remember this Christmas by,” your father said. “So you’ll always know that you have a place here. Both of you.”

You glanced at Logan, your throat tight with emotion. He met your gaze, his arm coming to rest on your shoulders, gently pulling you against him as he gave you the smallest of nods.

By the time the car was packed and the goodbyes were said, the sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow. Your family stood on the porch, waving as Logan started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

The road stretched out ahead of you, the silence in the car a comfortable contrast to the noise of the past two days. You leaned back in your seat, watching the snow-covered trees blur past.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you said, glancing over at Logan.

He huffed a quiet laugh, his hands steady on the wheel. “Could’ve been worse. Your tío Pablo was about two shots of tequila away from a fight, though.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He’s always like that. But he liked you, you know. They all did.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but the faint curve of his lips told you everything you needed to know.

As the miles stretched on, you found yourself reaching for his hand, your fingers lacing together over the console. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“You’re happy,” he said after a while.

You smiled, resting your head against the seat. “I am.”

He glanced at you, his expression soft. “Good. You deserve that.”

And as the car continued down the snow-dusted road, you realized that you finally felt completely at peace.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[aggieharkness]

Hello! Baking (or rather cutting out) Christmas cookies was a bit like a cold, tense hell with Christmas music playing in the background.

So I'd like to request reader baking Christmas cookies (or just normal cookies) with Lilia. Put as much fluffy, funny, feel-good feelings as you can in there, please. I'd really appreciate it.

Happy holidays!

The world is perfect when I'm with you

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and you and Lilia share a few quiet moments at home baking cookies and simply enjoying the time to be with each other.

Warnings: romance, pure fluff, dancing, baking cookies.

Authors note: Oh my God, I love the idea. You don't know just how happy it made me to read this, like I was bouncing on my bed. I hope you like it and that it brings you happiness and comfort. If there is anything at all that you don't like, tell me and I'll change it, or if you want more, I'm here. Thanks for the request. btw.

This is a Christmas gift for you!! Happy Holidays!

The world is perfect when I'm with you

The house was filled with music. Christmas carol after Christmas carol played through the Bluetooth speaker you had bought a few months ago, echoing against the walls of Lilia’s tiny living area. She wasn’t one for festivities such as Halloween or Easter, but God, she adored Christmas. The first year you had shared the holidays with her it had surprised you just how invested she was, putting up an old beat-up tree, fairy lights everywhere, even around the bedposts, but you never complained. Her big brown doe eyes had shone with such joy and happiness that you just couldn’t bring yourself to burst her bubble in any way. The house had looked beautiful once she had finished, a small nativity scene in a corner of the room, a remnant of her past life in Sicily. This year wasn’t any different, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The first of December hit the calendar, and she was like Sonic the Hedgehog pulling out boxes of lights and ornaments, leaving the tree to you, a brand new one covered in fake snow that you had gifted her a couple of years ago. She loved knowing that you were helping and making sure the house was just like she wanted it to look, little angels and random glass balls hanging from the branches, golden tinsel wrapped around it along with a string of lights. It looked beautiful next to the TV. For three weeks you helped her set up the house until you were finally able to take your vacation days, leaving your job until the sixth of January.

Morning had come, bursting through the windows in gentle warm rays of sunlight that bathed over Lilia’s form as she slept, those lovely peppery curls shinning under the orange beams, her body cuddled against yours. Every morning since you both had closed up the shop for the holidays had been exactly the same sweet routine; you waking up first to meet the dawn while she slept for a bit longer, basking in the way your hands followed the shape of her soft ringlets, and your tender kisses lulled her away from the land of dreams. It was simply the best way to begin the day. You both had stayed in bed talking about nothing and everything cuddled against each other until the sun was well high up in the sky, the pinks and purple hues that had painted the world above now a clear blue cyan while the world was buried underneath a crisp layer of snow that had fallen through the night. You had not noticed, wrapped around Lilia, lost in her kisses. She got up first, her hair falling from the bun she had had when you had taken her to bed, her ivory gown letting you catch a glimpse of her otherworld body as she made her way to the bathroom, the light hitting her just at the right angle making her nightdress completely see through. She looked bloody fantastic for being over a hundred and fifty years. The rest of the routine followed like clockwork, coffees and scrambled eggs included, making way for the moment you were both in right now.

Lilia’s body swayed from side to side to Michael Bublé, a Christmas classic for her, her voice not only harmonising perfectly, but overtaking and overpowering the music so easily and effortlessly that you had to stop pulling bowls out of cupboards simply to watch her. Over the kitchen counter she was beating three eggs along with melted butter and sugar, ingredients spread everywhere because when she had got up, right before she had left for the bathroom, she had bent over your body, your eyes drifting to her cleavage until her eyes had claimed your attention, telling you that you were making cookies today. Had you been Agatha or maybe even Jen you would have complained telling her that it was boring, but you were you and the prospect of baking with Lilia was like a perfect Christmas gift.

-Lils, how much flour do we need? – your eyes lifted from the big packet of flour that you had just left on the table, her usual red and blue robe flowing when she moved to stand beside you, a yellow apron with the words “Look at these buns!” protecting her clothes.

-250 grams baby, or one full cup. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

-Everywhere you go. Thanks, hon.  

-Take a look at the five and ten.

-It's glistening once again.

-With candy canes and silver lanes that glow.

It was wonderful to sing with her even if your voice could never compare; she did not care. Anything that she did with you was simply perfect. Her hands left the bowl of wet ingredients on the table, holding onto yours before you could grab the sifter. She pulled you away from the table, moving your arms from side to side rather dumbly, twirling you on the spot before your chest was pressed against hers. The music was forgotten in the background, drowned by both yours and Lilia’s laughter as your bodies bent exaggeratedly from right to left. Christmas suited her, it was as if this holiday had been made for her, the lights that she had placed all around the room blinking on and off within a pattern, the bright colours mixing with the warm light bursting through the windows. Lilia twirled the both of you around the kitchen table until the song ended, “Feliz Navidad” now playing instead. Her lips landed briefly over yours, pecking you sweetly before she put you back to work with the dry ingredients.

-Don’t forget the baking soda. Last time you did, the cookies became a rock-hard mass.

-Hey! How was I supposed to know that the baking soda wasn’t in the baking soda bottle but in the saffron one? You are the one who loves to recycle.

-Why would I want to throw away a perfectly usable jar? Besides it’s not my fault you forget your glasses in the bathroom all the time.

-Oh yeah? – you grabbed the top of her apron and pushed her against you. – Where are yours now babe?

-You little…

-Ah! No cursing, you don’t want the dough to get upset and not rise, do you?

-I don’t know why you listen to Rio, that it’s obviously a myth.

-Do you want to risk it? – she shook her head, her pout transforming into a bright smile before she kissed you once again, humming happily against your lips.

There were still a few deep tones of the black coffee she had had for breakfast on her lips that your tongue picked up and savoured before turning back to your bowl. Sifting the flour so there would be no lumps you followed the powder with your eyes carefully, making sure every single drop was inside the bowl this time. Over a week ago you had been supposed to bake an apple pie for Sharon’s book club but there had been a few minor hiccups, one of them being you sifting the flour all over the table because you had been looking at Lilia while she talked about a client that had come in requesting the lottery number. When she turned around, she saw you covered in the white powder, bursting into unladylike snorts of laughter that had her entire face turning red, needing to sit for a moment to fill her lungs and calm herself down. Through the corner of her eye she watched you fill the bowl and congratulated you on not spilling it, a kiss on your temple, her hands busy slicing a couple of chocolate bars. She was teasing a bit, but every praise was always genuine when they came from her, a bubble of happiness wrapping around your heart. A pinch of salt and the baking soda and the dry ingredients were ready for the rest of the mix, Lilia wiping her hands on a tea towel before beginning to pour the eggs, sugar and melted butter mix. Instead of using a whisk you had grabbed a spatula from the sink, washing it before beginning to gently fold the batter until it was smooth but thick.

-Can you turn the oven on? I’m almost done with the chocolate.

-Can’t we just bake them with, you know… a flick of our wrist?

-I swear, Halloween Town has made so much damage. Being able to do something doesn’t mean we should, and you have never seen me turn chicken thighs back into a chicken, have you?

-No, but can we?

You knelt on the floor removing trays and plastic Tupperwares so they wouldn’t melt, turning knobs until the light came on and the fan began to work. You were thankful for all those squat trainings you did as you lifted the ceramic trays you had removed from inside the oven and placed them over the bed covers noticing that Lilia had not answer the question. When you turned around she was biting into a perfectly backed chocolate chip cookie, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips.

-Why didn’t you tell me we actually could Lilia?!

-Because half of the fun is letting the smell of fresh baked cookies fill the house.

She stretched her hand, the half-eaten cookie waiting for you. You rushed back to her and took one big bite, moaning at the taste of the chocolate and vanilla essence, Lilia popping the rest in her mouth, pecking your lips after a moment. Even though she could clearly bake at the snap of her fingers she still moved to put parchment over a metal tray, grabbing a scoop from a drawer. She had already mixed the chocolate into the batter, the dough cold to the touch when you went to pick up some with your finger. So, she could chill it in a second instead of putting it in the fridge, but she did not want to bake them with her magic? A waste of time in your opinion, but then again, she might be right, as usual. The house did smell delicious for days after baking. Lilia had placed a bottle of olive oil on the table so you could lather your hands in it, the first scoop of batter landing in your palms so you could round them before placing them on the parchment paper, over two inches in between each cookie so they could rise and expand in the over without ending up as one giant monstrous thing. It had happened before. The first batch of eight cookies was done in just a few minutes, but there was still a bit of batter left, not that Lilia hadn’t thought of a solution already, another tray waiting for what was left. Just as you finished rounding the last one the oven begun to beep, and Lilia bent to put the trays inside, setting a timer for around fifteen minutes.

-Now for the sugar cookies. I’ll get the ingredients ready while you clean up the table, okay baby?

-Sure, just let me move this flour bag to the counter first.

Innocently you picked up the heavy bag, waddling slightly towards where Lilia had cleared a spot for it on the counter, feeling it slipping a bit off your hands, your steps faster so it wouldn’t end up on the floor. In slow motion you let it plop on the counter, just in time, your fingers barely holding onto it, but the motion had caused a white cloud of flour to come out of the bag right towards Lilia’s spot. Your hands shot to cover your mouth, eyes wide, when you turned to look at her, fighting the laughter that wanted to erupt out of your mouth. Lilia’s beautiful face with her rosy cheeks, big characteristic nose and plump lips was utterly covered in a thick layer of white. She blinked a few times, flour falling off her eyelashes giving her an even more comical look with her chocolate doe eyes staring at you through the white mask. Some of it had made its way to her hair, mixing perfectly with her curls. She opened her mouth to speak but she coughed instead, a small cloud of flour puffing in front of her right before sneezing, part of the powder falling onto the top of her dress and over her yellow apron. There was silence for a moment, not even YouTube Music was playing as she stared at you, hands on her hips. An instant later “Let it snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” was filling up the room with its jolly tune, your laughter impossible to keep quiet.

You roared loudly, a hand still trying to cover your mouth while the other was holding onto your stomach, eyes moving from her face down to the floor. Lilia was staring dumbfounded at you, an offended look on her face as you laughed. Her hand shot to grab your arm pulling you towards her, eyes watering when you rose up to gaze at her. She stopped your laughter quickly, her hand throwing a handful of flour to your face, making you blink away the flour surprised at her action. Staring at each other there was no sound coming from either of you before Lilia chuckled, you following until you were both laughing, your hand grabbing more flour and throwing it in her direction, Lilia dodging it just in time. When you saw that she was putting her hand in the bag you rushed away from her giggling excitedly, feeling her behind you as you rounded the table, her flour missing you by an inch. She was now actively chasing you all throughout the house, your body sliding through the curtains and into the store. You were both leaving a trail of flour on the floor, but neither of you cared.

-I’ll get you for this!

-I’m sorry! I didn’t… - you could hardly breath from how much you were laughing, screaming in delight whenever she got close enough to grab you but never actually doing it. - I didn’t mean it!

-Come here!

You rushed to the door, pulling the glass gates open and stepping into the empty street. Sure, you were not wearing clothes appropriate for snow, your feet cozy inside your slippers, legs dressed in a pair of black leggings, but you hadn’t thought of that. Moving over two feet away from the house, Lilia following you out into the street, you took one step until you felt her hands grabbing onto your waist, pulling you against her. You yelped gleefully while laughing, feeling her arms snake around you, the perfect crispy snow reaching your mid-calf, the air cold, a contrast against Lilia’s delicious warm body.

-Got you. – she whispered in your ear, her breaths rapid and hot against the skin of your neck. You smiled while resting your head in the crook of her neck, very little flour left on your faces now.

-So you did.

-If it was all a ploy so we could come out and play in the snow you know you could have just told me.

-Hmmm, not a bad idea, but it was an accident.

-I know, baby. I’m not mad, but you are cleaning up when we are done baking.

Your mouth was open in shock, a retort forming in your tongue as you turned your face to look at her, but it never made it out of your mouth, her lips on yours kissing you tenderly, her soft ringlets caressing your cheeks. The chocolate cookie had left a wonderful sweet taste on her lips, or perhaps it was the bite you had had, either way, it seemed to fit her perfectly. You both stood over the snow for a few minutes observing the usual boring street covered in glistening white all over, on the roof tops, over the signposts. It was beautiful as long as you had Lilia behind you pecking your cheek. She turned you around after a while, holding onto your hands, pulling your frame back inside the cozy home. The oven had just begun to beep when you crossed the curtain to the back, Lilia rushing to them so they wouldn’t burn letting go of you. She was beautiful, spots of flour still clinging to her skin, like on her forehead or the tip of her nose, but they didn’t seem to bother her as she placed one tray on the stove and the other on the counter over a plate so it wouldn’t leave a burn mark on the old wood. You could spend every minute of your life watching her do anything.

They smelled absolutely delicious, the aroma spreading through the room to every corner, gently sliding into the shop. Over the bed covers you had left a rack which she picked up and left on the counter, you watching from your spot against the back wall as Lilia worked flawlessly, transferring the cookies along with the parchment paper to let them cool down. There was no room for the hot trays now, but that was no issue. Lilia turned, locking her eyes with you and then winked, lazy tendrils of yellow magic wrapping themselves around the trays and lifting them in the air, floating with gentle swaying motions over your heads. Everything related to Lilia’s magic was always so very mystical, visions, readings, the usual divination magic that she was used to, so it was wonderful to see the more practical, fun side of it, it meant she was relaxed and happy. She moved her hand beckoning you to join her, pulling out a pair of clean bowls after she had left the dirty ones in the sink.

-Why don’t you start with the icing?

-What happened with cleaning up the table?

-Flour on my face happened, doll. But don’t worry, there’s not much on the table now, I’ll just move those cups to the side if I need to.

-You don’t trust me anymore? – you pouted with a fake saddened tone as she took a stick of butter and a few eggs out of the fridge, turning her body towards you, a hand on the counter and the other on her hip, head lulled to the side. She sighed but smiled, your pouting making you look just so adorable.

-You know I do, otherwise I wouldn’t have given you the fun part of the recipe. You get to paint the cookies, baby.

-Yeah, but it’s fun doing things together. I want you to paint with me.

-Who said I wasn’t going to? You just make the icing and leave it on the side while I start on the batter and then we can cut them together. Does my baby like that?

Nodding your head she moved her hands to your cheeks kissing your lips tenderly, a smile on her lips when she parted from you. Happy that you had got, yet again, another kiss you took a small bowl from the cupboard above your head, checking the recipe that was stuck to the exhaust hood above the stove with a magnet before picking up two eggs, separating the yolks from the whites. Lilia kindly took the yolks and put them aside to use them at lunch time while you beat the whites with the whisk a bit. You didn’t need to do it, you just liked to before putting the icing sugar in, which you could not find in any of the cupboards. You pulled doors open, drawers, you even searched the fridge, it wouldn’t have been the first time any of you had accidentally put something in that didn’t belong there, but it was nowhere, and you could have sworn you had bought some not long ago. Lilia saw you moving frantically all over the kitchen and asked loudly what you needed over the music of “Jingle Bells Rocks” that was now playing. Upon hearing what you needed she moved aside to present you with a bright orange bottle.

Of course, she must have picked it and put aside when she had begun to gather ingredients. She was measuring the sugar, your eyes watching how her hands, dressed in rings on multiple fingers, tapped the bag and moved to the beath of the song. With a small cloud of floating icing sugar you mixed it all, a white paste forming in the bowl to which you added a little bit of corn syrup to make it glossier, just a touch that you liked. Now came the fun bit, taking the food colouring and crating the weirdest shades you could come up with. With a spoon you poured some of the mixture into an empty glass, adding a drop of red that turned pink upon mixing it with a teaspoon, so you added a few more, happy with the bright red that you made and setting it aside. Lilia looked at your science experiment from the corner of her eyes, hands adding spoonfuls of flour into the wet ingredients, folding the powder in. You were like a little kid with a bunch of sharpies and crayons painting lines and figures excited to see the final outcome, Lilia’s brown eyes looking at you as you mixed red and blue to create purple, although right now it looked a bit more like a suspicious brown. She let you finish mixing the colours, reminding you to leave part of the icing white, before adding the last few touches of a pinch of salt and baking powder, the dough clumpy in the bowl, as it should be.

 -Are you done with the arts and crafts, babe?

-Yeah, I think. How do you make grey?

-You don’t. I didn’t get any black colouring. Why would you want to add grey to Christmas cookies?

-Well, I don’t have an idea right now, but I like to have a range.

-Come on, Van Gogh, let’s roll the dough.

While you closed the last bottle of colouring Lilia placed the dough on the table, her strong arms and hands kneading and rolling to combine it and let it form a big smooth ball. You were mesmerised by the way her muscles moved up and down even through the lose sleeves of her dressing gown, her chest bouncing gently to the motion, your eyes glued to soft flesh of her neck and collarbones through the low-cut dress she was wearing, her amulet swaying along. It was incident to stare like that, but she was just too captivating, and she knew. She could feel your eyes watching her every move, a shiver running down her spine, but she never stopped kneading, there would plenty of time for her to take you to bed later. She gave it a few more punches before patting the little ball of dough, signalling that she was done.

-Should I get the rolling pin?

-Yeah, this is ready. It’s in the second drawer, next to the bottle opener.

-It’s too early for a glass wine, right?

-Yes, darling. It’s my company so bad that you need to get drunk at 10 am? – she raised an eyebrow while looking at you, a hand on her hip over her apron. Only a couple of feet separated you, but it was too much of a gap for you, snaking your arms around her neck while her hands automatically moved to your waist, her lips ghosting over yours.

-Never. You are far too alluring and beautiful, I would hate to get drunk and forget tomorrow how you looked today, or how your perfume compliments the smell of cookies so well.

A childish giggle escaped her mouth, muffled when she bent to peck your lips. She was clingy today, or amorous, either way you were not complaining. Parting from you she patted your hip, a sign that she needed you to get her the rolling pin, which of course you did. Anything she needed. There was a certain level of excitement building in your chest as Lilia rolled the dough until it was a quarter inch thick, the sheet overtaking half of the kitchen table, the best part coming at last.

-Right, where are the cookie cutters, babe?

-They should be in a box in the cupboard over the sink. Let me check. – pulling a chair from under the table you stepped on it to check in between the toaster and a juicer that you had got her for her birthday, date that she still refused to tell the girls in the coven, Sharon included as she could be a bit of babble when she had a glass or two of wine in her system. You searched but the box was nowhere to be found. – I can’t find them, did you move them, hon?

-No, not that I remember. Have you looked behind the coffee bags?

-Yeah, they’re not there. Where… Ah… I know where they are.

-Where? I’ll get them while you come down.

-Does the car have gas? – she was resting her backside against the edge of the desk as you stepped down, returning the chair underneath the table.

-What? What does the car have to do with anything?

-I lent them to Agatha.

-What? Why?

-I don’t know, I stopped asking her what she needs things for. I’m not getting another story of her and Rio’s sexual exploits during an expo or whatever. She just asked for them, so I lent them to her.

-You mean gave them to her. We are going to have to buy new ones. Well, it’s not too much of a loss, just grab a couple of knifes and we’ll freehand the cookies.

You practically hopped your way to the upper drawer to pick a pair, rushing back to her side and handing her one. You stared at the dough as if calculating, figuring out exactly what you wanted to do and after a moment, you began to create what you were sure was a candy cane, super proud of the shape until you looked at Lilia, who had had the same idea, and noticed how your lines were hardly straight and the curve was more a 90º angle.

-Why does yours look like an actual candy cane?

-Practice. Oh, yours is not that bad, baby. What is it?

-Ha ha. You know very well what it is.

-Yes, sorry, just teasing.

It was now a competition for you, eyes squinted and your teeth biting down on the tip of your tongue as you tried to keep the knife straight through every line, connecting them all and creating a star, or what you thought should be one, because it looked more as if it had just been run over by a car. Lilia laughed when she saw it and in a childish move you planted your index finger right on her Christmas tree, squishing it while sticking your tongue out. She gasped while calling your name.

-Y/N!

-You laughed at my star!

-It doesn’t look like one, baby.

-And now your tree doesn’t look like a tree, so we are even.

-Darling, it doesn’t matter if they are not perfect, we know what they are supposed to be and that’s all that matters. So what if your star needs a bit of therapy? Now my tree needs a chiropractor. Let’s continue, alright?

-Just don’t laugh again.

-I promise, scouts honour.

She pecked your lips and forehead before tuning back to the dough. The next form was supposed to be a snowman, but it looked more like a bunch of amorphous meatballs, a giggle sliding through your lips at the sight. You turned to check Lilia’s attempt at a reindeer which was more along the lines of a corgi with horns. You could not help it, it brought a cackle out of you, her peppery curls bouncing around her face as she wiped her head to look at you.

-I didn’t laugh at yours!

-Yeah, but… what the hell is that Lils?

-It’s a… It was supposed to be a reindeer.

-I’m sorry honey, but it looks nothing like one.

-Well, it’s a new breed. From Canada.

-Shall we name it? – your hand went to her shoulder, your head resting over it as you both watched the figure.

-Agatha, for stealing our cookie cutters.

She laughed at her own joke, your own snorting only adding to the humour of the moment, without a care in the world. Both of you carried on making shapes and forms, some of them better than others, some being additions to the “new breed from Canada”. You had pointed at each other’s creations laughing and praising, giving some of them names until you had the entire coven in cookie form, but you and Lilia’s figures could not be those weird interpretations of snowmens and trees, so you let her carve yourselves as two beautiful gingerbread women. It had started out as Christmas cookies but in the end, when Lilia had begun to move them to the floating trays, there had been more amorphous beings than accurate forms, but neither of you cared one bit, “Fairytale of New York” following “Santa Baby” on your Christmas playlist. Lilia’s head perked up at the sound of the music, pushing the door to the oven with her hip until it closed, setting a timer for ten minutes. She grabbed your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she pressed you against her, swaying to the song.

She must have been a singer and a dancer at some point in her life, there was just no way she could be that good and not have had shown her gift to the world at least once. You would ask her one of these days, but as of now you were happy to dance with her in the kitchen, listening to her sweet voice follow the tune. The moment was perfect, down to the song, to the way the sun caught in her hair as she twirled you both around the room, her citrusy perfume filling up your lungs along with the sweetness of the cookies. How could you have ever been blue? How could you have ever thought that happiness was not in for you? Lilia had come into your life and the world was suddenly a beautiful place where nothing could ever go wrong. Staring at her eyes it was as if they were the melted chocolate you had tasted on her lips earlier, warm and loving.

-They've got cars big as bars, they've got rivers of gold.

-But the wind goes right through you, it's no place for the old.

-When you first took my hand on a cold Christmas Eve.

-You promised me Broadway was waiting for me.

-You were handsome

-You were pretty, Queen of New York City

She laughed at the nickname, head lulled back, her feet never stopping, moving from side to side. The living area wasn’t precisely Buckingham Place, but you two made it work, and as Lilia’s moved both your bodies, her dressing gown brushing the foot of the Christmas tree, she truly showed you how much that tiny little room could give. The warm light that had bathed the room suddenly disappeared, the bright colourful lights that she had placed in every corner overtaking and lighting up the room in a dance of colours and shapes. Your eyes drifted to the window seeing the sky covered by big fluffy white clouds, a gentle breeze having picked up outside the house, the first few snowflakes beginning to fall, but Lilia claimed your attention when she pushed your body away form hers while still holding your hands.

-The boys of the NYPD choir were singing Galway Bay and the bells were ringing out for Christmas day.

She pulled you back against her body once again, her arms around your waist, your hands resting on the back of her neck twirling her soft curls in between your fingers. Her forehead was pressed against yours, the movements slow as the song carried onto the last few verses letting the words drip from her lips in hushed tones only for you to hear. The two of you had closed your eyes letting the warmth of each other’s bodies wrap around you, basking in the way you could feel the love seeping from every pore, from every word that escaped her lips. It wasn’t until she sang the last verse, her breath tickling your nose, that she did press her lips to yours, hiding her face into the crook of your neck after a few moments to escape the reality outside those four walls. “Auld Lang Syne” followed, the softer tune perfect for you both to simply sway on the spot, your hands caressing Lilia’s hair and neck, your cheek resting against her ear as she breathed in your perfume and shampoo, humming happily. Neither of you wanted the moment to end, feeling as if being like this, in each other’s arms, was just the perfect way to live Christmas Eve before the craziness of going over to Sharon’s with the rest of the coven happened. You wanted to savour every second you had with Lilia and only Lilia. For once the world could wait, stop moving altogether until you were ready to carry on with life, though you doubted you would ever let the happen.

Right on time the last few notes playing marked start of another song, the oven starting to beep. Lilia did not wish to move, but she had to, extracting herself after a minute to pull the trays out, letting them float around just like she had done before. You helped her transfer the chocolate chip cookies onto a plate, setting them aside so she could let the sugar cookies out of the trays and onto the racks. But you were impatient, she knew, and with a flick of her wrist, your eyes shinning gleefully as you watched a few sparkles of golden magic fly from her fingertips, they were cold enough to be placed on the kitchen table to be decorated.

-Do you have any ideas you want to share, darling?

-Not really, well, maybe. I think we should paint the Coven with their signature colours.

-Alright. Let’s start with Agatha, that way if she looks bad it won’t matter much. She owes me a bunch of cutters.

It was playful banter, she didn’t really hate Agatha, quite the opposite, she took care of the woman as if she were a daughter, looking after her, looking out for her, protecting her from the world as if she were afraid someone could break her. It was one of the main things that had attracted you to her at first, her caring, nurturing nature. She picked up an empty pipping bag and let you fill it up with the purple icing before cutting the tip. The first blob fell right in the middle of the reindeer, and since there wasn’t much she could now she carried on. The shape was horrid, but she assured you that once the details were added it would bring it all together. You weren’t very sure. The eyes looked a bit disproportionate, and the antlers were a bit thick, but all in all Lilia thought it looked good, and you didn’t want to disagree.

-My turn now, let me do Sharon. In green?

-Yeah, we have two green witches, we’ll just make Rio’s eyes brown and call it a day.

You might not have been gifted with the knife, but you sure were better with the pipping bag than Lilia. Your reindeer was more accurate, green but accurate, the small beady eyes perfectly positioned but the antlers… the looked like a bunch of worms. It suited a green witch you supposed. Lilia was quick to praise and tell you that it was beautiful, kissing your temple and watching as you did Rio’s as well, a perfect reindeer in front you down to red nose and everything. You were so excited, bouncing in her arms, her words filled with love and joy as she told you just how pretty it was. Her hands moved on to Jen, the shape of the snowwoman much easier than that of a reindeer in pretty shade of pink, the eyes and buttons brown, along with a blue scarf and orange nose. She put it aside to let the icing harden your hands working on Billy as she did Alice, both snowman that looked pretty decent taking on account that Lilia’s orange pipping bag burst in her hand just as she was finishing Alice’s body, icing all over the table and a couple of candy cane cookies.

-What a mess!

-Baking is messy, Lils. Don’t worry, there’s enough icing left to make more orange.

-But…

-It’s perfectly fine, honey, honestly. Just clean that up and I’ll make more. And those two cookies can be like orange flavoured candy canes. See? Problem solved.

-My baking hero.

Grabbing a glass after she pecked your cheek, you were quick to blend the right shade of orange, putting it inside a new pipping bag and handing it to Lilia so she could finish Alice’s body. It was beautiful to do this together, Lilia’s lines wiggly and the consistency a big lumpy when she tried to do the first few stockings until she gave up and moved on to the stars, easier in her opinion. You tried to write names on the stockings once she had moved them to your side of the table, but they were more like scribbles that no one could understand, still the colour code every member of the coven had settled for kind of helped to identify which was for which. The moment was both cozy and hilarious, pointing at the figures you were both painting, commenting, laughing and scraping to begin again only to end up with the same wiggly lines and mismatched colours. Lilia once in a while added her own touch to one of your cookies, be it a weird bow or a string of tinsel around a tree while you gave hers a more artistic touch by adding sparkles to her candy canes or little dots of colour on her reindeer’s antlers claiming that they were Christmas lights. She had laughed hard at that stating in between laboured breaths that it looked as if the poor thing had crashed a farmers’ market, and to be honest it kind of did, laughing along with her, your body pressed against her arm as you both shook and cackled. But neither of you cared, they were yours and in their horrid looks they looked perfect to you. The only thing left was to paint were you and Lilia’s gingerbread women, something that you were left in charge of as Lilia didn’t want to risk it. The pressure was real as you did Lilia’s face, her curls a mix of white and brown icing before you moved onto the clothes giving her a yellow jacket, white blouse and blue pants, the outfit you had met her in when she had been thrown out of the Witches Road after fishing her task. She had been covered in mud back then, but you weren’t one to add brown and destroy her beautiful cookie. You put as much effort in your own, dressing yourself in a pair of black trousers and a red blouse, your hair in a bun above your head.

-They look beautiful babe. Mirror images of reality.

-It’s easy when you have the perfect model in front of you. – she smiled at the compliment, a gentle pink hue dressing her cheeks. She blushed so tenderly and so beautifully.

-Flattery will get you everywhere with me, darling.

-I certainly hope so.

-As much as I love the idea of letting you have your way with me, why don’t we let these cookies settle for a bit and go out?

-Everything’s closed.

-I didn’t say that we had to go somewhere in specific. You like snow, don’t you?

-Of course!

-Then get your winter boots on and let’s make a real snowman!

-Really?!

You jumped on the spot nearly knocking over the table, Lilia’s hands shooting to grab it, your lips on her cheek before rushing to the other side of the room. You apologised while running to your closet, grabbing a jumper, a pair of thicker trousers along with some Harry Potter socks and rushing to the bathroom, your voice reaching her ears as you sang loudly, your voice filled with joy, knocking over things that were on the sink.

-Do you want to build a snowman?!

-Oh, God, not “Frozen” again.

[velvetluna666]

Just some Toji fluff.

The holiday season got me feeling a way.

It’s a cozy day, with gray clouds blanketing the sky and the gentle pitter-patter of rain occasionally tapping against the windows. It’s a rare day off, and you and Toji spent the night making up for lost time, fulfilling each other’s pent-up needs. He absolutely ruined you, leaving both of you thoroughly exhausted.

Your eyes flutter open first, and you lazily reach for your phone to check the time—it's already 1 pm. A long, quiet exhale escapes you as you stretch and gather yourself, noting the fresh aches and bruises from last night’s vigorous activities. Carefully, you try to extract yourself out of Toji’s heavy limbs to make your way to the bathroom, but just as you think you’re free, his arm darts out and pulls you back into bed.

You let out a soft “oof” as he drags you into his embrace once more, wrapping a massive arm around your waist and nuzzling into your hair. “Stay…” he murmurs groggily, his voice thick with sleep. You’re not sure if he’s awake or just moving on instinct.

Sighing, you turn in his arms to face him, pressing soft kisses onto his head. “I just need to pee, Toji,” you coo, trying to stir him awake enough to let you go. But he only holds you tighter, grumbling incoherently before finally cracking his eyes open. His dark emerald gaze finds you, lingering on your soft features.

“Go back to sleep, doll" he drawls in that low and gravelly voice that you love so much.

His large hand moves to your head, his fingers threading gently through your mussed hair. You briefly hum contentedly, leaning into his touch that feels so tender, a side of him that only you get to see. “Let me just go pee real quick, baby.” you plead again.

“Then you’ll come back?” he murmurs, his voice even softer this time.

“Always,” you promise, the sincerity in your words making his heart ache with profound love.

“Good,” he huffs, finally letting you go.

You begin slipping out of the covers, his oversized t-shirt falling into place as you stand. Just as you take a step, his hand lands on your ass with a loud smack!.

“Toji!!”

His deep chuckle rumbles through the room, thoroughly amused by your reaction. “Hurry up, ma,” he teases.

You rub the tender spot with a pout but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Seeing the big, scary bear of a man be so playful with you in your shared bed feels like a sweet dream. Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “so violent...”

Toji’s grins mischievously as he catches your words. “Oh, I’ll show you violent, sweetheart—”

Your eyes widen in mock horror as he starts to get up, and you immediately scramble out of the room. You giggle and dash toward the living room and he stalks after you leisurely. When he reaches the living room, his playful grin softens into something more tender as he takes in the sight of you wearing nothing but his favorite shirt, a wild bedhead, and a bright smile—all framed by the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights.

“So perfect…” he thinks to himself.

But in a moment the mischief returns to his eyes once more and he swiftly corners you. You try to dodge and run, but of course it never works. He captures you with ease and slings you over his shoulder, smacking your ass once more with his weighty hand.

“Toji, stoppp!! Put me down!!” you squeal and hit his back with your fists, your laughter echoing through the hallway.

“No chance, ma,” he chuckles, his deep voice laced with amusement.

He hauls you back to the bedroom and tosses you onto the messy sheets like you weigh nothing, making you giggle more. Standing over you, he flashes that smile—the one that’s equal parts love and lust—that always makes your heart skip a beat. Then, with deliberate slowness, he crawls on top of you, pinning you beneath his massive frame.

Your giggling subsides as you take in the sight of your favorite person looking at you so adoringly. Wrapping your arms around him, the words spill from your lips as naturally as breathing. “I love you,” you whisper in that impossibly sweet voice of yours. It never fails to make Toji’s heart flutter and he doesn’t think he could ever hear it enough.

His eyes soften in a way that only you ever get to see, before he presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes and lets out a quiet sigh.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “More than anything.”

He then closes the distance, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss that says everything words can’t.

[chilling-seavey]

Winter Warmers: Day 25 — Holiday Alone Time

↳ Summary: It's rare to wake up before your children on Christmas morning, but it offers you and George a chance to reconnect.

↳ Word Count: 1072

↳ Winter Warmers Prompt List | The Way It Goes Masterlist

It was rare that you would wake up before your children. In all honesty, you couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. Since becoming parents, more often than not your alarms had been replaced with one of your children climbing into bed with you for a morning snuggle or waking you up from their rambunctious playing. This fact was only proven more so on Christmas morning.

So, it was very strange that you woke up on your own accord one Christmas morning. The house was still perfectly silent and you blindly patted around your bedside table to find your phone to check the time. At barely past 5am, you knew it wasn’t going to be long before your excitable children came barrelling into your room, overflowing with Christmas cheer. With a sigh, you set your phone face down again and settled back into your side of the bed for a little more shut-eye.

From your left, George was still motionless, likely fast asleep. He was on his side, facing you, legs curled upwards just enough to get into your personal space but not enough to put him in the fetal position. You had always been fond of how adorably he slept; how he contorted his lanky limbs into sweet snuggling curls in his slumber. In the slight chill of your bedroom, you nudged his legs to lay straight so you could scoot closer to him, waking him slightly in the process. 

George let out a small sleepy sigh, pulling at the duvet to get it higher over the both of you until only your heads were poking out the top. His arm snaked around your waist naturally and you returned the favour, laying face to face and almost sharing the same pillow with how close you were. His eyes were still closed but you stared at him like that for a moment in the dark in your close proximity. 

For some reason, despite the early hour and the opportunity to sleep longer, you felt entirely awake. You shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position that would still give you prime viewing of your handsome husband.

Feeling you squirming around again, George asked groggily, “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you replied simply. 

His fingers caressed your hip under the sheets for a second. You shuffled a little closer, wanting to feel more of his body against yours. George sighed contentedly and tightened his arm around you as you settled. 

“Christmas excitement got you up?” he jested. 

“Perhaps.” you chuckled. 

George’s eyes fluttered open. Although you couldn’t see much in the dark room, you knew he was looking at you, appreciating the view in return. Like it so often did when his eye met yours, your heart fluttered in your chest. Messy hair and worn Christmas pyjamas and bed breath and everything in between, the years hadn’t dulled your adoration of each other. The normalcy of the imperfect parts of life made living it with him that much more enjoyable. 

Leaning in to dust a brief kiss to your nose, George then greeted you with a sleepy, “Morning.”

“Morning, my love.” you whispered. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

Your face turned towards his a little more, nudging your nose against his before your lips locked in a lingering kiss. Silent, motionless, peaceful, the two of you lingered in that kiss for a few more seconds before pulling away with a barely audible parting. You could hear his faint smile through the darkened bedroom, his soft content breath.

Your fingers trailed over the shape of his jaw and over his cheeks and to the shell of his ear, mapping out his familiar face in the dark. He let you, of course, his hand rubbing absentmindedly at your waist as you took in each inch of him as your own. George watched you silently, appreciating the tenderness of your touch and the gentleness you took with him with every caress. 

“I’m so lucky.” you whispered, almost without thinking. 

“I’m the lucky one.” George echoed. 

You hummed flatly at his retort, your fingertips gently finding their way into the roots of his tangled hair with a gentle argument, “You changed my life…in the best ways.”

“You don’t realize how much you changed mine either, do you?” George spoke softly, his voice laced with tiredness but still with a firmness that reflected just how serious he was, “Sure, my job is the same, I have that consistency and reliability, but everything else? You turned my whole world upside down, into a whole new perspective.”

You listened to him talk through the darkness of your shared bedroom, watching the way the shadows of his lips formed every word. 

“I didn’t know love before you…true, honest, unrelenting love…unconditional love. I didn’t know what partnership was…what trust was…to give yourself to someone entirely. In a career that’s so intense and a world so…fake, you brought me back down to earth. You keep me grounded, level-headed, and performing my best and achieving things more than I ever thought possible. And you made me a father…and that’s the greatest gift of all.”

“Hey,” you said in a soft playful whine, “you can’t take my compliment and then come at me with a whole bunch of sappy sweetness.”

George chuckled lowly, “I’m not going to apologize for that.”

Before you could refute, he leaned in to kiss you again. The faint sounds of your kisses filled the air around you, in the peaceful silence of your home, your bed. Your hand cupped his face to keep kissing him, softly, slowly, dragging each second on in a world that always felt so high speed. 

When you broke apart, you rested your forehead against his, thumb caressing his cheek, “Mm, I love when we get some alone time like this.”

George grasped your wrist, a newfound determination in his eyes, “How long do you think we have until the greeting committee storms in?”

“Mm, not long, likely.” you giggled, already knowing what he was implying, as he leaned in over top of you a little and your hands naturally rose to frame his face.

George barely got his lips on yours before the bedroom door was thrust open and your children came rushing in to interrupt. You shared a knowing and unsurprised smile as he shifted away from you again, the quiet now filled with the youthful exuberance of your children cheering for Christmas and the excitement of presents.

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[tokki------0]

A Christmas Eve Confession

Minji X Femreader

Words count: +1000

summary:On Christmas Eve, Y/n confesses her love for Minji, and they share a heartfelt moment under the snowy night, starting a new chapter together.

A/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!

The night before Christmas brought with it a special magic in the bustling city where Y/n lived. The streets were illuminated with sparkling decorations, and the air was filled with the scent of cinnamon, gingerbread, and hot chocolate. But for Y/n, this Christmas felt different. Something incomplete hung in the air.

She gazed out the window of her apartment, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. The snow gently fell, covering the rooftops with a pristine coat. Her thoughts were with Minji. Their friendship was unique, but recently, Y/n felt something deeper, something she hadn't yet had the courage to express. And this Christmas Eve, she decided that things needed to change.

Putting on a warm coat and a red scarf, Y/n stepped out into the snowy night. She held a small gift in her hands, carefully wrapped in golden paper. It wasn't a grand gesture, but a symbol of what she hoped to share with Minji.

Minji lived just a few streets away, and with each step through the crunchy snow, it felt like Y/n was getting closer to what she hoped for: an answer, a sign, a chance. When she reached the door of Minji's building, she took a deep breath before pressing the intercom.

— Y/n? a surprised voice replied after a brief moment.

— Yes, it's me, she said. Can I come up?

A few minutes later, Minji opened the door of her apartment, dressed in a white wool sweater and comfy pants. Her eyes widened when she saw Y/n, her cheeks rosy from the cold and a shy smile on her lips.

— What are you doing here? Minji asked, intrigued but visibly happy.

— I wanted to see you, Y/n said, handing her the small package. Merry Christmas, Minji.

Minji accepted the gift with a smile. She invited Y/n inside, and the warm apartment, filled with the scent of vanilla cookies, instantly erased the cold outside. They sat down on the couch, the Christmas tree lights softly twinkling in the corner of the room.

— You didn’t have to get me anything, Minji said as she tore open the wrapping. But thank you.

She uncovered a simple yet elegant necklace with a star-shaped pendant.

— It represents a shooting star, Y/n explained. Because you’ve always been a kind of miracle in my life.

Minji looked up, touched. Her cheeks flushed with pink, and a sincere smile lit up her face.

— Y/n, it's beautiful. Thank you so much.

A gentle silence settled between them. Y/n gathered all her courage before continuing:

— Minji, there’s something I need to tell you. I didn’t want this evening to pass without you knowing... how I feel. You are more than just a friend to me. I’ve liked you for a long time, and I think... I’ve fallen in love with you.

Minji’s eyes widened, but she didn’t seem unsettled. On the contrary, a tender smile formed on her lips.

— Y/n, she murmured. I was waiting for you to say that. Because I feel the same way.

Relief and joy washed over Y/n like a wave. Minji reached out and placed her hand on Y/n’s, gently intertwining their fingers. They stayed like that for a moment, savoring the sincerity and beauty of this moment.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, but the warmth inside the apartment was something new. As midnight approached, Minji leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Y/n’s lips.

— Merry Christmas, she whispered.

Y/n smiled, her heart light and full.

— Merry Christmas, Minji.

And in the magic of that night, two hearts had found each other.

[folklorefalling]

A burning desire - Anilpin smut

Pin was nervous. She had never done this before. She barely knew her own body, she just let Anin take the lead and do all those marvelous things to her, things she couldn't even name.

But there she was, alone in the bed while Anin, sitting on the chair, was looking at her with hunger in her eyes, analising her every single move.

or

The one were Princess Anin teaches Khun Pin how to masturbate after she questions how did the princess happened to know so much about the female body.

Pin knew that she loved Anin. She has known this since forever and when Anin came back from England determined to own her, it was hard to cope with so many feelings. She's had those feelings for so long, however, she couldn't name those. And then Anin came, so soft, so tender, teaching her about how their feelings were different than a mere affection, teaching her how to kiss (and oh how good did they feel), teaching what romantic love is and making her realise that those feelings she always held inside herself were merely love. Purest love for her.

All those things she used to feel on her... intimate parts, suddenly started to make some sense, the tie on her stomach when Anin looked at her with *those* eyes, the shivers down her spine when she said something naughty, all those crazy things she felt when the princess was exibiting her cleavage, and the BURN when Anin showed her the what a french kiss was.

Pin felt like she was entering a brand new world, one were there was only her: Princess Anilaphat and Khun Pin wanted to belong to her on every possible level.

She wasn't naive when it came to the existence meaning of sex, she has learned somewhat about what's supposed to happen when a man and a woman desire each other, and even if she didn't know exactly how that would happen between two women, she knew what she wanted Anin to do to her (and there was so many things, she wanted to belong to her in so many ways it was becoming her obsession).

So when she finally got the courage to tell the princess she understood her feelings, that she loved her and belonged to her, they had their perfect magical first time together and Anin was so sweet, so tender, so deliciously dominant, she felt like exploding.

It was all so new to her, the burn on her belly, the way she felt like floating out of pure pleasure, the way it felt like an ache that needed to be taken care of and Anin had the most creative ways to take care of it and the way it became an explosion, she was all hers.

But, at the same time she was so happy Anin simply knew how to manage everything and was teaching her step by step, she couldn't stop herself from being jealous, trying to understand how did the princess had so much knowledge on these type of things and that jealousy was eating her alive.

"Something's bothering you"

She heard the princess say while they were together in bed, after another night of pure love making, enjoying everything they could out of each other while Anin was still there.

"It's nothing"

She held her chin, gently, making their eyes meet.

"You can tell me. I'm your lover, you can share whatever you want with me"> Anin said and kissed the tip of her nose, always so gentle, always so chilvary.

"It's a little bit embarrasing. I don't want you to think of me as a-"

She interrupted her with a kiss, holding her head gently, pulling her closer, and came to wisper on ear, sending shivers all over her body out of the proximity. "Tell me, my love, whatever it is".

She left out a sigh, looking down, not wanting to face her eye to eye.

"I just... I just couldn't stop thinking. You teach me everything, you showed me what our feelings meant and kissed me and guided me and doing all those... things... to me... I... Could't stop myself from questioning how..."

"How what?" Anin was already with a teasing smile on her face.

"How you learned all that".

"You want to know if I had someone before you, that perharps had teached me all of those things?"

"Yes". She admitted lowering her head.

"Look at me"

"You're my first. My first kiss, first lover, first everthing. It has always been you and it will always be you. You're the one my heart and my body had always desired".

"But how..."

"How did I manage to do all of this?" She asked with a cocky smile "Well... Let's just say I mirrowed what I always did to myself while thinking about you".

Khun Pin felt flustered, she had never thought of that kind of possibility, she had never touched herself like that and didn't even think as something possible for a lady to do. All things concerning sex were reserved for somewhere in the future, with the man she was someday forced to marry.

"You've never touched yourself, Khun Pin?" the princess asked with some concern on her face "how did you cope with all the homones and feelings?"

"I just... I never really thought about it". She admited somewhat embarrassed.

"Aren't you going to miss me when I'm away?"

"Of couse I will!"

"Then... What are you going to do about it?" Anin asked teasingly.

"I-I don't know. The last time you were away I used to hold close to me something that was yours, or think about out good times together, or write you a letter".

"Hmm. I see. But how about now...." She started to whisper on her ear white caressing her body with the tip of her finger "when we've had so many *good times* together, when you think about..." she moved the caressing to her thighs "these kind of good times... what are you going to do about it?"

"Anin..." she said in a whisper.

"Come on, baby, answer your princess"

Anin claiming her royal title while her fingers fondle her sex was an experience. And she just had this urge to obey, to be loyal, to honor the elderly, just like she was taught her whole life.

"I-I don't..."

"You don't what? Answer your princess with proper words".

"I don't know".

She raised an eyebrown at her response and stopped caressing her.

"I mean... I don't know, *your highness*". Anin smirked and continued to caress her, slowly, patiently.

"Would Khun Pin allow Princess Anilaphat to teach her this one more thing?"

Pin felt like the world was spinning, the pressure Anin was doing on her intimacy at the same time as she as looking her her with pure lust on her eyes, demading an answer she could't properly formulate.

"Answer your princess, my love". Anin lifted her chin once again, this time a little less gentle, but with the same caring.

"I have already given myself to you entirely, your highness, Princess Anilaphat does to Khun Pin whatever Princess Anilaphat feels like doing".

At this answer, she was awarded with the most steamy kiss, while Anin continued to touch her all over her body, until she got up, got off the bed and sat on a chair aside.

"Anin, what are you doing?"

"What I told you I'd do. I'm going to teach you to pleasure yourself so you don't feel so miserable when I'm away. Just like I'm going to be there, thinking about you and touching myself while doing so".

Pin was nervous. She had never done this before. She barely knew her own body, she just let Anin take the lead and to all those marvelous things to her, things she couldn't even name.

But there she was, alone in the bed while Anin, sitting at the chair, was looking at her with hunger in her eyes, analising her every single move.

"You're gonna have to trust me, okay?" the princess asked softly "are you confortable with this?" Pin nodded. "If I do or say anything, and I mean anything that makes you unconfortable, you tell me, okay?

"Okay". Pin trusted Anin, she respected and loved her in a way no one could ever do and she knew the princess was only trying to make her feel good with her own body. She loved Anin for how she thought about every single detail to make her feel loved.

"Khun Pin, would you please be so kind to be a good subject for your princess and spread your legs?"

"Yes, your highness".

"Now, I want you to look at yourself. When I tried to eat you out earlier, you seemed displeased and turned on by the idea at the same time, you told me not to, but you really enjoyed while I was there, wasn't it?

"Yes, your highness, I was... I was embarrassed".

"I want you to look at your beautiful pussy and not feel ashamed by it. Look at it, honey, it's delicious, and it's all mine".

Pin had this mixed feelings, at the same time, being so turned on by the way Anin was talking and looking at her, and also so ashamed by everything.

"This pretty bud right up there it's your clit, do you see it? See how big and erect it is for me? It's because you're horny, babe. Have I ever taught you this? That feeling of discomfort mixed with pleasure and the need to be touched. It's called being turned on. I feel this all the time when I'm close to you and I know you feel it too".

Pin felt like she couldn't breath, she was so... horny and it was so satisfying to finally put a name on that discomfort she began to feel on her teenag years and that got so worse ever since the return of the princess.

Anin continued to patiently teach her everthing about the female anatomy, about the vulva, and her vagina and all those erogenous areas, Pin was burning with desire and it was getting so much worse when Anin looked at her with those eyes.

"Now, my dear, I'd like for you to rub your clit, can you do this for Princess Anil?"

"Y-yes, your highness".

"Do it the way you like it when I do it with you".

"Y-yes" she replied breathless.

"You're doing so good, Khun Pin, such a beautiful girl touching yourself like that. Put a finger inside you, please".

She obliged and it was so... different. It felt good, not as good as the soft and firm hands of Anin, but it felt good in a different way, knowing herself and doing everything just the way she wanted gave her a sense of power she didn't know she could have.

She was rubbing her clit and fucking herself with one finger while her hips moved along, trying to het more fiction, it felt delicious, and having Anin t watch the whole thing was just, an experience.

"Babe, put another finger please, fuck yourself a little bit rougher, just like I would if I was the one doing it".

So she did, adding another finger, and feeling more and more of that great pleasure she as providing to herself. Things got out of hand for her when she saw Anin pulling of her skirt and touching herself to, she just let out a moan, making the princess grin.

"Finally, babe. I was wondering if you'd keep yourself so silent. It's jsut us here, I want to hear you".

"Ah-ah, Aninnn"

"Yes, my love, keep going, you can do it, curve your fingers on the entrance of your pussy, it wil feel so good, I promise you".

So she did. "Oh my GOD, ANIN. This fe-feels..."

"I know, babe, I know it does. Keep doing this for me, don't close your legs".

Anin noticed how Pin was having trouble keeping her legs apart because of all the pleasure, so she got up her chair (finally) and held her legs spread.

"I want them like this for me, Khun Pin" she held her chin with the other hand, looking at her with pure lust and desire "you don't look down your princess when she's talking to you... Khun Pin, stop" she held her hand.

"B-but, Aninnn" she cried out of desperation.

"I want to see you properly, I want this image craved in my imagination for when I'm away, I want to remember you touching yourself with your legs spread just for me" she took Pin's hand out of her pussy, soaked, and started to smell it "you're delicious".

Seing how turned on Anin seemed to be by her hands soaked, Pin started to rub her fingers all over her lips, like a lipstick, making the princess lick her fingers while keeping eye contact and making crazy sounds with her mouth until finally releasing it with a pop sound.

Anin then spreaded her legs, being in between, to stop her from closing it.

"Touch yourself" she demanded.

"Yes, your highness""

"Good girl"

So she continued, fucking herself with two fingers, rubbing her clit, hips moving, her legs closing automatically, but being held forcefully by Anin, that kept looking at her, watching like it was the spectacle of her life.

"Yes, my love, just keep doing this, you're so close, I can see it".

"YES!"

"Keep moaning for me, keep fucking yourself so good. I love you"

"Ah ah aaaah"

And then it was it, Pin felt like an earthquake was happening inside herself, just like the first time Anin touched her down there, and everytime since.

"This" Anin said while caressing her thighs softly "is an orgasm" she smirked "I know you've had them before, but maybe you don't know what it is. Do you, love?

Pin shaked her head, still dizzy from everything.

Anin came to bed with her, holding her close.

"Now, everytime you feel turned on when I'm away, I want you to touch yourself, okay?"

"Okay, Anin" Pin answered, already embarrassed after the rush was over.

"You don't need to feel ashamed, it's beautiful and it's perfectly normal and healthy. Thank you for trusting me and letting me lead the way. I love you"

"I love you too, thank you for caring so much about me".

"I always will".

And then they held each other close for the rest of the night, knowing that they belonged to each other and to each other only, forever.

[rainforestakiie]

hello everyone!

merry christmas!

here is my christmas gift for everyone! i hope you all like it! it's just a short au, but i hope it's good enough.

Life was unforgiving, a relentless tide that threatened to drown Adam every waking moment. Each day felt heavier than the last, like carrying stones in his chest. His boys, his entire world, were struggling in ways he couldn’t always reach. Adam loved them more than life itself, more than his own breath. If it were possible to take their pain and bear it for them, he would have done so without hesitation. But this year—this crushing, merciless year—had left him grappling for solutions, for ways to hold everything together.

Eve, their mother, had died when Abel was just a toddler, too young to remember her laughter or the softness of her touch. Cain, on the other hand, carried the weight of her absence like an invisible anchor, dragging him down into a sea of anger and sorrow. The grief burned in him, raw and festering, and no matter how much therapy Adam arranged, no matter how much he tried to reach him, Cain’s pain found ways to seep out. He bottled his emotions, compressing them into a tight coil that would inevitably snap, releasing all the bitterness in sharp, devastating bursts.

Abel adored Cain, following him with wide, innocent eyes full of admiration. But Cain couldn’t bring himself to meet that gaze. He avoided Abel, pushed him away, his anger turning inward, his love for his little brother drowned beneath the weight of his grief. And Abel, sweet and tender-hearted, would turn to Adam, his voice trembling as he asked, “Daddy, why doesn’t Cain like me?”

Those moments broke Adam. He would soothe Abel as best he could, whispering reassurances he didn’t fully believe. Meanwhile, Cain’s muffled sobs echoed from behind his closed bedroom door. Adam felt like he was being crushed under the weight of it all, as though he were the one dying, slowly and quietly, under the stress and sorrow.

When December approached, Adam made himself a promise. This Christmas would be different. He would give them a holiday they’d remember forever, a glimmer of light in their darkened world. He picked up every overtime shift he could, leaving the boys with their kind, elderly neighbor, Mrs. Whitaker. The extra hours drained him, but the thought of their smiles kept him going. They deserved joy, deserved a Christmas that felt magical. He swore to himself he’d give them everything.

The tree was the first step. Adam let them choose the decorations, watching with quiet joy as Cain’s usual scowl softened into something resembling a smile. They wandered through Walmart, Abel’s tiny hands tugging at Adam’s sleeve every few seconds to show him some shiny ornament or string of lights. Cain lingered by the electronics aisle, his eyes lighting up as he spotted the Xbox display. Abel, ever the dreamer, stopped by the toy section, his gaze repeatedly drifting to a colorful dollhouse. Adam pretended not to notice how long Abel stared, but he mentally added it to his list. Whatever it took, he’d get them those gifts. It was going to be a good Christmas. It had to be.

But fate, cruel and unrelenting, had other plans.

They left the store as dusk fell, the air biting and crisp, their bags filled with ornaments and garlands. Abel’s mittened hand slipped into Adam’s as they crossed the parking lot, his high-pitched chatter bouncing into the cold night. Cain trailed behind, earbuds in, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.

It happened so fast… and yet so slowly.

Adam would replay the moment in his mind a thousand times, the scene burned into his memory like a scar that would never fade. Abel’s hand slipped from his grasp—just for a second, just long enough for the boy to dart ahead.

“Abel!” Adam’s voice cut through the crisp air, sharp with panic.

Then he heard it. The low growl of a car engine revving, tires screeching against the icy pavement. His heart leapt into his throat as time seemed to slow to a crawl. He dropped the shopping bags without thinking, the sound of ornaments shattering barely registering in his mind. His legs moved before his brain could process, every muscle screaming as he lunged toward his youngest son.

“Abel!” he roared, his voice raw with terror.

The headlights blinded him, twin beams cutting through the gathering twilight. Abel froze, his wide eyes reflecting the glow like a deer caught in the path of an oncoming truck. Adam’s world narrowed to that single moment, the sound of his pounding heart drowning out everything else. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the fabric of Abel’s coat—so close, so agonizingly close…

And then the impact.

The sound was sickening, a dull, hollow thud that echoed in the parking lot and seemed to reverberate in Adam’s very bones. The car skidded to a stop, but the damage was done. Abel’s small body crumpled to the ground, motionless.

“No,” Adam whispered, his voice barely audible. “No, no, no…”

He fell to his knees beside Abel, scooping his limp body into his arms. The boy’s face was pale, his lashes fluttering weakly as he let out a faint, wheezing breath.

“Daddy?” Abel’s voice was so soft, barely a whisper, but it shattered Adam’s heart.

“I’m here, baby,” Adam choked out, tears streaming down his face. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Cain stood frozen a few feet away, his earbuds dangling from his ears, his face pale as he stared at his little brother. For the first time in years, the anger was gone, replaced by pure, unfiltered fear.

“Call 911!” Adam barked at no one in particular, his voice cracking. “Someone call an ambulance!”

The driver stumbled out of the car, their face pale and trembling, words spilling from their mouth in a frantic, incoherent stream. Adam didn’t even look at them. All he could see was Abel, his sweet, precious boy, so small and fragile in his arms.

The world blurred around him, time losing all meaning. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder, but Adam’s focus never wavered. He held Abel close, whispering promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.

“Stay with me, buddy,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Please, stay with me.”

Cain dropped to his knees beside them, his hands trembling as he reached out, hesitating before placing them on Abel’s tiny arm.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

Adam looked at his eldest son, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and desperate hope. For the first time in what felt like forever, they shared an unspoken understanding. They were a family—fractured, hurting, but a family nonetheless. And they would fight for Abel with everything they had.

A week later, the hospital room had become their second home. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, and the soft hum of machines monitoring Abel’s recovery provided a constant background noise. Abel lay propped up in his hospital bed, his leg encased in a bright blue cast, small doodles already decorating its surface thanks to the nurses. His face was pale, but his eyes still held their spark of determination, his bravery shining through in every small smile he gave Adam and Cain.

Adam sat by his youngest son’s side, exhaustion etched into his features. The bags under his eyes told a story of sleepless nights spent worrying, praying, and strategizing how to manage the mounting bills. The Christmas he’d envisioned, filled with presents and laughter, felt like a distant dream now. Every spare penny was going toward the hospital, and the magic of the holiday seemed to be slipping away. But Adam refused to let his boys see his despair. He forced a smile, even as his heart felt heavy.

“You know,” Adam began, his voice warm and upbeat, “I heard on the news that Santa’s making his way down from the North Pole. They say the snowstorm coming tomorrow means he’s testing his sleigh to make sure it’s ready for Christmas Eve.”

Abel’s face lit up despite the pain that flickered in his expression when he moved too quickly.

“Really, Daddy? Santa’s coming soon?” His small hands gripped the edge of the blanket, his excitement momentarily washing away the weariness in his voice.

“That’s right, buddy,” Adam said, brushing a stray curl from Abel’s forehead. “And you know what? I bet he’s got something special planned for you. I mean, who else is as brave as you, huh? Santa must have noticed that.”

Abel smiled, but it faltered after a moment. His eyes fell to his hands, his fingers twisting nervously.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he whispered. “For being stupid. If I hadn’t run off…”

“Hey,” Adam interrupted gently, leaning closer. His voice wavered, but he kept it steady enough. “No, Abel. None of this is your fault, do you hear me? You didn’t do anything wrong. Things happen, and all that matters is that you’re here with us. Don’t ever think you’re to blame for this.”

Abel nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Okay, Daddy.”

Across the room, Cain sat in a chair by the window, his back turned to them. His posture was stiff, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. The reflection of his face in the glass showed the turmoil he refused to voice. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze was distant, focused on something outside that wasn’t there. Adam knew the guilt was eating at him too—Cain had barely spoken since the accident. He hadn’t even yelled or snapped, which somehow hurt more than his usual outbursts.

“Cain,” Adam called softly. “Why don’t you come sit with us? Abel’s been waiting for his big brother to tell him a story.”

Cain hesitated, his shoulders tensing. For a moment, Adam thought he might ignore the invitation, but then Cain stood, his movements slow and deliberate. He walked over, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets and perched stiffly on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, squirt,” Cain muttered, his voice gruff but soft. He avoided Abel’s eyes, instead staring at the cast. “Nice artwork you’ve got there. Who drew the dinosaur?”

Abel’s grin returned, as bright as the morning sun.

“Nurse Kelly! But I told her where to put it,” he said proudly. “You can draw something too, Cain!”

Cain’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile.

“Maybe later,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Adam watched the exchange with a quiet sense of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. No matter how broken they felt, no matter how much the year had battered them, they still had each other. And somehow, that had to be enough.

As the evening wore on, Adam stayed by Abel’s side, reading him stories about reindeer and snowmen, while Cain sat silently, occasionally chiming in with a sarcastic comment that made Abel giggle. The snow outside began to fall, dusting the town in white, and for the first time in days, Adam allowed himself to hope.

They might not have the perfect Christmas he had dreamed of, but they still had love. And love, Adam thought, could make even the hardest winters feel warm.

Adam swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he pulled at the frayed ends of his sweater sleeves. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the calm facade he tried so desperately to maintain. Clearing his throat, he forced a smile and glanced between his boys.

“Hey,” he began, his voice uneven, “Why don’t we write our letters to Santa? He’s gonna need to know what you guys want for Christmas, right?”

Abel’s eyes widened, his face lighting up with a gasp of excitement. “Really, Daddy? We can write to Santa?”

Before Adam could respond, Cain’s voice cut through the moment like a dull blade.

“Why?” he asked flatly, not even bothering to look at Adam. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Adam blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Well...”

“Because Santa won’t know what to get you otherwise,” he replied, trying to keep his tone light, though the strain crept into his words.

Cain’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as he scoffed. “We can’t afford a Christmas this year, so what’s the point?”

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, the cheerful spark in Abel’s eyes flickering as his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Abel asked, his voice trembling.

Adam tried to laugh it off, waving his hand dismissively. “Santa is magic, remember? He doesn’t need money. He’s got elves and all that Christmas magic stuff.”

Cain let out a bitter snort, shaking his head.

“Santa doesn’t exist, Dad,” he muttered, his tone sharp and final. He lifted his gaze to Adam, his dark eyes filled with an anger and sadness that cut Adam to the core. “I know it’s you. You’re the one who works your ass off so we can have Christmas. And this year? There’s no Christmas.”

Abel’s lower lip quivered, tears welling up in the corners of his wide, innocent eyes.

“Santa... doesn’t exist?” he whispered, his voice cracking with disbelief. His small hands clutched the edge of his blanket as though it could protect him from Cain’s words.

Adam’s chest tightened as he hissed at Cain, his tone sharp but quiet.

“Enough,” he said firmly, his eyes darting toward Abel, whose cheeks were streaked with tears.

Cain huffed, rolling his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered, standing abruptly and stomping toward the door. The sound of the door swinging shut behind him echoed through the room, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake.

Abel sniffled, his small body trembling as he wiped at his eyes.

“Daddy... is Santa real?” he asked, his voice desperate, pleading for the truth.

Adam’s heart shattered. He crouched beside the bed, gently taking Abel’s hand in his.

“Of course, he is,” Adam said softly, though his voice broke under the weight of the lie. “Santa’s as real as the magic in Christmas, buddy. And you know what? I bet he’s waiting to see your list right now.”

Abel sniffled again, hesitating. Adam reached for his notebook and a fluffy, pom-pom-tipped pen that one of the nurses had left behind. Placing it gently on the bed beside Abel, he gave his youngest son a reassuring smile.

“Why don’t you start on your list while I go check on Cain? Just write down everything you want, okay? Santa’s got this.”

Abel’s wide, teary eyes stared down at the blank paper, his small hand reaching hesitantly for the pen.

“Okay, Daddy,” he whispered. “But... is Cain gonna be okay?”

Adam ruffled Abel’s brown curls, his voice soft and soothing. “He will be. He’s just sad right now, that’s all. But I promise, everything will be okay.”

Abel nodded, clutching the pen tightly as Adam stood. Casting one last glance at his youngest son, Adam forced himself to step out of the room, his heart heavy.

The hallway felt colder, lonelier, as Adam searched for Cain, his stomach twisting with worry. Cain was only thirteen, still a child himself, no matter how much he tried to act otherwise. Adam knew the anger Cain carried was just a mask for the hurt he couldn’t put into words. Finding him, reaching him—that was the only way forward. Adam took a deep breath and moved toward the elevator, silently praying he wouldn’t fail them again.

Abel sniffled, staring at the blank page in front of him. The notebook felt heavy in his lap, not because of its weight but because of what it represented. What could he ask Santa for? The dollhouse he’d seen at the store? The cuddly Care Bears he’d wanted for so long? He shook his head. Those things didn’t matter right now. Not really.

Abel’s tiny fingers curled around the pen, his brow furrowed in deep thought. What he wanted wasn’t a toy. What he wanted... was for his family to feel whole again.

The pen touched the paper, and Abel began to write in his uneven, childlike handwriting:

‘Dear Satan,

Hi, it’s me, Abel. I hope you and the reindeers, and the elves are doing okay! I’ve been trying to be good this year, even though sometimes it’s hard.

I thought a lot about what I want for Christmas, but it’s not toys or anything like that. I just want my daddy to be happy. He’s so tired all the time, and I think he’s really sad too. He works so, so hard to make sure me and Cain are okay, but I wish he didn’t have to. Maybe you can help him not have to work so hard anymore? And maybe... maybe you could bring him someone who can make him smile again.

And Santa, I want Cain to feel better too. He doesn’t like to talk to me, and it makes my heart hurt. I think he’s sad like Daddy, but he won’t tell me why. Could you make him happy again? I miss him. I miss when he used to laugh and play with me.

That’s all I want, Santa. Just for my family to be happy. And, if you can, please make it snow this year! Cain really likes the snow, even when he doesn’t admit it.

Thank you.

Love, Abel

As he finished, Abel sniffled again, staring down at the page. His small chest rose and fell with a deep breath. He wasn’t sure if Santa could do all that, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Carefully, he placed the notebook on the table beside him, leaning back into his pillows with a soft sigh.

He doesn’t notice his spelling mistake at all as he folded it up.

The cold air hit Adam’s face as he rushed out of the hospital, the sliding doors hissing shut behind him. His eyes scanned the parking lot and the dimly lit sidewalk beyond until he finally spotted Cain, sitting on a bench just outside the hospital’s entrance. His hood was pulled up over his head, his shoulders hunched as he stared at the ground.

Adam approached cautiously, his heart heavy with worry and frustration.

“Cain,” he called gently, but his eldest didn’t look up.

“Leave me alone,” Cain muttered, his voice tight.

Adam sighed, stepping closer. “I can’t do that, bud. I need to talk to you.”

Cain huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s there to talk about?”

Adam sat down beside him, the bench creaking under his weight. “Cain, I know you’re hurting. I know it’s been really hard since... since your mom passed. But you can’t keep taking it out on Abel. He doesn’t understand why you’re so angry, and it’s breaking his heart.”

Cain scoffed, his jaw tightening as he turned to glare at Adam. “Why do you always take his side? You don’t get it.”

Adam frowned, his voice soft but firm. “Then help me understand. What’s going on, Cain?”

Cain’s hands balled into fists, his voice rising. “How can I be happy when it’s his fault Mom’s gone?”

The words hit Adam like a punch to the gut. His heart shattered, and for a moment, he could only stare at his son in disbelief.

“Cain,” he said quietly, his voice trembling. “It wasn’t Abel’s fault. Your mother got sick, sweetheart. No one could have stopped it—not you, not Abel, not me.”

Cain shook his head violently, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “She wouldn’t have gotten sick if she didn’t have Abel! If he wasn’t born, she’d still be here!”

Adam reached out, placing a hand on Cain’s shoulder, but the boy shrugged it off. “That’s not true, Cain. You were so little back then, you don’t remember everything. Your mom loved you both so much, and she wanted Abel. She was sick before she even knew about him.”

Cain turned away, his voice breaking. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Adam insisted, his tone steady but pained. “I was there, Cain. I saw it all. Your mom... she fought so hard to stay with us. She loved you more than anything. She loved Abel too. Losing her wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just happened.”

Cain’s shoulders trembled, but he refused to look at Adam.

“I hate him,” he whispered, though the words lacked conviction.

Adam’s heart ached as he leaned closer. “You don’t hate him. You’re angry and hurt, and I understand that. But Abel loves you so much, Cain. He looks up to you, and he doesn’t understand why you push him away. He just wants his big brother to love him back.”

Cain’s breath hitched, and for a moment, Adam thought he might break through. But then Cain shook his head, standing abruptly. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Cain—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Cain shouted, his voice echoing through the quiet night.

Adam watched helplessly as Cain stormed further into the parking lot, his chest tight with sorrow. He wanted to fix this, to hold his family together, but the cracks ran so deep.

“Cain,” he called again, his voice softer now. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here. I love you, kid. Don’t forget that.”

The snow fell gently at first, the flakes swirling down like delicate whispers from the heavens. Cain stood frozen, his emerald eyes wide as the first flake landed on his gloved hand. But as he stared closer, his brow furrowed, his voice small and uncertain.

“It’s... red?”

Adam’s stomach twisted at the words. He blinked, following Cain’s gaze to the flecks of snow that dusted the ground around them. It wasn’t white—it was crimson, like the snow itself had been stained. His breath caught as he instinctively reached for Cain’s shoulder, his fingers trembling slightly.

“Cain,” Adam said carefully, his voice low and steady, “Let’s get back inside. This... this doesn’t look right.”

Cain nodded mutely, his earlier anger dissipating into something far more fragile—uncertainty, perhaps even fear. Adam guided him toward the hospital’s entrance, his hand resting firmly on the boy’s shoulder as the sliding doors whooshed open.

Once inside, they turned to watch through the glass as the snowfall grew heavier, the once-gentle flurries transforming into a steady cascade. The red snow blanketed the cars, the pavement, the world outside. Adam’s jaw tightened, his mind racing as he tried to process what he was seeing.

“What in the world is this?” he muttered, half to himself.

Beside him, Cain made a soft sound, a noise somewhere between curiosity and unease. His forehead pressed lightly against the glass as he stared out, his breath fogging the surface.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he murmured.

Adam swallowed hard, his mind darting back to Eve, to the winters they’d shared together when the snow came soft and white, blanketing the world in peace. But this… this was something else entirely. It wasn’t supposed to snow at all—Adam had only mentioned it to Abel as a way to keep the boy’s hope alive, to give him a sense of magic during such a difficult time.

But now it was snowing. Red snow.

Adam glanced down at Cain, who was still staring out with a mixture of wonder and unease.

“Cain,” Adam said quietly, “I don’t know what’s happening, but... let’s not tell Abel just yet, okay? He doesn’t need to worry about this.”

Cain hesitated, then nodded. “Okay…”

Adam’s hand rested lightly on Cain’s shoulder again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He tried to push the unease down, to bury it beneath the weight of his responsibility. But as the red snow continued to fall outside, he couldn’t help but wonder: was this some strange, miraculous sign? Or something else entirely?

Adam felt like he was trapped in a surreal dream, one where the universe had suddenly decided to grant him reprieve from years of hardship. The letter from Eden Apple Insurance remained on the table, untouched since he first read it. No matter how many times he glanced at it, the words didn’t change. Insurance. Fully covered. Abel’s medical bills cleared. His mind raced as he tried to piece together how this could even be real.

And yet, it wasn’t just the medical bills. Everything was... shifting. Subtly, then undeniably.

The next day, Adam received another letter. This time it was from the bank. He stared at it for a long moment, his fingers trembling as he opened the envelope. Inside was a notice about a loan he’d taken years ago to cover unexpected expenses. It had been eating at him, every payment feeling like a weight tied to his ankles. But now the letter said the loan had been forgiven. Written off due to “processing discrepancies.”

“Processing discrepancies?” Adam muttered aloud, baffled. His heart raced. Was this even legal? Was it real? He didn’t have time to dwell on it before his phone buzzed.

It was a text from his cousin, Darren, who had borrowed a couple hundred dollars last year and conveniently forgotten about it. “Hey, Adam. Just sent the money I owed you to your account. Sorry it took so long. Thanks for being patient.”

Adam dropped the phone on the table, staring at it like it had sprouted wings. Darren? Paying him back?

That night, as Adam tucked Abel into bed, Cain lingered in the doorway of the hospital room. Adam half-expected his eldest son to grumble about something or stomp off outside to wait for him, but instead, Cain crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, watching Abel with a faint smile on his face.

Adam hesitated, glancing up. “Something on your mind, kiddo?”

Cain shifted awkwardly but didn’t leave. Instead, he spoke, his voice softer than usual. “I, uh… was thinking we could have lasagna tomorrow?”

The words hit Adam like a truck. He froze, blinking at Cain as though he’d just spoken in another language.

“Lasagna?”

Cain gave a small, almost sheepish shrug. “Yeah. I mean, I know we haven’t had it in, like… forever. But I was thinking about Mom a lot lately. I don’t think she’d want me to... I don’t know, keep being this... angry.”

He fidgeted, his face flushing slightly, his green eyes flicking down to the floor. “I just… I feel like I should try. For her. And for Abel.”

Adam’s throat tightened as he tried to find words. His first instinct was to double-check, to make sure this was actually his son standing in front of him. But instead, he simply nodded, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’ll make it. First thing tomorrow.”

Cain’s lips twitched into a grin. A real grin. “Cool. Thanks, Dad.”

Adam blinked several times, then glanced out the window where the red snow continued to fall, blanketing the ground in its strange, otherworldly shimmer. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t supposed to be possible, that this bizarre, blood-coloured snowfall wasn’t a natural phenomenon.

But it wasn’t just the snow.

The next morning, another unexpected shift: the car. Adam had been worrying about it for weeks, hearing the strange clunking noises whenever he drove to work or the hospital. The repairs were going to cost him a fortune—money he didn’t have, even with the other miracles happening. But when he checked the mail, there was a letter from the local auto shop.

“Due to a holiday promotional raffle, your car has been fully repaired at no cost to you. Merry Christmas!”

Adam sat back in his chair, staring at the letter with wide eyes. He hadn’t entered any raffle. He hadn’t even stepped foot in the shop recently.

Then Cain came downstairs, tossing his backpack onto the couch with a grin. “Hey, Dad.”

Adam looked up, blinking. “Hey. You’re... in a good mood.”

“Yeah, school wasn’t so bad today,” Cain replied, plopping down at the table and grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl.

“Oh, and guess what? Ms. Kline actually cracked a joke in history class. Can you believe that?” He laughed, shaking his head.

Adam stared, dumbfounded. Cain. Laughing. Smiling. Talking about school as though it didn’t weigh him down like a millstone.

“Uh, lasagna tonight, right?” Cain asked, glancing up.

“Y-Yeah,” Adam stammered, still processing. “Lasagna.”

Cain grinned. “Cool.”

It was as though the universe had flipped a switch. And then came the hospital call that threw him for another loop: Abel was being discharged early. Christmas Eve, to be exact. Adam nearly dropped the phone, his mind whirring. “Wait, what? Are you sure? I thought you’d keep him through Christmas!”

The nurse on the other end chuckled. “It’s a Christmas miracle, Mr. Dawson. His recovery’s been remarkable. We’ll have the paperwork ready for you tomorrow.”

Adam hung up, his head spinning. He glanced again at the window, at the crimson snow falling steadily, glittering in the faint sunlight. There was no logical explanation for any of this. None of it made sense.

As he rubbed a hand over his face, he murmured to himself, “What in the world is going on?”

Cain’s voice came from the living room. “It’s a Christmas miracle, Dad. Just roll with it.”

Adam couldn’t help but laugh softly, his gaze drifting back to the red snow outside.

“A Christmas miracle,” he whispered. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. But for the first time in years, Adam felt something he hadn’t dared to feel in a long time.

Hope.

Christmas was just around the corner, and Adam had a sinking feeling that, if he hurried, he could still create the perfect holiday for his boys. The red snow swirling outside was strange, unsettling even, but it couldn’t ruin their Christmas... could it? When he picked Abel up from the hospital, it was the first time in weeks that Adam had felt light—truly light—as if an invisible weight had been lifted from his chest.

Abel’s small arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and he buried his face against Adam’s chest, his voice soft, “I’m so glad I’m home, Daddy.”

Adam grinned, his heart swelling with love as he gently patted Abel’s back. He could hear Cain humming beside them as they walked up the stairs to their flat. Cain looked so... happy, so carefree, like nothing was wrong.

Adam shifted Abel higher on his hip as they reached the door, a small frown tugging at his lips. The one thing that weighed on his mind was that he hadn’t been able to finish the Christmas decorations before Abel came home. He’d wanted it to be perfect for them. He opened the door, stepping inside... and froze. His heart skipped a beat, a strange feeling of dread curling in his stomach as his eyes widened.

Both Cain and Abel gasped, their voices filled with wonder. Cain looked at him, his brow furrowed in disbelief, “When did you have time to do all this?”

Abel squealed, his arms tightening around Adam in pure joy. “Daddy! This is amazing!”

Adam let out a soft, awkward laugh, his eyes darting around the room. The living room was... overdone. Every inch of their home was covered in decorations, down to the hallway, kitchen, and even the bathroom. Cain and Abel’s shared room, with the bunk beds, looked like something out of a dream—or maybe a nightmare, depending on how you looked at it. Adam carefully set Abel down on the sofa, scratching the back of his head nervously.

How did this all happen?

“Dad?!” Cain’s voice called out from the kitchen. “You made cookies?”

Adam blinked, staring at Cain as he entered the room, a plate of cookies in hand. They were perfectly shaped, decorated like little Santa faces and reindeer, their eyes glittering with something almost too perfect. Adam’s mouth hung open, confusion flooding his mind. Did he make these? He didn’t remember baking cookies. But they looked so... real, so delicious.

Cain hummed, moving toward Abel with a playful grin, offering him one of the cookies. Abel gasped, his eyes wide with delight.

“Daddy! They’re so cute!” he giggled, picking up a reindeer cookie, “Look, this one has red eyes!”

He laughed, delighted by the bizarre little treat.

Adam’s lips twitched into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze drifted to the Christmas tree, its dark red, purple, and black ornaments gleaming in the strange light of the room. It was... something, alright. A bit much, even. Too much. But somehow, everything felt so perfect—too perfect. He couldn’t remember doing it, yet it was there, overwhelming him with its eerie beauty.

Something was wrong, but for a moment, Adam couldn’t figure out what. He only knew that, for better or worse, everything was just... done.

Adam’s heart thudded in his chest as he slowly stepped further into the flat, his eyes taking in every inch of the transformed space. Twinkling fairy lights adorned the walls, shimmering garlands hung over doorways, and stockings were neatly hung by the window ledge—one for each of them, including a tiny one for the dog they didn’t even have. The Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, a mix of red, purple, and black ornaments gleaming under the glow of string lights.

Cain plopped onto the sofa beside Abel, a cookie already half-eaten in his hand.

“Seriously, Dad,” he said around a mouthful. “You really outdid yourself. This is, like, Pinterest-level stuff.”

Adam blinked, his mind scrambling to make sense of it all. “Uh…”

His voice cracked slightly as he tried to form words. “Thanks…?” He sounded so unsure it made Cain glance up.

“Wait,” Cain frowned, raising a brow. “You did do this, right?”

Adam scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes darting to the cookies in Cain’s hand. He didn’t remember making cookies. In fact, he didn’t remember doing any of this. His gaze swept over the Christmas decorations again—the perfectly strung lights, the coordinated tree ornaments, the festive throw pillows on the couch. How could he have missed this? Was someone else in his flat? Was he losing it?

Abel’s squeals of excitement snapped him out of his thoughts. The little boy held the reindeer cookie up to Adam with bright, sparkling eyes.

“Daddy, look! It’s Rudolph, but his nose is so shiny! And he has the cutest little antlers!” Abel giggled, his tiny hands cradling the cookie like it was a treasure.

Adam forced a smile, his lips twitching slightly.

“That’s, uh, great, buddy,” he managed, his voice uneven.

Cain flopped back against the couch, pulling another cookie from the plate. “Man, you were busy,” he said, his voice light and relaxed.

“I mean, I didn’t think you’d even have time to get decorations, let alone set all this up.” He gestured vaguely at the room, then bit into another cookie.

Adam shifted nervously. “Yeah…” he murmured. “Busy.”

“Daddy?” Abel tilted his head, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes. “Did you make all this for us? It’s the best Christmas ever!”

Adam’s chest ached at the sincerity in his youngest son’s voice. He crouched down in front of Abel, brushing a stray curl out of his face.

 “Of course, I wanted to make this special for you,” he said softly. And it wasn’t a total lie. He did want to make it special. He just… didn’t know how all of this had come together.

Abel threw his arms around Adam’s neck, squeezing tightly. “Thank you, Daddy!”

Adam hugged him back, his heart both full and bewildered. When Abel pulled back, Adam glanced at Cain, who had stuffed another cookie in his mouth and was now flicking through a Christmas catalogue that had somehow appeared on the coffee table.

The flickering red glow from the snow outside caught Adam’s eye, and he glanced toward the window. The crimson snowstorm had picked up again, blanketing the streets and rooftops in an eerie glow. Adam felt a chill creep up his spine, though he quickly shook it off. Whatever this strange snow was, it had brought something to his family—something warm and magical.

“Alright,” Adam said, clapping his hands together. “Cookies before dinner isn’t exactly the best idea, but I’ll allow it. Let’s figure out what we’re making tonight.”

“Lasagna,” Cain piped up without hesitation.

Adam blinked, then laughed softly. “Right. Lasagna it is.”

As the boys chattered excitedly about Christmas morning, Adam stepped into the kitchen, running his hand along the countertop. Everything was spotless, perfectly arranged, as though someone had come in and scrubbed the place down to a shine. There were even candy canes arranged in a neat little jar on the counter, tied with a red ribbon.

He stared at the candy canes for a long moment, his stomach twisting. He didn’t have an explanation for any of this. But when he glanced back into the living room and saw his boys smiling—really, truly smiling—for the first time in what felt like forever, he decided he didn’t need one.

Lasagna. Eve was the one who always made it, and it was always perfect. The boys loved it, and so did he. How in the world was Adam supposed to make something half as good? He didn’t want to disappoint them—not now, not ever. But looking at them, seeing Cain laughing softly as he spoke to Abel, his heart swelled with love. Cain was always so good with him, so kind, and Abel, sweet little Abel, was glowing with happiness. Adam’s chest tightened with resolve. No, he wouldn’t disappoint them. He couldn’t. He was going to make the best lasagna in the world, no matter what.

With a deep breath, Adam entered the kitchen, determination in his steps. He unpacked the brown paper bag with all the ingredients, his hands moving methodically as he prepared to make something that could at least come close to Eve’s masterpiece. But as he scanned the cupboards for the baking tray, something caught his eye.

His brow furrowed as he crouched down, examining his oven. The handle felt strangely cool, and when he pulled it open—Adam froze. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the most beautifully made lasagna he’d ever seen. Perfectly layered, steaming, with golden-brown edges... and beside it, garlic bread, perfectly crisped.

Adam blinked, mouth agape. "What the...?" he muttered under his breath.

Who had broken into his flat? Who had decorated everything, made cookies, lasagna... and—Adam’s gaze shot to the counter. There, lined up like a holiday dream, were mugs filled with hot chocolate. Whipped cream piled high, sprinkles scattered on top, and a piece of chocolate sticking out like it belonged in a picture-perfect holiday ad.

His mind raced. What in the living hell was going on?

Was he losing his mind? He didn’t remember doing any of this. His pulse quickened as a cold shiver ran down his spine. The decorations, the cookies, the lasagna, the hot chocolate—who was doing this? Was someone watching him? The strange, perfect nature of it all felt too... unsettling.

Too good to be real.

He tried to steady his breath, but his heart was pounding. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was here, watching. Helping him, maybe? Or worse... controlling everything.

The weirdness didn’t stop there, no. The entire night, Adam found himself stumbling across oddities that left his mind spinning. He just wanted to enjoy a film with the boys, share a cozy night together without disappointment. Their television was old and cracked, the screen was patchy, and it didn’t pick up all the channels, but Adam had accepted that.

Except, when he turned the TV on, the screen lit up perfectly. He bit his bottom lip, staring in disbelief. It wasn’t just the screen—it was everything. The colours were sharper, the picture clearer than it should’ve been, and there were more channels than the TV should have been able to pick up.

"How did that happen?" Adam muttered to himself, but before he could ponder it further, Abel, perched on the couch next to him, looked up with wide eyes.

“Daddy, can we have popcorn?”

Cain, ever the realist, tried to gently remind Abel they didn’t have any. Adam smiled softly, determined not to disappoint, and hummed, “I’ll just run to the shop quick!”

But before he could leave, he spotted a perfect bucket of fresh, salty and sweet popcorn sitting right on the kitchen counter.

His stomach twisted. He hadn’t made that. It was... too perfect.

When it was time for the boys to go to bed, Adam went to tuck them in, but when he stepped into their room, something else was wrong. The bunk bed—their bunk bed—had fresh, soft quilts, fluffy pillows, and snug sheets that smelled sweet. Cain gasped, staring at the bed in awe, and Abel squealed with joy upon finding a stuffed bear tucked under his covers.

Adam sheepishly tucked them both in, feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and confusion. He stood still for a moment, his heart swelling with love for his boys, but a cold dread filled him as he scanned the perfectly decorated living room again.

Everything was so perfect. Too perfect.

What was going on? Adam’s gaze landed on something that stopped him dead in his tracks—Sinsmas. It was written everywhere—on the walls, on little notes scattered about. Sinsmas? He frowned, confused. What the hell was that?

Then, he noticed a small piece of paper on the floor. Bending down to pick it up, he saw it was Abel’s Christmas letter to Santa. Adam smiled, thinking maybe Abel had dropped it. His heart warmed as he read the sweet, innocent words, but his lips twitched when he noticed something odd. In big, colourful letters, it read…

“Dear Satan...”

Adam blinked, his mind racing. Did Abel really just write a letter to Satan instead of Santa? He laughed quietly, at first thinking it was just a mistake—maybe a simple mix-up. But as the sound of his own laugh faded into the strange silence of the room, he felt something else: a deep, gnawing unease.

Abel had written a letter to Satan. The devil? What was happening? His mind flashed back to the strange events of the past month—how everything seemed off, like a bad dream playing out in real life. The decorations, the cookies, the lasagna... Sinsmas—none of it made sense.

A wave of dizziness hit him, and he stood there for a long moment, staring at the letter in his hands. His smile faded, and in its place, an overwhelming sense of wrongness settled deep in his bones. Abel hadn’t just mixed up the names. It felt like this was more than a simple mistake. And for the first time, Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that something... or someone... was pulling the strings.

A deep, unsettling hum of confusion buzzed in his head. The world was starting to feel like it wasn’t his own anymore.

Satan?

No. Nooooo. The devil didn’t exist. It was just a story, a myth, a bedtime tale. He and Eve used to joke about it, back in the day—laughing, teasing each other about how they were Adam and Eve from Eden. As if they were the stars of some ancient fable. It was all just that—a fable. There was no heaven. No angels. No God. No hell. And certainly, no devil.

Nope. No.

Adam’s breath hitched as he sank into the sofa, his gaze fixed on Abel’s Christmas letter, his mind working overtime to make sense of it all. His left hand slowly moved to cover his mouth, his thoughts tumbling together like a twisted puzzle. Red snow? Red snow? How could he ignore that? It had snowed, but the snow had been red. And then his luck—his terrible luck—had suddenly turned around. Money problems vanished, a new car appeared out of nowhere, the television fixed itself, and the decorations... the decorations that had shown up overnight. And let’s not even talk about the food.

"Was... was this... all of this..." Adam whispered shakily, his heart beginning to pound with a growing sense of unease.

The sudden puff of hot breath against his neck made his blood run cold.

A voice, smooth and velvety, teased the air. "My work?"

Adam’s body froze. His heart raced, hammering against his ribs as the hair on the back of his neck stood up in sharp, icy awareness. His emerald eyes widened, and without thinking, he whipped his head around.

A man was standing just behind him, casually leaning against the back of the sofa, his arms crossed smugly over the cushions. The man’s lips curved into a smirk that was almost predatory, and his eyes—his eyes—glittered red and gold, like molten metal catching the light. Adam’s stomach twisted into a knot, his mind screaming that this wasn’t real.

Then, the man shifted slightly. A tail. It swished behind him, a sleek, dark appendage that flicked playfully against the floor, sending Adam stumbling back in shock. He yelped, his feet tangling as he fell backwards onto the floor, his backside landing with a painful thud.

The man stared down at him with an almost amused glint in his eyes. His horns—horns—glittered with the red glow of the room.

“Sorry, I should have greeted you first, huh?” The voice was almost too sweet, like syrup—sickly sweet.

Adam’s heart pounded in his ears. His breath came in sharp gasps as he scrambled to push himself back against the sofa, his hands shaking.

“Who... who are you?”

His voice was barely a whisper, tight with fear. He instinctively covered the back of his neck, as if that would somehow protect him from this... thing.

The man smirked wider, and Adam could see the sharp, glinting teeth in his mouth. He laughed—a low, dark sound that made Adam’s skin crawl. The man twirled, flowing across the back of the sofa like it was nothing, his claws trailing lazily along the cushions.

"I'm sure you know who I am," he purred, his voice dripping with amusement.

Adam shook his head violently, his voice growing frantic.

 “You’re not real!” he shouted, the words tumbling out in a panicked rush. "This isn’t real!"

But as the man continued to grin at him, as his tail swayed lazily back and forth, Adam’s certainty began to crack. Something was deeply wrong here. The world had shifted. And this man... this creature wasn’t just some figment of his imagination.

Adam’s heart raced. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs felt heavy, like they didn’t belong to him.

“No. This isn’t happening,” he muttered, but his voice wavered, unsure.

The man leaned down slightly, his red and gold eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker. “Oh, but it is. And it’s my work, Adam.”

Adam froze at the sound of his name. How did he know his name?

The man’s smile widened, as if he could hear the desperate beat of Adam’s heart. “Didn’t you wonder why everything changed, Adam? Why everything is... so perfect now?”

He paused, letting the words hang in the air. “You can stop pretending it’s all just a coincidence. I made it happen.”

Adam's breath caught in his throat. What did this man—this thing—want from him? What kind of nightmare was this?

But the man’s grin never faltered, and Adam knew, in the pit of his stomach, that whatever this was... it was only just beginning.

Adam's gaze followed the man, his heart pounding wildly as he watched him move around the room. The man—no, the devil—was casually strolling through the living room, as if this was his home. With a flick of his claws, he rearranged the decorations, and in a blink, the entire atmosphere of the room shifted. The lights twinkled brighter, the tree grew, and the space seemed to become even more beautiful—almost overwhelmingly so.

The man let out a pleased coo, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "I think the boys will like it better if the tree was bigger," he murmured, as if speaking to himself.

Adam’s mouth dropped open, and he stared in shock as the tree grew before his eyes, its branches stretching higher, its lights burning brighter. He could hardly believe it. This... this was insane.

The man—Lucifer—chuckled darkly, his voice smooth and lilting. "It’s not that bad."

His voice softened as he glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with Adam. “I’m here to help.”

"Help?" Adam whispered shakily, like a mouse caught in a trap. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His legs buckled beneath him, and he sank back onto the sofa, his mind spiraling out of control.

“You... the devil? Satan himself? Here to help?”

The man grinned wider, his blonde hair catching the soft glow of the lights.

 "Well, Satan isn't exactly me," he purred, stretching out the words like a cat toying with a mouse. "He’s a sin. But Abel's letter was so sweet and pure-hearted, I couldn’t let it go down into the ring of wrath. Not when there’s such potential."

Adam blinked, his brain struggling to catch up.

"Abel's... letter?" he stammered. What was happening? His mind couldn’t form a coherent thought.

The man—Lucifer, he reminded himself—took a few steps closer, his eyes gleaming red and gold, gleaming with an unsettling, almost hypnotic light.

“Besides," Lucifer added, his voice taking on a smug, almost amused tone, "I am the King of Hell. I outrank Satan, anyway.”

Adam felt the air leave his lungs. The King of Hell? He wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but before he could form the words, Lucifer turned to face him directly, his eyes locking onto Adam's with an intensity that made his chest tighten.

“I'm Lucifer, by the way,” he purred, his voice low and playful. “I’d prefer if you called me Lucifer.”

Another strangled laugh escaped Adam, his whole-body trembling.

"Of course," he gasped, “Lucifer! Like—like the archangel, right?”

Lucifer’s lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile, his tail flicking back and forth, almost like a cat’s.

"One and the same," he cooed. "The fallen angel."

Adam’s head swam as he tried to make sense of the madness. The devil. Lucifer. The King of Hell. The man standing before him had just made the Christmas tree grow, had rearranged his life without so much as a second thought. His world had been turned upside down in ways he couldn’t explain. The sweet smell of cookies, the beautiful decorations, the sudden appearance of presents, the perfect snow… it was all too much, and yet, here it was.

His mind was screaming for a way out, for an escape from the bizarre reality he found himself in. But Lucifer—the devil—was right there, standing in front of him, his demonic eyes shining brightly in the dim room, as though it were all just a game.

What the hell did he want with Adam?

What the fuck did he want with his boys?

Adam’s heart was racing in his chest, thudding painfully as Lucifer’s gaze never wavered. It was as though every movement the man made was calculated, predatory—a slow, deliberate dance that seemed to draw Adam in without him even realizing it.

Lucifer took a step closer, his movements fluid, effortless. His tail flicked in the air with a slight swish, as if it were playing with the tension that hung thick between them. He didn’t seem in a rush. He was enjoying this. Adam could feel his breath quicken as the air in the room seemed to get heavier with each second, each heartbeat, each breath.

“You’re so... tense, Adam,” Lucifer purred, his voice low and velvety, an unsettling warmth creeping into the words. He placed a hand on the back of the sofa, leaning in just a little closer, his red-and-gold eyes burning with amusement.

“Do I scare you, darling? You’re not usually this... wound up.”

Adam’s eyes widened in shock, and he took a small step back, trying to distance himself from the magnetic pull Lucifer seemed to exude.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He forced himself to stand tall, but his legs felt weak beneath him.

He wanted to run, wanted to scream, but his body refused to obey. Instead, he stood frozen, feeling the invisible weight of Lucifer’s gaze on him. The devil’s attention was like a heatwave, suffocating and inescapable.

Lucifer’s lips twitched into a smirk, clearly enjoying Adam’s discomfort.

“You’re trembling,” he observed, his voice a soft, honeyed tease. He took another step forward, his hand brushing lightly against the edge of Adam’s shoulder, his touch so gentle, so deliberate, it sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

“Do you know how easy it would be to break that tension? To make you... feel good? I could show you what it’s like to let go...”

Adam’s breath hitched at the sudden proximity. Lucifer was so close now, close enough that Adam could feel the heat radiating off his body. The devil leaned in just enough for Adam to catch a glimpse of his sharp, pearly-white teeth, his smile wide and taunting. His scent was overwhelming—sweet, like cinnamon and smoke, but tinged with something darker, something intoxicating.

“You must know, Adam...” Lucifer murmured, his lips practically grazing Adam’s ear as he whispered. “You are beautiful when you’re frightened.”

He straightened up slowly, looking Adam dead in the eye. “But I can make you feel so much more than fear.”

Adam’s mind was spinning, trying desperately to piece everything together, to think through the madness, but it was impossible. His body felt like it was on fire, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. The fear was still there—so much fear—but something else stirred beneath it, something dangerous. His stomach twisted, part of him revolted, and yet, another part of him wanted to step closer, to reach out for Lucifer.

Lucifer seemed to sense the battle in Adam’s mind, and his grin deepened. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Adam’s jaw, his touch feather-light, yet it felt like fire.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “You want this, Adam. You’ve wanted it all along.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to deny it, to scream that this wasn’t real, that he wasn’t... interested in whatever game Lucifer was playing. But the words wouldn’t come. His lips were dry, his mouth too parched to speak, and his pulse raced in his ears.

Lucifer’s fingers trailed down Adam’s neck, slow and deliberate, like a predator savouring his prey.

“You’ve been hunted for so long, haven’t you?” he whispered, voice smooth and coaxing. “Fighting against it. Denying it. But now... now, you’re mine. Just let me have you.”

Before Adam could protest, Lucifer’s other hand came up to cup his face, gently but firmly, forcing him to look up. Lucifer leaned in, his breath warm against Adam’s lips, his eyes burning with lustful hunger. It was happening, Adam thought, his heart thundering in his chest. He was being hunted. And Lucifer... Lucifer was the predator.

Lucifer's lips brushed against Adam’s, just a whisper of a touch, so close, so torturously close.

“You’ve been running from this for so long, Adam. But you can’t keep running forever.” He pressed just a little closer, his lips nearly brushing against Adam’s. “Let me show you how sweet surrender can be.”

The room seemed to spin. Adam felt his body tremble, his breath shallow. Every instinct screamed at him to pull away, to run, but Lucifer’s touch was like a drug—warm, soothing, and dangerous all at once.

Adam’s heart raced, and for the first time, he didn’t know what was real anymore.

With a startled squawk, Adam practically launched himself away from Lucifer. His eyes were wide, staring at the devil like he’d just seen a ghost—one with horns and a tail.

“Y-you... you go back now!” Adam stammered, pointing at the air like he could somehow banish Lucifer with his finger. “Go back to... um...”

Lucifer tilted his head, an innocent expression playing across his face.

“Hell?” he offered, his voice sing-song, as if he were helping Adam find the right words.

“Yes! That's right! Go back to hell!” Adam practically shouted, hands flailing in desperate motion. “You’re—you're not needed anymore!”

Lucifer snickered, a sound that sent a shiver up Adam’s spine. He slowly crept closer, his tail trailing behind him like a snake, flicking and twirling.

“Can’t do that,” he purred, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Adam let out a strangled sound from deep in his throat. “What... what do you mean you can’t?”

Lucifer inched closer, eyes gleaming like a predator sizing up its next meal, claws crossed behind him in a too-casual way.

“Well, you see... my contract is with little Abel, not you, Addie. So, I’m afraid you can’t send me back to Hell,” he teased, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

Adam blinked rapidly, once, twice, as if trying to make sense of the absurdity of what he was hearing.

“Contract?!” he finally managed to get out, his voice a mix of confusion and panic. He grabbed onto Lucifer’s ridiculously elaborate jacket, yanking him forward, his fingers trembling with frustration. “What the hell do you mean you have a contract with my baby?! What do you want with Abel?!”

Lucifer raised a single claw to tap lightly against Adam’s hand, his voice laced with amusement. “Relax, darling. I’m not going to harm Abel. I’m not heartless, you know. He’s just a kid.”

Adam's grip tightened, his frown deepening as he pulled Lucifer closer, hissing through his teeth. “Then what do you want with him?”

Before Adam could process the question, Lucifer leaned in with unnerving speed and brushed his lips against Adam’s ear, sending a spark of electricity down his spine. Adam gasped, startled, but when he looked around to see where Lucifer went, the devil had somehow managed to slink away, now lounging lazily across the couch as if it was his own throne.

“What the—?” Adam’s jaw dropped, blinking in disbelief. “What the fuck was that?!”

Lucifer purred, an arrogant glint in his eyes as he made himself comfortable.

“It’s just... let’s say a free sample,” he teased, his voice dripping with mischief, an eyebrow arched as he looked up at Adam.

Adam’s eyebrows shot up so high, they practically disappeared into his hairline. “A free sample for what, exactly?”

Lucifer’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with far too much amusement.

“Well... for you, darling,” he purred, lazily curling his tail around the cushion, “Just a little taste of what’s to come.”

Lucifer’s smirk only deepened as he lounged across the sofa, his posture casual, but every movement was predatory, like a lion sprawled lazily after a successful hunt. His red and gold eyes glinted, amusement radiating from every inch of him. He ran a clawed finger lazily along the cushion, tapping to some unseen rhythm, as if the entire world was a game he was playing—Adam included.

Adam stood frozen, his heart hammering in his chest, his breath shallow. The air around them felt thick, as though the very room itself was holding its breath, waiting for the next move. Lucifer hadn’t even broken a sweat, but Adam could feel the tension crackling in the space between them.

“A free sample, Addie?” Lucifer purred, his voice smooth, dripping with an unsettling sweetness. “For you, of course.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, eyes never leaving Adam. “Let’s say... I’m offering you a chance to experience what it’s like to be touched by a real god.”

He tilted his head, the playful glint in his eyes darkening just a little. “I’m sure you’ve always wondered. Haven’t you?”

Adam's heart skipped a beat, and he staggered back a step, his fists clenching. The words hit harder than any punch could. He couldn’t understand this—didn’t want to understand it. A god? He wasn’t sure if Lucifer was taunting him, playing some sick joke, or if something else was happening entirely.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Adam demanded, his voice trembling despite his best attempt at bravado.

Lucifer didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back further on the sofa, clearly enjoying watching Adam squirm. His tail flicked back and forth lazily, as if toying with the idea of pouncing.

“Everything in time, darling,” Lucifer purred, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You’ll understand soon enough. But you must know...”

His eyes locked onto Adam’s, smouldering with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. “Once you’ve tasted it, once you’ve felt my touch... there’s no going back. And trust me, I’ll make you crave more. You will crave more.”

Adam’s stomach churned, his hands shaking. His mind screamed at him to get out, to run, but his body refused to move. Lucifer was closing in on him, his predatory smile widening with each step. Adam could almost hear the sound of his heart thundering in his ears, each beat louder than the last.

“Why?” Adam found his voice again, though it was barely above a whisper. He took a step back, still trying to make sense of it all. “Why him? Why Abel? What’s your deal with my kid?”

His throat tightened, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from Lucifer’s glittering eyes. “You’re not taking him. I won’t let you.”

Lucifer’s eyes darkened slightly, but his smile never faltered. He propped himself up on his elbows, leaning in just enough to make Adam’s pulse quicken.

“Oh, darling,” Lucifer crooned, his voice low and intimate.

 “I told you. It’s a contract.” His eyes glinted with amusement, watching Adam’s confusion ripple across his face. “I’m not here to harm the little one, not in the way you think. His heart is pure, and I’m... quite fond of purity. But the real question is, Adam... what do you want?”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his mind scrambling. What was this? Some kind of twisted game? The whole situation felt like a nightmare that he couldn’t escape.

“What I want...?” he repeated slowly, unable to believe the words were coming out of his own mouth. “I just want you to leave. To get away from my family.”

Lucifer’s smirk deepened, and his eyes shone with amusement. “But you don’t really want that, do you, Addie?”

“You’ve been... curious, haven’t you? Wanting something more. More than just a man. More than just some mortal touch.” His tail flicked again, brushing lightly across the floor. “And I can give that to you. All you have to do is take it.”

Before Adam could respond, Lucifer moved in a flash, standing so close that Adam could feel the heat radiating from his body. His red-and-gold eyes bored into Adam’s, searching, probing, and something in them flickered, something dangerously inviting.

Lucifer’s lips parted just slightly as if he was about to say something—but instead, he leaned forward, his breath hot against Adam’s cheek.

“Don’t worry, Adam. I’ll wait for you.” His voice was soft, almost sweet, as he grazed his lips lightly against Adam’s ear. “After all, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

And then, just as quickly, Lucifer backed away, his smirk never leaving his face. He sauntered back to the sofa, stretching out lazily, his tail coiling behind him in a hypnotic swirl.

Adam’s heart was pounding in his chest, his body trembling as if he’d just run a marathon. He was dizzy, breathless, and confused.

What was this? He shook his head, trying to force his mind to clear. It was madness. All of it.

But Lucifer’s next words made the pit in his stomach deepen.

“Just remember, Addie,” Lucifer cooed, his voice low and dangerous. “The more you resist, the more you’ll want. I’ll make you beg for it. It’s only a matter of time.”

Running a hand down his face, Adam groaned. This had to be dream.

A really-really bad nightmare.

[thejesterstears]

Ragapom headcanons:

I agree 100% with Ragatha falls first Pomni falls harder

Zooble and Gangle are always giving each other looks about how gay but oblivious Raggy and Pomni are. Sometimes, it's the other way around, and Ragapom ships Abstragedy instead

Pomni's favorite thing about Raggy is her voice and Raggy's favorite thing about Pom is her eyes

Ragatha is very careful with the fact that Pomni doesn't like to be touched but to the point where Pomni would get like "ok you are my girlfriend you can touch me more, I'll tell you if it's too much"

Pomni's touch aversion also makes her prefer to be the one that initiates contact, Ragatha would sometimes hover her hand over her Pom's cheek or arm so she will lean into the touch if it's ok

I read somewhere that Pomni's favorite color is red, so I hc that at some point Raggy complains about her licorice hair but Pom compliments it saying it's her favorite color

Ragatha has a piano in her room but she's not the best at piano, Pomni turns out to be great at music, they spend a lot of time playing piano and singing in her room, it becomes Pomni's favorite thing in the circus. Jax, who's room is right next to, hates it

Both think they are the "reacher" or that they want the other more than the other wants them, or that the other could do better than them. Jax, not knowing this, once tried to make them argue about who the reacher and the settler was, but it became a fight of "I love YOU more" "No! I love YOU more" and he hates it

Kinger ships it enthusiastically, Gangle is happy for them and thinks they deserve each other, Zobble gets a little second hand embarrassment or gets sick of them sometimes but ships them too, Jax is a hater and a troll, Caine never notices it, and Bubble makes censored comment and jokes about it

Ragatha is a lesbian but she was deep in the closet before the circus cause she clearly represses her feelings. Pomni is demisexual and bi

Ragatha actually gets flustered easier than Pomni, lovestruck Pomni when it comes to Raggy instead goes quietly awestruck and give the most tender, calm and genuine of soft smiles and stares

If Ragatha is ever sad or upset at Pomni, the jester gets full crawling on the floor, open the door to find her kneeling with a bouquet of flowers, Gummigoo at spudsy's panic mode

Anyway, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

I am so sorry to answer this a bit late but please know I am eating every single one of these headcanons up, you're cooking so good with these ;v;

I specifically want to talk for a second about each of them thinking they're the reacher with the other, that's super good...both of them privately worrying if they're too much or not enough for the other, if they're loved as much as they love back. I feel like both of them struggle with feelings of inadequacy and being "lesser" to a degree so it would make sense that they would have these fears regarding each other as well. Hopefully it's something that gets talked out early in their relationship so they don't have to worry about where they stand with the other. I really love the idea too that (most of) the rest of their friends in the circus support their relationship so much (also thank you for the Abstragedy crumbs here too).

(Also the idea of an apologetic Pomni crawling to Ragatha on all fours asking for forgiveness is so funny to me, I am sure Ragatha can't stay mad at her for long lol)

[aqpippin]

gabe waiting for david to leave the room before he died is HEARTBREAKING and SO REAL i’m crying in the club (my bed)

[starmocha]

I don't always have to be sad to post caps of Zayne. Sometimes (Always), I just want to look at his hands. 💁‍♀️

[souenkun]

Pokémon Masters EX spoilers ahead!

Kabu likes to play TAG with his pokemon... and he's shown to have a much softer side beneath his strictness in pokemas too... he's so grandpa-shaped to me 😭💖

[hopecomesbacktolife]

Jean-Luc: where are you from?

Ronin: Scotland

Jean-Luc: how long have you been here?

Ronin: …a while

[chosok-amo]

I CAN F☆CK TREAT YOU BETTER g. satoru

☆ sum. you and gojo were all alone, no geto around, just the two of you— all alone, in the bed, kissing, make out under the glisten of the dim lights, under the blanket.

warning. established relationship au, fem! reader, pet names, nipple-plāy, unprotected sēx, gojo is jealous because you love geto’s broodiness, i need thissssss

there is one thing about you that your two boyfriends never get used to, even though you’ve spent years dating: whenever one of them goes on a mission for a few days and it’s just you with one of them, you become a different person. you’re more clingy, more affectionate, more romantic and sweet, making them fall in love with you all over again.

just like right now, you were laying on your side, face to face with gojo. it was just the two of you for a few days before geto had to leave for a mission, which meant you both had a lot of time to enjoy each other’s company.

the two of you didn’t say anything, just looking into each other's eyes, your cheeks flushed against the soft pillow under the gentle blue light of the moon. the quiet moment wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way his gaze held a mix of adoration and curiosity. it was in these moments that you felt the most connected, and the world outside seemed to fade away.

you reached out, fingers brushing against his cheek, marveling at the way his expression shifted, softening as he leaned into your touch. “you know, i could get used to this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. gojo chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

gojo found himself lost in the depths of your eyes, captivated by their warmth and tenderness. he let out a soft sigh, his fingertips tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm, relishing the sensation of closeness between the two of you.

he chuckled at your words, his hand moving from your arm to the side of your neck, his thumb tracing soft circles against your jawline. “you get so clingy when it’s just us,” he teased, a playful smirk on his lips. “are you complaining?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes.

“absolutely not,” he replied, his smirk widening as he shifted closer, the tips of both your noses just barely touching. his fingertips grazed the top of your cheekbone, his gaze never leaving yours.

“in fact, i quite like it,” he continued, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “it’s like i get to see a side of you that’s meant just for me. and that’s a privilege i’m not gonna take for granted.” gojo’s eyes flicked over your face, studying the way the soft moonlight illuminated your features. the two of you were so close that he could see every small detail of your expression, each flutter of your eyelashes, each subtle shift in your expression.

he couldn’t help but be captivated by you, by the way you responded to his touch, by the way you looked at him with such open affection. he leaned in just a little bit closer, his breath fanning across your lips. “you know,” he began, a hint of teasing in his voice, “if suguru was here, i wouldn’t get to have you all to myself,” he finished, his hand moving to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of your cheek.

a small, almost possessive smile played at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer still, his forehead touching yours, his nose brushing against yours. “and i’m kinda selfish when it comes to you.”

you chuckle, feigning a pout as you replied teasingly, “well, you know, i can give just as much attention to one of you without the other sulking and pouting about it.” you mutter between your smile. the tip of your index finger poking his dimple.

gojo chuckled at your teasing, his smirk only growing wider. “oh really?” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “you’re telling me you could give us both equal attention without playing favorites?” he leaned into your touch, his dimple indenting a bit more as you poked it. “i’m pretty sure i’ve seen the way your eyes light up whenever suguru walks into a room. you’d always choose him over me.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle, scrunching your nose playfully at his accusation. your fingers danced lightly over his chest, tickling him just faintly as you replied, “it’s not my fault that suguru is so dreamy and handsome and soft!” you flashed him a teasing grin, enjoying the way his expression shifted, a mix of amusement and mock jealousy. “i mean, can you blame me? he has that whole brooding look down to a science,” you added with a dramatic sigh.

gojo let out a mock gasp, pretending to be offended. “oh, so that’s how it is? you like geto more because he’s brooding and brooding is attractive?” he feigned a pout for a moment before his smirk returned, his hand moving down from your neck to rest on your hip, his fingers drumming against the skin. “well, you know what? i can brood too, you know. i can be serious and intense.” he leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping another octave. “can geto do this?”

and before you could respond, gojo’s lips were on yours in a searing kiss. it was a possessive kiss, his hand gripping your hip tighter as his tongue flicked against your bottom lip, seeking entrance. he pressed into you, his body almost fully on top of yours as he deepened the kiss, his free hand finding its way into your hair, tangling among the strands.

he broke the kiss, but only to kiss down the side of your jaw and down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. he sucked on your pulse point, his teeth grazing against it, his hand on your hip moving up your side to lightly brush against the underside of your breast.

gojo’s fingers brushed over the sensitive skin of your jawline as he pulls away, his touch sending shivers down your spine. he shift back onto his sides before continued to gaze at you with an intense, brooding look, his eyes locked onto yours.

“i can brood just as well as he can,” he said again, his voice still soft. “maybe even better. i just choose not to, because i think it’s more fun to make you laugh.” he leaned in even closer, his nose brushing against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “so, have i won you over yet? am i brooding enough for you?” a warm smile coloring his handsome face.

you couldn’t help but giggle at his faux broodiness, your heart fluttering at the way he was trying so hard to be serious and sexy.

you reached up a hand, cupping his cheek as you studied his expression, his sharp features framed by the moonlight. “oh, definitely,” you replied, your tone playful and lighthearted. “i don’t think i can handle that brooding stare of yours. it’s just too intense.” you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, your thumb caressing the high line of his cheekbone.

“but,” you added, a sly smirk playing at your lips, “i might need a little more convincing. just to be sure.” your hand moves down from gojo’s cheek to his chest, your fingers brushing against the firm muscle hidden beneath his shirt. your touch is light, teasing, your fingertips tracing circles over his pecks.

“you know,” you continued, your voice lower now, “i think you’re being a bit too clothed for this little demonstration.” you glanced down, noting the way his shirt was still very much on, preventing you from fully appreciating his toned physique.

gojo’s eyes darkened at your words, a smirk tugging at his lips. “too clothed, huh?” he repeated, his hands immediately going to the hem of his shirt. he pulled it off in a swift, fluid motion, flinging it carelessly onto the floor. the moonlight illuminated the planes of his chest and abdomen, his muscles flexing under your gaze.

your eyes roamed shamelessly over the expanse of his bare torso, taking in the dips and curves of his muscles. it wasn’t the first time you’d seen him naked, not by a long shot, but the sight of him like this always seemed to make your heart race. you reached out, your hand tracing a slow, languid path down his chest and stomach, following the sculpted ridges that disappeared beneath the waistband of his joggers.

gojo chuckled, the sound deep and rich in his throat. “you like what you see, huh?” he teased, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, pinning your hand to his chest. he shifted closer to you, his breath warm against your neck. “well,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, “i think you’re being a bit too clothed as well.”

a shiver ran down your spine as gojo’s breath ghosted over your neck, his words sending a spark of anticipation through your body. you tilted your head, exposing more of your skin to his teasing touch, your eyes fluttering shut as you relished in the feeling of his lips grazing against your ear.

“oh, am i?” you replied, your tone lilting with playful coyness. “i suppose you’ll have to do something about that then.” gojo smirked, taking the hint as he slowly pushed you back onto the bed, his body caging you in as he leaned over you.

his hands were everywhere, skating over your arms and your sides, skimming over the edges of your clothes, fingers tracing over every curve. he reached your shirt, his fingers catching on the hem. he tugged at it, pulling it up over your stomach and ribcage, revealing more and more of your skin.

he leaned down, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach, his mouth warm and soft against your skin. he moved lower, his hands sliding the rest of your shirt up and over your head, casting it to the side. his mouth followed, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the slope of your breast, his teeth grazing over the fabric of your bra. he reached around your back, his fingers hooking into the hooks of your bra. dextrous fingers nimbly work to undo the fastening.

as gojo’s mouth and tongue lavished your body, his hands worked to free you from the confines of your bra. you arched your back, your breath coming in soft gasps, your body responding to his every touch. he was gentle but insistent, his fingers moving with practiced ease, like he had been doing this for years. he took his time, but not too much time, his hands slipping the straps off your arms.

gojo’s mouth was on your skin again, his lips and tongue exploring the newly exposed flesh of your chest and stomach. he moved lower, planting soft kisses along your stomach, each touch sending shivers of desire down your spine. his hands skimmed over the curve of your hips, his fingers hooking into the edges of your pants, his mouth still moving over your skin, his teeth lightly nipping and biting at the sensitive spots he knew drives you crazy.

one by one, he undid the buttons and zipper of your pants, his hands slipping them down over your hips, taking your panties down with them. they were tossed onto the floor without a thought, his hands quickly moving back up your legs, his touch light and teasing, dancing just shy of where you wanted them to be.

gojo’s hands glided over your legs, his touch a tantalizing combination of feather-light and firm. he was taking his time, prolonging the anticipation, his lips moving back up your body, his mouth leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses all the way up to your neck. his body was almost flush against yours, his arms bracketing your head, his weight bearing down just enough to keep you trapped under him.

you push yourself in your elbows, pushing gojo’s head away to meet his lips. your hand runs around his chest to his nape, brushing your fingers to his undercut. the kiss was slow, deliberate, no lust or hunger like you pour all of your love for him.

as your lips meet in a slow, loving kiss, gojo melts into it, his tongue sliding between your lips to deepen the contact. he lets out a soft moan, the sound muffled by your mouth, his hand moving to cup the side of your jaw, his fingertips tracing gentle circles against your skin.

he tilts his head, his nose brushing against yours, his body pressing closer, his chest flush against yours. there’s a tenderness in the way he’s kissing you, an affectionate adoration that pours out from every fiber of his being.

gojo breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look down at you, his eyes soft and sparkling in the dim moonlight. he traces his thumb over the soft skin of your cheek, his touch gentle and almost reverent. “you know,” he says, his voice quieter now, a hint of teasing still present in his tone, “you didn’t let me finish my demonstration.”

you chuckle, scrunching your nose out of a habit while you let your hand caressing his neck to his bare chest. “forget the demonstration, let’s just cuddle,” you murmur, “a naked one,” you added before giggling. gojo chuckled at your response, the sound deep and rich in his throat, his eyes sparkling with affection and amusement. he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before rolling onto his side, pulling you close against him, your body molding against his.

his arms encircled you, pulling you tight against his chest, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your back. “i suppose a naked cuddle is an acceptable alternative,” he teased, his voice low and affectionate. he nuzzled against your hair, burying his face in your neck. “you’re such a distraction, you know.”

you shook your head with a soft chuckle, gently pushing gojo’s face away from your neck. “i wanna see your face,” you murmured, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you held his gaze. your hand rested against his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin as you smiled warmly at him. “wanna see my boyfriend,” you said softly, taking in his face, appreciating the quiet intimacy.

gojo’s heart swelled at your words, a soft, almost shy smile spreading across his face. he leaned into your touch, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression softening with each caress of your thumb against his skin.

“you’re such a sap,” he teased, his voice dripping with affection. he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you even tighter against him, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. “i’m right here,” he murmured, his gaze locking with yours. “right where you want me to be.”

you hummed softly, the sound barely audible as the two of you lay there, lost in each other’s gaze. the room was filled with a quiet, intimate stillness, your cheek flushed against the soft pillow, while gojo’s warm presence enveloped you completely.

gojo’s fingers traced patterns on your back as the two of you lay together, his eyes lazily tracing the contours of your face, his fingers dancing over the dip of your waist before moving up to trace your jawline. there was no rush, no urgency, just the slow, languid movement of his hands against your skin, the quiet rhythm of your breathing filling the room. he leaned in slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “you have no idea how much i love these moments with you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you hummed softly again, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you as gojo shifted slightly, settling onto his side to mirror your position. his cheek pressed into the pillow, and his bright blue eyes stayed fixed on yours, filled with that familiar mix of affection and playfulness.

your fingertips gently tugged a few strands of his hair behind his ear, then trailed across his scalp, eliciting a quiet sigh from him. your voice was barely audible as you murmured, “i love your eyes,” your thumb softly brushing over his temple.

a soft smile tugged at the corners of gojo’s lips as he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily at the sensation of your fingers in his hair. he nuzzled against your hand, his cheek pressing firmly against your palm, his expression relaxing further. “do you now?” he replied, his tone lilting with teasing. “what is it about them that you love so much?” his eyes fluttered open, meeting yours once again, a sparkle of mischief in their depths.

you hummed in confirmation, your voice gentle as your fingertips continued to glide softly over his scalp. “it’s beautiful,” you whispered, your tone sincere. “like i’m looking at the open sky, like i’m drowning in a warm ocean. it’s warm… it’s like summer.”

your words left gojo momentarily stunned. his usually confident, playful demeanor faltered as he stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. nobody had ever told him they loved his eyes, not for anything other than the immense power they held. but here you were, speaking so simply, so earnestly, about them.

gojo was silent for a moment, his heart swelling in his chest at the honesty and vulnerability in your words, his mind struggling to process the raw emotion in your voice.

he exhaled slowly, a soft, shaky breath slipping past his lips. no one had ever described his eyes like that before. to everyone else, they were a tool, a symbol of power, a weapon. but to you, they were something beautiful, something warm and comforting. he reached up, his hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle path over your lips.

“you’re really something else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with a mix of awe and tenderness. he shifted closer to you, his chest pressing against yours, his leg slipping between yours. he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him, burying his face in your neck. “you always say the most unexpected things,” he continued, his lips skimming against your skin, his breath hot and warm against your collarbone. “and you always leave me speechless.”

you gently pushed him away, just enough to create a bit of space between you, your fingers lightly pressing against his chest. “no, no, no,” you murmured, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “come on, don’t do that. i wanna see you.”

your eyes searched his, wanting to keep that connection, to see the emotion that flickered across his face whenever you said something unexpected. your fingers found their way back to his jawline, tracing the contours of his face as you gave him a small, playful smile. “i don’t like it when you hide,” you added softly, your thumb grazing over his bottom lip.

as you gently pushed him back and your fingers traced his jawline, gojo chuckled softly, his smile a mix of amusement and affection. he leaned back just enough to let you see his face, his eyes tracing over every feature, drinking you in.

your words linger in his ears, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions. “i wasn’t hiding,” he protested, his tone lighthearted. “i was snuggling.” he couldn’t help but smile at your playfulness, his hand moving to caress your side, his fingers skating over the curve of your hip.

“you just make it so difficult to not bury my face in your neck,” he continued, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. “every time you say things like that, it sets my heart racing, and all i want to do is get closer, closer, closer.”

he pulled you flush against him, his body molding to yours, his arms wrapping around you like a tight embrace. he buried his head in the crook of your neck again, pressing his lips against your skin, inhaling your scent.

you groaned softly in protest, your hands coming up to gently push at his chest again. “oh, come on,” you whined playfully, your voice carrying a hint of frustration. “i said i want to see your face, not have you hide in my neck.”

gojo chuckled again, the sound muffled against your neck as he buried his face deeper into the crook. he knew he was being petulant and stubborn, but he couldn’t help it. he loved being close to you, the feeling of your body against his, your scent filling his lungs. “but it’s so comfortable here,” he protested, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “and you smell so good. and you’re so warm.”

you tried to tilt his head up, your fingers threading through his hair, but gojo only chuckled, tightening his hold on you. “just a little longer,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, clearly enjoying how much you were trying to pull him away.

gojo was clearly enjoying your struggle, his arms unyielding as he held onto you with a smirk on his face. he nuzzled against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, his voice low and teasing. “just a little longer,” he repeated, his voice filled with faux innocence. “i’m not tired yet. and you'’e so warm and soft, it would be wasteful to not take advantage of it.”

he shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that he was lying halfway on top of you, his body completely covering yours, his weight pushing you down into the softness of the bed. “besides,” he murmured, his lips skimming over your jawline. “i think you secretly like having me pressed against you like this.”

you groaned, feigning annoyance, but wrapped your arms around his neck anyway, pulling him closer. “don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, your lips brushing against his ear, though the smile on your face betrayed your playful mood. as you glanced down at his bare form, your eyes caught sight of his rear, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. without thinking, your hands slid down his back, and before he could react, you grabbed a handful of his cheeks, giving them a playful squeeze.

gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth at your unexpected squeeze. he let out a yelp, the sound a mix of surprise and mild outrage. “hey!” he protested, lifting his head and looking down at you with amused indignation. “warn a guy next time!” he exclaimed through a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he shifted slightly, his body moving into a more comfortable position atop yours, a playful smirk spreading across his lips.

you burst into laughter, unable to contain your amusement. “it’s not my fault!” you teased, still chuckling. “it was just there, looking at me.” you punctuated your words with another playful taps on his rear, the sound light but cheeky.

gojo rolled his eyes, a mix of mock annoyance and amusement in his expression. he propped himself up on his arms, a sly smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you. “oh, so it’s my fault for having a perfectly shaped backside?” he teased, arching an eyebrow, his arms caging you in. “i think you’re just trying to cop a feel whenever you get the chance.”

you raised your eyebrows, a playful smirk on your face. “perfect?” you echoed, giving his ass another teasing squeeze. “more like flat! if i squeeze it, it feels like a bag of airbags!”you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of mock horror that crossed his face, and you leaned back against the pillows, clearly enjoying this banter. “seriously, baby, you need to work on that if you want to maintain your ‘perfect’ reputation!”

gojo’s eyes widened comically, his brows shooting up to his forehead. “airbags?!”he sputtered, his tone incredulous. “my ass is not bags of airbags, it's firm and toned and well-defined!” he feigned offense, a dramatic pout crossing his face as he pretended to be deeply wounded by your insult. “do you know how many squats i do? how many leg days i put in? this is an insult to my hard work and dedication!”

he leaned back, lifting his hips up so you could see the full expanse of his rear. “look at it! look at the muscle tone, the symmetry, the perfection,” he exclaimed, gesturing broadly. his tone was laced with playful sarcasm, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced down at you. “surely you’re not blind. you must see how flawlessly sculpted it is.”

you hummed thoughtfully as you looked at his rear, pretending to admire it. then, with a swift motion, you gave him a playful spank, laughing as you looked up at him. “yeah, flatass!” you teased, your voice light and filled with mischief.

gojo let out another exaggerated gasp, the sound filled with fake shock and indignation. he placed a hand over his heart, his expression one of mock hurt. “flatass?!” he exclaimed, feigning disbelief. “after all the hard work i put into sculpting this masterpiece? you wound me, babe. you truly wound me.” he leaned back down, his chest pressing against yours again, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “i’ll have you know, my behind is a work of art. a masterpiece of the human form.”

he leaned down, bringing his face close to yours, his expression still one of mock outrage, though his eyes sparkled with mirth. “i think you need to show me some appreciation, apologize for that baseless disparagement of my very well-maintained behind,” he teased, his voice dropping to a low rumble.

“baseless disparagement!?” gojo repeated, a hint of indignation in his voice. “i’ve never seen a more shameless display of disrespect. my backside deserves respect and admiration. and you, dear one, owe me payment for the slander you have inflicted upon it.”

he leaned down even closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his eyes darkened with desire. “and i demand a proper apology. a thorough, passionate one.” your heartbeat quickened at the low rumble of his voice, a shiver running down your spine as he hovered over you. his proximity and the way his eyes sparkled with mischief made it hard to resist.

“oh, is that so?” you replied, feigning mock ignorance. “and how exactly do you want me to express this appreciation? a kiss? a squeeze? too bad suguru wasn’t here to back me up.”

gojo chuckled, his eyes filled with laughter as he shifted slightly, his body pressing even closer to yours. “now now, no bringing up my best friend while we’re having an intimate moment. that's cheating.” he leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “i think a sincere apology, one that involves your hands expressing their remorse, would suffice. and perhaps a few kisses, just to drive the point home, naturally.”

you raised your eyebrows, a playful smirk on your lips as you murmured, “yeah?” your fingers trailed slowly down his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. you reach lower, brushing your fingers to his happy trails and feeling his hardness pressing against your thigh.

you leaned in closer, your voice teasingly soft. “and what exactly do you want from me, oh great master of the flat ass?” your hand continued to explore, relishing the way his body reacted to your touch, eager to see how far you'd push this playful moment.

gojo chuckled again, his breath hot against your neck as he felt your fingers trailing down his chest, his body responding to your touch instinctively. he shifted slightly, arching his back as your fingers moved lower, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he felt your touch on his happy trail.

he leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear again, his voice a deep, rumbling murmur. “i want you to show your appreciation, darling. show me just how much you admire this apparent ’flat ass’ of mine.”

you murmured softly in his ear, your breath warm against his skin, “oh, i can definitely do that.” your lips brushed lightly against the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

with a sly smile, you pulled the cover over the both of you, wrapping yourselves in the warmth of the blanket. gojo chuckled, his grin widening as he realized your playful intent. “hiding, huh?” he teased, his voice low and amused as the blanket enveloped your naked both, creating a cozy cocoon around your entwined bodies. “i like where this is going.”

gojo’s heart raced as the blanket enveloped you both, his body instantly warmed by the close proximity of yours. he could feel your skin against his, your breath on his neck, the playful anticipation thrumming through his veins. he chuckled again, his smile matching your own as his hands roamed, exploring the curves of your body beneath the cover. “i can see where this is headed, naughty girl,” he teased, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

he leaned in, his lips finding your neck, nibbling and kissing the sensitive skin there. his hands continued to roam, his touch a tantalizing mixture of firm and gentle as they explored your body with a possessive quality.

he shifted his position slightly, his body settling between your legs, his weight pressing against you as he hovered above you, the cover hiding your bodies from view. “you sure know how to play dirty,” he murmured, his voice filled with mischief and desire.

your arms wrapped around his broad shoulder, pulling him impossibly close to your naked body, his body curling around yours. a low chuckle rumbled in his chest, his chest brushing against yours.

“hiding? me? never.” you teased, his voice filled with amusement as you let out a soft moan. “just creating a little private sanctuary for us, away from the judgmental eyes of the world." you leaned in, breathe warmly against his shoulder, your teeth gently nipping at his shoulder. “just the two of us and this cozy blanket cocoon. just the two of us, no suguru. us.”

gojo grinned, his teeth nipping back at your shoulder, a playful growl escaping his throat. “a private sanctuary, hm?” he mused, his voice low and sultry as his hands slid down to grip your hips, pulling you closer into his embrace. “well then, i suppose we should make the most of our privacy.”

his lips trailed lower, kissing along your collarbone before planting a series of kisses across your chest, each one landing with more pressure than the last. he suckled gently on your nipple, teasing the hardened peak with his tongue, his hands still holding onto your hips firmly. “and don’t worry about suguru,” he whispered huskily, his voice vibrating against your skin. “i promise not to tell.”

the sensation of gojo’s mouth on your skin sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your toes curl underneath the covers. a soft gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back onto the pillow as he lavished attention on your breasts.

“mmm...” you hummed, arching your back slightly, pushing your chest further into his mouth. “that’s exactly what i was hoping for.” your hands moved down to his waist, slipping under the covers to explore the contours of his strong, toned body. your fingers traced the lines of muscle, feeling the ridges and dips of his abdomen, before eventually reaching lower, towards his throbbing member.

gojo’s eyes darkened with lust as he felt your fingers trail down his stomach, inching closer to his aching erection. a low groan rumbled in his chest, his hips involuntarily bucking up into your touch.

“careful now, naughty girl,” he warned, his voice thick with desire. “you’re playing with fire.” despite his words, he didn't stop you, instead, guiding your hand to wrap around his hard length, his breath hitching as your fingers closed around him.

he began to move, thrusting into your grip as he continued to lavish attention on your breasts, alternating between sucking and biting the tender flesh. his free hand slid down to join yours, helping to pump himself in time with your strokes. “fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with raw hunger and need.

the sound of his voice, laced with desire, sent another wave of heat rushing through your body. your grip tightened around his cock, stroking him slowly, deliberately, wanting to draw out every moan and gasp from his lips.

“you’re so hard...” you purred, leaning up to capture his lips in a searing kiss. your tongue danced with his, the taste of him filling your senses. you broke the kiss, panting heavily, your cheeks flushed with arousal. your eyes lock with his blue eyes, glow slightly under the cover.

gojo’s eyes glowed faintly beneath the cover, a sign of his growing excitement. his breathing became heavier, his muscles tensing as your skilled hand worked his shaft. he kissed you back fiercely, his tongue dominating yours, claiming your mouth as his own.

“hard for you,” he breathed when the kiss broke, his voice rough with need. “always so fucking hard for you.” he pushed your hand away suddenly, pinning both of your wrists above your head with one large hand. he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock nudging your slick folds. “tell me you want it,” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

your breath hitched as he positioned himself at your entrance, your body quivering with anticipation. you arched your hips upwards, seeking more contact, craving the feel of him inside you.

“i want it,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, “i want you, baby. i want you, slow and gentle, i want to savor you, making love to me.”

your legs wrapped around his waist, urging him closer, silently begging him to fill you completely. your fingers curled into the sheets above you, your nails digging into the fabric as you waited for him to take you, to claim you as his own. your eyes bored into his, reflecting the same intense hunger that burned within them. your hand cupping his cheek gently, full of adoration and tenderness.

gojo’s expression softened at your words, his eyes shining with a mix of love and desire. he leaned into your touch, pressing a tender kiss to your palm before releasing your wrists and settling his weight on top of you.

“slow and gentle,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “anything for you, my love.” he captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss as he slowly pushed forward, sheathing himself inside you inch by delicious inch. a low groan tore from his throat at the feeling of your tight warmth enveloping him, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily.

when he opened them again, they were filled with adoration and devotion, mirroring the emotions swirling in your own gaze. he began to move, his thrusts measured and controlled, taking his time to savor every moment of your union.

the sensation of being filled by him, slowly and deeply, was overwhelming. your body trembled with pleasure, your inner walls clenching around his cock as he moved within you.

“baby..” you whimpered, your head thrown back in ecstasy. your hands roamed over his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the ripple and flex beneath your fingertips. each stroke, each movement, brought you closer to the edge. you could see the love in his eyes, the care and concern reflected there, even amidst the lust and desire. it made your heart swell, made you love him even more.

“don’t stop...” you pleaded, your voice ragged with need, forehead pressed against his.

gojo’s pace remained steady, his movements deliberate and sensual, driven by the desperation to please you. he reveled in the way your body responded to him, the way you clung to him, the sounds of pleasure escaping your lips.

“never, my love,” he vowed, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust. “i’ll never stop loving you, never stop wanting you.”

he captured your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your whimpers and pleas as he continued to make slow, passionate love to you. his free hand found its way to your breast, rolling and pinching your nipple between his fingers, adding an extra layer of stimulation to the already intense sensations.

the dual sensations of his cock moving inside you and his fingers teasing your nipples had you teetering on the brink of climax but not quite yet. your moans grew ragged, more urgent, your hips rising to meet his thrusts as you chased the impending orgasm but you try to hold yourself, wanting the moment last longer.

“i love you, satoru,” you cried out, breaking the kiss to gasp for air. your nails dug into his back, marking him as your own.

the air was thick from the lack of oxygen, filled with breathless moan, whimper and whining. it was quite dark, only the light illuminating from a slight gap. the two of you couldn’t stop whispering sweet nothing into each other’s ear.

“my love...” he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. “my beautiful, perfect love...” he whispered, his hot breath fanning over your skin.

gojo’s grip on your breast tightened as he felt your body begin to tense, signaling your approaching climax. he increased the pressure on your sensitive nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. “i love you too, my beautiful girl,” he growled, his voice husky with desire.

“keep it slow, baby, want it slow, let me hold you for a moment,” you whisper, nose nuzzling against his sweaty cheek. your arm wraps around his broad shoulder while your other hand holds his bicep.

gojo’s movements slowed even further, becoming almost languid as he savored the intimate moment with you. he rested his forehead against yours, their noses touching, sharing ragged breaths.

“forever, my love,” he promised, his voice a low rumble. “i’ll hold you forever if that’s what you want.” his hand slid down to cradle your hip, pulling you impossibly closer, their bodies melding together in a perfect fusion of flesh and soul.

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in his words and the sheer intensity of the connection between you. you nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

in this quiet, suspended moment, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it side by side, hand in hand, hearts entwined. the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the beauty and power of your love.

gojo brushed away the tears that escaped, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks as he gazed into your eyes. “my beautiful, tearful angel,” he whispered, a soft smile playing on his lips. “you're everything to me, now and always.”

he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a tender, loving kiss, pouring all his devotion and adoration into the gentle press of his lips against yours. in this perfect, peaceful instant, wrapped in each other’s arms, you both knew that your bond was unbreakable, a love that would endure through eternity.

your lips moved softly against his, returning the tender kiss with equal affection. your fingers intertwined with his, holding on tightly as if afraid to let go. a sense of contentment washed over you, filling you with warmth and happiness. you felt safe, loved, cherished— exactly where you belonged. “love you, satoru,” you murmured against his mouth, the words barely audible over the pounding of your hearts. “forever and always.”

your tears dried up, replaced by a warm, radiant smile. your lips parted under his, welcoming the soft, affectionate kiss. you ran your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, holding him close. “i’m yours, completely,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with so much love and commitment. your heart is beating faster, matching with his cock throbbing inside you.

gojo’s heart swelled with love and gratitude at your declaration, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “and i’m yours, my darling,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “for all eternity.”

he returned your kiss with renewed passion, his tongue delving into your mouth, exploring every inch of your warmth. his free hand roamed over your curves, mapping the contours of your body as if committing them to memory. “mine,” he growled possessively, his teeth grazing your lower lip. “all mine, now and forever.”

his hips began to move again, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency as the need for release became too great to ignore. he set a relentless pace, driving into you with deep, powerful strokes, determined to bring you both to the heights of ecstasy once more.

your body arched off the bed, responding eagerly to his movements. your nails dug into his back, leaving marks of ownership as you clung to him. the pleasure was building within you, coiling tight like a spring ready to snap.

“i’m yours,” you cried out, your voice trembling with desire, “yours... —keep moving like that baby, my boy..” you moan, skating your fingers to his nape and putting a pressure there with your fingers.

the room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, mixed with your cries of pleasure and gojo’s guttural groans. your breasts bounced rhythmically with each of his thrusts, nipples hardening even further under his touch.

“that’s it, my love,” gojo panted, his voice strained with exertion and pleasure. “take all of me, every inch.” he could feel your walls fluttering around his shaft, signaling your impending climax. he redoubled his efforts, angling his hips to hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust, determined to send you hurtling over the edge.

“come for me, my beautiful girl,” he urged, his breath hot against your ear. “let go, i’ve got you.”

one hand snaked between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub. the added stimulation proved to be your undoing, and with a keening cry, you came undone beneath him, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

your vision went white as the pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave of pure bliss radiating from your core. you screamed his name, your voice raw and hoarse, lost in the throes of ecstasy.

“satoru! baby, fuuuck!” you groan, feeling your inner walls clench around his hard cock. your whole body trembled and shook, overcome by the intense sensations coursing through you. you felt gojo’s cock twitch inside you, growing even harder as your walls contracted around him. you knew he was close, teetering on the brink of his own release. “cum for me baby, let me feel your love.”

gojo grunted, his hips jerking as he felt your walls clamping down on him. “fuck, that’s it,” he gasped, his body shuddering with the effort of holding back. his grip tightened on your hips, digging his fingers into your flesh as he pistoned in and out of you. he could feel his climax approaching, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to sweep him away.

“god, you’re so fucking tight,“ he groaned, his voice thick with lust. “i’m gonna fill you up, my sweet girl. take all of me.”

you moaned loudly as gojo’s cock throbbed inside you, his hot cum filling you up. you clenched your muscles around his cock, milking him for everything he had. your body was still trembling from your own orgasm, but you managed to keep yourself upright as gojo emptied himself inside you. “so good... so fucking good.”

gojo collapsed onto you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. “damn, you’re incredible,” he muttered, planting kisses along your neck and shoulder. he held you close, his large frame wrapping protectively around you like a cocoon. “i love you so much, my beautiful girl,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection.

he stayed buried inside you, not yet ready to separate their joined forms. the afterglow of their lovemaking enveloped them, making the room seem warmer, softer. you cuddled closer to gojo, your body still tingling from the intensity of your orgasms. you felt satisfied, complete, in a way that nothing else could give you.

“i love you too, satoru,” you murmured, your voice just as soft as his. “more than anything else.” you felt gojo's seed starting to leak out of you, trickling down your thighs and the bed below.

you pull the blanket off you both and take a deep breath, “finally, i can breath.”

gojo chuckled as you finally pulled back the cover, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. he rolled onto his side, pulling you with him, his arms wrapped around your waist. “you were getting all hot and bothered under there, weren’t you, my little sauna?” he teased, a playful grin on his face.

he glanced down, his eyes tracing the path of his seed leaking out of you, and he couldn't help a soft sigh escaped him. “damn, that’s a sight,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of desire and satisfaction. he leaned down, his lips gently brushing against your neck, his hands caressing your skin. “you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice laced with affection. “so damn perfect.”

you chuckle, frowning a little with his choice of nickname. “my little sauna? what an odd nickname you’ve got there,“ you tease, voice light and full of amusement. your sweaty arms find gojo’s broad shoulder and draw him closer, skin-to-skin with your chest.

gojo chuckled at your comment, enjoying the lighthearted banter between you two. “hey, i think it's a good nickname,” he retorted, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “it suits you, what with all that heat and wetness you generate.”

he let you pull him closer, relishing the feel of your skin against his, the sweat making your bodies slick and sticky. his arms encircled your waist, holding you close as he settled against you, his chest rising and falling with his steady breaths. he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling deeply, his breath warm against your skin.

“mmm, you smell good,” he murmured, his nose buried in your hair. you hummed softly at his comment, a teasing smile spreading across your face. “that’s just the smell of sex,” you replied playfully, your voice laced with mischief.

gojo chuckled again, his lips curving into a boyish grin as he nuzzled your hair. “well, i’m not complaining,” he responded, his voice low and suggestive.

he shifted his position slightly, his body shifting closer to yours as he continued to hold you close. his hand moved to the small of your back, gently tracing small circles with his fingertips. “and i think you smell even better than usual,” he murmured, his lips finding their way to your neck again, his tongue tracing a path down your throat.

you pushed gojo’s face away from your neck, turning to lay face to face with him. your hands cupped his cheeks, your gaze steady and sincere as you looked into his eyes.

“but i love the sex, it feels good, slow and gentle,” you confessed softly, a warm smile gracing your lips. your thumb leaving stars on his blushing cheeks, “i love feeling your skin on mine. it's different from the sex we used to have. just you and me, no suguru, just us. it’s such a nice feeling.”

gojo’s expression softened as he looked into your eyes, his own filling with tenderness. he reached up to hold your hands, keeping them against his cheeks. “yeah, it is,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere. “it’s different, more intimate, more...real. it’s just us, no distractions, no one else but us. and i love it too. love feeling you close, feeling our bodies touch, feeling completely connected to you.“

he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching yours. “being with you like this, it’s like coming home.”

he paused for a moment, taking in the feel of your skin against his, the warmth of your touch. “you know, this is my favorite part,” he confessed quietly.

he shifted his position slightly, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you even closer. “after we finish, just lying here, holding you, feeling your skin on mine. it’s like...i don’t know, like being in another world or something.” he traced gentle circles on your skin with his fingertips, his touch light and comforting.

you hummed softly, still smiling at his words. “i feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice warm. “it's not that i don't enjoy our time together as three, because i really do. but sometimes, having a moment just with one of you feels completely different.”

you paused, glancing at him mischievously, decided to ruin the moment, “but, you know, i can't wait for you to go on a mission so i can have more time like this with suguru.”

spending time with one of them feels uniquely special compared to the moments you share as a trio. when it’s just the two of you, there’s an intimacy that wraps around you like a warm blanket—every shared glance and touch deepens your connection in ways that sometimes get lost in the dynamic of three. it’s in those quiet moments, just you and him, where you can truly let your guard down and fully be yourselves.

it’s not that you don’t enjoy the moments with all three of you; they’re filled with laughter, camaraderie, and shared adventures. but there’s something profoundly satisfying about having one-on-one time. you can dive into deeper conversations, explore vulnerabilities, and create an atmosphere where you both feel entirely seen and cherished.

you know they understand this need for balance, too, even without words. the subtle way they look at you when it’s just the two of you speaks volumes, a silent acknowledgment of this shared desire for deeper connection. it's these moments that make your bond stronger, allowing each of you to appreciate the unique qualities the other brings to the relationship.

gojo chuckled at your playful remark about suguru, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“oh, so that’s how it is, eh?” he retorted, feigning mock offense. “you’re eager to kick me out on a mission so you can have more alone time with my dearest friend.” he squeezed your hips possessively, his grip firm and possessive. “maybe i’ll deliberately drag my feet on my next assignment then.”

he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered in a low, teasing tone. “can’t have you spending too much quality time with suguru, now can i? i need to maintain my status as the favorite, after all.” he nibbled at your earlobe gently, his teeth grazing your skin. “i can’t have him stealing your heart, sweetheart. i’ll have to make sure you don’t forget about me.“

you let out a soft laugh, feigning a dramatic gasp as you pulled back slightly to look into gojo’s eyes. “oh please, suguru already stole my heart ages ago,” you teased, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

“but don’t worry,” you added with a wink, “there’s plenty of room for two favorites. besides, you know my heart has a soft spot just for you, too.” you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger for a moment before pulling away, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “but you’ll have to work a little harder to keep that title, won’t you?”

gojo chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a mix of playful challenge and affection. he wrapped his arms more firmly around your waist, pulling you against him.

“oh, i know you’re just trying to rile me up, you little tease,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of mock annoyance. “but i’m not gonna let suguru steal you away that easily. you’re mine, remember?” he tilted your chin up, his thumb tracing along your jawline, his blue eyes holding yours captured. “i’ll do whatever it takes to keep that title, you bet your sweet ass i will.”

“oh you do, do you?”

gojo’s smirk grew wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “oh, absolutely,” he confirmed, his voice laced with confidence. “i’ll show you just how serious i am about keeping my title, my little sweet heart.”

he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath hot against your skin. “i’ll work extra hard to make sure you never even think about suguru while we’re together. all your attention will be on me, and me alone. you won’t even have a chance to miss him.”

gojo’s hands roamed over your skin, his touch possessive as he pulled you even closer, their bodies touching just about everywhere.

“i’ll make sure you'l’re so enthralled by me, so completely captivated, that you won’t even remember what your dear other boyfriend looks like,” he murmured, his voice a low growl against your ear. “you’ll be too busy relishing in the feeling of my touch, the sound of my voice, the heat of my body.”

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

THERE THEY AREEEEEEEEEE 😭🫵💖💖💖💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Finished this Sacredshipping commission for @/NyeehhhSure

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[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[screampied]

how jjk men react to you being quiet in bed and trying to hide your moans

ps: love your writing and I don't know if you've done this or not but respond when you can happy new year🎊

❛ JUST A TEASE! ❜

geto, sukuna, gojo, toji, nanami. jjk men dealing with a quiet s/o who hides their moans.

warnings. fem!reader, lots of praise, dirty talk, cunnilingus, hair pulling, overstim, hiding your moans, size kink, 18+

wc. 2.5k

an. happy new year !!!! and thank yew smmm.

★ NANAMI KENTO.

“everything okay?” he’d hum, and nanami’s got you riding him, two soft grasped hands latch onto your waist as you’re slowly lurching and bucking your hips against him. nanami ghosts a few fingers down your waist.

a sly teasing expression with the way he’s leaned back, his eyes trail from up to down as he sees your cute expressions. “you’re awfully quiet today, princess.”

and you were very much quiet, he raised his brows at the way you hide yourself into his neck, trying to deflect the situation by softly nibbling on his skin and he smiles to himself. 

“is the pretty baby shy to make noise?” he coos, his words were warm—full of tenderness with a tad of playfulness. you let off a soft gasp from the way he lightly grips a bit more on both sides of your waist. nanami makes you start to move your hips, bounce against him, your skin ricocheting from each thrust and you’re so full, pumped full of his girth you can’t even think clearly. “you don’t gotta hide from me. ‘s just me, hon. your moans are adorable, y’know?”

you pathetically nod, feeling yourself throb from not only his sloppy hits against you—but his words, the way he was so soft and tender with his praises. 

“i-i know,” you muttered, your arms went around him and he softly chortles, brushing his thumbs against your hips—creating a pattern-like trace of circles against your skin, giving your sweet curves all types of attention and touch. “i just don’t wanna be so loud. it’s…embarrassing.”

“embarrassing?” he repeats, and he’s still leaned back. nanami’s so pretty, blond hair slightly ruffled, a few beads of sweat run down the sides of his head as if they were in a competitive race with each other. 

he’s balls deep to where you slip out a moan from feeling his tip kiss against that spot that always gets you weak. “oh, don’t say that,” he happily sighs, there was a sparse glimpse of sparkle in his eye and he smiles. nanami lightly tilts your chin up to bring a kiss towards your lips. “you could never be embarrassing, my love. if anything, your sweet moans and whimpers are quite adorable. the way only i can make you sound like that makes me feel a certain type of way.”

“really?” you’d moan, squeezing your glossed lips together. 

“really, princess.” he reassures you, your entrance felt as if it was nearly at its limit, nanami’s cock stretched and stretched against you as you felt him throb—giving him a subtle glance. you could spot his sharp jawline, and the perfect way of how it clenched and tightened. you made him so aroused, for a brief moment he stared away before pulling you towards his chest. 

you choke out a whimper, pressure building up inside of you, how filthy it was at the way his tip french-kissed your g-spot, a sloppy smooch with the head of it — you’re spasming, you’re stupid. 

“k-kento, ‘m gonna cum...” you’d gasp.

“can’t hear you pretty girl,” he groans, peppering a few kisses near your face. “i wanna hear you. speak up, wanna hear that voice talk to me nice.”

once you end up creaming down his shaft for a second time. you’re shaking, a mess and he has to hold you in his arms. a warm smile on his lips as your body lifelessly rocked against him.

not exactly moving your hips anymore—you panted, tugging on the front fabric of his shirt before slumping your head against his chest.

“aww, my poor baby’s all exhausted, hm? there there, ‘s okay. i got you, kento’s got you.”

★ GOJO SATORU.

the moment he figures out you’re trying to be quiet purposely — hiding your moans. a hand covering your mouth he grows confused, yet it turns to straight cockiness. 

“heyyy, don’t be like that,” he purses his lips, you’re laid flat on your back with your legs just lightly pushed apart. just open and spread just for him and only him. “hiding your pretty moans from me? aw man, that’s no fun, princess…”

and he gives you a faux pout your right hand that wasn’t occupied, your nails dug into the depths of his skin, marking up his pale toned arm.

gojo looks down at you, one hand lightly pressing against your tummy to feel how good he was fucking you. 

“m-mhm s-sato—,” you’d pant, again and again. your pussy gripped and hugged tight against him. a bear hug practically. your walls grew out to be so needy, suffocating yet you get cut off your words once he grabs your chin. a thumb swipes against the tiny drool seeping down the corner of your mouth. 

“don’t hide from me.” he murmurs. he’s real slow with his movements against you, slow and steady. 

his bare chest presses against you, and he’s so hot, his heat radiates against your skin, almost as if he was sticking against you. “don’t cover that pretty face. matter of fact,” and then he pistons his thrusts—a hand running up and down your waist, squelches of your cunt ringing through your ears like a bell. “moan in my mouth. gimme a little kiss,” and then he teasingly puts a finger against his lips. “riiiight here, baby.”

his body jerks against yours and gojo brings you into a deep kiss once you lean. his tongue traces against yours, heaving before he starts moaning into your mouth from your sweetened taste.

“sweet girl,” he’d grunt, you could feel his erectness practically plug you full. whilst gojo’s chest pressed against yours, he started to grind slowly against you. your lips parted a bit, eliciting a needy moan from your throat.

it was the way your legs trapped his slim waist, easily locking around. you gasped — feeling gojo move your hand from your face, pinning them towards the sides, and you felt that dumb coy smile of his tug against the corners of his lips.

he smiles at how you start to cover your mouth again, but he moves your hand away. “so damn shy for nooo reason,” he teases. with a blindfold half on, gojo he playfully tugs on the band, clicking his tongue with a swift head shake. “ah ah, i wanna hear you.”

and you grew out to be more flustered the minute he pulls away from kissing. strands of spit depart your lips and his. leaning into your neck to softly, gojo nibbles against your skin all to just to drag out more noises from you.

“think ‘m gonna laugh at your orgasm or somethin’?” he whispers against your skin, still buried deep—inches inside your pussy that gripped and clamped down on him before he giggles at the way you nod. “aw. i won’t do that. ‘m not that mean.”

“promise?” you mumbled.

his thrusts, so fulfilling. it was so deep, reaching directly into those spots to make you your brain short circuit. swallowing thickly, you end up cutely tugging on his arm.

he chuckles. “oh i promise, baby,” and then he plants a kiss near your nose—cheek—then near the corner of your mouth, finally locking his fingers with yours. “be as loud as you want, if it helps, i’ll be loud with you,” and then he runs a hand down his back. “just…not too loud because it’ll be the seventh time the erm…neighbors complain about us, heheh.”

★ SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“what’s with you?” he raises a dark brow, your back’s being pressed against his chest.

riding him in reverse and you’re so quiet….

dragging a few nails lightly against his thigh and he gives the right side of your neck a few playful bites. “you’re not all whiney like ya usually are.”

his words were so smooth and sly against your neck, delicately brushing against your skin.

he throbs inside you, and you clamp and clamp down on him. you’re so dizzy—yet you seclude your moans by pressing your glossed lips together, only cute faint soft mutters of moans slipping out here and there.

“…woman,” he grunts, pausing your hips, your eyes briefly widen at the feeling of sukuna’s big hands hold your waist in place—a single shift of his thigh, and you felt his girth expand deep inside your walls. “aw don’t don’t hide from me now,” he smiles, a mere softness gliding against his deep tone.

you started to cover your face with your hands from how embarrassed you were—yet sukuna grabs your hands and chuckles. the way the tips of his fingers graze against you make you tingle. you pulsed so much—it got you off to where you felt yourself start to salivate, all from his touch and words.

“you know better than to not hide your pretty voice,” he murmurs, softly sinking his canines into your neck. nibble after nibble, you panted. a whimper leaves your throat once he starts to bounce his thigh. “or…should i stop?”

“n—no,” you choked out, a swift head shake. the way he softly sucks against your skin, gentle fangs softly seeping into your neck before giving your neck a few sweet kisses. “kuna- don’t stop.”

“i would,” he hums with a chortle. deep voice full of smug and satirize. and his cock was just idle against you. at this point you were cockwarming him, and you wanted to move but he had your hips still. “but i guess someone thought it was a good idea to hide their pretty moans from me.”

he was such a tease—you felt yourself burn up once he drags a a hand down between your legs to rub a few good circles against your clit, maneuvering his fingers, and you’re so wet….

it was sloppy.

squelch after squelch. you whimpered, gripping onto his hand to make him rub harder but then he chuckles, lightly swatting your hand away. “oh…?you like that? or you’d prefer for me to finish?”

“f-finish, ‘kuna..”

“then moan for me,” he whispers, giving your skin a soft suck. sukuna starts to bounce his thigh again and you whine. nails piercing into his thighs, you hit your lip before letting off a moan. “see, that wasn’t so hard, now was it, brat,” and he helps you start to grind your hips against him. reaching so deep, your head fell back against him and he lowly guffaws. “yeah, be loud. don’t care who here’s, ‘s just you and me.”

★ GETO SUGURU.

he’d be propped up in between your legs, eating you out like a starved man. you have the courtesy of tying his long, pretty hair back for him.

a few minutes had past yet he was taking his precious time, pressing sweet kisses against your cunt.

you felt yourself throb and flutter, gripping onto his hair and he has a smile.

“love pullin’ on my hair, huh?” he mutters, swiping a thumb against your slit. you happily coat him with your slick than ran down his chin. you gave him a pathetic nod, and you shiver, lips parting from the way geto presses his tongue against your labia — giving it lick after lick.

geto’s raises a brow at the way you’re covering your mouth with a hand, just barely keeping eye contact with him.

he plants a chaste kiss against your pussy before pausing briefly. breaking himself away and now you pout. “…hey,” he murmurs, a coy cunning voice. “stop that, baby.”

“s-stop what?” you hitched, your legs feeling warm. he was so sloppy with his tongue, yet gentle.

“girl, you know what i’m talking about.” a subtle eye-roll, geto sits up from between your legs. his tone was now filled with playfulness yet a bit of sass.

you stare down at him, a few strands occluding his view of vision.

tightly holding onto his hair, he stares at your pussy then at you.

“you’re being all timid and shy. c’mon, ‘s just me. i wanna hear how good i make you feel,” and then he slowly lays his tongue flat against your cunt. “…so…let….me,” he paused between speech. using two fingers to lightly spread open your folds, geto laps his tongue again to taste your sweet. “—finish my meal, and lemme hear you.”

“o-okay.” you stuttered. gritting your teeth for a split second, your legs felt numb and not even moments later.

he ends up coaxing yet another orgasm out of you, your mind goes blank. you were so loud.

he couldn’t help but chuckle at you, how cute you were. with the way your body jerked and squirmed all because of his tongue.

geto gives your pussy a good suck, he knows all the right spots to swirl and run his tongue across.

“there it is,” he hums, and his head goes forward before you yank a bit too hard between your legs. “e-easy, sweetheart. don’t pull my hair out now.”

★ FUSHIGURO TOJI.

toji grunts — two rough hands attached to your waist as he’s got your head pressed against the mattress. you’re biting the sheets with your teeth, strained moans being secluded entirely and toji immediately notices, you feel the curve of his dick throb against you. it was so good, your eyes rolled all the way back, toji’s got your wrists in a good hold before he pauses his sloppy thrusts.

“hmph.”

“w-why’d you stop..” you spat out, your voice was a bit shaky and muffled….solely from the way your teeth tugged against the sheets.

toji’s stubborn and doesn’t reply, and instead, he makes you move your ass up just a bit—yet he pulls out, and you gasp at the feeling of him just rubbing his leaky plump tip against your inner folds.

a few inches and he'd be right back in. you cringed. and you started to whine, face down and ass up, your body felt so hot and tingly.

“t-tojiiii..”

“w-whattt..”

he mocks your voice, and you let off a frustrated sigh, he butchers your tone in the most dramatic way. you don’t even sound like that. “aw, getting frustrated, ey? how come y’er biting the sheets. ya don’t want me to hear you or somethin’—?”

your eyebrows contorted together, and you huffed out a needy breath, back starting to arch idly. “no,” and you feel the tips of your ears grow hot at a scorching temperature—his tip, it was rounded and fat, just swiping against your folds. with just a bit of a push he’d be back inside, but he kept sliding out. “toji, f-finish…finish fucking me.”

“say please.”

you pout, your cheek pressing into the mattress now—desperately craving him to continue. “please…”

“silly girl. ya forgot to say pretty please.”

“toji….” you moaned, craving to feel him again, and he caressed his fingers against your ass, teasing you—a single playful click of his tongue, and he’s got you wrapped around his finger. he starts to make you rollick and move your hips against him, still holding your hips. you grumbled, finally letting off a moan—just wanting him to not tease and finish. “pretty please.”

“good girl,” he purrs softly, dipping his hips against you just slightly before you sit your head up. “now now, lie back,” he mutters, and he starts to go back inside again, a good squeeze and fit and you let off a soft whine once his cock hits there.

you’re seeing blanks, mouth open and all, you whimper before you start getting louder. “there we go….use that whiney voice, jus’ like ya always have, doll.”