#the holidays really just drained the hell out of me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebunnednun · 2 months ago

Text

Toast.

Pairing: Pro Hero! Katsuki Bakugou x Prohero!Ex! Reader

Years after you walked out of his life, Katsuki decides to literally open up his boxes of memories and lay them all out.

He can't stand how his mind won't let you go after all this time.

And after your most recent phone call,

He doesn't think he ever will.

Inspired by the song: Darling, I

Warning: Heavy angst, post break ups, crying Katsuki.

Wc; 4.1 K

'Fuck. I wish I never let you go.'

The room was quiet, save for the crackle of the fireplace and the soft hum of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Katsuki sat cross-legged on the plush black rug, his back against the couch, nursing a half-empty glass of whiskey that he’d barely touched. The firelight danced across his face, its warmth doing nothing to thaw the cold ache in his chest.

In his lap sat an old photo album—something he hadn’t touched in years.

Katsuki told himself it was an accident, finding it while clearing out the closet, but the truth was he’d been looking for it. His fingers hovered over the edge of a photo, the corners worn from years of handling.

It was one of the two of you from your high school days. You were laughing at something Kaminari had said, and Katsuki’s hand rested protectively on your shoulder, a rare, crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“Don’t ever tell a woman you love her if you don’t mean it,”

Kirishima’s voice echoed in his head, from a long-ago conversation.

“You said you did, though. Didn’t you?”

Katsuki’s jaw tightened, his crimson eyes flickering toward the fire.

He said it.

He’d meant it.

God, he’d meant it.

But meaning it wasn’t enough, was it?

The gala came back to him in flashes. The heated argument that had escalated faster than either of you could stop it. Your voice, sharp and cutting, accusing him of shutting you out. His, louder, angrier, drowning out whatever plea you might’ve been trying to make.

And then—fire.

Not from you, but from him.

A blazing retaliation that caught the bottom of your dress and sent you flying over the edge.

“Darling, I keep falling in love.”

The lyrics from some stupid song that’s been trending lately plays unbidden in his mind, mocking him.

‘Falling in love?’

More like falling apart.

And yet,

Sitting here surrounded by the ghosts of your shared life, he wondered if he’d ever really stopped falling.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking the silence. Katsuki leaned forward, the amber liquid in his glass sloshing dangerously close to the edge. He glanced at the screen:

Mom.

“Shit,” he muttered, letting it ring out. Mitsuki Bakugo had been relentless since the holidays began, demanding that he “grow a pair” and talk to you. As if it were that simple.

As if a few words could undo years of hurt and silence.

“Forever’s too long,” he muttered to himself, echoing her favorite line when she brought you up. Yeah, it was too long. Too long to keep replaying the same memories like a goddamn broken record.

Too long to keep holding onto someone who clearly didn’t want to be held.

He drained the whiskey, setting the glass down harder than he intended. The sound echoed in the emptiness of the apartment, and Katsuki winced, running a hand through his messy blond spikes. His gaze shifted back to the photo album, to your smile, frozen in time.

Like you never left.

Katsuki swiped angrily at his face, cursing under his breath. He didn’t even notice the tears until one splashed onto the page.

How the hell had it come to this?

He had everything he’d ever wanted—the fame, the recognition, the goddamn hero ranking to prove it.

But it felt hollow.

“Oh, they wanna tie me down, that bondage just might break. I can’t sign the dotted line; just how long is forever?”

That had been his excuse back then, hadn’t it?

Fear of forever.

Failure.

The weight of tying himself to someone when his career demanded everything.

But now, sitting alone in his cold, immaculate apartment,

Katsuki couldn’t help but think he’d been an idiot.

‘Maybe letting go is a beautiful thing,’ he thought bitterly, except it wasn’t beautiful.

It fucking hurt.

And no amount of hero work or accolades could fill the space you’d taken with you.

The whiskey glass sat precariously close to the edge of the coffee table, its amber contents catching the firelight like liquid gold.

Katsuki stares at it, unfocused, his mind too far gone to care if it tips over. His breaths come unevenly, the weight in his chest pressing down harder with each passing second.

The photo album rested on his lap like a lead weight, and he flipped the page with trembling fingers. There you were again—another snapshot of a life he hadn’t realized he’d been taking for granted.

This one was from your first Hero Gala together.

You wore a sleek, shimmering gown that hugged your figure, and Katsuki stood beside you in his perfectly tailored suit, scowling at the camera while you beamed brightly enough to make up for it.

"Sweet and spicy," Mina had teased back then, snapping the photo.

"The perfect pair."

And for a while, you had been. Katsuki could almost hear your laughter in the silence of the room, could almost feel the brush of your fingertips against his arm as you whispered something to him that cold night air, something only meant for him.

His hand clenched into a fist, crumpling the edge of the page.

The memory of that night—the gala that ended it all—burned at the back of his mind like a scar that refused to fade.

Katsuki stood abruptly, the photo album sliding from his lap and landing with a soft thud on the rug. The whiskey had gone bitter in his mouth, and his chest ached with the weight of it all. He paced toward the window, dragging a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck as if to ground himself.

The skyline stretched out before him, the glittering city lights blinking like fireflies in the distance. It was beautiful in a way that made his heart clench.

Somewhere out there, you were living your life, and he had no right to wonder if you ever thought of him the way he thought of you—

Late at night, alone. When the silence was too loud.

“Forever,” he muttered again, his voice low and rough. Katsuki leaned his forehead against the cool glass, his breath fogging the pane as he exhaled.

“Yeah, right.”

His reflection stared back at him, hollow-eyed and tired.

Katsuki hated the man looking back, the hero who could save the world but not himself. The words he’d thrown at you during that fight echoed like gunshots, ricocheting off the walls of his mind.

“You think I can just drop everything for you?” he had snarled, the veins in his neck taut with anger.

The way your face had crumpled… he’d see it every time he closed his eyes.

The argument had started small, as these things often do.

A misplaced comment here, a sharp retort there. Katsuki didn’t even remember what had sparked it anymore, only that it had spiraled out of control faster than he could keep up.

“You think this is enough for me?” you’d snapped, your voice low but venomous, cutting through the noisy chatter of the gala like a blade.

“You think I can just sit back and be your cheerleader while you push me further and further away?”

Katsuki had bristled, his temper flaring instantly. “You think I like this shit?” he’d barked, gesturing to the opulent surroundings.

“You think I asked for people to crawl up my ass every time I breathe? I’m doing this for us!”

“For us?” you’d laughed, bitter and disbelieving. “Don’t lie to me, Katsuki. Don’t act like you love me if you don’t mean it.”

“This isn’t some fairy tale, and I’m not your fucking prince!”

His response had been immediate and instinctive, a roaring denial that had drawn the attention of nearby guests.

But the damage was already done.

You hadn’t yelled back after that. You’d just gone quiet, your lips trembling as if you were holding back words that could shatter you both.

The heat of your anger had flared in your quirk, with you catching the hem of his tuxedo jacket and sending him careening over the balcony with a forceful scream.

When he’d dragged himself back inside, soot-streaked, soaking wet from the rain, and seething—

You were gone.

The soft click of your heels behind you louder than any explosion he’d ever made.

He hadn’t chased you.

Katsuki balled his hands into fists, nails biting into his palms. That had been the biggest mistake of his life—standing there, letting you walk away.

At the time, he’d told himself it was for the best.

You deserve someone who could give you everything, not someone chained to a profession that demanded his soul.

But now, years later, all he had were awards he didn’t care about and an emptiness he couldn’t ignore anymore.

“Da-da, da, keep falling in love,” you’d once hummed softly under your breath, leaning against the kitchen counter in your tiny shared apartment. The one he picked to save up money for Izuku's suit.

You hadn’t noticed him watching you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Back then, the sound of your voice had been enough to ground him after a long day.

He swallowed hard, the memory cutting through him like a blade. “Falling in love,” he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking.

“What a fucking joke.”

The sound of the glass tipping snapped him back to the present. Katsuki lunged forward, catching it just before it shattered on the hardwood floor. The sudden movement sent the photo album sliding down where he left it, its contents scattering across the rug.

“Fuck,” he muttered, setting the glass aside and reaching for the fallen photos. His fingers hesitated over one in particular—a candid shot of you asleep on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder.

He didn’t even know who had taken it, but it was one of his favorites.

‘Darling, I keep falling in love.’

The melody whispered through his mind again, relentless and mocking. He let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing over your image.

“What the hell was I thinking, letting you go?”

The apartment felt colder than usual, despite the roaring fire. It wasn’t just the lack of your presence—it was the absence of life, of warmth, of anything real.

Furniture was pristine, untouched. The awards and accolades lining the shelves were polished to perfection but hollow in their meaning.

He glanced toward the closet, where a single, dusty box sat in the corner. He hadn’t opened it since you left. It was the only thing you hadn’t taken with you, and he’d never had the guts to look inside.

Katsuki pushed himself to his feet, the photo still clutched in his hand. He made his way to the closet, each step heavier than the last.

When he reached the box, he hesitated, his fingers hovering over the lid.

“Don’t be a coward,” he muttered to himself, gritting his teeth.

With a deep breath, Katsuki pulled the lid off.

The first thing he saw was your handwriting, scrawled across a folded note resting on top of the neatly packed contents. His chest tightened painfully as he unfolded it, the familiar curve of your letters hitting him like a punch to the gut.

Katsuki,

I want to explain, but I don’t know how. By the time you read this, I’ll be gone.

I don’t expect you to change for me. Maybe you hate me, and that’s okay. I just couldn’t do it anymore—not like this.

I loved you. I still do. Maybe I always will. But love isn’t enough when we’re tearing each other apart. I won't continue to stay in a toxic environment.

I love you enough to set you free.

We have so many dreams and I'm going to achieve mine.

I hope you find what you’re looking for. I hope you find happiness, even if it’s not with me.

Keep being a hero I can be proud of.

Forever Your Love and Lady

~Your (maybe) Future Wife

Katsuki gently laid the note from his fist on the coffee table, his vision blurring with unshed tears. His breathing hitched as he sank to his knees, the box forgotten at his side.

Fuck everything right now.

He couldn't have worse timing.

The fire crackled behind him, casting long, flickering shadows across the room. But all Katsuki could see was your face, all he could hear was your voice, and all he could feel was the crushing weight of what could have been.

“Forever’s too long,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“But it wasn’t long enough with you.”

The photo album lay open on the rug, the pages flipping lazily in the breeze from the cracked window. Katsuki’s gaze drifted to it, the flicker of nostalgia pulling at him like a riptide. He stalked back toward the couch and dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he reached for the album.

The next page revealed another photo, this one candid. You were sitting cross-legged on the grass during a rare picnic, your face half-hidden behind a slice of watermelon, grinning like an idiot.

Next to you, Kirishima was doubled over laughing, and Mina was holding up a peace sign behind your head. Katsuki stood in the background, arms crossed, pretending not to care.

But the way his eyes lingered on you in the photo said everything he never could.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his throat tight.

Katsuki swiped at his eyes again, the tears coming faster now.

He’d spent so much of his life running—running from vulnerability, from the risk of loss, from the terrifying truth that he needed you. But in the end, it didn’t matter how fast he ran. The pain still found him, clinging to his every step like a relentless shadow.

The box, still open beside him, was a time capsule of your shared history. Beneath the note lay a tangled mess of memories: an old hoodie you’d stolen from him, still faintly smelling of caramel and strawberries; a Polaroid of the two of you on your first trip to the beach, his face begrudgingly half-smiling as you threw your arms around him, your old cheerleader uniform, tickets from movie dates, a few notebooks from UA, some bracelets he'd made you; and a small, lopsided clay sculpture of a cat you’d made during some ridiculous pottery class Mina had dragged you both to.

Katsuki picked up the sculpture with care, his thumb running over its uneven surface.

He’d laughed at it back then, calling it ugly as hell, but you’d just grinned and told him it was supposed to be that way—it gave it “character.”

Now, it felt like the most precious thing in the world, its imperfections a mirror to his own.

“Why’d you leave this?” he whispered to the empty room, his voice thick with emotion.

“Why’d you leave me?”

Katsuki knew why you fucking left him.

The answer was written plainly in your letter, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. He’d been too blind, too stubborn to see what you’d needed from him, and by the time he’d realized, it was too late.

He’d pushed you away with his anger, his pride, his refusal to admit that he was terrified of losing you.

And in doing so, he’d ensured exactly that.

Katsuki set the sculpture down with trembling hands, his head falling into his palms as a choked sob escaped him. The world had always painted him as unbreakable, a hero who could withstand anything.

But here, in the solitude of his apartment, surrounded by the remnants of your love, he was just a man

—flawed, broken,

and utterly lost without you.

The melody from the song drifted through his mind again, relentless and cruel,

“Darling, I keep falling in love...”

With a growl, he shoved the box aside and stood, pacing the room like a caged animal. The ache in his chest was unbearable, a gaping wound that no amount of hero work could heal.

He wanted to scream, to punch something, to burn the entire world down if it meant he could feel anything other than this crushing emptiness.

But what would that solve?

What would any of it solve?

His gaze landed on his phone, still resting on the coffee table where he’d left it. Mitsuki’s missed call stared back at him like a challenge, and for once, he didn’t ignore it. With a deep, shuddering breath, Katsuki snatched it up and scrolled through his contacts, his thumb hovering over your name.

He hadn’t deleted it. He couldn’t.

Even after all this time, the thought of erasing you from his life completely was too much to bear.

But now, as his finger hovered over the call button, he hesitated.

What the hell would he even say?

That he was sorry? That he was a coward?

How he still loves you, despite everything?

Instead, Katsuki stared at the screen, his jaw tight and his heart pounding in his chest.

The words won’t come. They never do.

His thumb moved as if on its own, clicking on your contact and opening the text thread. The last message was from you, years ago—a simple,

“Take care of yourself, Katsuki.”

He clenched his teeth, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

He could do this.

He had to do this.

“I miss you.”

The words stared back at him, stark and vulnerable on the screen. He hesitated for a long moment before deleting them. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Instead, he typed something else—something raw, something real.

“I was an idiot. I should’ve fought for you. I should’ve fought with you. I’m sorry.”

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, the message disappearing into the void. The phone slipped from his hand, landing softly on the couch as he sank down beside it. His head fell back against the cushions, his eyes closing as exhaustion overtook him.

For the first time in years, Katsuki allowed himself to hope.

Maybe, somehow, it wasn’t too late.

His phone buzzed again, breaking his spiraling thoughts. This time, it wasn’t his mom.

It was you.

Katsuki froze, his breath catching in his throat. The screen lit up with your name, your contact photo still the same one he’d set years ago—a close-up of your face, mid-scream, after he’d shoved a snowball down the back of your jacket. His thumb hovered over the screen, his pulse pounding in his ears.

What the hell did you want?

His mind raced with possibilities, each one more ridiculous than the last. Maybe you were drunk and scrolling through old contacts.

Maybe it was some bad news.

Maybe you'd dropped your phone in a fight and he was your emergency contact.

Maybe you’d accidentally called him instead of someone else.

Maybe this was some cruel joke on your behalf.

Or maybe—just maybe—you missed him as much as he missed you.

The phone buzzed again, and he cursed under his breath. He let it ring twice more before finally swiping to answer.

“Yeah?” His voice came out gruff, harsher than he intended.

There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment, he thought you’d hung up. But then your voice came through, soft and tentative.

“Katsuki…?”

His name on your lips hit him like a punch to the gut. He clenched his jaw, his free hand gripping the edge of the couch for support.

“What do you want?” he asked, his tone defensive, like armor against the hope creeping into his chest.

You hesitated, and he could picture you biting your lip, the way you always did when you were nervous.

“I—I need your help.”

The words hung in the air, fragile and uncertain. Katsuki’s heart stuttered, his mind racing. He didn’t know what you needed, but in that moment, he realized something.

No matter how much time had passed, no matter how deep the hurt ran, he’d never stopped wanting to be the one you called when everything fell apart.

It struck him in a place he’d buried long ago, his chest tightening as memories surged forward unbidden. For a second, the world around him faded.

“Yeah?” he rasped, his voice quieter than he intended, almost reverent.

“I—” You inhaled sharply, the sound shaky as if you were fighting for air. “It’s my grandma’s will. Someone in the family is contesting it, and I—” Your voice broke, and his grip on his phone tightened.

“I thought I had it with me, but I dodn’t. It’s—it’s somewhere in a box back there, and I just—I can’t lose her home. Everything is in there, Katsuki. Everything.”

Your words tumbled out in a rush, frantic and laden with grief. Katsuki could hear it: the weight of losing her, of memories slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

It made his chest ache, twisting with emotions he hadn’t faced in years.

“You sure it’s here?” he asked, already scanning the room, his mind piecing together where it might be.

“I—I think so,” you stammered. “I was so sure when I packed, but now… Oh, God, I can’t breathe—”

“Hey,” he cut in sharply, his tone grounding. “Breathe. You hear me? Slow and steady, like this.” He exaggerated his breathing into the phone, his breaths loud and deliberate, as if sheer force could drag you out of your spiral. He could hear you on the other end, trying to mimic him, your breaths still jagged but slowing.

Katsuki’s own chest loosened ever so slightly.

“Good,” he said softly. “Now, don’t move. I’m lookin’.”

The room was a mess, strewn with boxes he hadn’t touched in months, maybe years. His hands worked on autopilot, pulling open lids, rifling through layers of forgotten treasures.

Old photos, mismatched socks, gear from training sessions—it was all a blur as he focused on your voice in the background.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice quieter now but no less fraught. He heard you talking to someone——and his ears perked the fuck up.

“Yeah, just heat it up. I’ll be out in a second.”

His jaw clenched at the sound of your voice addressing someone else, but he shoved the feeling aside, muttering a string of curses as he knocked over a box. “Damn it.”

“What?” you asked, alarmed.

“Not you,” he grunted, running a hand through his hair and glancing at the piles around him. His palms were clammy, and he scrubbed at them on his pants. “Just...I’m fine.”

Your soft laugh at his flustered tone sent a jolt through him. He grumbled under his breath, trying to ignore the way it made his pulse quicken.

Then, it hit him.

“Wait,” he muttered, turning toward the kitchen.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he snapped, making his way to the freezer. He yanked it open, the cold air blasting his face as he dug past forgotten food containers and ice packs. “Where the hell—”

“Katsuki?”

“Not talkin’ to you!” he barked, banging his head against the freezer’s edge.

“Shit!”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he growled, biting back a string of curses. His fingers burned from the cold as he shoved aside another frosted-over bag. Then, his hand hit something solid and unmistakable.

He pulled it out, a plastic binder covered in condensation, his breath catching in relief. “Got it.”

“What?”

“The will,” he said, holding it up as if you could see through the phone. His lips twitched into the smallest, most fleeting of smiles. “Guess you still hide stuff in the freezer, huh?”

A soft laugh came from your end, tinged with disbelief.

“You found it?!”

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, gripping the binder tighter.

“Told ya. You can count on me.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, filled with things neither of you could quite say. His chest felt too tight, his palms sweating again despite the chill.

'How do you manage to own me after all this time?'

“Thank you,”

You whispered, your voice softer now, warmer. It was the first time in years he’d heard you sound like this—like you trusted him.

And damn if it didn’t feel like coming home.

“Can we meet?” you asked, your voice hesitant but steadying. “At the ramen spot near the convenience store? You know, the one we used to go to…”

The memory of that little shop flickered to life in Katsuki’s mind. The mismatched chairs, the warm glow of the neon sign, the way you’d always insist on extra toppings while he rolled his eyes and covered the bill anyway.

But the image was quickly replaced by another—a blur of voices, the usual get-together Ochako and Mina loved organizing.

Everyone would crowd into the tiny space, including Shinsou, Aizawa, and even Eri perched on her dad’s side.

He grimaced. “Tch, I dunno if that’s a good—”

The sound of a crash on your end cut him off.

“Shit!” you gasped, your voice sharp with worry. Katsuki’s heart leapt into his throat.

“What the hell was that?” he barked, gripping the phone tighter.

There was no response, just the sound of you dropping the phone and running. He could hear muffled voices, your hurried footsteps, and the faint murmur of concern as you called out,

“Are you okay?”

For a moment, his stomach twisted.

What if you weren’t safe? What if—

But then he heard it.

You were laughing.

It started soft, a chuckle slipping through the static, but it grew, spilling out in full-bodied peals that echoed through the line. Katsuki froze, his pulse roaring in his ears.

Your laugh.

It hit him like a freight train, vivid memories rushing in all at once. Your face, lit up with joy. The way your eyes sparkled when you teased him. The warmth of your skin brushing against his arm, unintentional but electric.

The sound of your laughter—it was a melody he hadn’t realized he’d been desperate to hear again.

It felt like someone struck him with a tuning fork, the vibrations resonating deep in his chest. For a moment, Katsuki forgot how to breathe.

“Sorry about that,” you said, still catching your breath. “My neighbor’s kid tripped over her homework and knocked over a chair. They’re fine, don’t worry.”

He tried to focus on your words, but his mind was swimming, his grip on the phone clammy.

“You still there, Katsuki?”

Even the way you said his name was so—

“Yeah,” he managed, his voice rough. He cleared his throat, hoping you didn’t notice.

“I'm still here.”

“Good,” you said softly, and he could almost hear the smile in your voice.

“So… ramen? Tomorrow?”

He swallowed hard, the warmth of your laughter still lingering in his chest.

Katsuki closes his eyes, and for a moment, he can feel your warmth as you wrap your arms around him, your soft lips by his ear, legs around his waist, and the beat of your heart matching that of his own.

“I’ll be there.”

Part 2 is up now

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r, (I haven't posted in a while so please munch on this.)

Lemme know if you wanna be added to the list!

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have some more Katsuki (and mother mha) here in the master list. I also have a Pro Hero! Bakugou x Sugar Baby fic.

Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

261 notes · View notes

jazzthatonewriterchick · 2 months ago

Text

A Winter Getaway (and Proposal) With You ❄️💍 (BF!Nanami x Black!GF!Reader 18+ One Shot)

🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black!Fem!Reader (Dating to Married Couple)

Synopsis: Nanami sweeps you away to his winter cabin for the cold season as he works up the nerve to propose to you. Based on “Wrap Me Up” by Jhene Aiko.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+; Established Relationship; Dating to Engaged; Proposal; Fluffy, Sweet Vanilla Sex; Disfigured!Nanami; Scar Appreciation; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Multiple Positions; Multiple Reader Orgasms; 69ing; Slow to Feral F*cking; Sex By The Fireplace; Reverse Cowgirl; Cum Play; Mild Foot Fetish; Choking; Massaging; Creampie; Breeding; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Something sweet for the holiday season AND for my sweetie Nanami. I love & miss him sm. Enjoy! -Jazz 🩷🩷

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“So did you ask her yet?” Haibara asks for probably the thousandth time this week.

Nanami huffs from his spot crouched on the floor, peering into the cold, unlit fireplace. “For the last time, no,” he snaps. “I didn’t…yet. I’m still figuring out how to and we just got here this morning.”

He stands and reaches for the box of matches up on the mantle, preparing to light the hodgepodge of newspaper and logs he gathered earlier.

“Well, what’s the hold up, Kenny?!” Haibara exclaims. “You could’ve asked her last night! Don’t you love with her?” Nanami rolls his eyes, knowing how dramatic his friend can be. “You know I do,” he growls. Why the hell else would he have rented an AirBNB out in the woods and taken you away on a winter getaway?

You and Nanami have been dating for five years now and only started living together a year ago. Two of the best decisions of his life were asking you to be his girlfriend and then asking you to live with him. You are truly one of a kind. A beauty. A gem. An intelligent, gorgeous, kind, loving woman he would love to spend the rest of his life with. Nanami knows he hit the jackpot with you. With his disfigurement from the Shibuya Incident that resulted in the left side of his face and body being completely scarred, he would have figured no one would love him the way he truly wanted to be.

But then you came along and changed his entire outlook on that. Not only are you so sweet and understanding, you are probably the most beautiful woman he has ever met. You can wear your hair in any fashion and still look damn amazing. He loves the way your brown skin glows in the sunlight. How soft and plump your lips are. The thickness of your thighs and behind that he always takes a peek at when you walk by.

You listen to him when he has stuff on his mind. You always fix him coffee in the morning before work. You laugh at his dry jokes and tolerate his book nerdiness. You are everything to him. He can hardly imagine living a life without you in it and it makes him sick to his stomach to even fathom it.

Which is what brought him here today to this lovely cabin up in the snowy mountains and pushed him to buy that engagement ring. He figured a weekend in a cozy cabin away from the city life would be the perfect time to propose to you. You were more than happy to come along with him, having been drained from work and holiday shopping. And when you found out that a free spa and a ski lodge were just down the road, you were absolutely ecstatic.

“I intend this to be special,” Nanami tells his longtime friend despite the sour taste in his mouth at the mere thought of marriage. “Now quit bothering me. I’m busy making a fire.” He holds his cell phone in the crook of his neck and shoulder while he lights a match and tosses it into the fireplace. Flames eat at the newspaper immediately.

This is really just a ploy to distract himself. The truth is Nanami is terrified of asking you to marry him. Though you live together and have been dating for nearly a decade, you never discussed marriage outright or upfront to each other…which probably would’ve been a better, logical, and more practical idea. But you had told him once before that you’ve always wanted to be married and have a family. He never forgot about that or the dreamy, hopeful look in your brown eyes.

“But it may never happen,” you laughed but it sounded so sad. “People don’t want to build things anymore.” He did. He wanted to build something with you so badly. He wants so much to build on the life you have created together and make your little home into one for three or four. He wants nothing more than to see a little you or him running around with the pet dog or cat, giggling and stumbling about on chubby legs.

That fantasy almost makes him want to wake you up and propose to you right now if it wasn’t for the stone in the pit of his stomach. He is so scared you’ll say no, regret him and leave him. He knows that it’s illogical. He knows that it’s insane. But dammit, if his mind isn’t racing! He just doesn’t know what he’ll do if you say no.

“Where’s the missus at?” Haibara asks. It allows Nanami to not think of marriage or impending doom for a while. “Taking a nap. I just got back from a run, so I’m building a fire for us when she wakes up.”

You, his poor little baby, were wiped out after you left your apartment to hit the road for the AirBNB. It was about a three-hour drive up here and you slept as soon as you got in the house, barely even touring the place. He let you sleep and instead unpacked, ordered groceries from UberEats, and took a run through the snowy hiking trails, letting the cold air fill his lungs and clear his head.

Haibara coos, making Nanami grit his teeth. “Well, aren’t you adorable? Buildin’ her a fire, takin’ her away for a winter getaway.”

“He’s whipped!” Gojo calls from the background. “Did he do it yet?!” Unfortunately, he too is one of Nanami’s oldest friends and work partners in the chaotic world of curse hunting. “Tell him to shut up,” he huffs. “This is why I won’t be telling him at all when it happens. Besides, I’ve got about three days to do it.” Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Plenty of time to overthink and possibly not even do it and then regret his choices later.

“And those three days will go by fast, so do it as soon as you can!” Haibara lectures. “You’ll keep rethinking it if you avoid it, Kenny.”

“Yeah, then you’ll give her the wrong idea and you’ll be fighting on the way home from your winter weekend love affair,” Gojo adds. Habibara sighs while Nanami resists the urge to hang up. “He’s being dramatic. Just remember what you’re doing this for and why you want to propose.”

Yes, he knows why. It’s because you’re the love of his fucking life and he would be a fool to give you up. To be your husband would be a privilege and an honor. Maybe that would work as his proposal to you. “I just….” He sighs to himself, placing the match box up the mantel and crouching on the floor. He stares into the orange flames of the fireplace, hoping they will give him an answer to his dilemma. “I don’t know how to do this.”

He has never felt so deeply for someone before. He has never even had a romantic partner for this long before. And if you say no, who else would he find? Would he truly be able to move on without you? “There’s no right way to propose, Nanami,” Habibara soothingly says. “Well, there is, but we know you’ll make it as romantic as possible for her. You’re doing it because you love her, right?”

A thousand times yes! “Yes,” he sighs.

“And you wanna be with her, right?” Gojo adds. Nanami’s heart tightens at the thought of you. Beautiful, amazing you. “More than anything,” he answers, his voice tight with emotion.

“Then it’ll come naturally!” Gojo chirps. “You’ll know the right time when it comes, just like when you realized you loved her.” He is right. When Nanami realized he was in love with you, it was as simple as breathing. It was a slow burn surely, but when it happened, Nanami fell hard and fell deep. And to hear that you were in love with him too made him all the more sure that you were his person. But there is still one burning thought in his mind that curses him and has been since the moment he realized he wanted to marry you. “But what if she says no?” he asks, his voice hushed and low. He can’t even say it clearly aloud.

“She wooon’t!” Gojo groans. “Stop thinking so negative, Nanami! Think positive! Who else is gonna treat her like you do?”

‘A lot,’ Nanami wryly thinks. A girl as beautiful, smart, and freaky as you? Any man would be tossing themselves at you. When you go home, Nanami is always catching the wandering eyes of strangers staring at your face, chest, or ass. While it is annoying, he does get a small pang of victory for bagging such a sexy woman, especially with his scars.

“She’ll say yes because she loves you too,” Haibara says, the voice of reason. “After five years together and a year of living together, of course, she will! And if not, then it’s her fucking loss. You deserve so much more, Ken.”

He knows what his friends are right. He knows that you couldn’t possibly refuse after spending five years with him. Yet his mind is still racing and his confidence is waning. “But—“ He freeze, suddenly hearing your footsteps creak overhead. “That’s her,” he hisses. “Don’t call me back.” He quickly hangs up and slips his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants just as you venture down the steps.

You yawn, looking so cute in your baggy sweats, hoodie, and satin bonnet protectively holding your braids. He smiles, opening his arms to you. “Good morning.” A smile pulls at your lips as you walk into them, slumping against his taller, bigger form. “Good morning,” you giggle. “At 3PM.” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We had quite the morning and you didn’t get much sleep in the car.”

“Mmm, that’s fine,”you sleepily hum. “That bed upstairs is straight out of a dream.” He grins proudly, happy to hear you love the master bedroom. He specifically picked this place out for its fireplace, private hot tub on the deck out back, and cozy atmosphere. “I’m glad you approve.” You giggle, squeezing him against your smaller body. “Oooo, you made a fire?” You peer into the fire, your eyes glistening.

Nanami nods, watching you admire the fire. “The house was freezing when I came back from my run, so I took advantage. It’s supposed to be a snowy night, so I figured I’d cook tonight.” The way you look up at him makes him want to pull that ring out of his suitcase. You stare up at him as if he is the best thing since sliced bread. “Of course,” you softly reply. “I love your cooking, Ken. Plus, a night in with you doesn’t sound too bad.”

You snuggle closer to him, not so subtly pressing your tits against his chest. He notices and instantly, the blood starts rushing to his cock. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to three days of sex with you that won’t be interrupted by work calls or responsibilities. “And why is that?” he asks, his voice dipping an octave as he places with the drawstring of your sweats.

You peer up at him again, a smile playing on your lips that is both sexy and adorable. “Well, who else am I gonna force to watch Christmas movies with me?” He tsks, making you giggle hysterically. Of course, you’d want to do that on your winter getaway trip. “Fine. Just not those damn stick figures.” You scoff and smack him on the chest. “Hey! Those are my childhood faves!”

That’s another thing he loves about you: your feistiness. It turns him on every single time. You place your hand on his chest and play with the zipper on his active sweatshirt, breathing in his scent of sweat, sulfur, and pine from outside. “Thank you for this, Nanami. I needed this soooo bad, you have no idea.” He smiles, jubilant and proud for doing this for you. “We both did,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crowd of your head.

You tilt your head up, giving him the perfect view of your shapely, soft lips. Suddenly, his are on yours and you stand on your toes to deepen the kiss, turning it from something sweet and innocent into something of passion and need. Need that has been boiling inside of him for days now. Need that makes him jack off at work to the thought of you and that ass that his hands glide over right now while you indulge in his chest.

He suddenly feels your hand slide against the waistband of his pants and gently pulls away. As much as he would love to fuck you out of your mind in front of the fireplace, there will be time for that later. All good things come to those who wait. “I-I should get started on dinner,” he stammers, his cheeks hot with embarrassment and arousal. “Does steak sound good to you?”

You smile, your eyes glittering at the idea of a steak dinner. “That sounds perfect. I’ll take a shower and be back down soon.” He nods and you kiss once more before you break for the moment to do your own thing. But as you go to the staircase, you stop, one hand on the banister. “Nanami?” you call. He turns around to look at you, finding you smiling so lovingly at him. “I love you.”

Those three little words fill him with more life than air could give him. He can’t stop himself from smiling or his stomach from fluttering. “I love you too, baby.” You smile, overjoyed with his reply, and then venture upstairs to take your hot shower.

Yes. Tonight is the night for him. It has to be.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Two hours later, dinner is done and the night has fallen, cold and white outside.

Nanami stands in the kitchen at the sink, his hands deep in some sudsy, soapy water washing the dishes and wine glasses from dinner. Next to him, the half-empty bottle of red wine that he saved for tonight’s meal sits next to him…along with the ring box.

He is planning on telling you after dinner, but “after dinner” has arrived and he still hasn’t. He washes dishes as a distraction, hoping that maybe he can think of a good way to ask you, but nothing comes.

More than anything, he is afraid of turning such a chill, perfect snowy night into one of awkwardness and tension. A marriage proposal can either make or break a relationship. He would hate to have anything ruin his chances of being with you forever.

Suddenly, he feels two arms wrap around his waist from behind and smiles as your vanilla and cinnamon-scented body wash and caramel body spray hits his nose, tantalizing his senses. “Whatcha doin’?” you whisper. He can tell you’re tipsy from the wine.

“Washing these dishes so we won’t have to do ‘em tomorrow.” He carefully places a wet wine glass on the drying rack before moving on to a dish streaked with residue from the steak and salad he whipped up.

You stop him, your smaller, daintier hands caressing his wrists. “Just put ‘em in the dish washer,” you murmur, your lips at his ear.“Come be with me by the fire. I miss you there.”

Nanami shivers at your presence and your wicked ways. How do you seduce him so easily? He listens, slides your ring into his pocket, and loads the dish washer up with dirty dishes before he follows you into the living room. You have set the cozy space up with blankets and pillows in front of the blazing fire along with two mugs of hot chocolate and a Christmas movie playing on the TV.

He rolls his eyes at the 70s stick figure Christmas movie on the screen. “You little sneak,” he huffs, swatting you on the ass. “You just seduced me in here to watch these damn movies.”

You cutely pout at him, looking oh-so adorable in your oversized sweater and knee high socks. You look like you want to be tossed down, turned out, and fucked by him. “But this one is goooood! I promise, you’ll love it!”

Despite the corniness, Nanami sighs and gives in. “Fine, but if they start singing, I’m turning it off.” You squeal excitedly and pull him down to sit next to you on the blankets with your mugs as the cold wind blows outside, whistling through the pine trees.

You and Nanami find a good position to cuddle, him acting as the big spoon while you’re the little spoon, your legs entangled. He places one arm on your waist while the other props his chin up, allowing him to rest his neck. It is a perfect position, allowing him to admire your figure and inhale the scent of your fruity shampoo.

Halfway through the movie that he’s barely paying any attention to, you turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You nuzzle your cheek into his chest, making his cock twitch. “You’re so warm,” you sigh. “And you smell so good…and you’re so tense.”

He chuckles, noticing that you’re gliding your fingers along his back muscles. “Comes with the territory.” He was planning to take a dip in the hot tub later tonight to ease his sore muscles, but you seem to have other ideas.

“Oh, you poor baby!” you gasp, popping up from the floor like a Jack N The Box. “Lemme go get the massage oil! I brought some for the spa.” You give him a wink before you go running off upstairs to fetch the oil, allowing Nanami to try to pat down his hard-on as much as possible.

When you routine, you have a bottle of mango and coconut-scented oil in your hand and a rather mischevious smile on your pretty face. You kneel before him, already rubbing the oil in your hands. “Now strip,” you giggle. “Just the shirt.”

Nanami raises an eyebrow at you. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just trying to get me outta my clothes.” You gape at him, mockingly offended. “Whaaaat?! Noooo, we’d miss the movie! I just wanna relax those sore muscles like a good partner should.”

You’re a terrible liar, but he plays along anyway, loving your little games. He strips off his sweater, revealing his toned body, blonde tufts of chest hair, and burn scars to you. You lovingly stroke them much to his liking, enjoying your tender touch. You don’t shy away from them and that makes him love you even harder.

You move behind him and begin to massage his shoulders and neck, your fingers kneading his tired muscles. His eyes flutter at your touch, his cock growing harder at your hands and the fruity scent of the oil. It’s like an aphrodisiac to him. “Mmmm….”

“Good?” you whisper, your lips toying at his ear. “Mmm-hmm.” He can’t even form words. Your fingers feel so good on his bare skin as you massage the oil into his muscles.

But very suddenly, the massage takes another turn when you begin to massage and squeeze his pectorals as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder. Nanami blushes red at your ministrations, confused and aroused. “Uh….baby? What are you doing?”

“Cuddling you,” you simply reply, still doing what you’re doing. Your hands indulge in his upper torso, feeling him up in a way that makes Nanami feel like a personal body pillow for you.

“This doesn’t seem like cuddling.” You him in response, beginning to kiss along his neck. He swallows hard, his cock swelling at the feeling of your soft lips. “I-I thought you wanted to watch the movie,” he stammers.

“I did until I realized that I need to be showing my sexy and amazing boyfriend more attention.” You turn his face to meet yours and your gleaming, hooded eyes. “I wanna watch you instead, Kento. I want you right here, right now.”

The lust in your eyes makes your pupils dilate like a cat’s, filling Nanami with a fire that only you can put out. He leans in first, unable to avoid this feeling anymore, and presses his lips to yours. You moan as he cups your face, deepening the kiss until you’re on top of him.

The movie is now forgotten, all dialogue and singing mere background noise as you and Nanami indulge in each other. You moan through the slow, sexy kiss as he nibbles on your bottom lip the way you like while you straddle him. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

At the taste of you and the feeling of your soft lips and wet tongue, Nanami’s cock grows in his pants, chubbing against the fabric. You must know this because you slink down to his waist and begin palming at his bulge. He sits up, watching you. “You’re very persistent tonight,” he chuckles.

You pout those pretty lips at him, your eyes soft and lustful. “I can’t help it. You’re just so hot, Nanami.” You slowly work his pants and briefs down, your face lighting up at the sight of his hard, throbbing cock.

No matter how many times you’ve seen it, you always look at it like it’s the first time. And no matter how many times you suck it, you still make Nanami feel like he did the first time you did so.

He watches you, hungered as you wrap your oil-slick hand around him and begin to pump his shaft as you wrap your lips around him. “Ah,” he sighs, your velvety mouth and wet tongue like silk against his hard dick.

You turn into a dick fiend while you blow your boyfriend, your mouth moving up and down along his cock. You stare at him as you do it, the fire blazing behind you. You look damn near ethereal as you take his cock deep into your throat, pumping him with your sloppy, tight, silky throat.

Nanami can hardly stand the sight, unable to fully grasp the fact that such a sexy little thing is his as his cock disappears into your mouth. “Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You’re so good at this shit. Such a good girl for me, right?”

You bring out such a feral, nasty part of him. A part of him that wants nothing more than to fuck you endlessly and make you cum over and over again until you’re a spent, twitching mess for him.

You pop his cock out of your mouth and hold it against your soft cheek, smiling. “Only you, Daddy,” you coo.

You go back to blowing him, using your throat to flex and gag around him, hollowing your cheeks to make your mouth tighter. Nanami’s deep moans drift into the air as he grips the blankets underneath him until his knuckles turn white.

You begin to moan in time with the squelching, wet sounds drifting from your throat, the vibrations traveling through his balls heavy with cum. He can feel himself losing control and quickly stops you before he blasts all over your face.

“Fuck, baby!” he moans. “Stop for a minute.” You do though confused, your saliva hanging off of your bottom lip, connecting to his cock head. “I wanna take care of you too. Get on top of me and face my cock.”

The urge to touch you and taste you is burning him up inside, threatening to engulf him. A naughty grin stretches across your face. You’re definitely not gonna refuse the opportunity to get your pussy ate. “Okaaay,” you giggle. “You gonna give me a massage or something too, Ken?”

Nanami smirks as you stand, turn, and proceed to sit on top of him, your perfect ass in his face. “Or something, yeah.” His big hands knead and spank your asscheeks for a bit, relishing the moan you make and the way your cheeks recoil against his palms.

He takes the bottle of oil and rubs some between his palms, heating it up and making his fingers slick. He then begins to massage your ass and back, taking extra care to rub his knuckles along your spine. He loves watching the way you melt into his touch, settling down on top of him. “Mmm,” you hum. “That feels so nice.”

He smiles, his cock twitching and throbbing at those simple words. He loves making you feel so good. “Yeah? How ‘bout this then?”

He begins to pay extra attention to your butt, massaging each cheek in a way that would make any man nut on the spot. He ogles at the way your asscheeks look slick and shiny with oil, imagining this massage oil dripping down your pretty asshole and the slit of your cunt. He is a total goon for you and he knows it.

Unable to stop himself, he spreads your ass apart and begins to tease the puckered hole of your asshole and your pussy, gliding a finger down to give you a soft, gentle graze of his touch. “Oh,” you moan. “Y-You’re teasing me, Ken. C’mon, don’t—“

He hushes you, giving your ass a nibble and making you whimper. “Patience, baby. I need to work this pussy up, don’t I?”

He continues to give you butterfly touches against your pussy until the horny gets the best of him and he begins slowly making out with your cunt. Fortunately for you, you have that effect on him. You manage to turn him into an absolute fiend, pussy-whipping him the more your honey drips down his throat.

“Oh, fuck!” you loudly moan. “Mmm, yes, Kento, fuck! Your mouth is so good!” Your hips and ass grind into his face, riding it like one would a surfboard.

Nanami hums in approval, giving you another spank that makes your pussy gush intensely in his mouth and makes your clit throb. His tongue alternates between teasing your hole and your clit, his lips cushioning one when he can’t get to the other. He can feel your wetness spilling over his chin and lips, making him feel sticky.

But he doesn’t mind. He wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, he would gladly spend the rest of his days underneath you, serving you with his mouth, tongue, and hands.

Especially when your mouth feels so wrapped around his cock. Nanami moans into your cunt, sucking on your pussy lips before pulling away with a wet pop just the way you like. “Fuck, baby,” he groans. “I thought I was supposed to be pleasing you.”

You sit up and look back at him, your braids swinging over your shoulder as you give him a sexual, lust-filled look over your shoulder. “We’re pleasing each other. Tonight is about us, baby.”

Nanami can’t argue with that, especially when that throat of yours is talking to him so sweetly. It sucks his entire dick in and flexes around him, massaging each sweet spot along his cock. He gives you the pleasure you give him back, sloppily licking and lapping at your sweet pussy as you ride his face.

Suddenly, you peel yourself away from his cock but still stroke away, pumping him up and down, enchanted by the way his skin stretches along the veiny, erect pole. “I-I can’t take this anymore, Ken,” you moan, desperation in your tone. “I wanna ride you. Can I please?”

You could’ve asked Nanami if you could drain his bank account and he would’ve said yes. He would give anything to to feel this sweet, wet, wonderful pussy wrapped around his cock.

“You don’t have to ask me, sweetheart,” he pants, coming up for air from constantly eating you out without fail. “I wanna feel you too. Fucking give me this.” He glides a finger along your clit, making you shudder.

Without wasting any more time, you take hold of Nanami’s cock while he grasps your hips, letting you take as much time as you need to slide down onto him, rubbing your clit for you as you do. When you finally come down and his cock plunges into the soft, wet walls of your pussy, you both moan in unison as if you’re singing a chorus.

You feel incredible. You feel wonderful. You feel like what he would think heaven feels like. He can’t help but watch you as you ride his cock, drinking in the way you bounce on top of him like a good little fuck-bunny. ”Oh, my God!” you whine at the top of your lungs. “Oh, fuck, Kento! Y-Your dick is so good!”

He grins, that feral, possessive urge to fuck you dumb slinking into his bones and settling there. He can’t help but lose it when you get all slutty and needy like this. “Go ahead, baby,” he grunts, lifting his hips to fuck you back. “Take as much of me as you need. I’m yours.”

He grabs hold of your ass, squeezing it as you grind yourself on top of him like you’re trying hard to make you both cum. “And I’m yours,” you sweetly moan. “I’m yours, Daddy, I promise!”

With those sweet words hanging in the air and the feeling of your wet pussy gripping him, Nanami can’t stop the breathy moans and gasps that leave his lips as your ass grinds against his pelvis as you ride him in your baggy sweater and knee highs.

He sits up suddenly and tears your sweater down, forcing your tits to pop out and be exposed in the firelight. He begins to play with them as you continue to ride him, moaning louder as his fingers pinch and tweak your hard nipples. “Fuck, Nanami!” you gasp.

“Keep goin’,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your ear. “Keep ridin’ that dick for me, baby. Take all of that fuckin’ cock.”

You do as he says, tossing your ass back against him before grinding forward, stimulating your clit with your fingers. At this rate, with your body mist invading his nostrils and how wet you are, he will cum.

“H-Hey, Nanami?” you ask, but it comes out more as a breathless moan.

“Mmm-hmm?”he hums, still too involved with thinking about filling you up with his spunk. He wants to make you cum too. He wants to hear your loud moans echo throughout the cabin as you gush all over his big, fat cock.

“Look up,” you tell him just as your other hand fondles his balls. With a groan of pleasure, Nanami flicks his eyes up above and there, he sees it: a mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

Your giggles give you away as a culprit. When did you put that up there? How did he miss that? “We’re supposed to be kissing, aren’t we?” he asks, a smile playing on his lips. “Well, I can’t do that while I’m back here. Let’s change that.”

You are more than happy to go along with the change. You shriek with laughter as he grips your hips and sits up with you against him. You always love it when he’s a little rough, proving to you time and time again how fast and strong he is. It turns you on and it turns him on too.

He then flips you onto your back and tosses your legs over his shoulders before sliding his cock back home inside of you. “Oh, fuck!” you moan before your voice is cut off by a gasp as he begins to piston himself into the wet, velvet depths of your pussy.

Nanami greedily drinks in the way you writhe and bounce against his cock, your tits jiggling over your sweater. “You’re so beautiful,” he pants, heavy pants leaving his lips. “So fuckin’ cute…so mine.”

Stepping into full gooner territory, he slowly rolls his hips against you and strokes your insides with slow, deep thrusts as he works your knee highs off of your feet. Once they are off, he takes one of your cute, candy red apple-painted toes and begins to suck on them.

Your facial expression of pure bliss and ecstasy is enough to nut over. “Daddy,” you whine, gripping his forearms. “Please! Please make me cum!”

Nanami would be glad too. He continues to drill your shit with all of the vigor of a man working overtime, more than dedicated to making you lose your mind over his cock. “I’m so happy you’re mine, baby,” he groans, staring deep into your eyes. “I wanna be with you forever. Wanna fuckin’ marry you.”

“W-What?” you stammer.

As soon as the words are out, they hang suspended in the air like cigarette smoke. Pungent and obvious. Nanami realizes the mistake he has made in the cloudy haze of pleasure and the heat of the moment. ‘Fuck!’ he thinks. That wasn’t at all how he wanted to propose.

You stare up at him with big, soft eyes full of wonder, your plump lips parted in awe. “Kento, is that true? You wanna marry me?” Your voice is soft and barely above a whisper as you ask him.

Nanami can feel his stomach flip. He is now caught and cannot escape this moment. “I’m sorry,”he sighs, slowing down his thrusts for more shallow, gentler ones. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but—”

“You want us to get married?”you interrupt, your voice clearer now. Slowly, he nods, giving in to the truth. “I-I know we haven’t discussed marriage, but I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I planned to propose to you some time on this trip, but please know that you don’t have to say yes right away or—“

“Yes,” you interrupt again. This time, Nanami nearly misses it. He blinks down at you and your overjoyed smile. “What’d you say?” he dumbly asks.

You reach up to cup his face in your hands, forcing him to stare deep into your eyes. “Yes!” you giggle. “Yes, yes, Nanami Kento, I’ll marry you! I want nothing more than to be your wife!”

Your answer washes over him like a wave of warmth. You said yes. You said yes. Nanami’s face hurts from smiling so much and he swoops down to kiss you deep, long, and passionately, bending your knees against your stomach.

“I’m gonna make you so happy, baby,” he murmurs. “I promise you.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re doing real good on that already,” you sweetly whisper. “Now please…fuck your fiancé till she cums. And then fill me up too?”

You look up at him through your lashes, enchanting him and willing him to do all that you wish. “Whatever you want, my love,” he pants and spreads your thighs apart before pistoning his cock into you again and again, fucking you into the floor.

You hold onto him for dear life as he drives himself into you, gripping onto him tighter than a koala bear. Wet, squelching sounds collide with your joined moans of pleasure, only growing more intense as you both fall further into a sea of bliss together.

“I love you,” Nanami whispers against your lips. “I love you so, so much, Y/N.” You whimper into his mouth as your tongues swirl with each other, sloppy and messy. “I-I love you too!” you gasp. “So much!”

“Prove it,” Nanami growls, sitting up to look down at you and your body taking his cock. “Cum for me right now. Give it to me, baby. I know you can do it.”

You know it too. He watches as you frantically rub your gorgeous pussy as he plunges into it over and over again, watching himself disappear between your walls that stroke and pump him, willing him to fill you up. Your pretty mouth forms an O as your orgasm suddenly rocks you, making you shudder and shake as you cum all over his cock.

“Fill me up!” you whine, gripping Nanami’s shoulders. “Cum for me, please, Ken! Give me your baby!”

Nanami never needed to be more persuaded to do something. As his orgasm rises, he hugs you close to him and fucks his cock into you, using your pussy as a toy to chase his high. When it hits, he lets out a long, guttural, desperate groan as he fills you to the brim with his cum. You gasp and wrap your legs around him, locking him against you and taking drop after drop of his spunk.

He pumps you full of him, no doubt breeding you.

As his orgasm finally fades, you both embrace each other for a moment more, sweaty and exhausted from the activity. Slowly, Nanami presses his lips to yours in a soft, loving kiss as your fingers tangle in his blonde hair. “Forever,” he murmurs. “Always you.”

You smile against his mouth and place a kiss on his chin before he finally pulls his soft cock out of you and rolls off of you. His cum drips out of your pussy, coaxing him to lean down between your thighs and lick it up. You weakly moan as his tongue caresses your aching pussy, your body twitching from the overstimulation.

Once he finishes cleaning you up, Nanami lies down next to you on his side while you face him, the both of you fitting against one another like two perfect puzzle pieces. ”That was fantastic,” you sigh, nuzzling into his chest.

“It most definitely was,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to your hand. “But it’s not over yet.” He sits up and reaches for his pants, digging into his pocket.

There, he retrieves the ring box and watches your reaction. You gasp, your eyes alight and your mouth hanging agape from shock. He smiles excitedly, though nervous butterflies still flutter about in his stomach. “I’d be honored to be your husband, Y/N,” he softly says. “Would you give me the honor of being that for you?”

He opens the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring with a silver band that he bought from Kay Jewelers. “Will you marry me?” he asks, blushing pink in the cheeks. “I know you already said yes, but that was when I was fucking you, so—“

“Yes,” you laugh, tossing your arms around him. “Yes, Nanami, I’lll marry you. It would be an honor to be your wife.”

Nanami has never been happier than this moment. Now, you can finally build a life with each other, and maybe, a family. Grinning, he carefully takes the ring out of the box and slides it on your finger. You admire the way it sparkles and glints at you as tears fill your eyes.

“Forever,” you whisper, your voice tight with emotion. “Always you.”

Nanami feels his own tears invade his eyes and he swoops you up in a deep kiss that steals the air out of his lungs. The kiss would have led to something more if your phone didn’t ring. “Oops!” you giggle as he peppers your neck in kisses. “Hang on, baby.”

Quickly, you crawl over to the fireplace and reach up on the mantle where your phone is charging. Nanami lies on his side, naked and filled with happiness, propping his head up on his elbow. He watches as you answer the phone, a contagious smile on your face.

“Hey, Yuki!” you brightly chirp.

“Did he do it yet?!” Yuki screams on the other end. You giggle, looking at Nanami and giving him a wink.

“I’m gonna be a wife!” you squeal and the two of you begin to excitedly scream to each other over the phone as Nanami laughs, the happiness contagious and overflowing.

THE END.

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#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #black writers #my fic shit #jjk smut #my one shots #daddy nanami #nanami x black!reader #nanami x black y/n #nanami x fem!reader #Youtube

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fa1rydr3ams · 2 months ago

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“Holiday Wars”

Submissive Loki Laufeyson x Dom Gn! Reader

| cw: nsfw, humor, mild language, enemies-to-lovers tension

| a/n: day 19 of ficmas check the ficmas tab on the pixie list for the next update!

| wc: n/a

The moment you stepped into the main floor of Stark Tower, you could feel the tension thick enough to rival the snowstorm raging outside. Strings of half-hung lights dangled precariously from the ceiling, and boxes of ornaments were scattered across the room like abandoned chess pieces in a game you weren’t winning. Loki stood in the middle of the chaos, arms folded, his sharp features set in an expression of pure disdain.

“You call this festive?” he drawled, his British lilt dripping with derision as he gestured at the half-decorated room. “It looks like a reindeer vomited on the walls.”

“And yet you’re the one standing there doing absolutely nothing to fix it,” you shot back, dropping the box of decorations you’d been hauling onto the nearest table. You rolled your shoulders, already exhausted, though it wasn’t from the decorating. Babysitting Loki was more draining than fighting off an alien invasion.

He smirked, the kind that made you want to hurl a candy cane at his stupidly perfect face. “I wasn’t aware that babysitting included manual labor. Though I must say, you do look fetching covered in tinsel.”

You glanced down at the stray strand of gold tinsel clinging to your sweater and brushed it off with a scowl. “If I wanted sass, I’d hang out with Tony,” you muttered. “Now, are you actually going to help, or are you just going to stand there and critique my hard work?”

Loki arched a brow, his pale green eyes glittering with amusement. “Why would I sully my hands with such trivialities when you seem so adept at it?”

The audacity of this man. You closed the distance between the two of you, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, heat prickling at the base of your neck. “You’re on house arrest, Laufeyson. You don’t exactly have the luxury of picking and choosing your duties.”

“I am hardly a servant,” he replied, the haughty tone of a prince slipping into his words. “And I have no intention of wasting my divine talents on—”

“Divine talents?” you interrupted, snorting. “You’ve been stuck here for weeks, and the only thing you’ve managed to do is annoy the hell out of everyone.”

His smirk widened. “A skill I’ve perfected, wouldn’t you agree?”

For a brief moment, the two of you stood locked in a silent battle, the twinkling lights around you casting playful shadows on his annoyingly sharp cheekbones. The air between you was charged, not unlike the static that zaps your fingertips when handling too much tinsel. And maybe, just maybe, there was something more simmering beneath the irritation.

“Fine,” you said, breaking the silence with an exaggerated sigh. “If you’re not going to help, you can at least hand me the ornaments while I fix your disaster of a garland.”

“Ordering me around now, are we?” he mused, taking a leisurely step closer. His voice dipped slightly, rich with suggestion. “I wonder what else you think you can command of me.”

You refused to give him the satisfaction of blushing, though his words sent a shiver down your spine. Plucking an ornament from the table, you shoved it into his hands. “Start with this. Then we’ll see how useful you really are.”

He leaned in, his lips quirking at the corners, his voice barely a whisper. “Oh, I assure you, darling. I can be very… useful.”

Your breath hitched, the space between you shrinking with every passing second. But you weren’t about to let Loki win this little game. Not yet.

You squared your shoulders, refusing to back down from the sultry edge in his voice or the spark dancing in his eyes. Instead, you smirked, stepping even closer until you were nearly toe-to-toe with him.

“Is that so?” you said, your tone light and teasing as you reached up and looped the end of a stray ribbon dangling from his collar around your finger. You gave it a playful tug, forcing him to dip his head just slightly. “Then prove it.”

Loki’s grin faltered for a fraction of a second—just enough for you to see the flicker of surprise before he quickly masked it with his usual arrogance. “You truly are a tyrant, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice softer now, laced with something you couldn’t quite name.

“Takes one to know one,” you replied, releasing the ribbon with a flick of your wrist. You stepped around him, brushing your shoulder against his arm as you went. “Now, hang the damn ornament.”

You didn’t have to look back to know he was watching you. You could feel his gaze burning into your back, the weight of it sending a thrill through you that you tried very hard to ignore. Loki Laufeyson might be infuriating, but he was also intoxicating in the worst way possible.

You busied yourself with the garland, trying to focus on fluffing the greenery and securing the strands that had come loose. But the sound of his footsteps behind you, slow and deliberate, made your hands falter.

“You know,” he said, his voice dangerously close to your ear, “I never thought mortal holidays could be so… stimulating.”

The way he said the word made your stomach flip. You turned your head slightly, finding him much closer than you expected, his breath warm against your skin.

“Careful, Loki,” you warned, though your voice lacked the bite you intended. “You might actually start enjoying yourself.”

He chuckled, low and rich, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, I think I already am.”

The tension between you crackled like a yule log in the fire, and you knew you were walking a razor-thin line. Still, you couldn’t help but lean into it, just a little. Maybe it was the holiday spirit—or maybe it was the way his smirk softened ever so slightly when you met his gaze.

“You missed a spot,” you murmured, pointing to a bare patch of garland just above his shoulder.

“Did I?” he replied, but he made no move to step away.

“Mm-hmm.” You tilted your head, eyes locking with his as a daring smile curved your lips. “Guess you’ll have to fix it.”

The room felt too warm all of a sudden, the faint hum of Christmas music in the background fading as the space between you grew smaller.

As Loki's eyes sparkled with mischief, he slowly raised his hands, his fingers brushing against the garland. "I suppose I have no choice but to rectify this situation," he whispered, his voice low and husky, his breath dancing across your skin.

With a deliberate slowness, he began to weave the garland around the banister, his hands moving with an oddly sensual precision that made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but notice the way his fingers stroked the greenery, the gentle tug of the ribbon as he secured it in place.

The air was thick with tension, the silence between you punctuated only by the soft rustle of the garland and the distant sound of holiday music. You felt like you were drowning in the depths of his eyes, the blue seeming to darken.

Loki's gaze never wavered, his eyes holding yours captive as he stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing. You could feel the warmth of his body, the whisper of his breath on your skin, and your pulse began to pound in your veins like a drum.

The room seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a world of sparkling lights and forbidden desire. And as Loki's hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body, you knew that this holiday decorating was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

As Loki's hand touched yours, a spark of electricity ran through your body, and you felt your heart skip a beat. The garland, once the focus of your attention, was now forgotten, dangling limply from the banister as you both stood there motionless.

You held Loki's gaze, your eyes locked onto his, as you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding him in place. His eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and anticipation, but he tried to pull away, a faint pout forming on his lips.

"Let me go," he said, his voice low and petulant, but his eyes betrayed him, flashing with a hint of excitement. You didn't release your grip, instead, you tugged him closer, your fingers tightening around his wrist.

"I think we've decorated enough for one day," you said, your voice low as you leaned in, your breath whispering against his ear. Loki's eyes rolled back, his eyelids fluttering closed, and he let out a soft sigh, his body relaxing into yours.

But as your lips brushed against his, he jerked back, his eyes snapping open, a look of mock indignation on his face. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of annoyance and desire.

You just smiled, your lips curling up in a small grin, and pulled him back in, your tongue probing deeper into his mouth. Loki's body responded, his hands coming up to push against your chest, but his fingers curled into your shirt, holding on instead of pushing away.

As you deepened the kiss, Loki's eyes fluttered closed, his body melting into yours, his lips parting to allow your tongue to explore his mouth. But even as he surrendered to the kiss, he still tried to maintain a semblance of control, his hands gripping your shirt, his fingers digging into your skin.

You could feel the tension in his body, the conflicting desires warring within him, and you knew that he was torn between wanting to resist and wanting to give in. But as the kiss grew more intense, Loki's resistance began to crumble, his body relaxing into yours, his lips softening, his tongue tangling with yours in a sensual dance.

As you broke apart for a moment, gasping for air, Loki's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze burning with a fierce desire, but his lips still curled into a pout. "I didn't want to do that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but his eyes told a different story.

You smiled, a low, husky laugh escaping your lips as you gazed into Loki's eyes. "Is that true?" you teased, your voice barely above a whisper. "Your mouth certainly didn't make it seem that way." You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "It seemed like you were enjoying yourself, like you couldn't get enough."

Loki's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and desire, his face inches from yours. "Shut up," he muttered, his voice low and rough, but his body betrayed him, leaning in closer, his lips almost touching yours.

You chuckled, a soft, seductive sound, and Loki's eyes seemed to glaze over, his pupils dilating as he gazed into yours. You could see the conflict within him, the war between his desire for control and his desire for surrender. And you knew that you were winning, that he was slowly giving in to his desires.

Without another word, you leaned in, your lips capturing his in a fierce, possessive kiss. Loki's resistance crumbled, his body melting into yours, his lips softening, his tongue tangling with yours in a sensual dance. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. Loki gave in, completely and utterly, his body surrendering to yours, his lips, his tongue, his every fiber responding to your touch.

As you broke apart, gasping for air, Loki's eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with a fierce, unspoken desire. You could see the surrender in his eyes, the acceptance of his own desires, and it only fueled your own passion.

Without a word, you took Loki's hand, pulling him towards the couch. He followed, his eyes never leaving yours, his body seeming to move of its own accord. You pushed him down onto the couch, his back against the cushions, and then you sat down on his lap, straddling him with your legs.

Loki's eyes flashed with surprise, but then his gaze dropped to your lips, and he seemed to forget all about his surroundings. His hands came up, wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his heat, his desire, and it only made you want him more.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "You're so cute like this," you whispered, your voice husky with desire.

Loki's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and desire, but he didn't push you away. Instead, he seemed to melt into your touch, his body relaxing into yours. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

You smiled, a slow, inviting smile, and then leaned in, your lips capturing his in a fierce, possessive kiss. Loki's body arched up, his hips pressing against yours, and you could feel the desire building between you, a desire that threatened to consume you both.

As you kissed, you could feel Loki's hands moving, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine, the swell of your hips. You could feel his need, and thought he wouldn’t admit it, he wanted you. You were lost in the moment, lost in the sensation of Loki's body beneath yours, lost in the taste of his lips, the feel of his skin.

You pulled away one last time, your hand pulling through his long black hair, looking directly into his eyes. He looked between each eye, his gaze darting back and forth, and you could see him trying to focus his attention. For a moment, you just stared at each other, the only sound the heavy breathing and the pounding of your hearts.

Loki's eyes were glazed, his pupils dilated, and his face was flushed with desire. You could see the desire written all over his face, the need, the want, the surrender. And in that moment, you knew that you had him, completely and utterly.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear, and whispered, "Good job, Loki." The words sent a shiver down his spine, and he smiled goofily, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the energy, and anticipation in his eyes.

suggestions for other fandoms I should write for after ficmas is over?

dividers by @anitalenia !

#( 𖧧 ) navi.#divider by anitalenia #ficmas 24’#gn reader #dom!reader #sub loki #bratty loki #mcu x reader #marvel mcu #sub character #dom reader blog #dom! reader #loki x reader

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touyaismycomfortboy · 2 months ago

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♡ Long day at work... (touya todoroki x reader)

a/n: i'm a retail slave, and it's christmas time, i think you can tell where this is going. this is going out to all of us working hard this holiday season, have a short touya drabble <3

word count: 862 (told u it was short)

synopsis: you had an exhausting day at work, and your boyfriend takes care of you

pairing: touya todoroki x reader

As soon as you stepped into the door of your and Touya's apartment, you dropped your bags on the floor and stumbled into your shared bedroom, collapsing onto the soft bed.

It seemed like Touya was still out doing god knows what, you couldn't remember if he told me he was going anywhere today, all you could think about was how bad my feet hurt after how much my job had me walking today.

You groaned when you realized you'd forgotten to take off your shoes at the door, and quickly kicked them off you feet and onto the bedroom floor, curling up around a pillow on the bed and melting into the mattress.

All the lights were off in the house, and it was starting to get dark, but you didn't have the energy to get up and turn on the lights, so you just laid there in the dark. Hell, you were still in your work uniform, and you weren't planning on getting up even to change out of your sweaty clothes.

Barely even a few minutes had passed of laying in silence before you heard the front door open and shut, sounds of Touya taking off his heavy jacket and hanging it up.

You heard his footsteps approach the bedroom and opened your eyes when you saw the glare of the light he turned on through your eyelids.

"Oh, hey there doll... I didn't think you were home yet." He smiled at you as he approached the bed, sitting down next to where you were laying. "How was work today?" He asked. He looked at the ground and his eyebrow raised slightly when he saw your shoes on the bedroom floor, then looked back at you and noticed you were still in your work uniform.

You smushed your face into a pillow and groaned loudly, and Touya let out a small chuckle. "I see. That bad, huh?"

You nodded, patting the bed and feeling for where Touya was, not feeling like lifting up your head to actually look. You finally felt his hand, grabbing it and squeezing it.

Touya smiled looking down at your intertwined hands, thinking about how absolutely adorable you were when you were tired. Of course, he wouldn't tell you that right now, he had to have a little bit of fun with you first.

"Alright, come on, dollface." He placed his hands under your armpits and picked you up like a cat to make you sit up. "You smell bad, you're getting a bath."

"Nooooo-" You whined, smiling slightly as he forced you to sit up. "I don't wanna moveeeeeeee."

"God, aren't you whiny today." Touya shook his head, trying to hide his smile. "I'll get everything ready for you, doll, all you have to do is get in the bathtub."

"But-" You started, but he put a finger to your lips. "Just shut up and let me take care of you."

He got up and walked towards the bathroom, his footsteps soft against the hardwood floors.

Your chest felt tingly, Touya always made sure you felt loved and cared for. He's such an asshole to the league, so rude to everyone around him, but you only got small comments here and there that he didn't mean. You were really the only person Touya truly loved at this point in his life.

You heard the water start to run in the bathroom and mustered the strength to stand up and walk to the bathroom. Touya had knelt on the floor, messing with the temperature of the water and putting the plug in the drain.

You walked over to him and flopped onto his back like a ragdoll, wrapping your arms around his neck for stability while you used him like a human bed as he was bent over the bathtub.

"Greetings, sleepyhead. Go ahead and get undressed, the tub is filling up."

Touya started to stand up, and you still clung onto him, hanging off of him like a ragdoll still. Touya laughed at you, and after a moment you let go. You started to take off your pants, and Touya reached into the cabinet to grab a bath bomb and throw it into the tub for you.

You finished undressing, and Touya looked at you. He made a whistling sound at your undressed form, and you threw your sweaty shirt at his face before you slowly sank into the bathtub.

You sighed in relief as the warm water surrounded your body, feeling like a warm hug to your aching muscles.

Touya turned off the water when it was finally full enough, and kneeled on the floor to kiss your forehead softly with his rough lips. "I'm a bit too tired to cook tonight, and you're certainly out of commission, would you like takeout?"

You nodded lazily, your eyes closing from relaxation. "Mmh… pizza…" You mumbled.

A small chuckle escaped from Touya's lips. "Alright, it's decided then. I'll be back." He stood up, walking out of the bathroom and into the next room. You heard him talking on the phone, probably to the pizza place, and you smiled to yourself. God, you were so loved.

#carmen writes bnha #dabi #Touya todoroki #bnha #mha #my hero academia #bnha x reader #Touya todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #fluff #drabble #blurb #short #sfw #mha x reader #mha dabi #bnha dabi

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x1un4rx · 1 month ago

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| Home Is Wherever You Are | (No Outbreak) |

Pairings: Husband!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a rough day full of unexpected challenges, you come home to find a quiet comfort waiting for you. With the weight of the world still on your shoulders, your partner knows exactly how to turn it all around, offering a kind of comfort you never knew you needed. In the midst of exhaustion and stress, it's the simple, thoughtful gestures that remind you what truly makes a place feel like home.

Warnings: Emotional themes, mild language, fluff, relationship dynamics, and comfort. <3

A/N: Hey starlights! 💕 I wrote this as a little escape for anyone who's had one of those days where it feels like everything’s going wrong. Sometimes all you really need is someone who gets you, right? A huge thank you to anyone who’s reading this, I hope it brings a little warmth to your day. If you liked it, feel free to drop a comment, like, etc. Enjoy! 🫶 <333 (I do apologize if something doesn’t sound quite right—this took me about 5 hours (and maybe a whole day to make sure it sounded okay) to fully complete! Plus, I’m only 15, after all and this is my first story, so please bear with me as I am trying to get the hang of writing more better. lmao)

Word Count: 1,9k+

Credits: @enchanthings for these lovely dividers <3

(edit: I tweaked the format a little lot, so if you see this reblogged by others and it looks different, it’s just me making things a bit easier to read, lol.)

You grab your work bag and step out of the car, closing the door behind you. Pressing the lock button on the key fob, you hear the car beep as it locks. You walk toward the front door of your shared home, feeling absolutely drained, like every ounce of energy has been stripped from you—as if you'd just been hit by a damn bus. All you wanted was to be curled up with your husband in your shared bed.

Today just wasn’t your day.

Your boss had called you in on your day off—because, naturally, half the office was either sick or with family for the holiday, so being the good person you are, you went in— that had left you buried under a mountain of paperwork you never signed up for.

To make matters worse, on your way in, you stopped for coffee, and, of course, they got your order completely wrong. As if the universe already knew how the day would go. And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, you were walking outside your work building and on your way in… is when a bird decided it was the perfect moment to shit on you. It was the kind of morning that made you feel like the universe had it out for you, and you knew it was going to be one hell of a shitty day.

And, of course, you were right. Customers called nonstop, one after another, the chaos blurring together. Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, your boss barged in, his voice sharp, yelling at you for ‘not trying hard enough.’ You could’ve… would’ve punched him. But you still needed the paycheck, after all, and the job… even if it was slowly driving you insane.

You fumble through your keys, exhaustion sinking deep into your bones as you search for the right one. After what feels like an eternity, you finally find it and push the door open, the familiar scent of your shared home wrapping around you. Stepping inside, you close the door with a heavy sigh, leaning back against it for support. You groan, the tension of the day weighing heavy on your shoulders as you drop the workbag on the floor with a thud.

From the kitchen, you hear Joel moving around and the smell of his lovely cooking fills the air, the comforting rhythm of his presence (and the smell of food) surrounding you.

You kick off your shoes, the relief instant as your feet hit the cool hardwood floor. You nudge them aside, placing them next to Joel's boots, the two of them forming a quiet, familiar mess by the door. You shrugged off your coat, letting it fall from your shoulders before hanging it up, the fabric settling softly against the hook. The quiet warmth of the house wrapped around you, and for the first time all day, you allowed yourself to breath. It was these small, comforting rituals—his boots, your coat, the space you shared—that made everything feel just a little bit more like home.

You headed towards the kitchen, each step lighter now that you were home. As you walked through the doorway, the air seemed to shift, and you were hit with a delicious aroma that instantly made your stomach rumble. The familiar scent of your favourite food filled the space, rich and savory, a warmth that made everything else fade away for a moment. It was the kind of comfort only Joel could create, and you felt your shoulders relax, the tension from the day starting to melt. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing that, as always, he had managed to make everything feel a little more like home.

And then your gaze landed on him, and you couldn’t help but giggle. There he was, wearing that ridiculous apron you’d gotten him as a joke on Christmas, the one with bold pink letters that read, "Kiss the Cook". It was so out of character for him, but seeing it now, you couldn’t help but laugh. He caught your eye and gave you that small, amused grin of his, the one that made your heart flutter every time. The apron might’ve been silly, but in that moment, it made you feel happy he was wearing something you got him, even if it was a joke gift.

He walked towards you with that easy confidence of his, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Without a word, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips grounding you in the moment. “How was your day, love?” he asked, his voice low and soothing, as he pulled you into a big, comforting hug.

For a second, you let yourself melt into him, feeling the weight of the day’s chaos lift just from being in his arms. But then, like a wave crashing back into you, all the frustration, exhaustion, and little annoyances came rushing back—customers, work, the mess of it all. It made your chest tighten slightly, a dull ache that lingered as you leaned against him.

You didn’t want to dump all of that on him right now, not when he’d gone out of his way to make dinner and create a sense of home, but it was hard to hide the weariness in your soul.

You stay silent, absorbing the quiet warmth of him, the exhaustion from your day hanging heavy on your shoulders. With a soft sigh, you whisper, “It was… a long day.” The words feel heavy, but his presence lightens them, just a little. He held you tighter, sensing the change in your mood without needing to ask.

He then pulled away.

He looked at you for a few moments, his brow furrowed in thought, before a spark of realization seemed to hit him. “How about I make it up to you?” he suggested softly, his thumb brushing your cheek before he leaned in to give you a gentle peck on the lips. “I’ll set up a warm bath for you to relax in, and I’ll fix something up for you… how’s that sound, hm?”

You felt the tension in your chest start to loosen, just hearing the thoughtfulness in his voice. He smiled at you, eyes full of love, as if he already knew exactly what you needed—something soothing, something simple, something you.

Without waiting for a response, he kissed your forehead, then turned toward the bathroom. You watched him go, already feeling lighter just from the way he handled things. It was as if he could read your mind, and somehow, that made everything better.

A few moments later, you could hear the sound of the bathroom faucet running, the warm steam filling the air. He came back to you with an armful of your softest, coziest clothes—your favourite oversized hoodie (which was 100% his), and those worn-in sweatpants you loved. “Put these on when you’re done,” he said, his voice tender. You didn’t realize how much you needed it, but just the thought of sinking into the softness of those clothes made you feel a little more human again.

You made your way to the bathroom, the scent of bath salts floating into the hallway, a quiet invitation to unwind in the warmth he’d prepared for you. The bathroom was bathed in a soft glow from the candles he had set up on the counter, flickering gently as they cast a calming light. You could already feel the heat of the water sinking into your muscles, easing the tension with each step you took toward the tub.

As you slipped into the bath, the hot water enveloping you like a hug, you closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh, allowing yourself to relax for the first time all day. You could hear Joel moving around in the other room, probably gathering the last few things for his plan, but you didn’t need to worry about any of that now. This was your time.

When you stepped out of the bath, the scent of lavender lingered on your skin, leaving you wrapped in warmth. You slipped into the cozy clothes Joel had picked out, the softness a welcome relief, and made your way back to the living room.

The scene before you made your heart swell. Joel had set up your shared bed like it was a little safe haven—tons of pillows piled high, the blankets draped just perfectly, inviting you to sink in. On the nightstand, there were snacks—your favourite chips, a bowl of popcorn, and even some of that sweet dessert you’d been craving. The best part? A steaming plate of your favourite food, still warm, waiting for you. He’d thought of everything, as always.

Joel, always attentive to the little things that made you feel loved, gave you a soft smile as he stepped aside. "All set," he said, his eyes holding that quiet, steady warmth you cherished. "You deserve this. I might not know what happened today, but I’ll take care of you—always."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the warmth of his affection settle around you like the blankets. You reached out for him, pulling him in close as you both nestled into the cozy cocoon he’d made for you.

“You really know how to make everything better,” you murmured, your voice full of gratitude and comfort.

He chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Anything for you, love.”

You nestled deeper into the blankets, feeling the weight of the day slowly slip away as you sank into the comfort that Joel had created. The warmth of the food, the cozy clothes, the soft hum of the movie starting in the background—it all wrapped around you like a protective cocoon. You could hear Joel’s steady breathing beside you, his hand brushing against yours as he settled in, his presence grounding you in the best way.

For a moment, the world outside your little bubble didn’t exist. It was just you, Joel, and the quiet, comforting rhythm of the evening. You reached for the plate of food, savoring each bite as if it was the first real taste you’d had in hours. You couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly he made you feel cared for, how he could turn a shitty day into something so… perfect.

Joel, noticing your smile, leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, throwing his arm over your shoulder, his voice low and tender as he whispered, “You’re everything to me, you know that?” His words were simple, but they hit you in all the right places, like a soft sigh that echoed in your chest.

You nodded, heart full, as you snuggled closer to him. “I know,” you whispered back, “And you’re everything to me, too.”

The movie played softly in the background, the glow from the screen flickering gently, but it was the quiet moments—the ones where you felt completely at peace, completely loved—that really stayed with you. You could feel the weight of the world slowly melting away, the stress of the day fading into nothingness.

You looked up at him, feeling the weight of the day dissolve in his gaze. Your heart was full, but the words didn’t come easily—"I love you, Joel," you whispered, your voice a quiet confession. He paused, eyes softening as they locked with yours, before he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you too," he murmured, his words (and arms) wrapping around you like a promise.

For the first time all day, you finally felt at peace.

a/n: I will edit this if something doesn't sound right or make sense, but I hope you enjoyed <3

- lunar <3

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slaymitchabernathy · 2 months ago

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Naughty or Nice?

| "I'm talkin' deckin' all the halls, I'm talkin' spikin' eggnog. I'm talkin' opposite of small, I'm talkin' big snowballs. You got a new toy for me, I'm out here trimmin' the tree. I caught that holiday glee, my true love gave it to me." |

“Go to bed girls,” Coriolanus says once more, only his head pokes through the opening of the doors. He watches the girls giggle, doing their best to convince him that they’ll be on their best behavior but they probably won’t.

“If you don’t go to sleep then Santa won’t come and bring you presents.”

The girls gasp and shush each other making him grin. Lying about Santa isn’t the best thing to do but it’s earned him stellar behavior from all three of his children the past month.

The moment one of them was on the cusp of a tantrum, Coriolanus was threatening to tell Santa. Soarynn had chided him on it, claiming it wasn’t fair to hold it over their heads but he figured he only had ten years with each child before they started putting two and two together so he wouldn’t waste this precious momentum.

And the children were excellently behaved tonight. He took his family to the ballet with some good friends of theirs and then they ended the night at one of their favorite restaurants. The children ate all their food and used their best manners.

At twenty-six, Coriolanus Snow feels on top of the world. He’s doing great at work, has a beautiful home, and the perfect wife who's blessed him with three perfect, beautiful children.

Coriolanus closes the doors to his eldest daughter’s bedroom feeling very pleased with how his life has turned out so far.

His girls had begged to sleep in the same bed so they could wait for Santa and he eventually gave in after enough pouting.

He makes his way through the living room, admiring their beautiful tree. Soarynn decorated it beautifully with red garlands and golden accents along with shiny ornaments. Tons of presents sit under the tree, gifts for the family from the family.

He’ll have to slip the ones from Santa under the tree later tonight once the children are really asleep. Even if they were little tyrants tonight, there’s no way in hell he’d let any of those presents go to waste. He’s spent a small fortune on them, well, his wife spent a small fortune on them.

He was simply the one writing the check.

He walks into the kitchen and eyes the plate of cookies they left for Santa. They do look quite delicious and that glass of warm milk is calling his name.

He licks his lips, maybe a little late-night treat wouldn’t hurt. He’s just about the grab a cookie when his wife’s voice scares the shit out of him, “Coriolanus Snow.”

He jumps and turns around, giving her a sheepish smile while she stands under the doorway, hands on her hips, not looking too impressed with his behavior, “I was a bit peckish,” he explains.

Soarynn raises an eyebrow, “Those are for Santa,” she nods at the plate of decorated cookies, “not for you.”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, certainly no one would’ve noticed if he ate one cookie. And he’s going to have to take a bite out of one before the children wake up so why not get a head start? “You don’t want to get a lump of coal in your stocking,” Soarynn tells him.

To Soarynn’s credit, they’ve had a wonderful holiday season. She’s made sure that they’ve done every activity under the sun from meeting Santa to going sledding. She’s not about to let him throw all her hard work down the drain, “Are the children asleep?” She asks, stepping into the kitchen. Coriolanus hums, eyeing the cookies one last time, “Yes darling, tucked into bed with sugarplums dancing above their heads or however the song goes.”

Soarynn smiles, but not her usual smile, no, this smile has sinister intentions behind it. “Good, because I have a gift for you.”

Oh, well that’s not sinister at all.

“Really? Well I’ll open it tomorrow morning darling,” he says, going to the cupboard to grab himself a wine glass, they might as well end the night watching a film while cuddling on the sofa.

“It’s for tonight.”

He looks over his shoulder at Soarynn who bats her eyelashes at him, “Come to our room in fifteen minutes,” she instructs. She leaves before he can ask any questions and his mouth suddenly feels very dry. Soarynn isn’t one for random surprises, no, she values routine above everything else.

He begins to think of the worst, perhaps she broke something and was waiting for a good time to tell him. Maybe she wants him to hang up another picture frame, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Or…or maybe she got another kitten.

Coriolanus suddenly feels lightheaded and grips the counter for support. His entire life is flashing before his eyes. Two cats are diabolical. He’ll have to put his foot down, simple as that. He’s the man of the house and he simply cannot tolerate two Petunias.

He might as well have that wine now. Heaven knows he’ll need it.

Fifteen minutes pass at an agonizing pace, too slow for him to handle but Soarynn won’t let him into their bedroom a minute earlier. He knows that much.

He glances up at the clock and sighs, it’s finally ten o’clock. Time to face his doom.

He finishes off his wine and sets the glass in the sink before trudging down the hallway to their bedroom. He’s so busy feeling sorry for himself that he doesn’t even notice the rose petals on the floor leading up to their bedroom. Only when he’s about to open the doors does he realize that her gift could be something very different.

He cautiously opens the doors, peeking his head in just in case and what he sees causes his jaw to go slack.

Soarynn. On the bed. Wearing red sheer tights with lingerie under the tights and a red bow wrapped around her waist. She’s wearing a gorgeous red lacy bralette as well and she looks like an absolute vision.

She’s sitting on her knees, wearing a proud smile when she sees his shocked expression.

“Come in darling,” she purrs, beckoning him in with the wave of her finger.

Like the lovesick fool he is, Coriolanus stumbles into the bedroom like he’s in a trance, shutting the doors behind him and swearing to treat this woman like the goddess she is for the rest of their lives.

“This is…this is something,” he finally says, stopping once he reaches the bed. Soarynn softly chuckles and pops up on her knees so that they’re almost at the same height, “I just wanted to give you an extra special gift, you know, for all you do for me.”

Coriolanus swallows when she goes to undo his tie, “All I…all I do for you?” He squeaks when she pulls the tie off him, “Mhm, all you do to take care of me,” she sweetly explains, undoing the buttons on his shirt next. “You take such good care of me Coryo and I just wanted to find a special way to thank you.”

Coriolanus decides right then and there that he’s the luckiest man alive.

And she looks so gorgeous. Her hair and makeup are the same from the ballet and dinner. Parted down the side with light yet perfect makeup to enhance her natural beauty.

He rests a hand on her hip and resists the urge to rip these tights right off of her. But he should be patient. Yes, patient. But he’s never been good at being patient. That’s Soarynn’s specialty.

“Well this is very nice,” he tells her, helping her slide off his white shirt, baring his chest to her, “very, very nice. Where did you get the bow?”

Soarynn smiles up at him, “It’s a secret.”

Right.

“Alright, well can I unwrap my present now?” He asks with a teasing smile, desperate to get his hands on her and more importantly, get her under him.

Soarynn shakes her head and it damn near crushes his hopes and dreams, “Not yet,” she says softly, dragging her hand down his chest towards his belt, “first, I want to give you a smaller gift.” Soarynn cups his hardened length right through his trousers and smirks when he gasps. She’s never ever been this straightforward and he can’t help but ask.

Who is this woman and what has she done with his shy, timid little wife?

The Soarynn he knows rarely ever engages in sexual activity first, she always lets him take the lead which he doesn’t mind at all. He loves being in charge and loves that she trusts him enough to do the things they do but this behavior is entirely different.

“Oh,” is all he says, his voice a croak.

Soarynn nods and slowly unbuckles his belt, "You've just been so stressed darling," she says, almost like she's pouting, "so busy with work, providing for our family. Sometimes you don't even come to bed until early in the morning."

Well, well...well, she has a point. The holiday season is always hectic with work and despite it being a "family-oriented holiday", Coriolanus always finds himself buried in end-of-the-year paperwork. Soarynn understands, of course, someone has to pay the bills but she's taking matters into her own hands it seems.

Literally.

She lets the belt fall to the ground and unzips his trousers at an agonizing pace, like she's teasing him and he's not even fully naked yet. Coriolanus feels frozen, only allowed to watch her palm his length while looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes, like a little vixen.

"Sit down," she says and he nearly sits on the floor. "On the chair," she elaborates pointing over at the sitting area they have in their room.

Who is he to disobey her?

He kicks off his trousers and walks over to the armchair he sits in every night before getting ready for bed. He slowly sinks into the chair and watches with great fascination as Soarynn slowly slips off the bed. Now that she's standing, he can fully admire her outfit and can see that she's wearing red high heels as well.

She's going to fucking kill him.

She's wearing this proud smirk because she knows, she knows she's got him in the palm of her hand.

Once she reaches him and bends down until her lips are ghosting his, "Keep your hands on the chair," she whispers, looking into his eyes with such ferocity that he almost feels scared.

He nods and Soarynn smiles. She carefully sinks down in front of him, on her knees once again and his cock is begging to be touched. Soarynn slips a finger under the waistband of his boxers, causing his breath to hitch. He is the one who teases her like this, but he surprisingly doesn't mind that the roles have been reversed.

Soarynn hums and finally pulls down his boxers, releasing his cock that's already gathered precum at the tip. Soarynn gently grabs it and starts stroking it up and down, up and down. Coriolanus clenches his teeth, it feels so fucking good. He wishes he could just grab her hair like he usually does but he's under specific orders to keep his hands away from her.

He knows what she really meant by that demand: "Stop throat fucking me you impatient, unappreciative bastard."

Soarynn never complains when giving him a blow job but he always likes to be in charge, set the pace. Not tonight though.

Soarynn finally sticks out her tongue and swirls it around his very sensitive tip. He jerks in his seat, gripping the armrests for dear life. She looks up at him, a twinkle in her eyes while he tries to compose himself, restrain himself from grabbing a fistful of her hair, and fucking her throat until she cries.

She maintains eye contact as she takes him into her mouth and it's an ungodly sight that nearly makes him cum right then and there. Soarynn would never admit this, but she's very good at giving head. She can take him all the way down which is a very impressive feat where he's concerned. Coriolanus is well aware that he's well endowed, long in length with enough girth to stretch her out every single time.

She takes him like a champ, bobbing her head up and down, licking the underside of his shaft at the same time and his breathing is becoming labored. He can't remember the last time she gave him head, he's been...well, he's been busy! With work!

And Soarynn is here to remind him of what he's been missing out on.

Soarynn plays with his balls with her other hand and Coriolanus moans, unable to look away no matter how much it kills him to do so. She's just so sexy, so fucking irresistible with his cock buried in her throat. Soarynn takes him all the way down and holds it and he cries out, "Fuck Soarynn!"

He leans forward, pushing his cock further down his throat and Soarynn lets out a gagged groan. She probably didn't think this entirely through, and he doesn't need his hands to properly fuck his wife's throat but before he can do it again, she squeezes his balls hard.

Coriolanus lets out a pained scream and Soarynn pulls herself completely off of him, gasping for air while he does the same.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her lipstick is slightly smudged and she has a murderous look in her eyes. "Really? You couldn't control yourself one time Coriolanus?"

He sputters while trying to come up with a proper apology or explanation as to why it's impossible not to watch her gag on his cock but she's not hearing it. "Thought you could handle it," she mutters, standing back up. Coriolanus reaches out for her, still painfully hard by the way.

"Soarynn," he calls, "darling, come back, let me try again, I'm sorry. I'll be perfectly behaved."

Soarynn walks over to the bed and bends down, looking for something apparently. He watches her with a puzzled look on his face but it fades quickly when she stands back up with his belt in her hands.

"Absolutely not," he says, shaking his head when she starts walking back over to him. "Soarynn, there's no way in hell I'm gonna let you tie me up."

She feigns a saddened look and rolls her eyes, "Oh really? Because your cock is leaking and we both know you'd rather kill yourself than handle it alone."

His teeth click from how quickly he shuts his mouth.

Who the fuck is this dominatrix?

And what has she done with his wife?

She holds her hands as wide as her shoulders, making the belt go taut between her hands, "The choice is yours, darling. Finish by yourself, or play by my rules for once. You tie me up all the time and I never complain."

He does love to tie her up. It's so fun to see her whine and struggle, to see her take everything he gives her. To see her pretty eyes fill with tears when she gets too stimulated.

He's shooting himself in the foot because he's only getting harder now that he's thinking about it.

Soarynn notices too and smirks, "Choose," she tells him, "are you gonna play naughty, or nice?"

Coriolanus wishes there were a third option such as: 'beg for forgiveness' but her tone is anything but forgiving.

He swallows not only his spit but his pride too, "Nice," he mumbles.

Soarynn grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back, "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, darling, say it again, louder this time," she orders, a wicked look in her eyes. He knows exactly what she's doing because two weeks ago he said the exact same thing to her during sex.

He's going to have to watch what he says from now on because she's clearly been keeping score.

He glares up at her, "Nice," he spits out, "I'll be fucking nice."

Soarynn chuckles and lets go of his hair, "Mhm, you'll be my good boy?"

Well, fuck.

His throat bobs from the new petname. He's got a whole list of petnames for her when they're in the bedroom, ranging from "sweet girl" to "my little mindless fuckdoll" but he's never been called this before.

He kinda likes it.

"Yes," he says, much nicer this time.

"Hands," she says, the same way he says it whenever he ties her up. Coriolanus sighs but holds up his hands, wrists right next to each other. Soarynn tilts her head and studies him for a moment, "Actually, put them behind your back," she purrs.

He begrudgingly puts his hands behind his back and bends forward so that Soarynn can tie his hands with his belt. With his own fucking belt. Soarynn gives him a pat on the back once she's done, "There we go, that wasn't so hard was it?"

He hangs his head, "No."

She slides two fingers under his chin and tilts his face up, "What was that?"

Coriolanus wants to be an asshole, be defiant and give her a hard time but for his own safety and sanity, he remains well-behaved. "No," he says louder, "it wasn't that hard."

Soarynn giggles and leans down to press a kiss to his nose, "Exactly, now let's try again, hmm?"

It's embarrassing how eagerly he nods for her to sink back down to her knees but he does. Soarynn settles in front of his cock again and this time, he's prepared to be tortured. Soarynn takes his hardened length into her hand and strokes him up and down a few times before she sticks out her tongue and starts licking his shaft, slowly to tease him.

Coriolanus moans, throwing his head back while he fights to break his hands free but it's no use, she's tied him up very well. She's been taking notes apparently.

When she takes him into her mouth again, his toes are curling and his teeth are grinding. It feels so fucking good. Soarynn bobs her head up and down, still looking him in the eye but this time, he's truly at her mercy. Soarynn stops at the tip and swirls her tongue around like it's a goddamn lollipop and he almost loses his mind.

"Oh fuck," he gasps, sweat forming on his brow, "fuck I'm close."

Soarynn keeps a steady pace, using her other hand to pump his shaft while she focuses on torturing his overly sensitive tip. He can feel himself getting closer and closer and, "Oh fuck Soarynn," he moans, spilling into her throat.

It's strange not to be able to grab her hair or hold her head down. All he can do is sit there and squirm while he cums. He watches Soarynn close her eyes while his cum spurts down her throat, continuing to pump his shaft.

He gasps at how good it feels and leans back in the chair, riding out his prolonged orgasm. When he finally stops, he's out of breath.

"Fuck that was good," he says, closing his eyes.

He's ready for a shower, well, maybe one round of sex, and then a shower.

Soarynn starts bobbing her throat up and down again.

Coriolanus sits right back up, eyes wide with confusion as his wife keeps sucking him off as if he didn't just cum right down her throat. "Soarynn," he gasps, trying to buck her off of him, "what're you doing?" She only moans while continuing to suck him off, going at a much faster pace this time.

"Shit," he grits out, "Soarynn, I...I can't, fuck, Soarynn!"

She looks back up at him and he can see how much she's enjoying this, enjoying how he's completely helpless, depending on her for his next orgasm which he doesn't even think he can handle but that's beside the point.

Like fucking clockwork, another orgasm is approaching and Coriolanus might just die if he reaches it. But Soarynn is clearly trying to kill him. Coriolanus whimpers, digging his fingernails into his palms as he feels himself getting closer again.

Soarynn lets go of his shaft and brings her hand down to his balls and he blacks out.

Coriolanus doesn't know how long he stays unconscious, he only starts to feel his body again when he feels Soarynn's nails gently scratching his scalp. He groans and slowly opens his eyes, blinking from the bright lights. The first thing he sees is Soarynn, smiling at him which is a nice thing to see when you come back from the dead.

She's sitting in his lap and that's when Coriolanus realizes that she's untied his hands. The evil, mischievous little part of him wants to take her right here and now and show her who's really in charge.

But the gentle, and overstimulated part of him simply rests his hands on her waist and leans into her touch. Soarynn chuckles, "Good choice." He furrows his eyebrows and she kisses his cheek, "If you tried to fuck me right now, you wouldn't even be able to stand, let alone use your cock."

Coriolanus blushes, he's never seen her so confident, so sure of herself. It's like they've switched places for one night only. "That was...that was amazing," he finally says, his voice slightly scratchy, "what the fuck was that?"

Soarynn laughs, resting her head on his shoulder with a content hum, "Oh, I don't know," she sighs, kicking her feet as they dangle off the side of the chair, "I just thought you might enjoy something different, something where you don't have to make all the decisions all the time."

He runs his fingers through her long blonde hair, feeling how soft it is, "Part of me wanted to jump you," he admits, remembering how frustrated he had been. "I know," she says sweetly, trailing her other hand up and down his bare chest. "But the other part of me was so...so hypnotized by you," he says, still in awe, "you turned into a new person."

Soarynn laughs, lifting her head so she can look him in the eyes again, "You like control," she tells him pointedly, "always have, always will and I like giving it to you. But it's nice to switch things up every once in a while, don't you think?"

Coriolanus is nodding before he can even stop himself. It is nice.

"Yeah," he says, nosing her jaw, "it's really nice."

Soarynn shifts on his lap and he's once again painfully aware of how sensitive his cock is. He's not hard but he could be very quickly. "Do you wanna fuck me now?" She asks him, batting those eyelashes the way she always does. Coriolanus swallows and looks at her sexy outfit again, "Maybe," he mumbles.

Soarynn giggles and grabs his jaw in her hand, "Do you wanna fuck me from behind? And make me take it over and over again?" She nods his head for him and his cock is starting to twitch again but she's on a roll again, "You wanna fuck me until I'm crying, and fill my cunt up with your cum since I belong to you and only you?"

"Yes," he says before she can say anything else, crashing his lips onto her lips. Soarynn smiles into the kiss and rests her hand on his neck while his hands grip her waist tightly. They move in sync, knowing exactly what to do after being together for over nine years.

"Good," she whispers, slightly pulling away, "because I really didn't want to have to be on top."

Coriolanus laughs, kissing her again but softer this time, taking his time to appreciate his beautiful, sexy, smart wife who gave him a Christmas Eve to remember.

"Only good girls get to be on top," he mumbles against her lips, "and you've been very naughty."

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @villiansarehottest @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @kickmybark @melodyoflovee |

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nrdmssgs · 1 year ago

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Prazdnik (part 2)

Masterlist Pairing: Nikto x reader Fluff AN: @sofasoap @keegansshark @yaboidante2711 @ella-bella-ella this wasn't the original plan, but because of you this guy got his kiss. Summary: this happens a few months after the first part.

Nikto lets out a thin whiff of cigarette smoke, that dissolves in crisp air. He is tired by this point. Every time he tries to think of anything, but her - the world finds its ways to remind him. Even now, when he looks up in the dimly lit sky - the curved streaks of clouds remind him of x-rays of her lungs with the subtle curves of ribs. Usually, soldiers got shot, broke their limbs or survived a shell shock, but she just had to be original and to spoil his life in a unique way - she ended up in a medbay with a pneumonia.

He tried to end this all for good, he ignored her, hid away, even tried to start a fight once - nothing helped. At the end of the day he always found himself somewhere around her: quietly hanging out, helping her or letting her help him. Nikto wasn't blind - he saw the way she looked at him. And what was even worse - he secretly started enjoying a feeling of being needed. But there was no way, he could let whatever them two had grow. His 'Prazdnik' ended the minute he stepped out of your room, and should never be repeated. Not at the cost of her frightened eyes, her forever disturbed sleep, her disgust the minute she sees him without a mask.

Time to time Nikto thinks about that touch that almost happened. He was never an innocent one, and he gladly does so many unhinged, unfair, dirty things to women, who are ok with never seeing his face and not being able to meet him again after the deed is done. But when it comes to her - Nikto doesn't want all those sins, that he usually indulges himself in. He craves not even a real kiss - just a touch of her lips against his skin would be enough. It would be ok if she chooses to not even move, not caress him. Just let him feel that warmth, he almost felt.

He frowns at this thought and takes another deep drag. The base is almost empty, except an emergency group, soldiers at medbay, a few office workers and superiors. So Nikto immediately recognizes tall figure moving from barracks to where he is standing.

"Vot tol`ko kalanchi mne seychas ne hvatalo...*" Nikto mutters frustrated and checks if there is any place he could walk away fast enough and seem preoccupied at the same time. But not being able to find any direction, in which he could retreat, he faces the Colonel, hoping, he would keep it short and simple, as usual.

"You staying for the holidays?" Colonels voice is low, he doesn't even hold back his German accent - a rare sign, that the man is exhausted.

"Have some unfinished business." Nikto tries to be as vague as possible, hoping, that it will drain Colonels social battery, and he leaves him alone.

But his commander is in no hurry to leave and hands him some paper. Nikto asks if it's a new contract, but Colonel shakes his hand. "This is for the unfinished business."

He leaves Nikto alone and confused, not wanting to hear his angry rants about how he doesnt need whatever assistance Colonel can provide. Nikto is awful when it comes to gift receiving, everybody in the KorTac knows it.

***

She wakes up with a loud cough in the middle of the night and Nikto immediately pulls her up, so she can sit on the bed straight. Clearing her throat, she reaches for the bedside lamp, but Nikto catches her hand.

"It's just me, don't bother." He pushes her hand back gently, wanting the room to remain dark.

"Andre? How did you?... Why are you here?" She barely breathes after hard coughing, but already dumps him with questions.

Nikto turns away and chuckles quietly. To tell the truth, he doesn't even know what the hell he needs in her hospital room.

"König tinkered me a pass. I thought, it would be a pity to leave you here all alone on the New Year." He lies: he doesn't give a damn about New Year or any other holiday really. Nikto just can't really be else where, when she is like that. He's been restless from the first day of her illness.

A part of him wants to get as close as it is possible, to stay by her side, until she heals fully and even after that. But there are voices appearing, growing louder with every hour. "Run away, run as far as you can, before you grow too soft and traumatize her, you moron!" Nikto is trapped between wanting to leave and needing to stay. So when she pats his shoulder and asks to not worry about her and go celebrate, he comes back to his senses and snaps back at her, 'we are staying!'

By the way her hand darts away from him Nikto understands, that he crossed the line. She is sick, obviously has fever, struggles to breathe normally, and on the top of that comes he with his freakery. He clasps his hands together, so that he doesn't reach back to her and looks down.

"Sorry. We... give me a minute, I'll collect myself." As he speaks - he hears her moving to the opposite side of the small bed. Distant chatter and laughter reach them two through the closed door and Nikto understands, that even medbay staff is celebrating. But the only sound, he now truly cares for is a shuffle of her bedsheets. He scared her off, she now doesn't even feel safe in one room with him. Bloody idiot.

"Come sit here." She touches an empty space besides her. Nikto hesitates for some time, but then surrenders and sits on her bed, making sure, he doesn't squish her accidentally.

"Maybe it's fever, maybe I'm just tired to the end of the year, I don't even care really. I just want to be honest, ok?" She rises from her pillow and leans against his shoulder. He freezes, but then forces himself to nod.

"Good..." She sighs and continues. "Look, I know, I screwed up that 'Prazdnik', I organized. I thought, I just wanted to thank you for everything, but understood too late, I wanted something other. And although I'll never get it - it's ok. I will stop pushing you, annoying you, even talking to you if it helps. But... just today, just for this one night, can we just pretend, I didn't do anything weird on that evening? I really need it."

The moment, when Nikto wants to remind her, she really did nothing weird, and they don't have to pretend, she starts coughing once again. So he brings her closer, letting her practically curl up on his chest. A cough runs in spasms throughout her entire body and Nikto softly strokes her back, repeating 'Nothing weird. You did nothing wrong'. But his mask muffles his voice, and that combined with her coughing makes it impossible for her to hear him. So he leans back on her pillow, softly guides her to lay down on his shoulder, and, praying for it to remain this dark in her room, slowly removes his mask. She doesn't make it hard for him and doesn't turn her face up - just lies obediently, being thankful for this little crack of softness in his cold demeanor, that he shows her.

"I said, you didn't do anything wrong. You just did it all to the wrong guy. All those treats, that improvised desk, I still regret I haven't taken photo of... That silly 'TV', even that branch - it all was so touching. It felt like a real holiday." She doesn't move while listening to Nikto, but he still holds a hand on her head, just in case. Without thinking, he starts playing with her hair. "But you need to do it all for someone real, someone not split into so many pieces, someone, who is more than... well, you know."

She shakes her head and Nikto feels her hand clasping to his side. This half an embrace makes him hold his breath. Something deep inside him shudders and cracks.

"Someone more than you?" She tries to end his phrase, but it is his turn to shake his head.

"Someone more than just remains of a human."

It hurts to stop hiding and say her the truth, but at the same time it feels right. His holiday is over, his celebration is never to come. And Nikto doesn't care anymore - at least he got this minutes, when she held him, before she banishes him for good. Despite all his expectations, she does not push him away.

“I wanted to celebrate the New Year for real. I was going to invite you to my place. Not to my room at the base - but to my home. I know you wouldn’t have come. But I still wanted to invite you. And then this pneumonia...” She coughs again and Nikto strokes her shoulders to make it better. When she finally can breathe again more or less properly, he asks, how would they celebrate if he came.

"Oh, this time I'd make sure, you die of cringe... I'd try to come up with a new recipe and fail ultimately, I'd make you make the 'president speech' this time." She pauses, hearing Niktos raspy low chuckle.

"No, that never happens, you little trouble. I'm not participating in this part of your fantasies."

"Ok-ok, jeez, Andre, I never said, I'd try to force you anyway. I would always ask you. Ask if you can make the speech, ask if you are willing to help me with food, ask if I can... never mind, my message here is maybe you feel broken, torn in pieces. You have every right to feel so..." Nikto is so struck by her sudden change of tone, he doesn't even realize, that her fingers trace lines up his chest and pause over his face, as she continues speaking. "All these pieces, remains, fragments, that call themselves 'Nobody' - they are precious, they are to be treated like human, to be treated with care and love."

He breathes in, trying to find any words for her, but all the words, all the voices, are mixed up in a deafening white noise. So he takes another breath, and another. But nothing changes: no clear words, no thoughts, as if he - not she was on the verge of deliriousness now. Nikto takes her hand and guides it to cover his eyes, not even thinking, she might feel, how ugly his face is. He only wishes for this sensory and emotional overdrive to stop.

And she helps him. Pressing her lips against his, crushing his fears with feather-like touches. Her skin is burning hot, her hands travel from his eyes to cup his cheeks, but Nikto doesn't care right now. Just one more moment of her being this close, one more second of him carefully holding her, one more sigh tickling his skin. He answers to her kiss. Hesitantly, because with all the violence, he holds for his work - Nikto has no violence for her. And kissing her back feels like torturing this treasure of his. He must thank her - not claim. But that self-restrain is strapping his throat with a red-hot collar, smothering him.

Fuck it. A single voice in his head. Loud and clear.

And Nikto lets go. His tongue brushes against her slightly parted lips and he deepens the kiss. He is surprisingly slow, careful, attentive. He is ready to back away at any moment, should she wish to stop. But she doesnt, and his fingers dive into her hair, cupping her head, guiding her so close, that he feels, they share one breath.

When she leans back just slightly - he immediately lets her go, holding his breath and trying to calm rushing heart. Even now he is ready for her to have second thoughts. But she smiles shyly and places a kiss on his burnt cheek.

"Sorry, I must taste like meds." Hearing her whisper he finally starts breathing.

"You taste like 'prazdnik*'. My very own holiday." He stares at the ceiling, not believing, it really happens. While his prazdnik covers his disfigured face with soft touches.

"Vot tol`ko kalanchi mne seychas ne hvatalo...*" - The beanpole... just what I needed

Prazdnik - holyday, celebration

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod #cod x reader #mw2 #gromsko mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod headcanons #cod nikto #nikto #nikto x reader #mwii nikto #nikto x you #nikto cod #nikto fluff

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dotchi18 · 4 months ago

Text

The 'Real' Petal

(I've been listening to 'Open the Door' over and over for months thinking about this, and decided to write a oneshot at 3AM in one shot.

This is loosely based on the 'That's Not My Neighbor' game featuring one of my favorite Yandere Simps, Leumin, because I may be cringe, but I am free.

So, here's TNMN!AU/50s!AU

Leumin Holiday was created by @hime-bee )

----

Leumin didn't really pay much attention to his neighbors.

In a world where anything could happen to you when you were in the outside world, getting close to your neighbors would likely earn your head getting ripped clean off your shoulders should anything happen to them.

Sure, he knew them vaguely by their faces, but that was more out of self-preservation than any real care about them or their lives.

Go to work as a Florist, Go home.

Work, Home, Work, Home, Work, Home.

Maybe go to the store and have a little chat from going completely insane with his Book Club friend Seal.

But life was pretty listless, it was a wonder to him how some people could grasp human connection at all.

It was so draining and bled so much out of him, that when he first met her, he just kind of felt relief.

There was no wondering if a monster would come and take someone away from you if you already knew they were a monster.

It had been pouring, the sky above dim despite the slight warmth causing a humidity in the air, and very few people were outside.

Stationed behind the counter, Leumin leaned against it as he waited for his shift to simply end.

The likelihood of anyone coming in at all was slim at best, at this point there was nothing to do when he had done all of the chores earlier.

It was when he looked down to take a sip of water that a hooded figure rushed into the shop, the bell chime clanging at the force as the figure moved to the side, staying close to the window as they crouched to shrink at the very edge.

Immediately straightening up, Leumin reached to the bat tucked under the counter.

It was strange to him how more people didn't do such a thing, and seemed even offended if you carried a weapon around them.

If more people were more cautious, the doppelgangers probably wouldn't be such a problem, after all.

Walking over, he noticed the figure was watching someone else outside, trembling.

He glanced outside, and noticed from the bright red hair that it was someone that was from his apartment complex.

Not many people had hair like her after all.

Which made it all the more alarming when he saw the exact same curls falling from the hood.

Gripping the bat tighter, he kept a good distance, on guard, but also noticing the trembling.

" Can I help you?"

The figure froze before looking over to Leumin.

It was almost comical, the way the creature had shoddily slapped together the eyes, nose and mouth of his neighbor, but it was in such a way it was like he was looking at a Picasso painting.

It caught him off guard, that and the tears that were running from it's weirdly placed eyes.

" I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" The creature croaked as it covered it's face, " I'm trying, I'm trying."

Keeping his distance still from it, the young man shifted, bangs still covering his eyes as he looked from the creature to the window and then back.

What the hell was even happening here?

" Don't kill me, please, I'm just-" The creature sniffled and coughed.

" Take a breath." Leumin couldn't help but feel a bit bad, the creature shuddering with sobs.

It was hard to think of taking the life of something that was acting like a lost child.

The creature took another shuddering breath before focusing more on him, looking back to the woman whom was long gone before back to him again.

" ..."

The silence was awkward before the creature moved to stand, " I-I'm going to go..."

" Looking like that?" Leumin couldn't help but voice, gesturing vaguely at their face, " Uh... You sure?"

The creature seemed a bit more upset as it reached up and actively pushed at their features, trying to fix them, " I'm sorry... I-I tried to copy this woman... but her features were b-blurry from the rain..."

" Mm... Yeah." Leu looked around the street before back to the creature, a few beats passing.

' Fuck it.'

Deciding life wasn't that worth it, he moved to it, the creature flinching before he offered his hand, " Come on, let's fix it."

" H-Huh?"

" Your face. It shouldn't look like that." His words were blunt, but the creature didn't seem to mind, tentatively reaching their own hand to him, Leumin noted that they had to remember to put fingernails on their hand.

" Th-Thank you..."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By the end of his shift, Leumin had helped the creature craft their face in the back of the flower shop, thanks to a few pictures the owner had that could help them with composition.

A lot of it was based on memory, though he couldn't for the life of him remember what color his neighbor's eyes were, the color faded and watery on the creature's face.

" What's your favorite color?" The creature asked as they watched him.

It caught him off guard, so he took a beat before answering.

" Lilac."

It was then the creature closed their eyes, and when they opened them, the lilac color stared back at him.

" Thank you."

He felt his heart flip in his ribcage, his cheeks growing hot.

Why did they...???

" Do you have a name?" He asked as he stared.

" U-Um, I call myself Dotchi." The creature answered, scratching at their cheek with one of their new nails.

No, not the creature.

She didn't do anything wrong.

" I'm Leumin." He offered a hand to her, letting her shake it, this being the actual first time they touched as he wrapped his fingers around her hand tighter.

This world was fraught with danger, but she wasn't going to be one of the ones experienced it, because technically she was the danger.

But she didn't seem like she would hurt anyone.

Delicate like a little Petal...

And then it came to mind.

Curfew.

It was one of the things implemented to help keep the citizens safe, but it meant that anyone after a certain period was treated with immediate suspicion.

He could hide her in the back of the Flower Shop for a while, but considering she wasn't very good at human interaction much at all, and that people are checked at the door...

It was a kill or be killed world out there, he would have to make do for her.

#leumin holiday #Yandere #That's not my Neighbor!AU #Dotchi the Heartsona #I chose Seal being a Book Club friend because I didn't know what to do if video games were taken out #Hopefully that's okay ;.;#Sorry if this isn't something he would actually do #I just kept thinking of him #I'm thinking of making a part 2 where the violence takes place #Because I was thinking of him taking a lead pipe to the 'Real' ie Human Petal #Which I didn't know if anyone would want to see #3AM ramblings #Also couldn't commit to her actually being a Doppelganger #Or keep her a soft shapeshifter in a bind ;-;

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 1 year ago

Text

Three (m/m, cold)

And now, for something completely different.

Well, not completely - it's still a cold fic lol. This one is specifically for @ghostlychill who has asked for more Matt and Mark. This is basically the saga of how they ended up together, and it is certainly out of my wheelhouse because it actually has romance lmao. A pre-warning, this is plot heavy (for me) and a little sneeze light. There are a few Greyson cold sneezes, and Matt is sick for the latter half, but it's more of a romance sickfic than a true snz fic. But I hope you like it if you read it; let me know if you all want more Matt and Mark. They were honestly really fun to write, and I banged this monster of a fic out in just a few hours so the muse was musing.

Ok, done rambling. Enjoy :)

CW: Male, M/M (not sexually explicit, just kissing), colds, contagion, coughing, fevers, light mess. 4.3k words under the cut.

Three

Their first kiss was an accident.

Post-brunch. Pre-holidays. “Grab a beer?” Mark had asked as Matt stuffed his dirty chef coat into his backpack. It had become a bit of a ritual for the two of them to grab a drink after a long shift in the past few weeks; usually it was under cover of darkness, but this brunch had been particularly brutal and Matt was craving not just a beverage, but some commiseration. He shrugged, hoisted his backpack onto a shoulder.

“Sure. You’ve got first round.”

One round had quickly turned to two, then three, and before five pm hit they were drunkenly crashing their pint glasses into each other and talking much louder than the half-full pub required to be heard. Matt drained his fifth beer and looked to Mark, smiling sloppily. “One more?” he asked.

Mark pushed his hair out of his face and leaned his head into one hand, taking the other man in. “If it’ll keep you in my line of sight,” he said, emboldened by booze, “I’ll stay here all night long.”

When the bartender finally kicked them out around eight, the two men were so drunk they had to use one another as walking sticks to get down the block.

“We’re way too drunk to be on the street,” Mark laughed, putting a hand over one eye. “I’m seeing, like… quadruple.”

“That’s wild, ‘cause I can’t see at all,” Matt said, looping his arm through Mark’s. The two of them laughed and stumbled until they hit a bench near well-lit central park and flopped down.

“I can’t remember where I live,” Matt admitted, placing his head on Mark’s shoulder. Their arms had stayed looped. Mark gently placed his head atop Matt’s.

“Me either,” he said. “But… can I tell you a secret?”

Matt looked up. Nodded.

“I don’t want to go home,” Mark said, letting a slow smile spread across his face. Matt felt his cheeks flame; he let a beat pass before he smiled back.

“Me either,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Later, they wouldn’t remember who initiated it. All they would remember was when their lips pressed together, everything else melted away.

***

“Oh! Oh, shit, fuck, sorry guys I didn’t -”

“Chef, shit! Oh, fuckin’ hell -”

Greyson slammed the door to the bathroom shut, leaving Matt and Mark to stare at one another, eyes wide as saucers – the silence between them thick as the cigarette smoke that hung in the air outside that little room.

Finally, Mark broke the silence. “Um… do you think he saw anything?”

Matt couldn’t help it; he barked out a laugh. Mark slapped a hand across the other man’s mouth, making him laugh even harder. He really didn’t know what he’d been thinking following Mark in here in the first place.

Much like the stupid party they were hiding from in the bathroom, their second kiss was clearly a mistake.

The New Year’s Eve party had been Elijah’s idea, much to the surprise of literally everyone at the restaurant.

“What?” Elijah had asked when his announcement during pre-shift had been met with a stunned silence. “I thought you all loved parties!”

The servers and cooks eyed one another in a way they all hoped wasn’t completely obvious, until finally Greyson said what everyone was thinking. “Boss, yeah, everyone loves parties… except you.”

Elijah had scoffed at this. “You guys obviously don’t really know me; I love parties.”

Of course, Elijah didn’t love parties and it ended up moving from his roomy condo to Greyson’s tiny Brooklyn apartment at the last minute. Post-service on New Year’s Eve, Matt helped his boss load extra bottles of champagne, vodka, and tequila into the back of the restaurant’s van all while Greyson grumbled about Elijah.

“Fuckin’ Elijah,” Greyson said for about the fiftieth time that evening. “Why the fuck would he even mention a party if he wasn’t a thousand percent sure he wanted to ho – hh-”

Matt glanced up at his boss, who held an arm midair in anticipation. This was the real reason Greyson, who threw parties at his place at least three times a year, was pissed about having to host the work shindig: he was sick.

“Hh-! HhhITSZZH-ue!” Greyson folded over into his elbow, sniffled, and cleared his throat.

“Bless,” Matt offered, placing the rest of the alcohol into the back of the car. “Chef, I’m sure that everyone will understand if you don’t feel up to having twenty people in your apartment. There’re tons of parties right around here, why don’t you just… call it off?”

Greyson, stubborn as ever, just shook his head. “I said I’d do it. They’re already on their way.”

So Matt loaded into the van with Greyson, and Mark got in Elijah’s car with the GM while the rest of the staff hopped on the subway for the party that no one really wanted to be at. Greyson, who’d been able to keep his illness at bay for most of the shift thanks mostly to the Sudafed he kept slamming, started coming down hard the moment they began their drive to Brooklyn.

“Hh...hhITSZZH-ue! Huh-! ETSZH-ue! Fuck mbe,” Greyson muttered, using his sleeve to wipe under his nose with one hand while he drove through the busy Manhattan streets with the other.

“Um… do you want to pull over so I can drive?” Matt asked, a little more pointed than his boss was used to him being. Greyson shot his sous chef a look.

“Ndo,” he said. “I’ve got it.”

Matt was hardly a germaphobe – working in a kitchen bred that out of you pretty quickly – but he couldn’t help but cringe away with every sneeze and cough that came from his boss’s side of the car. He found himself thinking about Mark; they had plans to hang out in just a few days, plans that both of them had been forced to cancel multiple times already, and Matt could just feel Greyson’s germs making themselves at home inside his body. He really didn’t want to cancel on Mark again; he wasn’t exactly sure what they were, what he wanted them to be, or what Mark thought they were, but whatever it was, he didn’t want to fuck it up. Matt was entirely too good at fucking up a good thing.

“HRRSHH-ue!” Clearly, that one snuck up on him, because that time Greyson barely covered his mouth. Matt shrank into the door and considered pulling his shirt over his nose and mouth in a desperate attempt to keep his boss from infecting him. Greyson glanced over at Matt and coughed out a laugh.

“Sorry, kid,” he said, patting Matt’s leg, “but you’re probably already fucked.”

Eventually, they made it to Greyson’s walk-up and after what felt like an eon, they got everything inside. Elijah immediately recruited Mark to help pour champagne for everyone, and Greyson left his sous to go outside and smoke on the patio – Matt had no choice but to just start drinking.

By the time the cooks and servers made it to Greyson’s apartment, Matt was half in the bag. He floated sloppily from group to group, telling jokes and prompting everyone to take shots with him, all while keeping one eye on Mark at all times. Elijah had been keeping his liege busy; Mark was bartending, putting appetizers in the oven, picking up trash… everything except hanging out with Matt. So when he finally got to take a bathroom break, Matt threw back his tequila soda and, emboldened by liquor, followed behind him.

“Hey, it’s occ-” Mark started to say when the bathroom door opened right on his heels – but he was cut off when Matt swung him around, grabbed his face in both hands, stood on his tiptoes, and pressed his lips firmly on the other man’s.

Mark certainly wasn’t pulling away; in fact, the moment their lips touched, Mark grabbed Matt by the hips and lifted him onto Greyson’s tiny vanity to make the kiss easier on both of them. Matt pulled away for just a moment to look at Mark – his black-framed glasses were askew, his hair was wild from Matt’s hands coursing through it, and his face was flushed with lust. Matt was sure he’d never seen anyone so beautiful.

“What was that for?” Mark asked, his voice low. Matt’s face cracked into a smile.

“I haven’t gotten to spend any time with you tonight,” he said, pushing Mark’s hair away from his face. “And I’m probably gonna have to cancel our plans on Monday.”

Mark’s brows knit together, confused. “Why?” he asked. “Is this, like, a fare-thee-well, this is the last time this will happen kiss situation?”

Matt laughed, shook his head. “No,” he said, cocking his head towards the door, where the party rumbled outside. “I’m, like, 99% sure Greyson infected me with his disgusting illness on the long-ass drive over here. I wouldn’t force you to hang out with me when I’m inevitably sick.” He shrugged. “So I figured I’d sneak some time with you where I could.”

Matt didn’t wait for Mark’s response about his impending doom; he just leaned in again. This time, Mark parted his lips and slid his tongue in to meet Matt’s. Matt allowed a quiet moan to escape his lips, let his hand feel its way down to Mark’s shirt, and began unbuttoning when the door flew open once more.

“Oh!”

Greyson.

***

“Chef, I am not in the mood today.”

“Oh c’mon, if I can’t poke fun at your drunken antics then what’s even the point of living? You make fun of my drunken antics all the time.”

Matt put down his knife and gave his boss a pointed look. “Yeah, maybe for like a day after they go down, but New Year’s was three days ago. Are you planning on ever letting it go?”

Greyson shrugged as he pushed onions into a deli container and snapped the lid shut. “Probably not. I mean, it’s just too good – caught red handed in my bathroom. Like, it couldn’t have happened more perfectly if I wrote it myself.”

Matt rolled his eyes; while Greyson living for his embarrassment was annoying, it was kind of the last thing on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about Mark – after the bathroom kiss situation went down, he’d slipped out of the party and hadn’t mentioned anything about it to Matt since. Matt assumed he wanted to put it out of his head. Maybe the kiss – both of the kisses – hadn’t felt to Mark like they did to Matt. Maybe Mark was put off by how drunk Matt had been both times. Maybe he just wasn’t into him.

All Matt knew was, he desperately wanted to talk to Mark – but despite working the same hours in the same tiny restaurant, Mark had managed to avoid him like the plague.

Speaking of which.

“HTSHH-uh! Hh! Hh’ITSHH-uh! ETZSH-ue!” Matt turned away from the food to sneeze into his shoulder, then his hand, then finally his elbow. Greyson stepped over and plucked Matt’s knife out of his hand while the younger man was compromised.

“You’ll take someone’s eye out that way,” he chastised, placing the knife on Matt’s cutting board. The sous rolled his eyes, sucked in through his nose, and trudged to the sink to wash his hands.

“I don’t want to hear it from you, Chef. You’re the fucking plague rat of this restaurant,” Matt murmured, pulling a hand down his face. This was the other issue: Matt and Mark were supposed to hang out tomorrow, but just as he predicted, Matt had been gifted the cold Greyson had on New Year’s. If Mark didn’t want to talk to him when he was healthy and just a few steps away, he certainly wouldn’t be traversing the city tomorrow to hang out with Matt when he was fever-addled and snot-ridden.

“Rude,” Greyson said, continuing his prep. “But not entirely untrue. Sorry you’re sick.”

“Whatever,” Matt grumbled, his bad mood amplified by his pounding head. “Can you just drop the bathroom situation?”

Greyson bit his cheek to keep from smiling. “I can certainly try.”

Matt knew that meant ‘no’, but he’d take what he could get. He picked his knife back up to start chopping broccoli, but almost cut himself when Mark slipped into the back kitchen.

“Chef?” he asked, prompting both Greyson and Matt’s heads to shoot up. Matt’s face flamed when Greyson swiveled his head to meet his sous’ eyes with a cheeky grin – he put his head back down, pretending to focus on his work.

“Yes, Mark, how can I assist you?” Greyson asked, wiping his hands on the towel next to his cutting board. Matt felt Mark shoot a quick glance his way; his cheeks burned with the knowledge.

“Elijah is looking for you. Says he has a question about tonight’s ten-top with the prixe fix?”

Greyson rolled his eyes, but abandoned his prep for the moment. “When doesn’t Elijah have a question about a prixe fix?” he asked to no one in particular. “I’ll go talk to him. Thanks.”

The chef exited the back kitchen, leaving a sniffling Matt and a stuck-in-place Mark in his wake. Matt was the first to break the silence – unwillingly.

“Hh-! NTSHH-uh!” The sous attempted to stifle a sneeze into his palm, but only succeeded in making a mess of himself. His face reddened impossibly deeper, and he was forced to put down his knife and head for the sink.

“Bless you,” Mark said as Matt pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and blew his nose. Matt swallowed painfully, washed his hands again, and nodded.

“Thanks,” he said, clearing his throat.

They lapsed into silence once again, neither one looking at the other. “Um,” Mark said, finally, “are you -”

“I have to get this work done,” Matt interrupted, though he couldn’t explain to even himself why he wouldn’t let Mark ask if he was okay. “Have a good shift, okay?”

Mark blinked, taken aback, but nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and turned to leave the back kitchen without a word. Matt didn’t let himself watch the other man go.

***

It was like watching a train wreck.

“Matt,” Greyson called from his spot at the expo board. “Where are we at on the halibut for 63?”

Mark’s eyes darted behind the line where Matt was doubled over, coughing into the collar of his chef’s coat. The sous chef had started the evening looking very much under the weather and quite a bit worse for the wear, but now, at nine PM he looked like he was ready to keel over right there on the line. Mark bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything.

“Matt!” Greyson called again, and Matt stood, shakily, to place the likely-overcooked halibut onto its plate. He pushed it through the window and gave his boss a pointed look.

“The food has to cook, Chef, you gotta give mbe a minu – uh! ETSZCH-uhh!” Matt collapsed once again into his collar, righted himself quickly, and sucked in through his nose. “A mbinute,” he finished, his voice cracking.

“Halibut doesn’t take twenty minutes to cook, Chef,” Greyson snapped, snatching the plate from the line. “I expect my number-two to be able to keep ticket times under fifty minutes so the fucking restaurant doesn’t shut the fuck down.” Greyson handed three plates to Mark, who took them wordlessly and slunk out of the kitchen.

Mark dropped the food at its respective table, the guilt of not saying anything to Matt slowly eating away at him. He counted the tables left in the restaurant who still needed to eat – definitely more than he was hoping for. He really, really didn’t want to go back to the kitchen.

“Hey, Lij?” Mark said, approaching his boss at the host stand. Elijah was moving reservations from table to table on the iPad, configuring the remainder of the night.

“Hmm?” Elijah murmured, only half paying attention. Mark pursed his lips, weighing whether he should say anything.

Finally, he said, “Do you think you could ask Greyson to kind of… cool it with Matt? I mean, he seems like he’s really sick and Chef is like… totally berating him.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow and looked away from the iPad to meet Mark’s eyes. “You want me to ask Greyson to stop yelling at Matt… now? In the middle of service, when there are tables who have thirty-plus-minute ticket times?” The GM huffed out a laugh. “Man, Greyson told me about the whole bathroom situation, but I figured you guys were just drunk. I didn’t realize you were down so badly for him.”

Mark’s face flushed crimson; Elijah smirked at him, and turned back to the iPad. “Matt’s a big boy, Mark,” he said, not looking the floor manager in the eye. “He can handle Greyson yelling at him.”

“Yeah,” Mark muttered. “Okay.”

Mark trudged back to the kitchen to grab more food, the sound of Greyson’s frustrated voice hitting him before he could even step foot through the swinging doors.

“Order in! Two filets, two tofu, one halibut! Matt, I swear to God I had better see table twenty-six up in the next three seconds, Chef, it’s already at twenty-two minutes.”

“Yes, Chef,” Matt mumbled, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

“I can’t hear you, Chef,” Greyson yelled back, tweezering herbs onto a dish.

“Yes, Che – ITZSHH-ue! HRETSZH-ue!” Matt ducked down below the line to sneeze, the sound painful and desperate. Mark could hear the crackling cough he was trying to hide all the way from where he was standing; his heart sunk. He wished like hell that he’d had the balls to say something – anything – to the other man this week. He wished he wasn’t such a fucking baby when it came to his feelings, or relationships, or standing up for himself or anyone else. He wished he was anyone but himself.

“Bless – Chef, do you need to switch spots with me?” Greyson asked, his voice finally softening at the sound of Matt’s coughing.

“Ndo, Chef,” Matt managed, standing. “I’mb fine. Twenty-six, up,” he said, slamming the plates onto the pass.

“Great,” Greyson mumbled. He garnished the plates and shoved them into Mark’s hands. “Twenty-six, go,” he said, not looking at the floor manager.

Mark nodded; he took the plates out into the dining room and dropped them; as he did, he made a promise to himself and, silently, to Matt: maybe there was nothing he could do or say during the shift to make Matt feel any better, but he would figure out a way, post-shift, to do something to help him. He would grow some balls, if it killed him.

While Elijah was still busy looking at reservations, Mark slipped into the bathroom and pulled out his phone. He put in a grocery order, to be picked up at ten the next morning. He typed out a text to Matt, scheduled it to send at the same time he would be picking up the groceries so he wouldn’t be able to wimp out and unschedule it. Then he put his phone back in his pocket, opened the door, and went to finish the shift.

***

His phone was ringing.

Matt groaned as he came to; he was covered in sweat, he could barely breathe, and he was stiff as a fucking board from passing out on his couch. Who the fuck was calling him? It was his one day off, could Greyson not leave him alone for one fucking day?

He grabbed the phone off the coffee table, ready to throw it across the room, when he realized the name on the screen wasn’t his boss’s.

Call from: Mark, Work.

Matt’s stomach jumped into his throat. The phone continued to ring while he squinted at the clock in the corner: ten twenty-three AM. Had he and Mark spoken last night? He could barely remember a fucking thing about the previous night, other than being utterly and completely miserable. The two of them definitely hadn’t spoken; he remembered giving Mark the cold should before service started, remembered the pitying look Mark had given him as Greyson screamed the restaurant down, remembered flying out the door the moment Greyson told him to go. They hadn’t spoken, their plans were obviously off, so why the hell was Mark calling him?

The call went to voicemail. Matt coughed into his elbow, a chesty sound that he really didn’t like, especially since he didn’t have health insurance. After a minute or so, another notification popped up: one new voicemail.

Curiosity got the better of him. Matt opened his phone and hit ‘play’.

“Hey, Matt, it’s um… it’s me. I know this is super weird, like I don’t know why I did it at this point weird, but, uh… I’m outside your building. I texted you, but now I’m realizing you’re probably asleep. Uh… I mean, if you get this I’m gonna, like, hang out out here for a bit. I brought soup! I can’t cook, so it’s from a deli, but I figured you might need something to eat, and you probably don’t want to cook since you’re sick. Your place is nice, by the way. Um. Okay. If you get this, cool, if not, I’ll uh… I’ll leave in a little bit. Okay. Bye.”

Matt felt his heart near-explode in his chest. Mark was sitting outside his building, with soup? What was this, a Hallmark movie?

He did it without thinking; he pulled up his text conversation with Mark and typed, hey, im awake. sorry I missed ur call. ill buzz you up :)

Mark was up the stairs in record time. He knocked, and Matt stood from the couch, forgetting until he was vertical that he was still in his work clothes from last night. Gross, he thought, but it was too late to change now – he took a few shaky steps towards the door and opened up.

Matt barely recognized Mark at first; he was only used to his floor-manager getup, button-downs and ties and slacks, his hair gelled back. Today, Mark wore jeans and a jean jacket over a Brighton University hoodie – did he go to college in England? - with black high-top converse. His curly hair was in his face, and he was carrying two full grocery bags. Mark smiled.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“Yea -” Matt attempted, not realizing his voice was completely shot until he tried to use it for the first time that day. His hand flew to his throat and he attempted to clear it, to no avail. “Shit, sorry, apparently I can’t talk,” he whispered.

Mark pursed his lips, obviously concerned. “That’s okay,” he said, stepping through the front door. He placed the bags on Matt’s tiny kitchen table and began pulling out supplies. “I come bearing gifts.”

There was the soup, like he said, but Mark also pulled out dayquil, and sudafed, and cough drops. He pulled out a box of tissues, bags of tea, and cough syrup – quite literally the whole nine yards. “I didn’t know what you had, so I figured I’d grab one of everything,” Mark said, embarrassed.

Matt didn’t know what to say. “Mark, I – hh! hhIGTSZH-uhh! Hh’TSHH-ue!” Matt crumpled into his elbow to sneeze, hard, and lapsed into a fit of coughing. Mark pushed the cold supplies towards him, smiling a bit.

“Bless you,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re so sick.”

Matt took a moment to blow his nose and uncapped the cough syrup. He chugged a bit, righted himself, and shrugged, embarrassed. “Not your fault,” he croaked. “Thank you for bringing all this.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Mark said, not looking into Matt’s eyes. “I’m really sorry for ignoring you the past few days, Matt. I… I mean, I don’t want to scare you off or anything but I haven’t really had, like, a real relationship in a long time. Like, a really long time.” He looked up, caught Matt’s red, watery eyes in his, and gave up the whole truth. “Like… ever.”

Matt nodded slowly, processing. “So… you don’t hate me?” he asked, the fever tossing to the wayside any filter he might have once had. Mark’s face colored; he laughed.

“I don’t hate you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like… I really don’t hate you. I – I mean, I really, really like you, Matt.”

It was Matt’s turn to flush bright red. “Even like this?” he asked, coughing into his fist. Mark smiled.

“Even like that.”

The two of them stood there, smiling twin goofy smiles, for a moment before Matt ducked once again into his elbow.

“Hh – ITSZHH-ue! Guhh.” He wiped his nose on the back of his hand, not caring how disgusting he looked. “I, umb, I really like you too, Mbark,” he said, coughing again. “Like… probably mbore than is normal or rational.”

This time, it was Matt who was caught off-guard. Before he knew what was happening, Mark had his hands on either side of Matt’s hot face and was tipping Matt’s head up to meet his. This one was different; while the first two kisses felt hungry, dangerous, this one was soft; an invitation. A promise of a future yet to come.

Matt pulled away to catch his breath. “You’ll get sick,” he muttered, eyes closed and hands around Mark’s thin frame. Mark tipped Matt’s head up, pushed his sweaty, dishwater blond hair out of his eyes, and pressed their foreheads together.

“I know,” he said, and pressed his lips against Matt’s once again.

Their third kiss – well. That was the one they would tell everyone at the wedding about.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snez #snzblr #male cold #male snz #m/m #male ocs #contagion #mess #i'd love to hear any feedback good or bad on this one bc i haven't written romance anything in a very long time lol #and idk if this sucks or not lmaooo

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