#because I often think about it before I fall asleep

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Mini You

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: fluff, smut! and the overuse of the word “baby” I’m so sorry..

Finally the time has come for the long-awaited family vacation, which was more than necessary for both Lewis and you and your little three-year-old girl, Harper.

Your responsibilities at work and motherly responsibilities at home could not always be coordinated with Lewis's racing, so you and the little girl often spent time alone away from Lewis. Neither you nor he liked it, he hated that he had to be away from you two so often and for so long because he felt like he was missing out on precious time with his family.

He often persuaded you to quit your job, so you can travel with him all the time so that you wouldn't be separated for a second. From the very beginning, he told you that as far as he was concerned, you didn't have to work a day, that he would always and forever take care of you and your family, and he promised that you would never lack for anything and you were well aware of that, but he also knew that your job meant much more to you than just “a job” and that it is something that fulfills you as well as his career fulfills him.

That's why he never took moments like these when the three of you were together, especially longer than just 2 weeks, for granted. He enjoyed every second next to you and Harper.

He always tried to find the best places to spend a family vacation with you, and that was the case this time as well.

Since Lewis was away on business, he sent a private jet to pick you two up and take you to the south of Italy. Since you hadn't seen him in over 10 days, you and Harper were very excited to wait for him at the beautiful luxury beach villa that Lewis had rented just for you for the next three weeks.

“My daddy, it’s my daddy!” Harper exclaimed happily running into Lewis' arms as he entered the mansion.

“My little princess” Lewis’ smile grew from ear to ear as he picked her up and she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. “I missed you so so much” He said showering her with kisses and your heart melted at the sight.

“Hello handsome” You greeted him as he pulled you into a hug as well.

“Hey, baby. How was the trip?” He asked pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Everything went well, Harper couldn't sleep at all from the excitement. She kept telling me about how you were going to teach her how to swim.” You say pinching her cheek making Lewis chuckle.

“Will you daddy? Will you teach me how to swim?” Harper asked.

“Of course, love” He smiled kissing her cheek.

“Can we go right now?”

“We can, baby. Go put your swimsuit on and we can go swimming”

Her eyes lit up as she clapped her hands. Lewis put her down and she ran into the room to find her bathing suit. Then he turned to you pulling you to himself and giving you a proper kiss.

“I missed you” He murmured against your lips as his hands found your waist pulling you as close as possible to him.

“I missed you too, Lew”

“I can't wait to fall asleep next to you tonight. That's all I could think about for the past few days.” He admitted kissing your neck gently as you smiled tilting your head to the side.

“Mommy, I can’t find it!!” Harper yelled from the room in frustration interrupting your moment making both of you chuckle.

“I'm going to help Miss Impatient” You sighed rolling your eyes before heading towards her. “I’m coming, baby!”

Later that day, you sat on a towel on the beach while Lewis taught Harper how to swim as he had promised. She was both excited and terrified at the same time, and Lewis loved teaching her new things.

“Daddy, please, please don’t let go of me” She said in short breaths. He held her in his arms above the water teaching her how to stay afloat.

“Baby, I would never let go of you, you can trust me okay?” He assured her. “Now keep your head above water and work with your legs” He instructed.

“Daddy..” She struggled a bit, but she wasn’t giving up. Harper was a mini version of you. She looked exactly like you, from your nose, mouth, eyes, even the color of your hair, she was a real little copy of you, but her behavior, her persistence and perseverance was all Lewis.

“C’mon, baby, you can do it. Daddy’s got you. You’re doing so good.” He encouraged her. He was always so proud of her. He admired the fact that, just like him, she enjoyed learning new things, that she was interested in everything, always so curious and ready for new adventures.

After a swimming lesson, the two of them moved to the sand next to you and started building a castle for the princesses, of course.

You didn't help build the sandcastle because you wanted to soak up some sun and enjoy the view of your husband and your daughter playing together and talking about everything Harper wanted to talk about.

“Can we get a real castle, daddy?”

“You mean for your dolls?” He asked.

“Yeah, for my dolls, for princesses, they need a castle”

“Baby, you’ve got at least three doll castles at home that I jump over every day because you leave them all over the house.” You inserted yourself into the conversation.

“Yeah, but, but they’re all small..I would like a bigger one” She explained. “Can we get a big castle, daddy? It’s not for me, it’s for my dolls. Please?”

“Of course, baby” Lewis laughed and you joined in shaking your head at the fact that she had him wrapped around her finger at just 3 years old.

“I'll buy you as many doll castles as you want, we'll fill the whole house with them, love” Lewis promised kissing her head.

You watched as he kept wiping the sand away from her chubby cheeks every time she pushed her hair out of her face only to put even more sand on her face. You softened and felt warmth around your heart at his gestures.

“I love the way you love her” You said softly when he took a break from building the castle and moved to sit next to you.

“She has her own princesses, and she’s mine” He said watching her with an immense amount of love in his eyes.

“I remember when you used to call me that”

“You are too, baby, you’ll always be. My first one.” He assured you kissing the tip of your nose.

“You know, while I was watching you play with her, I remembered the pictures that your mom showed me of you when you were little.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you were the cutest little kid ever. Makes me want a mini version of you this time.” You whispered the second part glancing at his lips.

He smirked pulling you to him and kissing your temple before whispering into your ear “I’ll keep that in mind tonight.”

…

After a whole day spent at the beach, evening came. You had dinner together and then Lewis went to put Harper to sleep while you cleaned the table.

While Lewis read Harper a bedtime story, you went to the bathroom in your bedroom and took a shower. You enjoyed the feeling of the cold water hitting your burning hot skin. It felt like a relief after being in the sun all day.

When you finished your shower, you wrapped a towel around your body and went out on the balcony admiring the beautiful night lights of the coast of Italy. Not long after, you felt Lewis' body pressed against you.

“Did she fall asleep?” You asked.

“Mhm” He murmured against the skin of your neck leaving wet kisses all over with his tongue. You moaned a little bringing one of your hands up to his braids while your other hand gripped the glass balcony railing. “Thought I could grant your wish tonight” He said into your ear while his fingers pulled the towel down revealing your naked body.

“What wish?” You smirked playing dumb wanting to hear him say it.

“The one where I fill you up and put my baby in you.” Your eyes instantly closed and thighs clenched hearing it from his mouth. You arched your back as he grinded himself against your ass pressing your bare body against the cold transparent glass.

“Lew..”

“Would you like that?” He whispered. “Would you like me to fuck you here on the balcony? To cum inside you?”

“Yes..uh, yes baby. Do it.”

Without breaking the kiss, he turned you towards him and pulled his shorts down freeing his fully hard member. He slid his hand down your belly to your aching bud making you whimper and hold onto him.

You couldn’t resist but grab him in your hand, you wanted to get down on your knees for him, but Lewis stopped you from doing so.

“Wait, wait, baby, we have time. Wanna get you ready for me, it’s been a while, yeah?” He said rubbing your cheek with his thumb while his other hand kept rubbing over your pussy.

There wasn't any need to prepare you because you were so ready. You craved him, you were already dripping wet just by his voice let alone touch, but you decided to completely surrender to him and let him do whatever he wanted to you.

“You remember when I called you on facetime two nights ago, but you didn’t pick up because you fell asleep?” He asked quietly while his fingertips danced around your entrance playing with your wetness. “You remember?” He asked and you nodded remembering that you saw his missed call the next morning.

“You know why I was calling you so late?”

“Why?”

“Because I was so horny, I wanted you to help me get off” You moaned at his confession throwing your head back as two of his fingers slipped inside you.

“You remember when you let me film you that one time? When you were gagging around my cock. Fuck baby, I go crazy every time I watch that.” He groans as he pushes his cock against your belly encouraging you to take it in your hand while he continues pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“You still watch that?” You asked blushing a little as you wrapped both of your hands around his cock.

“Sometimes yeah. When I’m away and I miss your touch too much.” He admitted hissing as you ran your thumb over his red tip.

“Last time I watched it, I got so hard, I came all over myself before I even got to touch myself”

“Fuck, Lew” You were struggling to focus on pleasuring him as well because the things he was saying while increasing his pace in fingering you almost instantly sent you over the edge.

“You love to gag around me don’t you? When I push your head on my cock-fuck-you get so wet when I fuck your throat. When I..fuck..when I cum inside your mouth too oh, baby” He groaned pushing you harder against the glass.

“When you swallow my cum and I wipe the corners of your mouth with my thumb and you suck on it to lick it clean. That gets me so fucking hard all over again.”

“Fuck, Lew I’m gonna cum” You whimpered letting your head fall against his chest.

“Wait, baby, hold it just a little bit longer.” He said pulling his fingers out of you only to start rubbing your clit.

“My baby is so wet. I know you loved to hear that I came to the sight of you without even touching myself. You love when I cum fast, it boosts your ego doesn’t it? Because you know what you do to me, you know that you have me wrapped around your finger you love that shit don’t you.” You couldn't bring yourself to say anything. You were a whimpering mess begging him to let you cum on his fingers.

“Don’t close your eyes, baby, look at me”

“I can’t..Lewis, please” You pleaded.

“You think you’re ready to take my cock?” He asked and you nodded. “Cum, baby, cum all over my hand” And you did, instantly. Your legs started to shake as you fell apart in his arms. He held you tightly pressing your body against his and kissiny your head until your breathing went back to normal again.

“You okay, hm?” He asked making you look up at him. You didn’t say anything but kissed his lips pulling his bottom lip down with your teeth.

“Put your baby in me, Lew”

“Fuck” He abruptly turned you around and bent you over the glass. He spanked both of your cheeks before taking his cock and collecting your cum with his tip. He didn’t tease you for too long because it was torture for him too. All he wanted was to bury himself deep inside you and feel your deepest parts.

He groaned as he slid inside holding his hands on your hips pushing you as deep as it went until you winced.

“You feel so good around me, shiit” He praised you thrusting in and out of you. His grunts and groan along with slapping of your skin filled your ears and it was the hottest thing ever.

He wanted to feel you even closer to him so he pulled you up so that your back was leaned against his chest while his one arm was wrapped around your waist and the other around your neck.

“I’m gonna cum in you baby, I’m gonna cum” He whined quietly in your ear before spilling his cum inside of you. You moaned at the sensation as he buried his head into the crook of your neck groaning as his orgasm coursed through his body. Drops of sweat formed on his forehead as both of you struggled to catch your breath.

“Do you think we did it?”

“I think I got pregnant when you told me what happened the last time you watched that video of me.” You smirked making him laugh and lean his forehead against yours.

“I’ll stay like this for a minute or two just so, you know, it sticks.”

[seeingivy]

sharing

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

--

things change slightly in the weeks that follow. 

according to your mom, who called you very upset on a tuesday afternoon, your dad had apparently decided to stay in town until the end of the month – and on very strict orders from sukuna and possibly any shred of self-preservation that you had in you – you weren’t going to be going back until he was gone for good. 

messages from sammy were few and infrequent, except for whenever she got drunk – something she very clearly got from your mom. always the same message, deeply apologetic and regretful, and it somehow was very slowly melting whatever it was that happened at the funeral. 

or it was just one of those things. 

she was your sister – she was blunt, a little harsh at times, but well meaning. or at least trying to be. but she was still your sister and for some reason, you were just going to get over it, in the real way, without thinking twice. 

but you do realize that it was too naive to think that years of butting heads and stepping on each other’s toes wasn’t going to go away just because you had decided to be friends and sang kumbaya while buying lingerie. 

that much should have been obvious though, since sukuna and yuuji had done their version of that years prior, and yet still had the meltdown they did a few months ago. it was always one of those complicated things you figured – growing up in the same house, being competition, stuck in admiration or hatred. 

the family business, one that sukuna and yuuji both refused to ever be a part of, has fallen at the seams. and while sukuna has no intention of ever working there – much to satoru’s delight – he’s fixing the mess of the finances that were left behind for all of the employees and the stipends that he were going to help his mom. 

meaning he has to go back to town. the town that you refuse to return to for the time being. and he won’t let you accompany him.   

and it’s in the week that he disappears that you wonder if you’re starting to be too codependent. if it’s normal for you to miss someone this amount, to worry about him so much, to the point where he occupies your every thought. 

he tries to call when he can. sometimes they’re a few in between because you know that he’s spending time with his mom, that he doesn’t like being home, that whatever it all is – it’s stressful and he hates it. 

your mom sends you a picture of him once in a while. sometimes you stare at it for a little too long. 

“hi sweet girl. how are you?” 

his voice sounds tired over the phone, the smallest hint of a rasp tinged in with the strained tone. 

“i’m okay, ryo. how are you?” 

sukuna can feel his heart sink at the nickname. at the fact that you use nicknames, terms of endearment, and he hasn’t heard them in days. 

“good, good. are you getting ready for bed?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah.” 

there’s a quiet beat. maybe you should have been more descriptive than that. that was a little flat. 

“is that fucking gel cat strawberry in the spot next to you?” 

you smile. 

“it’s a jelly cat. and yes, it is.” 

“enjoy it while it lasts. i’m going to throw it out the window when i get back.” 

“you’re so rude.” 

he laughs over the line and you can’t help but sigh before immediately regretting it. 

you wonder if he sleeps well. or if he laughs often with the moms or if he’s just run in different directions trying to make sure they’re all okay. 

“oh don’t break my heart, now. you miss me, sweetheart?” he murmurs. 

you can tell by the tone in the voice that he’s trying to coddle you. you almost want to give in just to hear him sweet talk you down. 

“yeah. gets real scary here without you.” you joke

“is that right?” 

“not actually. but you know like right before you go to sleep and the house creaks? i panic for one second and then decide that i should send a prayer out to the universe so i don’t die before falling asleep.” 

“always one for the dramatics.” 

“i know. i’m sure it always creaks but i’ve always shared a room – either with sammy or with mai across the way who was always blasting music. and you snore, so i never even not–” 

“i don’t snore.” 

“yes, you do.” 

“no, i don’t.” 

“i will admit. while it does take me some time to fall asleep, i’ve never slept so soundly with you gone. it’s so serene.” 

you know for a fact that sukuna’s rolling his eyes on the other side of the line. 

“wow, sweetheart. i should just do you a favor and stay here longer then.” 

“every night i wake up in a panic without you! i’ll never sleep again!” you joke. 

sukuna laughs. 

“that sounds about right. but really…i…i’ll be back soon, okay? i don’t like being away for so long.” he murmurs quietly. 

you frown. 

“don’t feel bad. you know you have to be there.” 

“i don’t feel bad. well, maybe i do a little but i mainly just fucking miss you.” he mumbles. 

you smile. 

“sap.” 

you pause. 

“i miss you too, you know?” 

“i was waiting for that. give me a little more.” he responds. 

you smile. mainly at the fact that he expresses what he wants so openly. or that he misses it just as much as you do. 

“i miss you a lot. it feels so weird to sleep in our bed without you that i fall asleep on the fold out couch.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“you mean you fall asleep watching tv and don’t move because i’m not there to pick you up?” 

“yeah, more like that.” 

sukuna laughs. 

“sleep in the guest.” 

“ew. it smells like yuuji and megumi’s cologne. and while they smell great, i don’t like smelling like them when i wake up.” 

“does our bed smell like me?” he asks. 

“yeah but i prefer the real thing so i sleep on the couch. i refuse to elaborate.” 

sukuna gets it. 

“i’ll be back soon, okay? i’m almost done and then…then i’m running back to you, alright?” he whispers. 

“okay. i do have something planned this weekend for your birthday, but don’t stress about it. it won’t be anything big.” 

sukuna pauses. 

he forgot that his birthday was coming around. 

he would be lying if he was saying that he wasn’t looking forward to it. he supposes that he was your opposite in that way. since no matter what it was, the circumstances good or bad, your birthday had been soured so bad that nothing could make it good – not even him. 

he didn’t blame you. or even take it personally.  

but he couldn’t relate. because he knew you – and it wasn’t arrogant of him to assume that you were going to go all out, no matter the circumstances. not only did you have a bad habit of leaving tabs or notes that were very clearly labeled gift ideas out in the open, but he knew that you would do something special for him, that he’d get to chart in all of the cherished memories that he had with you. 

it would be another sour patch of his that you’d sew right over, with careful and steady hands. but with every milestone that he thought of now, it was bittersweet. 

first birthday with you. first birthday without his dad – not that it really meant much in the first place. 

“no parties.” sukuna clarifies. 

“no, it’ll actually be just you and me. and i think you’ll like it, you–” 

“i’ll love it.” 

you smile. 

“i love you.” you state. 

he’s quiet on the other side of the line. 

“sukuna?” 

“i want to say it back but the moms are staring at me.” he mumbles quietly.

you smirk. 

“say it.” 

“no.” 

“you’re going to let me go to bed without an i love you?” 

“i’ll text it to you.” 

“ryomen sukuna. tell me you love me.” 

sukuna sighs. 

“i love you. call me if you can’t sleep, okay?” 

you can hear giggling in the background. and you’re sure he’s three different shades of pink. 

“i will.” 

--

not even an hour later, yuuji is standing on your doorstep – with a peachy smile and a bag slung over his shoulder. 

“yuuji? you–” 

“sleepover!” 

he walks past you and falls straight onto the couch, placing his bag next to him as he reaches for the remote. you quickly shut the door and take the spot next to him, watching as he starts shuffling through the movies, so cavalier about barging in so late and unannounced. 

“do you always show up to people’s apartment’s unprovoked with all your things?” 

yuuji smiles, reaching forward to flick your forehead. 

“no, just for you.” 

“figures.” 

you watch as he flits through all of the movies, nestling his head into your shoulder, as you return the gesture and lean your cheek against his. it takes two seconds for you to figure it out. 

“did he call you?” you ask. 

“he did. said some weird stuff about tables and carrying stuff. pretty sure he was just asking me to keep you company, which don’t mind if i do.” yuuji responds. 

you smile. of course. 

“i made one half joke about how i don’t like to sleep alone and he sent you running.” 

“isn’t that sweet? i can tell he’s been thinking about you a lot.” yuuji responds. 

you lean back, giving him a confused look. and you can tell by the look on his face that he knows exactly what you’re trying to get at, but pretends otherwise. 

“what? it’s sweet! he asked me to come take care of you.” yuuji clarifies. 

“since when do you find him sweet? no lecture about how he thinks i can’t handle things on my own?” 

yuuji scoffs, before pressing on the princess diaries. 

“you can’t take care of anything on your own.” 

“what a vote of confidence.” you deadpan

yuuji sighs, as you watch the movie start, and both sink deeper into the couch. a telltale sign that you realize both sukuna and yuuji have – one that you deeply appreciate – is that they’re always careful with their words. 

the opposite of sammy really, of your dad too. they won’t talk until they know whatever they’re going to say is something they mean. 

“you can take care of things on your own. but i like that being with him means that you don’t have to sometimes. for both of you.” yuuji states. 

you smile. 

“i like that too. it’s a nice change.” you respond. 

“i’m really sorry, y/n.” 

“i know.” 

yuuji swallows hard, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie before he turns to your side, your limbs now a tangled mess of being criss-crossed as he leans forward. 

“really. i’ve been so shit to you when this is all i’ve ever wanted for you.” 

“it’s okay. this…this stuff is really complicated for you and…” 

yuuji shakes his head, before looking down at your joined hands, fingers interlocked together. 

“this isn’t any excuse but…but…” 

yuuji sighs. 

“when sukuna came back, i thought he was really different. i mean, he was really different. i don’t know what you noticed, but he came back softer. he always gave me my space and let me come to him and we were working back through all of our stuff together.” yuuji starts. 

you’re not sure if you noticed a difference after he came back. he always seemed the same as always – a little withholding, like he was keeping you at arms distance. though, that seems to make more sense to you now. 

“but he’s still the brother i grew up with. there’s still things that i’m sensitive to, that…that i can’t get over.” 

you feel a pang in your chest. 

“i get that. you know…i kind of get that with sammy sometimes.” 

yuuji frowns. 

“yeah?” he whispers. 

you can feel the bitter contempt in your chest lingering. 

“i don’t know. i thought things were going well but…sometimes it’s just the same things as before. she’s just…always brushing me off. so harsh with her words. sometimes i think about the funeral and i’m glad sukuna’s not here just so i can lock myself in here and be alone.” 

you shake your head. 

“it’s like she’s picking at a scab. it’s the one thing i don’t want her to do and it’s the one thing that always happens. and she’s the only person who has that power in the first place, who…who gets to be that sore spot. and i know that it’s just how it is and it’s complicated but…” 

“but you can’t.” yuuji finishes. 

you shrug. 

“you were my scab.” yuuji states. 

you curl your nose in disgust, looking up to find the same expression mirrored on his face before you both laugh. 

“real cute.” 

“i mean…my thing with sukuna was that he was always better than me in every respect. that…that everything he did was perfect, that…that he was born normal and i wasn’t.” 

you cringe. 

“you are normal, you..” 

yuuji smiles. 

“i know i am. i just mean in my head, i always figured things were so easy for him. school was easy, sports were easy. he liked girls – he’d never have to sit there and debate if he was ever going to meet someone who liked him and when if he did, he wouldn’t have to give up his entire family for it.” 

yuuji pauses. 

“you were my best friend. you are my best friend. you’re my thing that’s always been easy. we don’t really fight, spending time with you never gets old, and…and really, you’re the only person i’ve known will always be around.” 

you smile. 

“it just felt like another thing he was going to be better at than me. and it’s selfish, but it was something i didn’t want to share. and i don’t expect you to get it, but…” 

you scoff. 

“don’t expect me to get it? you’re forgetting that i was the one who had to learn how to share you first. and maybe i didn’t say it out loud, but…i had some evil monologues for megumi that i was cooking up in my head.” 

yuuji laughs, almost like he’s relieved. 

“really?” 

“trust me. there was an entire basis behind the petty comments that i was making. i should have been more open with it but…but i don’t hate you for feeling that way. if anything, it makes me kind of happy, i guess. it did feel like you forgot all about me once you guys started dating, but…it’s nice to know you feel that way still. about me. even if it was annoying.” 

you pause. 

“you and i are special. and i can’t speak for you, but…sukuna’s never going to be what you are for me. i love him, but you…you’re not someone who could ever be replaced.” you affirm. 

yuuji smiles. 

“and megumi isn’t what you are for me either. he’s the love of my life. but you’re always going to be my soulmate.” 

you smile, rolling over the word in your head. soulmate – you and yuuji were soulmates. and he leans forward, placing his hands on your shoulder and squeezing. 

“now go on. tell me about him.” 

“what?” you ask. 

“i know you want to tell me about how happy you are. how it makes you feel. and i want to hear it. just refrain from talking about like how big his dick is or whatever and i’ll be fine.” 

you smile. 

“really? you mean it?” 

yuuji smiles back. 

“i’ve unfortunately heard the entire story of what that asshole was doing to you after the fact. it would make me really happy to hear how happy you are now.” 

you lean back on the couch and explain it all to him – french toast, bridgerton mugs (which he winces at when he remembers sammy broke them), emails, his coworkers, kisa, and everything in between. 

you don’t hear the apartment creak at night when you go to bed – instead it’s his labored breaths next to yours. 

--

sukuna makes it back early in the morning to find yuuji making breakfast in the kitchen and what he knows is you facedown still dead asleep in the mound of blankets on the couch. he gives yuuji a noncommittal wave before walking over to the couch and bending down at the side. 

sukuna can’t help but reach forward, brushing his back of his fingers against the softness of your cheek before tangling your hair away from your forehead. he can smell the remnants of the shampoo in your hair, your lips still a glossy pink from the balm you put on at night. 

“wake her up. give her a kiss.” yuuji whispers, now standing at his side. 

“are you crazy? she’s sleeping.” 

sukuna shakes his head, reaching forward to press a kiss to your hairline, before the two of them shuffle back to the kitchen. sukuna settles for a cup of coffee as he watches yuuji make the mix of french toast, the stillness hanging in the air between them. 

“dunno. if it were me and i went days without seeing megumi, i’d wake him up right away. why deprive myself of love and affection?” 

“you should deprive yourself more often. i’ve seen you two kiss far too many times. heard the words gumi bear way more than i’d like to.” 

yuuji snorts. 

“was she happy you came?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah. doubt she heard any of that creaking or anything she was telling you about since we were talking the entire time.” yuuji responds. 

it’s a small breath of relief – that sending yuuji was the right move – only to be coupled with guilt. 

sukuna hadn’t had time to check in on yuuji. 

“what did you talk about?” 

yuuji grins. 

“you.” 

yuuji looks over at him, grinning at him fully this time. 

“special edition bridgerton mugs? twilight themed emails? who knew you were so fucking corny? and that you watch bridgerton?” 

sukuna can feel his cheeks heat up, as he rolls his eyes. 

“she loves that shit. she made me watch it.” 

“no, she didn’t. she told me that you had watched it already and that your favorite season is the first one? not only are you a liar but you have god awful taste.” 

“let me guess. you like kate and anthony, like every other person on the fucking planet?” 

yuuji rolls his eyes. 

“everyone likes it for a reason. it’s perfect.” 

the two of them glare at each other, before giving up, and letting the same stillness take over. it’s not exactly uncomfortable, but there’s something lingering there – the two of them are stuck in their own heads about how they’re going to approach it, and more importantly, who is going to do it first. 

it’s yuuji. 

“the mugs thing is sweet. i’m sorry sammy broke them.” 

sukuna shrugs. 

“i’m bidding on ebay. no big deal.” 

yuuji notes that he responds to the second part of the statement and not the first. 

“i like that you do nice things for her. she really appreciates that you do.” yuuji repeats. 

 sukuna sighs. 

“did she say that?” 

yuuji smiles. 

“all that and more. she really loves you.” 

sukuna lets his eyes wander back to the couch, settling back into how foreign the apartment feels from being away for so long, and trying to let it all come back to him – how it was before he left things, how the two of you were. 

he’s scared he’ll do it wrong. 

“I’m really happy for you too. she’s exactly what you deserve.” yuuji states. 

it’s a weird sense of deja vu that sukuna gets – of the very first night. that loud bar, the mildew smell in the bathroom, and your tear streaked pink face. of the very first time that it occurred to him that there were people who had upset you, who had let you down, and that maybe he was the only person who was good enough for you – because he was the only one who intended to give you what you deserve. 

that he got to reap the goodness of the sweet love when he knew for a fact that he’d always be one to give it back to you, no matter how he was. that he was exactly what you deserved – maybe the only person who was because of how much he loved you. 

“what?” 

yuuji takes a beat. 

“were you expecting the opposite?” yuuji asks. 

“do you blame me?” 

yuuji shakes his head. 

“i am really happy for both of you. but i wouldn’t lie if i said i was more happy for you. i’ve known her a long time – and i’ve always wanted her to have someone who saw her for how special she is. and i always knew that it would happen, it was just a matter of time.” 

yuuji continues. 

“but i’m more happy for you. i had no idea that you had liked her for that long. i only now realize that the only person you could be that open with is her. and well…i don’t fucking know. shit sucked when we were kids. maybe for all of us, but for you the most. i know she loves hard. and i mean it, that’s what you deserve after everything.” 

there’s a lump in sukuna’s throat. he wants to tell yuuji everything – about why he left, about how him being around made it easy for him for a long time, how there was a time where he didn’t think he was going to live past twenty and now he’s reaching yet another birthday on the weekend. 

“i spent my entire life thinking i’d never get to be in love. and i’m not sure if that’s what you thought – but i know you weren’t ever thinking you’d get the girl of your dreams, and that on top of that, that it would be perfect. but really. it’s nothing more than what you deserve, sukuna.” 

but all he does is give him a nod. yuuji’s smart enough to parse what it means – that in the long rambling that he heard last night – he knows he has to learn how to read the silences, the quiet cues. 

“it means a lot to her that you came around.” sukuna starts. 

sukuna clears his throat. 

“and to me too.” he finishes. 

yuuji smiles. 

“and i suppose i should thank you. i always said she was like family to me, but it’ll be nice to tell people she’s actually my sister in the future.” yuuji responds, before squeezing his shoulder. 

sukuna smiles. 

“do you really let her call you ryomen?” yuuji asks. 

“yeah.” 

“thought you hated that name.” 

“i did.” 

there’s a reason that he went by sukuna. because every time that he slipped, he’d hear that godwful venomous voice, of his father telling him that he had given him such a special family name – and that sukuna had done nothing to deserve it. 

sukuna vividly remembers when he was a kid, when he used to beg everyone around him to call him sukuna, correcting them until they virtually forgot that his name was ryomen in the first pace. 

sukuna can feel the dryness in his throat, accompanied with a burning wetness in his eyes. yuuji makes no comment about it. 

“she just says it with so much love.” 

sukuna pauses, trying to will away that rising wave of emotion that was simmering in his chest, and put it away for the time being. 

“what did she get me for my birthday?” sukuna asks. 

yuuji nods. 

“she’s taking you on a weekend trip. a few cities over. she said there’s some cherry blossoms in season and that there’s a few museums that she wants you to see. figured it would be a nice rest for you given everything that’s been going on.” 

sukuna sighs, only because the wave comes back in full force. 

to be loved is to be known. 

clear cut proof that you had heard him loud and clear, when he had bared his soul to you. and not only that, but had known well enough that whatever was stewing in his head was getting dangerously close, maybe the closest it had been in years, to the edge – and that you had every intention to pull him back in the way he had pulled himself out in the first time. 

“is that good?” yuuji asks. 

“it’s perfect.” sukuna responds, before giving him one last nudge. 

sukuna decides that he won’t deprive himself. and instead leans forward, pressing his lips against yours – and pleasantly surprised when you smile right back at him in your sleep, his name honey on your lips, as he sinks into your arms. 

--

an: kind of filler again. sorry. apologies. also two more of this fic before it's done :O

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[emphistic]

Blood in the Water

A/N: i know, i know. i said this chapter was gonna be the angst, but the wc was just too long. and i got carried away writing the smut. PS: this was not beta read

<- Series m.list

Sukuna wasn’t a morning-person; he never would be. Sukuna was a you-person, however. All the same, though, right?

Sukuna was like a plant.

To Sukuna, you were the sun. To others, that sounds absurd. But, people could think what they think and say what they say, and Sukuna would continue loving you anyway.

It sounds cheesy, yes, but you lit up Ryomen Sukuna’s life, with your smile, the sound of your voice, the melody of your laugh, everything. If he really thought about it, he would be totally unsure of how he survived for so long before he met you.

Sukuna was like a plant. (A/N: a poisonous one, if that were true)

Now, if you don’t pay attention during science class, here’s the gist of how Sukuna’s unconventional thinking came to his conclusion. 

All plants need sunlight, water, and air to live. They need all those ingredients to perform photosynthesis, make their food, and thus survive. (A/N: this is one of the only times Sukuna paid attention to your tutoring)

You completed Sukuna. You made him whole. You made him him.

Without you, Sukuna would wither away, whether you were the sun and him a plant or you two were your normal human selves. It didn’t matter, at all. Sukuna needed you like he needed air to breathe. Sukuna needed you like he needed water to drink. It didn’t matter, not at all. Any one of his metaphors would work. Whether you were the sun, water, air, Sukuna needed you. But he was just beginning to realize that, and maybe it was too late. Too late to turn back. Too late to forget about the bet. Too late to be afraid. Too late to have regrets.

“How long are you planning on staring at me for?” you asked. Though not having even opened your eyes yet, you felt Sukuna’s heavy gaze on you.

He did this often. After you two made it official, you started coming over more frequently. Before, you seldom stayed at his apartment for things unrelated to tutoring or just school in general.

Sukuna didn’t enjoy many things in life. Hell, he didn’t like many things in life. But he certainly liked this.

He liked staying up late and watching the silly, stupid movie that you decided to put on. He liked sitting around with you and sharing a large bowl of popcorn. He liked not having to bid you goodbye when the clock struck; it was very different from before — when either one of you would have to hang up the call. He liked settling into a non-empty bed; he used to never be able to fall asleep; then, when he met you, he fell asleep quickly and giddy; but now, he practically never shut his eyes, too busy admiring the most beautiful face he had ever and will ever see.

He liked it. He liked it all. So much so that,

He loved. He loved you.

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake, huh.” Sukuna gingerly pushed a strand of hair off your cheek, and tucked it behind your ear. His touches had been so gentle lately, as if he was worried that even one wrong move would result in an empty bed and a blocked number.

Sukuna wasn’t used to this kind of stuff. He never stayed in one place, and he certainly never stayed with one girl. Sukuna was scared. Scared of change, scared of changes, scared of losing, scared of losses. The bet, you, everything. He wasn’t going to let Naoya think he was a pussy; and, somehow, he also wasn’t going to let everything he worked hard for go to waste.

Because, if there was one thing he wasn’t going to lose, it was you. But, Sukuna was no more than a man. He was afraid. Thus, each morning, he could only gaze upon your face with such sentimentality, regret, longing, that even God would think about changing his fate.

Sukuna didn’t want you to go. He knew you would, though, probably as soon as you found out about the bet. But, nonetheless, there was a sense of hope that you would wait. Wait for him to explain, and say he tried to end the bet multiple times, though fruitlessly.

“I’ve been awake; I just didn’t say anything,” you grumbled, lifting your head up from the pillow beneath you. You would’ve liked to continue laying there under your boyfriend’s watchful gaze for a few more minutes or hours or days, but the Adult Life calls you.

“Yeah? You enjoy having my undivided attention?” Sukuna grinned, though you sensed a melancholic ring to his tone. The pink-haired man was never one to truly reveal his emotions and feelings, but over time, you did get a little better at reading him. You just wished he would stop bottling himself up like that.

“Don’t push it, babe.” You cupped his cheek, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before rolling out of bed to get ready for the day.

Sukuna laughed, “You’re not denying it!”

“Uh huh, doesn’t mean I’m confirming it, either.” You turned around, a cheeky expression plastered on your face, to which Sukuna snorted.

-

With your relationship only beginning more recently, people were, obviously, unaware of it. You were never one to flaunt around your partners or be that open about your personal life online on your social media or just in general. People knew you as the President of Student Council, someone who many could rely on for advice and help, someone who knew definite or at least rational answers to questions people inquired. 

You stood out as a role model to most students on campus. So, if anyone ever were to imagine you, they wouldn’t ever envision you on Sukuna’s arm walking around the mall or sleeping in his bed curled under layers and layers of blankets or watching TV on his couch with your head on his shoulder and his arm around you.

No, it was an impossible idea, one that never ran through anyone’s mind. And, to be honest, you didn’t mind. You liked the stillness and tranquility of being on the sidelines — figuratively or literally, it was true.

Sukuna’s life, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of yours. He was known for his charisma, charming smile, outstanding performance on the court; everyone on campus knew him, and either loved him or feared him, or both. His life was loud; that’s a fair way to describe it. Girls threw themselves on him all the time. He was invited to parties and after parties as if that was the only reason he attended college, for the fun, and for the thrill.

But, that didn’t mean you were unpopular. Yeah, your life may not have been as boisterous and eventful as your boyfriend’s, but your personality brought you your own fair share of fans, and possible suitors and beaus. 

That’s right, people liked you for other than your brains.

And unfortunately for you, Naoya Zen’in was one of those people. And that’s why when that blonde-haired fucker saw you in the crowds at one of Sukuna’s games, he knew this was his only opportunity. Naoya saw the way Sukuna looked at you nowadays; Naoya knew you had that man wrapped right around your finger; Naoya found Sukuna’s weak point and was going to use it against him.

The bet didn’t start because Naoya wanted to see Sukuna court the un-courtable. The bet started because Naoya Zen’in wanted to see the impossible. Which, Sukuna had previously assumed was him getting with you, his oh-so dear tutor. But no, Sukuna was wrong. The bet started because Naoya wanted to see the impossible: vulnerability from Ryomen Sukuna. And vulnerability, he got.

Sukuna managed to take you out on a date. Sukuna was able to make you his. There was blood in the water now, and it was clear who bled.

Naoya’s ploy was executed just like how he had planned; the puzzle was in the right place; he just needed one last piece before everything would come crashing down.

The last thing you expected after Sukuna won his basketball game was for him to face you from all the way in the court. No one knew of your relationship yet — or so you thought — and you didn’t take Sukuna to be one to put it out for the world to see. Not like you had a problem with that per se; people always knew the pink-haired man as someone who went from girl-to-girl and bed-to-bed, did Sukuna want others to know he had settled? For starters, it would definitely cause a whole lot of talk.

You wondered what he wanted when he wouldn’t take his eyes off of you, but when you saw his hand move in a way as if to gesture for you to come nearer, you were a little hesitant. On the other hand, Sukuna was anything but unsure. He stood there as the crowds hollered and yelled and bellowed, but he paid them no mind as he absentmindedly continued to wipe the sweat off his forehead with his jersey. Sukuna’s abdomen was bared as he did so, and the audience only became more wild.

Your chest tightened as you weighed your options.

When your relationship was solely tutor and student, you still came to watch his games, but only because it was your college that was playing, so it was expected for you to cheer for your peers.

Back then, you never met up after his inevitable victories, sometimes it was a short embrace like a hug or pat on the back, but that was it. Sukuna knew this, so when you hurriedly came down the bleachers, the last thing that he expected was for you to jump into his arms. He caught you, of course, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t stumble backwards a bit. Nevertheless, he wasn’t complaining. 

Behind closed doors, Sukuna was the main initiator for doing anything intimate. He didn’t mind your shyness, because, he had been pining for you for years — though he only realized recently, so why would he not be reveling with the woman of his dreams. Sukuna knew you loved your personal space, but he loved your personal space, too. And that’s why as soon as you lay down on the couch to catch the latest episode of your show, he’s laying his head right between your legs. And that’s why as soon as you try waking up early to surprise your boyfriend with breakfast in bed, he’s also jumping out from beneath the blankets to follow you like he’s your shadow.

Sukuna loved you, he thought to himself, as he leaned down to slot his lips against yours. But ‘love’ was a dangerous word, and what type of world would it be if nothing was at least a little dangerous?

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and returned the kiss as the sound of cheers and whistles from the crowds bled into the distance. It was just you and Sukuna. That’s all there was to it, and you liked that.

On your first date, and during your first kiss, you were obviously unfamiliar with the feeling of kissing Sukuna. It was new, but it was pleasant. This was a different feeling, a different type of kiss. For, you had gotten used to this experience, you spent many nights — most, even — familiarizing yourself with the feeling and sensation of Sukuna’s lips on yours, peppering your neck, trailing down your shoulder blades, almost everywhere.

Sukuna was soft, gentle, nice, until he wasn’t. Sukuna was mean, rough, teasing, because he knew you liked that. You two developed a guessing game; the rules were simple; you just had to guess when Sukuna would end his nice guy act. It was mostly only you playing, though. But for the instances when it wasn’t, Sukuna sometimes even surprised himself. It was like he was a whole different person when he was alone and around you. He didn’t need any phony drug, you alone were an aphrodisiac.

It's a shame, because you weren’t alone. When your eyes fluttered open, and your ecstasy gradually bled out, you noticed all players on the court — Sukuna’s team and opponents — were standing as still as statues. Some with their eyes blown wide in shock; some with their gazes averted and pointed at the ground in timidity.

“Damn, Sukuna, you beast. When you gonna kiss me like that after we win?”

Gojo, and most of the players on your boyfriend’s team, were already either highly suspicious of your relationship with one another or already knew the truth about it. The former because who the hell hangs out with their tutor so much off of school? And, the latter because as soon as Sukuna informed his younger brother about everything that went down, Yuuji could not keep his mouth shut.

You abruptly hastened to push away from Sukuna’s grasp upon hearing the teasing sound of none other than Gojo’s voice. How could I have done such a thing in front of so many people? you asked yourself, wanting no more than to combust right then and there. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at anyone in the face with the way your cheeks started reddening, coincidentally, like the color of the eyes belonging to the man whose arms continued to hold you unwaveringly.

Choosing to freeze in place — to keep your peace, you mentally slapped yourself in the face. You thought you were better than this.

On the other hand, Sukuna was far from embarrassed, and wasn’t planning on letting go any time soon. He placed a tender kiss on your cheek, slightly disappointed at you pulling away so early. Was merely kissing one’s girlfriend such a wrong act? After all, he hadn’t seen you all day after dropping you off at a Student Council meeting or some other shit; he missed you, to say the least.

“In your dreams, dumbass,” Sukuna spat out, sending a glare in his teammate’s way, to which Gojo only responded with the raising of both his hands as if in a defensive manner.

Sukuna had his arm around your shoulder whilst you two walked through the hallway on your way out to the parking lot. It brought you a sense of comfort, and ease. Both from Sukuna alone and also his arm around you. He had just got out of a quick shower, changed out of his sweaty and grimy jersey, and was now planning on spending the rest of his evening with you.

The air was cool, the wind light, and there was a noticeable and welcomed absence of boisterous crowds and players, there was neither noise nor sound, save for the pitter patter of your footsteps upon the tiled floor. Well, that is, until someone else decided to show up.

“We should celebrate your win, babe; do you want to eat out? Or I could make that dish that you liked? Or, or, we could order?”

Sukuna hummed, “Whatever you want, baby.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face your boyfriend, who raised an eyebrow, curious. “That’s, like, the only thing you have to say, nowadays. It’s your win, not mine, I can’t choose how we celebrate it.”

“But that’s the thing; you can.” Sukuna couldn’t care less about the food you two ate, where you ate it, or how much the bill would charge. If you wanted something, you would get it. Sukuna made sure of that much.

You crossed your arms, giving him a stern look.

“Alright, alright,” Sukuna pulled you back into his side — already desperate for that fluttering feeling you gave him whenever you two came in contact. “I fold. We can go try out that new seafood place that just opened down the street; I’ve been meaning to try their lobster—”

“That sounds good; do they have any grog?”

You almost jumped at the unfamiliar voice of, actually, who was that? You hesitantly turned around to get a good look at the culprit of your near heart attack. Blonde hair? Sorta tall. Lean build. Was he on Sukuna’s basketball team? Never mind that, had he been following you both? How long has he been listening in to your conversation?

“Naoya,” Sukuna snarled. “What the hell are you doing here?” If looks could kill, Naoya — whom you’ve just remembered as the guy who asked you to tutor him —would be six feet under, right now.

“Oh, you know. I’m just a little bored, that’s all. Anyway, I’m guessing that place doesn’t have any alcohol, after all?”

Sukuna deadpanned, and Naoya should’ve taken that as his cue to leave right then and there, but he didn’t. Besides, you were right there. Sukuna wouldn’t get all fired up in front of his girl just because of some small nuisance, right?

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, but y’know what, that won’t be a problem! I’m hosting an after party back at my place, and there’ll definitely be drinks there. ‘Sides, we should all let loose after that long game; you were MVP, after all. You should be there.” Naoya playfully gave a weak punch to Sukuna’s chest. 

It almost looked like they were friends for a second, before Sukuna rolled his eyes, wanting to take his leave already. He was tired of listening to the blond’s obnoxious voice; it gave him a headache. “Yeah, it won’t be a problem because we weren’t planning on drinking all night, anyway.”

You put a coaxing hand on Sukuna’s arm. Ever since you two started hanging out, Sukuna stopped going to after parties, and just parties altogether. And, although he always reassured you, saying, “They’re boring, trust me,” you still didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on fun.

“I don’t think it could be that bad; you should go, Sukuna. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Naoya was surprised to see you unintentionally side with him, but he used that to his advantage, “Not that I have experience, but, I think you should listen to the lady, capt’n. She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.” The blond shrugged.

It didn’t take long for you and Sukuna to head over to the (as Sukuna called him) punk’s house, and, to say the least, it was totally not what you expected, like, at all. You had already known that the Zen’ins — as they had a big name around the area — were rich, crazy rich, if you will, but it’s always still a surprise to see big houses, right? Not to mention, there was a whole ass gate, too, not like it would be protecting anything, anyway, as it was wide open. Probably to be more accommodating for the entering guests.

The booming music could be heard even from your parking spot outside, and the volume only increased as you entered the lavish abode. You were starting to question if this was a bad idea, after all. However, when you spotted a couple of your friends, and they pulled you aside to play some beer pong or something — you weren’t really paying attention, most of your misgivings diminished. 

“You look so good, babe! C’mon, let me show you where the best drinks are,” Nobara said, pulling you away as soon as she spotted you amidst the people entering and leaving.

Albeit, you were a little saddened at having to leave Sukuna.

Speaking of which, he, on the other hand, was not holding up as much as you. He was immediately dragged off by Gojo to the kitchen, and was offered a solo cup filled up with a liquid which bubbled. It was a shade of greenish-blue and probably tasted as disgusting as it looked.

“You gotta try it, dude. I spent hours mixing all of these drinks together. Man, I probably deserve a medal for doing this. Just look at how much alcohol Naoya has. Damn.” Gojo pointed to the countless bottles in the countless cupboards; there was so much booze that it took up a whole room. This was definitely a little much, even for an alcoholic. And that should say a lot.

Fortunately, the both of you weren’t separated for too long. A game of Seven Minutes in Heaven was started up by a bunch of already clearly tipsy people, and your friends were not going to let you pass up on the opportunity. Apparently, and according to one of them, “You look too hot to not get laid tonight, girl. Don’t be so boring.”

A couple of your complaints and protests went unnoticed, so you reluctantly sat down in the circle of college kids and random people whom you weren’t even sure if they went to Jujutsu Tech. An empty bottle was placed in the middle of the carpeted floor, and as a brunette girl moved to spin it, an assertive voice stopped her.

“Yo! Got any room for three more?” Gojo flashed a smile which showed his pearly whites and almost blinded you and everyone else in the room, but nevertheless, several girls backed up to make room for him, a long-haired man trailing behind with an unamused expression, and Sukuna, who held an indifferent look on his face.

It was almost comical to see the speed at which the ends of Sukuna’s lips quirked up once he saw you amongst his peers, and the speed at which his smile flipped upside down when he noticed there was no room by you and he had to sit next to his white-haired teammate instead. 

Sukuna quickly mouthed to you, Help me, before turning back to face the bottle which was already beginning to spin.

You counted the minutes you had left of your life as more and more people entered the small closet down the hall of Naoya’s house, and either returned with smug expressions on their face or bored looks. Some people were forced to pair up with those they were infatuated with but couldn’t actually ask them out and needed just a little push to do so, while some were forced to go with people that they totally hated. 

You felt bad for the latter, but then again, no one had to actually go in the closet if they didn’t want to. They could choose to skip and keep playing. That’s what you planned on doing—

“Hey, guys! Madame President hasn’t had a turn yet; we can’t let her miss out on all the fun, right, everybody?” asked an unfamiliar voice.

A couple of Yeah’s and agreeing comments filled the living space, and you wanted to dig a hole in the ground and just die. But nonetheless, you didn’t want to seem like a chicken, so you begrudgingly crawled from your previous spot on the ground to the center of the room and spun the bottle.

The bottle went so slow, so slow. To the point it was agonizing to watch as your fate was sealed. You blinked, licked your lips, swallowed the lump in your throat; God, when was this going to be over?

The bottle neared its stop as it unhurriedly passed by Naoya, fuck, the long-haired dude you saw earlier, could be better, Gojo, could it get any worse, until it finally came to a halt at . . . Sukuna, who remained emotionless except for an unexplainable glint which flashed in his eyes. Okay, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.

Gojo let out a holler at the truly unexpected event, and most people followed. “Was this magic?” someone even asked; many others said similar things.

Though your nerves did go down a bit, they came back worse than before once you were actually in the dimly lit closet. Sukuna closed and made sure to lock the door behind him, before turning to face you with an unreadable look on his face.

“So—”

“I—”

You both spoke up at the same time, but you let Sukuna go ahead first. For, you didn’t even know what you were going to say if you did otherwise; you just wanted to break the awkward silence.

“Look, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to; I’m not some monster. And,” Sukuna scratched the back of his neck, “I know all those idiots out there expect us to make out and have sex — since we’re dating and whatnot, but fuck whatever they’re thinking, okay?”

“Sukuna, I—it’s okay. I do want this, with you, and no one else.”

You hoped Sukuna would get the hint, as you two had come close to this moment multiple times, yet never actually indulged in it. The both of you being in close proximity always brought a lot of tension. Sukuna could never keep his hands off of you; playful touches frequently turned to ones filled with a different desire. You reminded yourself to take things slow, and just go with the flow, since you two had only started dating recently. But, needless to say, it was hard to restrain yourself from jumping his bones, and sleeping over at his apartment more often definitely did not help you one bit.

“Oh yeah? It might be a little too late for you to change your mind later on, though,” Sukuna murmured, drawing nearer and nearer until he had you backed up against the wall. 

“I won’t be able to help myself, and neither will you. Can you blame me, though, when I’ve got an absolute work of art standing right in front of me?” He tipped your chin upward with a single index finger, while his other hand trailed up your side.

You knew what was coming, as you closed your eyes the second Sukuna gingerly connected his lips with yours. It was tender at first; Sukuna wanted to savor the taste, smell, feel, of you. He had been craving this for God knows how long. And you knew he wasn’t planning on letting you go when Sukuna gripped you by the jaw as his other hand rested on your hip.

Sukuna tasted of the chapstick you had recently bought him, and his unruly hair was soft beneath your fingertips — as always. You both moved in sync, like your lips were molded just for each other. And, they probably were. If not, that would be a shame, since Sukuna wasn’t planning on kissing anyone else but you. He was already in too deep; nothing was going to coerce him.

Sukuna only — though resentfully — pulled away when you tapped him twice on the shoulder, indicating you needed to breathe.

“Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting, dying, for this,” Sukuna groaned, burying his nose into the crook of your neck. “That white-haired dipshit is the bane of my existence, y’know. Can’t fucking stand him, not when he’s in the way of getting to my girl, not when he’s doing stupid stuff simply because he’s stupid, not when he’s being careless at important games, never.”

It was amusing, the way Ryomen “King of the Court” Sukuna was so wrapped around your finger. He was crazy for you; you made him crazy.

“Damn, you’re really driving me nuts, huh. Can’t even think without you clogging up my head. What are you, a witch or something?” You felt Sukuna’s grin widen as he laughed aloud.

You pouted, your bottom lip jutting out as you threaded your fingers through Sukuna’s pink hair. “Hmph, don’t be mean. Seriously. What’s your problem?”

“Haven’t I made it obvious enough? ‘Sides, aren’t you supposed to be, like, smart and whatnot?”

“. . .”

Sukuna raised his head from your neck to look at you, curious after your silence. “Aww, don’t give me that look, sweetheart. You know I was just joking.”

When you wouldn’t even look him in the eye — not because you were genuinely upset, no, you just wanted to test the waters, Sukuna exhaled and dipped his head so his face was only mere inches away from yours. Your noses nearly touching.

“C’mon, don’t be mad at me. Hell, I should be the one who’s mad. After all, I’ve become a mad man because of you. Fuck, never leaving my mind, running through my head twenty-four seven, because of you. You, baby, you’re my problem. I’m a deranged mess . . . all for you. You, you, you.

“Shit, look at me, damnit,” Sukuna grasped your chin, forcing your face upward to meet his eyes. 

He wasn’t wrong when he said he was a mess; he was a hot mess. Because of you, All for you, you mulled over Sukuna’s words. You liked this side of him, you had to admit. You loved this side of him, you decided, as you cupped his cheek, bringing him in for another kiss. This time, more zealous, and impossibly more fervent.

It would be a lie to say Sukuna wasn’t surprised, because he was utterly amazed. The pink-haired man wasted no time in letting his hands roam up and down your waist as he pressed himself against you, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. 

“Mmph, Sukuna—please,” you whimpered, your words barely intelligible as Sukuna’s tongue explored your mouth. 

Sukuna felt overwhelmed by the feeling of you; it was almost as if he was being drugged — he wouldn’t be surprised if it was just the taste of you that did it for him, though. 

Sukuna didn’t care anymore, he had already thrown away any thought about anyone else outside that damned closet door immediately after you spared him that one look of yours. The one that made him question why he ever kissed other girls, why he ever dated anyone before you, why he didn’t do this earlier. The one which made him — despite his large stature — nearly fall onto his knees and kiss the ground upon which you walked.

“You fuckin’ minx, use those words of yours. ‘Please’ what, huh? Tell me, and I’ll do it,” he mumbled, between placing hot, sloppy, ephemeral kisses on your lips.

“I—ngh—need you, need you so bad, ‘Kuna.” Your knees buckled, and you would’ve fallen if you weren’t held up by Sukuna’s bruising grip on your hips.

“Fuck.”

Every ounce of self-restraint and control that Sukuna had left in his body dissipated at the sound of those three words. Something snapped in the pink-haired man right then and there, and you knew — after seeing that feral, crazed look in his darkening eyes — that you would hardly make it out of here the same person you were before.

Sukuna wasted no time in slipping his hands under that flimsy, dainty dress of yours, memorizing every curve and aspect of your body. And, unbeknownst to you, a strap of your dress had slowly slid down your shoulder as your hands found purchase on Sukuna’s chest and bicep. Your boyfriend was quickly made aware of this when he caught sight of more cleavage than he had hoped after the front of your dress dipped forward.

“You’re such a tease,” you whined, at the unexpected feeling of Sukuna licking a stripe up your throat; heat rushed to your face as you grew more squirmish.

“Don’t move so much; maybe then I’ll be a little nicer.” Sukuna cursed under his breath as he planted searing hot kisses upon your shoulder, across your collarbone, trailing down your chest in his path.

His cock twitched under the confines of his pants at the sight of your finally freed tits; he nearly ate you whole when he found you weren’t even wearing a bra. His hand grew nearer and nearer to the swell of your breast as he latched on with his mouth to the other one.

Your back arched off the wall, bringing you even closer to Sukuna’s unforgiving touches as he fondled one breast and nipped and sucked at the other, never once giving either of your tits an unequal amount of attention.

Sukuna’s knee pressed between your legs, right where you needed him most, and you had to cover your mouth to stifle the almost pornographic sounding moan that was elicited consequently. You couldn’t help it; you hadn’t been very out in the open in a long time, no, not ever since Sukuna came into the picture.

“Sensitive, are we? Heh,” Sukuna grinned, pulling away from your chest to admire his handiwork. Your lips were swollen, bruised from his endless biting, kissing, sucking, and your tits and chest were blooming with developing marks — or love bites, as Sukuna called them, when you reprimanded him later on.

Everyone outside the closet, down the hall, knew what you two were doing. You knew this was probably wrong for a president to do; you were supposed to set a good example for others to follow. Yet, nothing had ever felt so right.

The metal of Sukuna’s rings were cold against your thighs as he carelessly pushed your soaked panties to the side. You bit your lip, containing your whimpers as his fingers brushed against your clit.

“What’s wrong, hm? Be a good girl f’me and let me hear those pretty sounds of yours,” Sukuna’s lips ghosted the shell of your ear as he spoke so casually.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, eyes squeezed shut and your nails leaving crescent-shaped marks up and down Sukuna’s arms when he first slipped a single digit inside.

Soon that one turned into two, and you were tightening around his fingers as you felt a knot build up in your stomach. Sukuna quickened the pace, curling his fingers inside of you.

Noticing the way your body tensed, Sukuna couldn’t help but feel bad. Cooing, he murmured, “That’s right. Just let go. Mhm, there you go; you’ve got it.”

You were hot all over; the throbbing in your core intensifying even after you came all over his hand.

Peaking an eye open after hearing a belt unbuckle, you let out an audible gasp at the sight of Sukuna’s stiff cock; the reddened tip leaking precum uncontrollably. 

“Sukuna, I—I don’t think that’s going to fit.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

Sukuna swiftly turned you around so your back was flush against his chest. You gulped, planting your palms against the closet wall.

Sukuna had you babbling nonsense as soon as he entered you. It was a surprise you even got this far without calling it quits, Sukuna was surprised, to say the least. “F-fuck, you’re too big, ‘Kunaa.”

It was overwhelming, the stretch. You could practically feel him in your guts. But it was crystal clear things were only going to get harder. You knew Sukuna wasn’t a kind man. You knew he wasn’t neither soft nor careful. However, Sukuna was a person who knew how to mix pain and pleasure just right. 

After your walls molded to fit him, his pace was unforgiving, hips snapping against yours with an inimitable speed. A particularly hard thrust had you crying out, clawing at the walls looking for purchase, to no avail.

Sukuna’s hands groped and squeezed at your breasts, even going as far as pinching a nipple, eliciting a loud whimper from your lips.

“‘tis too much, too much, ‘Kuna, I can’t,” you mewled.

In an attempt to soothe you, Sukuna lathered the skin of your shoulders in endless amounts of kisses, while one of his hands trailed down your torso.

“Hahh, you’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Sukuna’s breathing was heavy, and warm as it hit your skin. “Every time I saw you with one of those degenerates you called boyfriends, I nearly lost it. Since high school, too, y’know, ngh, I always wondered if they made you feel as good as I could, if you gave me a chance. But no, I told myself it was better to wait. And, whaddya know, I was right.”

Sukuna rubbed your clit with his thumb, in efforts to get you even louder than you already were. He wanted to get you on the edge, push you past your limits, see you out of your mind on his cock. Your non-stop whining rung in his ears, and he groaned at the feeling of your walls fluttering. The coil in your stomach tightened ever so slightly, and Sukuna just knew you were close when you started panting his name like a prayer.

“I’m a mad man for you, baby. I would kill for you, walk across earth and back, worship you like the goddess you are. So, hah, tell me I'm not crazy. Tell me I’m not the only one. Hell, you feel it, too, don’t you. Fuck, I—God, you seriously have no idea how much I love you. How much I love, ngh, this, and everything about us. Not a clue, huh.” 

It’s safe to say you were beyond overstimulated, your brain already turned to mush, when your orgasm came crashing down on you — Sukuna’s following soon after — leaving your legs shaking and a mess drying between your thighs.

With a final groan from Sukuna, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and snaked his arms around your waist. To be honest, it felt like you were the one holding Sukuna up, when it should be the other way around. Considering your current physical condition, and the ratio between your and your boyfriend’s stature.

Sukuna let you ride out your orgasm, while he breathed in your scent.

Sukuna didn’t find laughter in many situations, but when he saw your flushed face, eyes squeezed shut in bliss, mascara running down your cheeks, he couldn’t help but let a small grin slip out.

You were too lost in the moment to even hear Sukuna say those three words which you longed to hear ever since you two got together. But, it didn’t matter, Sukuna thought. He planned on saying them much more often later, anyway.

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lordbrainsnatcherr @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura @xiraxdl @sterzin @catobsessedlady @alwaysfreakingout @uhnanix @ssetsuka @wrldtups @lovra974 @rzcnlb @piercddprincess @satoru2716

[merbear25]

Can you do Zoro, Sanji, and Luffy x single mother S/O? Would they treat their S/O’s son/ daughter as their own?

Hey, hey! This was so heartwarming for me to think about, so thank you for sending in your request! Personally, I can’t see them being anything other than accepting towards the child. Generally speaking, they’d see them as an extension of you, so there’d be no reason for them not to care for them like their own. I hope you like what I’ve written for you 💜💜

CW: fluff, fem!reader (single mom), headcanons/scenario, written with them dating the reader and not married to her.

One of their own (Monster trio)

Zoro

Upon first meeting your child, he was unintentionally intimidating to them. Being the large scarred man that he was, it took awhile for the kid to warm up to him. With small yet thoughtful interactions, trust was built on a solid foundation. He became someone your child could turn to when they felt unsure about something, knowing that Zoro would come at the issue with a level head.

Playtime would always leave the child worn out. It’d be perfect if they were younger, so you could lay them down to sleep much more easily. Sometimes they passed out on the couch, so Zoro would be the one putting them to sleep, seeing as their dead weight would be easy for him to haul off to bed.

He’d be stern yet caring, not giving the kid room to run a muck because he’d always be respectful of the rules you’d set in place. The child learned quickly that they couldn’t try to get their own way if you told them no. “Can I have some candy?” types of questions were always followed by, “What did your mother say?”

Sanji

When you first introduced him to your child, he was very warm and open towards them. Your child took to Sanji almost instantly. With a smile that was inviting and comforting like an embrace, he easily became one of your child’s favorite people. They felt at ease around him; he was caring and gentle but wasn’t a pushover (unless your daughter gave him puppy dog eyes).

One of their favorite activities would be cooking and/or baking together. He’d adore being able to share his passion with them. They’d be put in charge of certain aspects of the meal, so that they felt like they were contributing to whatever delicious food was being prepared. When it was time to lay them down to sleep, Sanji would read them a bedtime story, wanting to show them the affection that his father never gave him.

He’d never cross the line when it came to how you ran your household, treating the boundaries you’d set in place with the utmost respect. Even if your child tried to pull on his heartstrings with an adorable look, he’d honor your rules—despite it being extremely difficult sometimes. Sanji would want to spoil them, so just be sure to keep an eye on him.

Luffy 

The first time you introduced Luffy to your child, he was warm and friendly. However, there was just something about him that made your child feel like they needed to scope him out before they could feel comfortable around him; he was, after all, a very unusual person. The more time they spent around him, the easier it got to come around. They then would ask you all the time when Luffy was coming over.

Being the imaginative man that he was, Luffy would create games seemingly out of thin air. Since he was more of the ‘do now think later’ type, your house became subjected to much of their wacky fun. With a few broken items here and there, he apologized profusely for the recklessness and promised to take their fun outside from then on.

Even though he was playful and light-hearted, he still had moments when he was serious. When you or your child needed him to be that, he’d step up and do what had to be done. With that in mind, you and your child’s bond with him would strengthen and whenever you had down time to relax and watch something, more often than not you’d fall asleep on the couch together.

[zurdurer]

Stranger ramblings because I am a broken man - this is literally just about the fact dbb and gpt sing each part of this lol

I wrote this half asleep so please excuse any over explaining or whatever, I'm copin w exam season and i needed enough context for it to make sense to whatever unfortunate member of my family i decided to throw it at

Drumbot Brian is cast away, killed by the people he wanted only to help. Called a witch for his abilities and mechanical prowess when he used his machines to revive a priest. His work clashed with the religion of where he had landed and was strictly a last resort to the townsfolk. After saving the priest from breaching the veil of death a mob was gathered, determined to put an end to this man who played God. They fired him into the cold of space using his own machinery.

Brian is benevolent, moral; he does only what he believes to be right. However, he is never allowed full control of his own situation. He was near completely stripped of his humanity by Dr Carmilla, his moral trajectory can be changed at the flip of a literal switch. He only wants to help, he only wants to love and be loved back. He knows that when people learn about that aspect of his mechanism and what he can and will do when the change is made there is a risk of them manipulating it - him - to their benefit.

This is why ‘Stranger’ is so utterly heartbreaking. Of course the story behind it is tragic:

A crane visits a man disguised as a woman and falls in love, they marry and live together happily. Over time though, the crane grows sick as it sells its feathers to support them both. One day everything changes, the man discovers the true nature of the crane. He says he cannot love her any further, that she has to leave, he cannot see through her deception. Heartbroken, it respects his wishes and leaves but as she goes it tells him “You are not worthy of loving a Crane.”

Now, in the song it is Brian and Tim singing the parts of Cranewife and husband; Brian playing the Cranewife. This is incredibly important to who he is as if you look at the folktale and compare it to Brian’s experience there are a great deal of similarities.

Brian wanted only to help the townsfolk with his gifts, the Cranewife only wanted to love and support the man he (it?) loved. Neither want to be alone, in fact: Brian makes a point to never sing or perform by himself, not singing at all during the retelling of his own tale. Both give up parts of themselves, to the severest degree, to help others and yet despite all of this they are rejected and cast off. Something changes. The truth about the Cranewife is discovered just as the extent of Brian’s abilities are and they are looked upon with nothing  but disdain and fear.

Similarly, in ‘The Ignominious Demise of Dr Pilchard’, Drumbot seems particularly upset that their kidnapper hadn’t believed what he told him and accused him of lying. This was likely also to be the case when in ‘The Hanged Man Rusts’ Arthur and Gawain didn’t listen to him. Drumbot is an honest man, he takes it rather strongly when people cannot place trust in him or his word for he knows he is not a liar. He knows when people think they have been lied to they feel threatened, when they feel threatened they often don’t hesitate to hurt him.

When the Cranewife is discovered, it is accused of “spinning falsehoods into gold,” but repeats the phrase, “I meant no deceit”. It didn’t mean to lie, he didn’t want to lie. He was living truly but concealing a secret out of fear for that rejection. Not a misplaced fear though as we learn from the line, “In your place a monster I do see”.

This story is an anecdote, of course, but it sounds almost personal to Brian. As though this is what he himself has lived before or after becoming a mechanism. Even if it is not his own, him singing it feels almost like he is healing from the trauma that haunts him. Afterall, this is one of the last things we hear from him before his death. His death being something I believe to be a sign that he could face himself, his past, and give himself the chance to return to the biting cold that should have taken him aeons before.

Not only is it important that Drumbot Brian sang the part of the Cranewife, but also that Gunpowder Tim sang the part of the husband. Tim’s mechanism is his eyes after they got burnt away by a blast strong enough to annihilate the moon. Before this, however, he had been blinded more metaphorically. After the death of his close friend Bertie during the war waged by the Moon Kaiser he fell into a deep bloodlusting rage where quick and mad he carved through the Kaiser’s men. He was eventually captured by the Kaiser which led to the loss of his eyes and the introduction to his new ‘immortal’ life as a mechanism.

From this point on, near every character Tim has played has had some sort of issue with foresight, actual vision or a combination of the two. In ‘Ulysses Dies at Dawn’ he plays Oedipus who is not only blind after gouging out his own eyes but also failed to recognise the identities of his mother and father along with the Olympian’s plans to drive him off world. In ‘High Noon Over Camelot’ he plays Gawain, a hot headed young man with a blind hatred for the Ghouls. In ‘The Bifrost Incident’ he plays Loki whose own mind is hidden from her. In the song ‘Alice’ he plays Major Hare who is likely rather short sighted as he fails to notice a doormouse sat in the teapot he is sharing with opposing Major Hatter.  In ‘Pieces’ he plays Osiris, changed and unreachable after being rebuilt by Isis. In ‘Twisted Threads’ he plays Arachne who cannot see the web Athena has caught her in. This trend persists in ‘Stranger’ where he plays the husband.

The man could not recognise the true nature of the Cranewife until it began to get weaker. When he found what he had thought he loved in a form he described as a “metal demon”, he was blinded by fear and betrayal. Unable to see the person he loved, he couldn’t listen to its begging for him to listen and understand.

Anyway they make me sick and I can't be normal about them :]

[bardic-inspo]

Midnight Chimes

Chapter Eight: Creature Comforts

Pairing: Astarion x Cursed! Tav

Next Chapter (Coming Soon!) ✨Full Chapter List ✨BG3 Fic Masterlist ✨

Series Summary:

It’s easier for Astarion to believe Naomi tastes so sweet because she was his first. Easier to ignore the fact that every undead in vague proximity yearns for the same blood that’s sated him night after night. Easier to pretend her music is arcane as any other bard’s, and not divine enough to wake corpses from the dirt. Easier to pretend Naomi is simply a bard, and not something more akin to a siren. One that's slowly realized she's not just another sailor, after all. Easier to bury the fact that he's already stupidly in love with her. Like she wouldn't just raise that out of the ground, too. A curse rears its head. A devil comes calling. Astarion fights for his freedom from Cazador. He and the rest of their merry little band fight to save Tav from the doom she feels she's fated for.

Chapter Preview:

“All I want is a bit of fun,” he huffs, exasperated. “Is that so hard to ask?” Good, she thinks. It wouldn’t do her any good to go believing otherwise. To believe that drivel he pours could’ve come from somewhere earnest, instead of some purple-prosed paperback with the spine bent as often as a whore’s. But it could feel good, to be broken in by him like a tome left too-long untouched. To yield to someone else’s touch again. Better to ache with it after, having been opened and known again, than to ache alone. “You mean sex.”

Chapter CW: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT. NO LONGER EVENTUAL. 100% CONSENSUAL.

✨ Click here if you prefer to read on AO3 ✨

Naomi wakes from a sleep without dreams to find her feet without shoes.

Stiffness lances through her shoulder blades. Gingerly, she shifts from her propped seat against the tree trunk, frowning at the threadbare blanket she finds tucked around her bare toes. She shivers with the chill that nips her neck, shrugging the blanket closer.

Serves her right for falling asleep in a place so stupid. In such sparse clothing, no less. Her nightgown seems far too sheer in the sunlight.

But then, whoever thought to leave her a blanket should’ve thought more about what one measly bit of cloth would do. Absolutely nothing, in these elements. She’d need a half-dozen more layers, at least, to stave off the cold that creeps in on autumn nights.

Sure, the days are warm enough. But only by the grace of a sun that burns as much as it comforts the cold away. The Underdark has its own volatile elementals and fitful lava fields. But not weather beyond ‘dry’ or ‘damp’. Certain reaches of her homeland are said to be cold, but Naomi’s never known them. For most of her life, she’s only known consistent warmth and heady humidity.

Up here, the air’s thinner. Flexible. Ever changing. 

It’s a change, to be so immersed in it. In her prior travels, any inn she came to would offer room to a bard who would work to earn her keep. They hadn’t heard of her, sure. But then, they heard her with a fiddle and forgot whatever qualms they had about welcoming in a strange drow.

In the company of a snapping hearth, from the safety of a window, Naomi had seen the sky heave and sob. Every time a storm rolled through, the heavens stomped their feet like a wailing babe. Water leaked from the clouds like a wrung sponge. Such a messy, miserable ordeal. Snow, at least, sparkles on the way down. But all in all, she’d rather not be soaked in any such nonsense.

Perhaps her companions would think her sheltered. Pampered. Soft.

But none of them know how to weave through bibberbang without breathing it in. Probably, none of them can tell the difference between torchstalk and timmask. Well, maybe Gale can. But no way can he gut a bulette without wasting any of it. He’d probably still make a halfway decent stew out of it, though.

Naomi never knew the comfort of her own room with a featherbed before she’d known the surface. Astarion isn’t so cushy, and not nearly so warm. But his company was comfort enough, it seems, for Naomi to stumble into sleep.

She clears her throat, glancing sideways, but already knowing the elf must be long gone. She must have him to blame for the blanket. And, apparently, the boots.

Tentatively, Naomi reaches for the shoes left in Astarion’s stead. Her fingertips follow the bright blue stitching on the sides, curling into leather that’s been carefully polished free from age and wear. He didn’t find them like this, she’s sure. 

She’s also sure he’s flighty. Dangerous, when the mood strikes him. More because of his tongue than his teeth. He’d sell her to save his own hide if he had to. If they stood in each other’s shoes, and the Gur had come for her, perhaps she’d be in chains right now.

Maybe Astarion’s never known the comfort of having someone watch his back. That, at least, was something Naomi always had back home. Maybe that’s why she finds herself taking her tentative alliance with the vampire to heart. Or why she’ll indulge in his flirtations, even as he plucks the lowest hanging fruit she’s ever heard. 

She feels sorry for him. The notion squirms in her gut. Oh, he’d loathe that. But he’d love that it’s only half the truth.

The other part is that he’s funny. She laughs at him as much as with him. But, still. When he giggles like a fountain, it’s hard to down the sound with a straight face. 

And he’s beautiful. His lips are sly and snide and smirking, but they’re plush, too. And there’s something about the too-perfect set of his snow-white curls that curls her knuckles here and now. She leans her head back against the tree with a soft sigh. Her mind mills with thoughts of raking her fingers in his hair, while that wicked mouth of his melts against her own.

Perhaps all he’s really out for is blood, and her body is just a consolation prize. But it’s nice to feel wanted. Even in some shallow sense.

Naomi slips into her new shoes with a fleeting smile, flexing to feel they fit just right. A little comfort could go a long way. For her and the vampire both.

Wrapping the blanket tightly around her for some semblance of modesty, if not pride, Naomi tiptoes back into the cave where they’ve made camp. The scent of broth swells to her nose, setting her mouth watering. Gale tends to breakfast. Shadowheart, Wyll, and Karlach talk in warm tones that blend with the crackle of the cookfire. Naomi ducks behind the tents, keeping to the fringes until she can safely tuck inside her own. If anyone catches a glimpse of her, they have the decency to keep quiet about it.

Naomi keeps her tent neat and orderly; even while staying in the inns, any urge to sprawl recoiled to the memory of her temple matrons scolding her for not keeping tidy enough in her youth. She’d shared a room with so many others, then. It took some time to be able to trance on her own without their soft chorus of breath swimming in her ears. She’d never known, before, that quiet could be so deafening.

And lonely.

Her pack rests near her tousled bedroll. Naomi eyes the tent’s other occupant warily as she rifles for a change of clothes. Alfira’s lute lurks in the corner where the tent’s drapes of blue-gray canvas loop around the pole holding them aloft.

Gale concluded Alfira’s instrument isn’t cursed after all. After that valiant effort, Naomi hadn’t had the heart to tell him she never learned to play the lute even a little. She can return it to the tieflings today, at least.

Cursed. The notion rolls in her mind, restless like a stormcloud. Restless, like the purpling shadows beneath her eyes. Naomi scowls into her tarnished pocket mirror and stuffs it back into her pack. 

She can’t keep on with so little rest. She needs to trance again, properly. Even if it means another meeting with the devil. Devils deal in contracts more than curses. It makes little difference; they’re all C-words, anyways.

Including that hag.

Dirge singer. Death bringer. Though, the hag could’ve called her ‘sunflower’ and made it sound like she murdered a puppy.

“Ouch!”

Naomi flinches sharply. Her hands retract from her pack on instinct. She turns her palms over, but finds no sign of what stung her. And the crawling necromancy stains that darkened her arms the day before have almost faded entirely. 

Thrrrum.

A sudden chord snaps like a rubberband, strummed harsh and fast and then gone. Naomi hisses, ears aching even as she rubs them.

Thrrrrum. THRRRRUM. 

The sound skewers through her skull. Naomi cowers. 

THRUM, thrum-THRUM, THRR--- 

Swallowing hard, heart hammering, Naomi whips her head towards the lute.

It’s just as lifeless as the girl who used to play it.

Birdsong filters through the camp alongside the crackling fire. The sounds are just as smoky sweet as they were before. As if nothing sour interrupted them at all.

Naomi lets out a tight sigh, massaging the fresh lines forming on her forehead. Those few discordant notes, they sounded familiar. For a split second, she thought she could make something of them. A melody, maybe. She can’t think of how it goes. Her jaw clenches as she braids the loose hair around her face back into her bun.

She trades her tunic for her leather armor, even though it still needs tending, and even though their travels today will take them back to the safety of the Grove. They’ve a habit of stumbling into monsters at every turn, after all. She gathers up the borrowed blanket and sets off to return Astarion’s brief affliction with kindness. 

Well, part of it. She’s keeping the shoes.

She finds him pouring over some moldering text. Even squinting, she can’t make out the title on the cracked leather binding. Astarion doesn’t even lift his head as she hovers. She clears her throat pointedly.

“Good morning, darling,” he murmurs, distant. Reluctantly, he peels his eyes from the fresh page he turns to, wearing a practiced smile that grows smug as he soaks in the sight of her. “You’ve gotten your beauty sleep, I see.”

“Thank you,” she says, holding out the blanket to him. “For this.”

Metal clangs behind her. Naomi stiffens. Gale spews curses as he fumbles with the lid of the stew pot. “Oh, for the love of--”

Astarion scowls at the blanket, and then at her, one elegant eyebrow arched.

“And for these,” she adds, shifting her heel so he can admire his own handiwork. The blue stitching arches bright against the dark leather. She finds herself staring, too. And babbling like a brook to fill the weighty silence. “You picked a nice color. Almost makes me think of--”

She stops short, mouth suddenly dry, eyes flitting back to his face to find him surveying her with a sly smile.

“--home,” she finishes quietly.

He wanted it to, she realizes. Astarion knows how to get what he wants. And he wanted her to think of him and home in the same blink, every morning, as she takes her first step into daylight. 

The sun suits you as well as the stars do, darling. 

He wants to be threaded through her head, inextricable, like the steaming waters she waded into as a child, the songs drifting from the temple, the warmth and wet of the Underdark itself. He means to sink teeth into her memories and add his fangs to the ones she treasures.

Naomi swallows thickly. She wouldn’t mind offering her neck for another night. With the dirt rough beneath her. His body pressing, taut, against her own. She wouldn’t mind it at all, now that she knows where all that blood goes.

Raw heat sweeps her skin, just like the kind that furled from the lake she showed him in her memories. Astarion’s gaze slinks over her, sheer and silky. She feels bare beneath it.

Until he utters some chiding, knowing sound, low in the back of his throat. Then, she feels sweaty. Balmy. Grimy. And sheepish. She shifts her weight between her feet.

It’s more likely, maybe, that he just doesn’t want to owe her anything. She’s helping him flourish, after all. Astarion’s not the sort to be dirtied with debts.

“But of course,” the vampire croons. “We need our fearless leader in tip-top shape, after all.”

“Your leader?” She repeats incredulously.

Astarion turns his head one way, then the other, making a show of looking about. It’s all dramatic effect; his pout of confusion easily reverts to his signature smirk a second later. “Do you see anyone else stepping up, darling? When you open those lovely lips, lovely things seem to happen. Either our enemies fall, or they fall in line.  We’re all inclined to let you keep doing it. Besides, it’s been so much fun to watch.”

She’s fully aware her slack-jawed expression only feeds the gleam in his eye. It’s not the lewdness of his implication that catches her off guard, but the pragmatism of it. The faith in her that he and the others apparently share. 

The goblins were easy to bring to heel; they nearly bent over backwards at the mere sight of a drow, anyway. But even after the incident with Alfira, and her escapade with the hag…her companions still want her to take the reins.

Naomi’s stomach knots. They’ve seen her use her tongue like a whip or a chain, and somewhere along the way, without her even bidding them too, they decided to fall in line as well.

Dimly, she hears Gale falling over his own feet somewhere behind them. Or, maybe he’s choking. Hard to make heads or tails of that strangled, scuffling sound. When she half-turns her cheek, the wizard’s face is ripened red, but he seems no worse for wear. Astarion takes her attention again. 

“And if the shoes fit,” Astarion hums merrily, “well, it’s really all decided then. I do have more of that thread. But it would be better suited if you dyed those leathers we took from that dead drow, first. I imagine they’ll fit you perfectly.”

There wouldn’t be much left to the imagination at all, if she wore what little clothing he spoke of. Much as she might loathe everything else to come from Menzoberranzan, begrudgingly, she knows the garb would look good on her. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she says evenly, forcing the blanket firmly into his grip.

His lips twitch, but he takes it, cradling his book carefully in one hand, while holding the blanket at arm’s length in the other. He stalks off with it pinched between his fingers, held at bay from his body as if it were sopping. Gale lets out another strained noise that sounds suspiciously like a screaming kettle.

“Are you…all right?” She asks him, eying his unkempt hair. His knuckles must’ve worried it into disarray. The stew bubbles fitfully beneath the wizard’s furrowed brow.

“I am simply stupendous,” he promises, but it sounds pitchy. “Never better!”

The grove opens to them readily, with praise and thanks heaped like confetti upon their heads as they pass the tieflings’ caravan. Wyll and Karlach drink in the accolades, doling out kindness in equal measure, as if serving up helpings of Gale’s nightly stew. The wizard himself struts a little taller as he basks in their gratitude. Even Shadowheart seems moved to the slightest smile -- one she might actually admit to, if pressed.

Astarion’s mouth morphs between a smirk and a sneer. One moment, he hovers near Naomi’s shoulder. The next, she turns to find he’s tucked tail, lurking near the rear of the party like a cat that keeps circling but won’t quite settle.

Naomi finds a stature fitting of a hero-by-happenstance, accepting Zevlor’s coin and offer of camaraderie with the right words and the right thanks. The kind a good person might give, with the kind of performance that a good person might believe. It earns her a sideways glance from Shadowheart and Astarion both.

Naomi doesn’t shy from their scrutiny. They’re the same in this, she’s sure. At least, she’s not so sure she would have spared the effort on the tieflings’ behalf, if the search for a cure steered them elsewhere.

The real prize is a spoiled fruit; Halsin doesn’t have the cure they’d dared to hope for. But he has information. And he makes good on his promise to share it. The burly elf waves a hand in greeting as they approach him at the heart of the Grove.

“I hear there’s to be a celebration this evening,” Halsin says. “Well-deserved, after all your efforts. I hope you relish the chance at revelry. It may be some time before you’re afforded another such night. There is much to be done. And I promised I would help you however I could.”

“You did,” Naomi replies, leaning back to survey the rather sturdy length of him. “We'll make our plans now so we can make merry later.”

“I’m certain a cure for you can be found at Moonrise Towers,” the druid asserts, “but it’s…complicated. The journey, specifically -- it’s extremely perilous. Though, it seems you’re well-accustomed to navigating danger. To get to the Towers, you’ll need to pass through a terrible place -- a cursed place.”

Naomi stifles a sigh. There’s that ‘C’ word again. Cropping up like a stubborn weed. What else did she expect, really?

Halsin tells them of the shadow curse shrouding Moonrise and the surrounding region in darkness and decay. When Naomi wonders aloud how the Absolute’s forces could withstand such conditions, the druid doesn’t have an answer.

“Perhaps it’s the tadpoles,” Astarion muses airily. “Our wriggling friends might shield us from the curse entirely.”

“Only the Absolute’s elites have them,” Gale says with a shake of his head. “Their foot soldiers don’t. They’d need another method to move en masse.”

“You could go overland, along the Risen Road or through the mountains,” Halsin suggests. “But you’ll run into the shadow curse eventually. You could also go under. There is a tunnel in the ruined temple of Selune. It leads to Moonrise Towers through the Underdark.”

Naomi doesn’t meet any of the eyes that snap, at once, to her. She fixes her gaze, instead, to the scenery just past Halsin’s broad shoulders. Even without the tadpole, she knows they all share the same thought.

Wyll gives voice to the question hanging over them. “Is there any chance such a route might carry us near your home? Would you know the way?”

“No,” Naomi answers flatly.

“That’s a shame,” Astarion murmurs beneath his breath, the sound teasing like a breeze near her ear. “Truly. I would’ve liked to have seen it in person.”

Naomi stiffens. She feels his presence prickle along her neck again, even though he’s feet away. A memory of his bite. One bite out of her memories, and he thinks he has her story figured.

“You would’ve seen a pile of rubble,” she says without inflection. “That’s all that’s left of it, now. Boulders and bones.”

“A shame,” he says again, gently enough, her jaw softens slightly.

“But I do know the Underdark,” she says, rolling her shoulders back. “I know what we might find down there. How to navigate underground.”

“And if what we’ve heard from some of the tieflings is true,” Shadowheart adds grimly, “there’s Githyanki along the other route. Strong odds they would’ve had our heads even with Lae’zel in tow. Without her, it’s not a wager I’d like to take.”

One unanimous nod of assent from the others, and it’s decided, even before Halsin tells them further of Ketheric Thorm’s fabled fortress. The mention of her goddess lights Shadowheart like a candle. Before their eyes, the devotee of darkness positively glows.

Naomi wonders, ruefully, if the Sharran will have the same demeanor a few weeks into a moss-and-mushroom diet. Perhaps she’ll need to teach them how to gut a bulette, after all.

“Well, go on! Get in there with them!” Karlach blurts, swaying in time to the lively tune brightening the hollow. Her mug of beer sloshes, spilling over with the overzealous shimmy of her hips.

Naomi winces, back turned to the band as the crowd claps to their rhythm. “I was never good at being that sort of bard,” she shouts above the crescendo.

“What, fun at parties?” Karlach scoffs. “What other kind is there?”

“I’m a riot at a funeral.”

Karlach’s back bows as she glugs, streams seeping from her lips. Naomi watches, briefly fascinated, as the beer sizzles on the surface of Karlach’s broiling skin. It steams off of her in a sweet, wheaty aroma.

“It wassss sssbeautiful,” Karlach murmurs, sobering even as she slurs. “What you did for Lae’zel. Even though she despised you. You sing too pretty to stand around and pout about it!”

Naomi smiles, in spite of herself. “And your mug is too empty for you to still be standing around, talking to me.”

“Fine. Fine,” Karlach heaves an overdrawn sigh, stumbling off reluctantly. “But you’d better break out that fiddle they gave you in our next fight. I wanna hear this riot of yours!”

Flickering silhouettes stutter across the orange glow bathing the clearing. Naomi’s left alone again among so many of Zevlor’s caravan, those they saved from certain death at the goblins’ hands. Song rakes the air alongside fluttering flakes of ash and buffeting laughter. 

Naomi watches the festivities like she would a sunrise; they’re a gorgeous spectacle, to be sure. Something she can see, that can wash over her, but she isn’t part of it, even standing here, adrift in the middle of it. 

Alfira should be. 

She hadn’t wanted to accept the fiddle Zevlor had handed to her in exchange for Alfira’s lute. Well, she’d wanted to accept it. Whether she should have is a moot point now. It stays stowed in her tent for tonight. Still, she thinks of it wistfully.

It’s a beautiful, breakable thing. But it fit like a glove, in her grasp, beneath her chin. In a way that so little has.

“Do you ever tire of denying yourself?”

Naomi offers Astarion a sideways glance. The vampire offers her wine, straight from the bottle. Tentatively, Naomi reaches for it. Their knuckles brush against each other on the neck. The touch is gentle, and yet it feels like flint to steel the way it lingers, sparking, in her fingertips.

Astarion’s eyes shine like the glass in the firelight as she lifts it to her lips for a swig. 

The wine is sharp at first, and then it smooths to velvet on her tongue. Rich. Red. And--

“Awful, isn’t it?” Astarion mutters critically while she hands it back. “Vinegar for wine is hardly a fair consolation prize for all of our blood, sweat, and carnage. I think you deserve something sweeter, hm? A taste of what you’ve been staring at. Perhaps we both do.”

Astarion’s gaze drops, heavy-lidded, to her neck. She’s sure he can see the flush of it, even in the darkness, even by firelight.

 “A little…levity,” he whispers, and it sounds like a promise. “I was right, of course. Those leathers do suit you.”

Naomi swallows, abruptly warm even in such sparse clothing. Astarion’s eyes cut the angle the leather does, down between her breasts, to the lacing at her navel. It would only be one step to close the distance between them, yet, that space weighs her ankles; the notion of moving even an inch feels like wading through waist-high water.

“Yes, I’m tired of it,” she says, eyes peeling back to the party around them. Wistfully, she watches the sway of the bards, their fingers flitting over flute and fiddle. “No, I’m not sure I deserve any different.” She takes a shallow breath, forehead creased, discordant worry whittling in the back of her mind. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten something very important.”

“You have, haven’t you?” He says, head tilted. Naomi blinks up at him wordlessly.

“Pleasure, sweet thing,” he shakes his head, pitying. “I could feel it when I was lost in your neck, you know. You’re positively starved for it? Aren’t you?”

Yes, she thinks at once, an ache panging in her chest. Of course I am. She doesn’t--

“You don’t need to say anything. I already know how you feel,” Astarion rasps, daring the inch closer she couldn’t take herself. His slender hand darts out swift as a dagger. 

Naomi tenses for the touch that doesn't come. His fingertips only ghost over the hairline scar slashed across her nose, tracing its path, but never once grazing it. 

“I know what your last lover left you with,” he says. “And I know better, darling.”

The back of his hand curves down with the column of her neck in a could-be caress. Naomi’s throat bobs, and Astarion’s gaze flits to the motion, fixated. All at once, the fireside is sweltering. 

Intoxicating. The scent of him floods her, crisp and spiced even above the smell of the smoking flames. She hadn’t noticed before, even with her head against his shoulder. But one breath closer, one breath away, and it takes her mind away from anything else.

“I feel it too, you know. This…connection between us,” he says beneath the snap of kindling. 

It feels just as frail, this tentative thread winding them closer. So close, she thinks. He’s so close that, for the first time, she can see his chest is perfectly still without a breath pulled through it.

What might it feel like, to be still for a moment? To lay her ear to his ribs and hear nothing at all? Silence without solitude. Sanctuary without…history.

Pleasure, instead of pain.

He’s so close. He’s so hungry, with the wolfish gleam in his eye, and the edge of fangs in his smirk. But it can’t be a tether he longs for. 

“What do you want Astarion?”

His brow twitches before it settles again. “You know,” he purrs, “I’ve been very good, too. Playing the hero of all things. Hmph.”

“That’s not an answer.” Her snicker sours his expression to a scowl.

“All I want is a bit of fun,” he huffs, exasperated. “Is that so hard to ask?”

Good, she thinks. It wouldn’t do her any good to go believing otherwise. To believe that drivel he pours could’ve come from somewhere earnest, instead of some purple-prosed paperback with the spine bent as often as a whore’s.

But it could feel good, to be broken in by him like a tome left too-long untouched. To yield to someone else’s touch again. Better to ache with it after, having been opened and known again, than to ache alone.

“You mean sex,” she says, his slow-spreading smile a mirror of her own.

“The kind you’ll never forget,” Astarion drawls, voice gaining gravel again. “We could steal away once the others are asleep. Take the night for ourselves and forget all this madness. I know where we can find our own little piece of nowhere.”

Astarion’s eyes are crimson as the wine he hands her. His fingers curl cool, around hers, as she takes his offering a second time. The sip tingles on her tongue, brimming with promise.

The vampire wets his lips. “So what do you say, lover?”

Damp grass tamps down beneath her feet. Naomi shivers, free of the fireside’s warmth, and -- she confirms with one last glance over her shoulder -- free from prying eyes. The night’s crisp, cool, and quiet but for the dull croak of creatures who call the brush their home.

Between the bottle brush pines, she glimpses a sky alive with simmering stars. It’s beautiful. Resplendent. She could stare at those heavens for hours, neck craned upward, her chin in her hands.

Naomi comes to the crest of a small incline. The forest thins. There, across tall grasses, leaned lithe against a tree, she sees him. When she blinks again, the moon, the stars, and the faint blush of the astral sea seeping from beyond are all dull, faded things.

“There you are,” Astarion’s whisper is coarse. He presses from the tree. Naomi can’t quell the hitch in her breath. Moonlight slinks with him, liquid silver cloaked over his bare shoulders.

“I’ve been waiting,” he says, closing their distance with long, lazy strides as her own steps cease. “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

Pristine, moon-bleached curls frame his face. She knew she’d find that knowing smirk on his lips. But the heady lust in his eyes is tempered with a softness so different from the silky way he speaks and stares. Like sand through her fingers, it feels so fleeting.

“You've been waiting to use that line,” she says, but the barb lacks any sting. “And besides, I know it was murder on your mind that first time we met. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Briefly, his eyes narrow before his expression smooths to match his tone. “Oh darling, all I wanted to do that night was taste you.”

The spiced scent of him swells with her hammering heartbeat. Naomi’s eyes wander, unbidden, to the curve of his lower lip. The barest tips of his fangs dig into the plush of it.

“I think you want to be tasted,” he says with certainty. “I think one bite wasn’t enough.”

“You could be right,” she whispers back, eyes half-lidded.

Gently, he lifts her chin with a pair of his fingers. “I think the night we met could’ve gone something like this.”

The crush of his lips is velvet; his mouth is soft as it catches hers, rougher as he keeps it. She drifts into the kiss, weightless, lost to the slow, deliberate, inevitable way he coaxes her open.

His hand on her hip is a sudden anchor, his fingertips pressing imprints of sweet pressure. She parts for him readily; her legs shift to accommodate the nimble fingers working her free of her laces, her lips allowing his tongue to soothe the ache he made. 

She thinks of those same skilled hands, working open a lock with an expertise that would have earned anyone else calluses. He always pinches the pick so precisely in his grip, the blue veins in his pale wrists flexing with instinct but only the barest effort. With just as much ease, the leathers crumple at her heels and he bears her to the night. 

Abruptly, he parts from her. Naomi pants, chest heaving. As he steps back, she steps forward out of her clothing piled in the dirt. 

Red eyes rake down her body, burning from her neck to her navel like wine down her throat. He dips with fluid motion, doing away with his trousers before he straightens. Her own gaze flits low as anticipation clenches between her legs. Her teeth catch the inside of her cheek, muffling the noise she knows would only grow the girth of his ego.

There’s so very much of him to anticipate.

Strong arms loop around her waist, ending any distance between them with firm pull. She gives to his grip, catching her breath as the chill panes of his chest press cool against her breasts. When his lips have hers again, and his hands weave reckless though her hair, he casts the cold away entirely. At least, she forgets all about it while he’s tugging her hair loose from its bun, and tugging her lower lip between his teeth.

For a moment, she sways dizzy, eyes shut to the world. He’s her gravity. Astarion hitches her legs over his hips, hard grip buried in her ass, and lifts her, spinning her round. 

Her back scrapes rough against the tree bark. It’ll sting in the morning. But his tongue teases at the roof of her mouth and all she can think now is more, more, more.

More of that pleased sound rumbling low in the back of his throat as her hands clutch the nape of his neck. More of that blissful mouth she gasps against. More of his skin smoothing like satin over hers. More of the taste of him taking her mind and emptying it of all else.

Naomi’s fingernails drag tender against his scalp, silver curls threading through her fingers. Astarion tilts his head back into the touch. She takes the opportunity to graze them down the delicate edges of his ears, too, satisfaction stoked by the sound of his ragged snicker.

“Good girl.”

He mutters the praise feather-faint on the heat of her tongue. Any purchase she had falters to the needy, tightening coil of want drawn suddenly taut inside her. As if he said the words to the lips between her thighs instead of those he claims with his own.

Her legs quiver when her feet find the dirt again. Astarion cups her breasts, rolling a pebbled nipple between the pads of his thumb and forefinger. Naomi groans into his open-mouthed kisses, into the exquisite, electric pleasure he plies from her tits. Her heels drag back into the soil, but it's her own needy noises that ground her.

Until the rigid length of him, the only warmth he has, grinds against the meat of her thigh, and her mind blanks but for the answering ache inside her cunt. 

Her footing wavers. She stumbles forward, shoving firm against his hips. Abruptly, Astarion’s eyes fly wide. She smears a kiss and a stifled breath against his collarbone. Then, his grip tightens, and they’re falling together, down into the dirt.

Astarion breaks her landing with a dull huff. Her own snickering snaps the quiet like twigs underfoot. It can’t be helped. And she can’t help but bask in that dazed look he wears as he watches her, laughter and moonlight gleaming in his eyes without a trace of reproach. 

She’s got a perfect view of that gorgeous face, so she can see what it does to that self-assured smirk of his when her trailing hand reaches its destination. Naomi shifts, straddling his thighs, one palm painting over the lean spread of his chest. The other smooths up the side of his leg until she comes to the crux of what she longs for, the inspiration for all the slickness she has waiting for him. Her fingers wrap lithe around his shaft and stroke.

Astarion shudders out a breathy, contented sigh.“I was right about you,” he pants, head lolling back against the ground while his hungry eyes roam her body.

“What’s that?” Naomi asks, her voice saccharine as she tilts her head, the twist of her wrist anything but innocent.

“You are stunning in silver.”

She follows his gaze, turning her attention downward to the curve of her tits, rising with the shape of her own breath in her lungs. Past her collarbone, her dense freckles thin out over the pale twilight shade of her skin, like stars dissolving in daylight. Her lilac-gray pigment fades, too, into ethereal blue by the light of the moon. Every inch of her is alive with it. Even her hair, falling loose and tousled over her shoulders, takes on the shimmer of fresh snowfall.

She swallows, the motion rippling through the flat of her stomach. Last night, Astarion said the daylight suited her. She replied in kind. But tonight, she said to him, you don’t have to pretend with me, and she meant it. He didn’t say it back. Maybe he meant it, anyway. He watches her so intently, now.

Tonight, he says she’s stunning. Tonight, beneath her, he tells the truth. If only for a little while. The daylight suits them fine enough, but they're creatures of the night, the pair of them.

Her breath snags as he sits suddenly upright. The motion shifts her, too. She’s still spread over his lap, but her grip is gone. A cunning smile curls on his mouth. Firm hands press against the small of her back, pulling her flush against the hard ridge of his cock. Every slow rock of his hips sends pleasure stuttering through her stomach. Every thrust across her cunt has him more and more slicked with her.

Naomi’s eyelids flutter. He draws a hand through her hair, tugging back with a gentle hold. Nonsensical noise tumbles from her mouth. Her pulse pangs in her throat, bared to his lips.

“And you’re so very eager,” he says, the words tingling against her neck. “Aren’t you?”

She braces for the bite, for the piercing pain that will yield to delectable numbness in a moment’s time. But there’s no trace of his teeth. Instead, his mouth merely drags delicately along the path of his favorite vein, throbbing just beneath the surface of her skin.

“I’m not the only eager one, it seems,” she says in a husk of what her voice used to be.

“Mm,” Astarion rumbles in reply, “we’ve both waited long enough.”

He pushes hard against her shoulders. Naomi’s back thumps against the gritty dirt. Astarion is smooth marble as he crawls across her, knees bracketing her own. On instinct, her hips lift, straining towards his hardened cock looming, glistening, above her cunt. 

He chides her with a click of his tongue. A forceful palm pins her back down beneath him. But her punishment is short-lived. He threads a hand between them, licks his lips, and dips just one finger between her slick folds.

Breath stammers from her lungs. Astarion circles her clit like circling prey. The black look in his eyes is calculated, distant, and pierces straight through her. Like he hardly sees her at all --  only the dirt beneath her body, the ground he could fuck her into, the little deaths he could bury her with. His wrist flexes with the arch in her back. He buries his soaked finger inside her heat. 

And just like that, he has her curled around it. Naomi’s not sure what language keeps leaving her tongue. It’s known to no one but the two of them. It’s filthy as the wet, clicking rhythm of him playing with her cunt. 

He blinks, brow knitting briefly, and the set of his jaw seems to ease. She catches the flash of his fanged smirk behind her slitted lids before he leans forward and laps at her trembling tits. Naomi’s eyes shut tight as the whole of her squeezes with touch of his tongue against her pert nipple. Her cunt clings, needy, around his finger, but she doesn’t have to beg; he slips in a second, granting her that perfect stretch she so desperately seeks.

“Gods--”

The seal of his mouth breaks abruptly with a lewd pop. Naomi jerks from the ground, bucking to the sharp but fleeting reproach of his fangs against her swollen nipple. He leans higher, nosing at the crook of her neck. His breath sends a shiver across her skin as a low growl seeps between his teeth. 

“The gods aren’t the ones giving you this.”

His knuckles crook inside her cunt, and like she’s any other lock, Naomi’s lips open at his whim.

“Ah--Astar--star--”

“Better,” he snickers darkly, “as in ‘surely you can do better’.”

Somewhere in the feverish flurry of her thoughts, she feels a swell of victory, knowing her critique of his charms left such an imprint on him. A second later, he kills her breathless laughter, swiping his tongue against the slanted edge of her ear. Naomi chokes around the sweetest shudder. It’s his name she mangles in her mouth as she comes hard and sudden, spasming around the pair of fingers he used to turn her to putty in his hands.

Astarion eases back, sitting up on his knees and giving her room to prop her chest with her arms. The look in his eyes is a predatory one as he rubs his cunt-slicked fingers across his lips. A long, steaming sigh leaks out of him.

“My bittersweet treat,”  he drawls, “you’re so very flushed for me.”

“Can’t I treat you, too?” Naomi asks, lashes low as she leans her head to the side, an open invitation to her open neck. Her fingertips trail over the stretch of it, skimming the flare of her collarbone down to the swell of her breast and teasing at the nipple he’d toyed with before.

Surprise floods his face, stoking the grin on hers. It’s too perfect. He’s too perfect. His carefully coiffed hair is riled into picturesque disarray, his eyes rounded wide. He recovers in a blink, grasping her thigh, angling her ankle over his shoulder, and pulling her tightly to him.

“You generous little thing,” he croons, his mouth descending down her leg. He drops to his forearms, sucking a path of fervent kisses along the tender flesh of her inner thigh. “But I’ve only just started, darling,” he pants, his breath furling across her cunt. 

His tongue dips through her folds, mapping the heat of her with languid, deliberate strokes. Like he means to take the spread of her in his mind as much as his mouth. Commit her to muscle memory in the same manner his long, elegant fingers can nock a new arrow without a glance at his hands.

And she thinks, with a cry breaking like glass in her throat, he could have her in pieces just as easily.

The vampire’s yet to let his teeth sink in. Every drop of blood Naomi came to the woods with stays within her veins. But Astarion doesn’t need his fangs to have her in a boneless puddle beneath him; his lips alone have that managed. 

He devours her all the same, drinking in her writhing whimpers as he slips a finger inside again, groaning his approval as she takes another and clenches tightly around him. Sweat flares across her forehead with the forceful fit of her orgasm thrumming through her cunt. 

She chases after her breath, awash in Astarion’s embrace, in the sprinting thunder of her own heartbeat slamming his ribs while he climbs back over her. He strokes away the hair plastered to her cheek, and a lightweight, dizzy feeling flutters in her chest.

Realization snaps with her pulse, the back of her mouth growing suddenly dry. There’s no answering echo pounding back beneath his skin. His heart is silent, his chest cool and soothing to the touch. 

He’s quiet. Not the lonely kind of silence. But a deeper, richer shade of it. The kind of quiet that eases whatever wayward, nuisance of a noise that lurked in the back of her head. She hadn’t even known it was there until she’d known its absence. Until Astarion laid bare against her body, and she heard nothing at all inside his chest.

 It’s…nice.

“Are you still with me, darling?” The vampire searches her face, eyes narrowed by the barest hair, his curls aglow in a moonlit halo.

��Y-yes.”

“But don’t you look dazed,” he muses, putting on a pout that’s all for show. “If you still want me inside of you, you’ll have to say so, lover.”

“I do. Want it,” she answers at once, sparking a keen glint in his eye. She swallows, downing the hoarseness in her throat.

“Then say the words,” he coaxes, hovering taut above her.

Naomi tilts her head back, a sultry smile hanging slack from her swollen lips. “I want you inside me, Astarion. And I want you to have your fill of me while you’re filling me.”

His gaze dulls over, drifting down to her throat, his pupils blown wide. His voice is rich and dark as he whispers roughly, “So be it, my sweet.”

He seals the vow with a chaste kiss and the slow roll of his hips. The head of his cock nudges, warm and thick against her entrance. Instinct and anticipation have her cunt gripping around a panging nothingness. His fangs graze the pattering pulse-point in her neck. 

Naomi doesn’t know she’s held her breath until Astarion sinks into her with cock and fangs both. The exhale bleeds from her body in a heady rush.

“Isn’t that better?” He growls against her ear, the tang of her blood and sex mingling on his breath and in her nose.

Dimly, she’s aware of the prickling punctures in her neck. But then, his mouth soothes them again, sucking with a hard fervor, and she melts into the blend of his cock smacking wet against her cunt. 

Into the blend of blood and sex and sweat that takes her like a tide. Into the crash of lips and hips that has her writhing, riding on a climbing crest of pleasure. Every prod of his cock against that perfect place deep within her cunt drowns her in permeating bliss.

She could fade into that feeling entirely; dissolve into nothing but the crash of her own breath and the length of him wrapped within her. Just when she thinks she might, Astarion peels from her throat. He kisses her with groaned urgency, pulling a moan from her mouth into his. 

She comes apart that way, sealed with him, with a hard, lightning tremor shooting from her cunt through her chest. Astarion grunts, his teeth catching her lip with a sting that sends sparks simmering down through her toes. Her cunt convulses, wringing his cock through his frantic, shuddering thrusts.

Astarion parts from her mouth, face scrunched. He pours into her with a ragged groan. Absently, she strokes the dangling curls from his face, watching, rapt, as his brow trembles with the rest of him.

And then he pours from her, his body spilling into the dirt beside her, his cum seeping from her throbbing cunt. 

Cool, lonely air licks the sweat from her skin. Naomi shivers. 

Then she flinches; a flurry of fabric drops over her in a dark shadow. Gingerly, she takes the blanket, eying the swirling, pristine pattern of the stitching. It’s not the same as the one she woke up with this morning.

Astarion lies on his back next to her, still and silver as a statue.

“We can’t have you cold,” he murmurs faintly, as if miles away, “now, can we?”

A/N: THEY FINALLY FUCKED!! WOO HOO! Naomi: He's not even that good at flirting lol but it is entertaining.

Naomi five minutes later: It would be real stupid of me to think he means any of this lol we're totally just having fun it's casual

Naomi ten minutes later: Where's the cuddles though 🫠 Super excited to share Underdark happenings, lots more Naomi lore, and some Astarion POV about what just happened here next chapter! Divider credit for before and immediately after story text to @firefly-graphics. Divider credit for scene breaks and banner below to @saradika-graphics. *Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate, @mancsunite, @marlowethebard,

@ayselluna, @wingsy-keeper-of-songs, @vixstarria

*I'm sorry if I missed you, I'm new this tag list thing! Lmk if you want to be added!

[thistle-caster]

😬and💤 for gorgug and Kristen?

😬 - about the worst thing they've done

honestly I feel like for both gorgug and kristen a lot of the "worst things they've done" have been on-screen. but as for prior to high school:

I feel like gorgug definitely had a rage where he unintentionally hurt his parents. he felt terrible about it for days, and if he thinks about it too hard the guilt still settles in his stomach with the knowledge that he has that ability, and he has done it before.

kristen, on the other hand, was I think a bit of a goody-two-shoes prior to high school. I don't think that she would have done anything primarily terrible in the grand scheme of things, but I think that she may have had fights with her parents over their conservative views that may have painted her in a different light.

💤 - about their sleep

gorgug absolutely can go to sleep just fine, and he wakes up fine as well. it's staying asleep that he has a lot of trouble with. he's an extremely light sleeper, and he gets nightmares a lot that often keep him up once he's up. some days are better than others, but his sleep definitely took a turn for the worse during junior year.

kristen, on the other hand, is an insanely deep sleeper. like an actual rock. it's something to envy, quite honestly. she does take a while to fall asleep, but once she's out, she's out, and don't even bother texting her. eventually, she was pressured into turning her phone to the highest volume and maximum vibrations for the bad kids' texts specifically because there had been too many close calls.

thank you for sending an ask anon! for the original post: link here

[queer-ghosts]

me: in immense pain after not letting my body rest properly for the last few days, while I'm having flare ups already

Also me: getting up at midnight to figure out wtf is bothering me about the story I'm currently writing

[coloursofaparadox]

im still not over the sleep thing one sec i gotta rant about this shit

[fingertipsmp3]

Me: I think I’m getting over my irrational fear of demonic possession

Also me: *has a nightmare about demonic possession, wakes up from it at 5am, refuses to go back to sleep, and spends whole day tired*

[suguann]

an. part two of this | masterlist

You tell him you broke up with your boyfriend while he’s away for work, bunked up in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with shit reception, hearing your words as clear as day as if they weren’t the chopped-up version coming through his burner phone.

“It just…didn’t work out.”

It didn’t work out.

He pretends his stomach doesn’t pleasantly twist because he’d expected it to happen eventually. He’s not happy about it—although it does make the desert heat more bearable in his heavy tactical gear—and tells Soap to fuck off when he comments on it.

It was a one-time fuck because Simon doesn’t date. He’s tried in the past before he met you—the flowers, the late-night dinners—but with him being gone almost every other month (sometimes longer, shorter if he’s lucky), it never works out in the end. Sleeping with you twice would fall under that category, the quasi-relationship kind, and make everything messier than it needs to be. 

Just some fun, no strings, those are the words he promised.

If only he believed them.

He does, for all of two weeks until he’s home again, and it’s summer, so you’re wearing a flowy dress that shows off the long expanse of your legs. 

(He’s a goner—not even sure why he tried to think otherwise.)

That one time he’d promised turns into a second, both of you stumbling into your apartment after a night out. The music from the pub still thumping loudly underneath your floor as he pushes you against the front door, hands in your hair—on your waist, underneath your skirt, down your thigh to hitch it over his waist—teasing your mouth open with a swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip.

You make this delighted little noise in the back of your throat, arching into him, and his hand spans down your stomach, beneath your underwear, to nudge your messy clit with his knuckle, wanting to hear all the sounds you make now that he has you alone. 

A whiny cry of his name rewards him—jeans tightening around his waist at the sound—when his fingers go down, down until they press against your tight little hole, one finger pressing inside slowly. "If I make you cum, I get to fuck you here.”

You smile prettily, and it disarms him. “If you make me cum, you can fuck me however you want.”

Neither of you makes it to the bed, falling asleep on the living room floor instead, the blanket from the couch draped haphazardly over both of you with his arm curled over your waist.

That night had been a slip of judgment, a product of wanting something warm and soft after several months of only having his hand for company.

It happens again and again, and he keeps letting it happen until there’s no more hiding under the guise of just fun because it somehow turns into a lot more than that.

Simon can’t explain how it happens—maybe becoming something he can touch and hold and think about often—but he finds himself in an exclusive relationship with you that isn’t exactly a relationship because he’s unsure of the ins and outs that they entail.

(Always has been.)

His father was a shit role model, and it was always easier finding someone new who didn’t know his name or care about his scars and only wanted a nice fuck. There had never been any point in shooting for something serious when it was always out of the question for him, until now, that is.

He takes you to that over-rated restaurant overlooking the Thames Marcus never brought you to. A picture of you and him with the sunset in the background—your smile almost blinding in the photo—becomes his home screen, and he finds he doesn’t care when Soap has something to say about it.

He lets you do nonsensical shit, like buying small plants for his house that are surely going to die from him being gone before he comes up with the great idea to give you a key. It’s just a key.

(It’s more than just a key.)

Simon finds himself asking if he can come over more often throughout the week, which slowly moulds and shifts into nights filled with things other than sex—sleeping after a long day of work, cuddling on the couch, cooking together, going to the movies—he doesn’t try to make a big deal out of it because you used to hang out all the time without sex. 

(Somewhere, there’s a but in there.)

There’s still no label to whatever this is, and he wonders if you want him to be the first to say the thing you’ve both been dancing around for a little over…he can’t remember, but he knows it’s been long enough for your things to mix in with his at his house. 

Be with me because I’m yours, and you’re mine, that’s what he’s trying to say, and it’s never the right time. Men like him—a little broken, rough, and jagged around the edges sharp enough to cut—aren’t good with words like that.

(That’s what he thought.)

If he hadn’t seen you talking to a guy at the pub, eyes crinkling in that same sweet way whenever Simon makes you laugh, he wonders if he would’ve been the first to break from the start. He knows it’s your job as a bartender to be nice, but his jaw clicks at the sight of the guy leaning over the bar and into your space, almost too close.

The feeling doesn’t go away until he has you spread out on your mattress under him—clothes haphazardly peeled out of the way for him to put his mouth on you—your lips pursed tight around two of his fingers to give you something to focus on as his other hand works between your thighs, pressing down on your tongue when gurgled little sounds slip out.

He teases you with a small, pink vibrator he found inside your bedside table, your legs kicking out and toes curling into his calves.

“Mine. This is mine, love,” he groans, pressing you further into the bed with his weight. “Do you understand?”

You nod, tears pearling and leaking from the corner of your eyes.

“Lemme cum,” you whine, words muffled. “Simon, I want to cum. Please.”

He won’t lie that he’s close after jerking into his fist to the sight of you writhing on the sheets—swears he can feel his heartbeat throbbing against the back of his fingers—takes in your surprised expression when he pushes forward, impaling you on the first few inches of his cock.

His stomach twists from the squeal that escapes your throat, and fuck, your cunt, so hot and tight with little pulses that drive him crazy, only growing tighter when he turns up the speed on the vibrator.

“‘Mm, gonna cum. I’m—”

He grits his teeth as you start to flutter around his cock once he’s rooted inside you. “Go on—fuck—go on, love. Let me feel it.”

You look so perfect like this, like a dream: lips parted into an enticing little O with his name tumbling out in breathy mewls, tits hanging out from the bra he shoved to the side, eyes glassy and unfocused. 

“So fucking pretty.” He kisses your throat, panting into your sweat-slick skin, and it’s not long before he’s falling over the edge with you. 

Next time, he’ll have the courage to tell you: that you’re not someone he calls for a meaningless fuck on the weekend, that Simon misses you when he’s gone and can’t wait to come home, that he wants to try with you—except not when he’s balls deep and trembling inside your heavenly cunt.

But the smile he feels against his shoulder makes him think that maybe…

Maybe you already know.

[astronicht]

Okay I'm almost done with Fellowship, here's an incomplete list of shit I noticed and thought was buck fucking wild on my first ever read-thru: medieval edition.

In literally the second line of the book, Tolkien implies that Bilbo Baggins wrote a story which was preserved alongside the in-universe version of the Mabinogion (aka the best-known collection of Welsh myths; I promise this is batshit). This is because The Hobbit has been preserved, in Tolkien's AU version of our world, in a "selection of the Red Book of Westmarch" (Prologue, Concerning Hobbits). If you're a medievalist and you see something called "The Red Book of" or "The Black Book of" etc it's a Thing. In this case, a cheeky reference to the Red Book of Hergest (Llyfr Coch Hergest). There are a few Red Books, but only Hergest has stories).

not a medieval thing but i did not expect one common theory among hobbits for the death of Frodo's parents to be A RUMORED MURDER-SUICIDE.

At the beginning of the book a few hobbits report seeing a moving elm tree up on the moors, heading west (thru or past the Shire). I mentioned this in another post, but another rule: if you see an elm tree, that's a Girl Tree. In Norse creation myth, the first people were carved from driftwood by the gods. Their names were Askr (Ash, as in the tree), the first man, and Embla (debated, but likely elm tree), the first woman. A lot of ppl have I think guessed that that was an ent-wife, but like. Literally that was a GIRL. TREE.

Medieval thing: I used to read the runes on the covers of The Hobbit and LOTR for fun when I worked in a bookshop. There's a mix of Old Norse (viking) and Old English runes in use, but all the ones I've noticed so far are real and readable if you know runes.

Tom Bombadil makes perfect sense if you once spent months of your life researching the early medieval art of galdor, which was the use of poems or songs to do a form of word-magic, often incorporating gibberish. If you think maybe Tolkien did not base the entirety of Fellowship so far around learning and using galdor and thus the power of words and stories, that is fine I cannot force you. He did personally translate "galdor" in Beowulf as "spell" (spell, amusingly, used to mean "story"). And also he named an elf Galdor. Like he very much did name an elf Galdor.

Tom Bombadil in fact does galdor from the moment we meet him. He arrives and fights the evil galdor (song) of the willow tree ("old gray willow-man, he's a mighty singer"), which is singing the hobbits to sleep and possibly eating them, with a galdor (song) of his own. Then he wanders off still singing, incorporating gibberish. I think it was at this point that I started clawing my face.

THEN Tom Bombadil makes perfect sense if you've read the description of the scop's songs in Beowulf (Beowulf again, but hey, Tolkien did famously a. translate it b. write a fanfiction about it called Sellic Spell where he gave Beowulf an arguably homoerotic Best Friend). The scop (pronounched shop) is a poet who sings about deeds on earth, but also by profession must know how to sing the song or tell the story of how the cosmos itself came to be. The wise-singer who knows the deep lore of the early universe is a standard trope in Old English literature, not just Beowulf! Anyway Tom Bombadil takes everyone home and tells them THE ENTIRE STORY OF ALL THE AGES OF THE EARTH BACKWARDS UNTIL JUST BEFORE THE MOMENT OF CREATION, THE BIG BANG ITSELF and then Frodo Baggins falls asleep.

Tom Bombadil knows about plate tectonics

This is sort of a lie, Tom Bombadil describes the oceans of old being in a different place, which works as a standard visual of Old English creation, which being Christian followed vaguely Genesis lines, and vaguely Christian Genesis involves a lot of water. TOLKIEN knew about plate tectonics though.

Actually I just checked whether Tolkien knew about plate tectonics because I know the advent of plate tectonics theory took forever bc people HATED it and Alfred Wegener suffered for like 50 years. So! actually while Tolkien was writing LOTR, the scientific community was literally still not sure plate tectonics existed. Tom Bombadil knew tho.

Remember that next time you (a geologist) are forced to look at the Middle Earth map.

I'm not even done with Tom Bombadil but I'm stopping here tonight. Plate tectonics got me. There's a great early (but almost high!) medieval treatise on cosmology and also volcanoes and i wonder if tolkien read it. oh my god. i'm going to bed.

edit: part II

[liliavanrougelover]

How would they sleep with you?

Summary: How would the TWST boys sleep in the same bed as you?

Characters: All NRC students (-Ortho)

Warnings: None (?)

A/N: I'm suffering from TWST brain rot.

Riddle Rosehearts:

It depends on the day. Most days he’ll just fall asleep next to you, other days he’ll fall asleep in your arms. Sometimes he just wants to be held and what else is he supposed to do when you feel so warm? He can’t stop the way his eyes start to close or the way he starts to lose consciousness. He likes when he wakes up in your arms too. It makes him feel safe and secure. Maybe he should ask to be held more often.

Trey Clover:

Normally he’ll just fall asleep next to you. Really close though. Your shoulders will be touching but he won’t have an arm around you or anything. Of course, if you want him to hold you, he’s willing to. And if you want to hold him, he doesn’t mind. Just ask and he’ll do it.

Cater Diamond:

He’s a cuddly sleeper. Most days he wants you to hold him while he sleeps. Something about being in your arms just makes him feel safe. He especially loves that he’s surrounded by you. Sometimes he does like to hold you, especially when your head is resting on his chest. Not only does it feel nice to have you against his chest, but it’s nice to feel trusted by you.

Ace Trappola:

He wants you to sleep on him. Your head on his chest and the rest of your body between his legs. He’ll have his arms wrapped around your back and when he’s having trouble sleeping he’ll trace shapes into your back. And right before he goes to sleep, he’ll plant a little kiss on the top of your head.

Deuce Spade:

However you want. You want to be held, he’s holding you. You want to hold him, he’s snuggling into your arms. You just want to sleep next to him, he’ll face you so that you’re the last thing he sees before going to sleep. He really doesn’t care. However, his favorite is when he gets to hold you. It feels nice to fall asleep with you in his arms. He always asks if he can hold you, and if you say no, he’s fine with that. He’s not going to overstep your boundaries.

Leona Kingscholar:

He holds you or sleeps on top of you. His main goal is to keep you in bed with him and both of those are very effective. His favorite out of those two is sleeping on you. He gets to keep you there and sleep on his favorite pillow, it’s a win-win. Lets just hope the professors are willing to overlook your tardiness.

Ruggie Bucchi:

In your arms. He loves the feeling of being held. And I mean LOVES. He’s not used to being held. It's a nice sensation. He feels safe and loved and he couldn’t ask for a better feeling. Occasionally, he does like holding you, but that’s usually just when you’re feeling down.

Jack Howl:

He prefers to just sleep next to you. He does want to be touching you but he’s not a cuddler. He’ll hold your hand or have his arm wrapped around yours but he doesn’t cuddle. When he does cuddle, he wants to hold you. Holding you makes him feel better. But if you want to hold him and pet his ears, he won’t complain.

Azul Ashengrotto:

He’s a cuddly sleeper but he doesn’t want to admit it. When he goes to sleep he’s laying next to you, but when he wakes up he’s holding you super tightly. It’s like he’s scared to let go of you. No matter how many times it happens, he refuses to admit that he’s a cuddler (at least to other people).

Jade Leech:

Prefers to just sleep next to you. If you want to cuddle, then go ahead and hold him, but he won’t hold you back. He’d actually be amused if you hold onto him. Your arms wrap around him and he has to keep himself from chuckling. He didn’t think he’d like being held, but there’s just something about being in your arms. Maybe he’ll sleep in a little, just to stay in this moment.

Floyd Leech:

Do I even need to say it? Floyd’s a cuddler. He squeezes you. He doesn’t let up once. You can tell when he starts to fall asleep because his grip on you slightly loosens. When he wakes up and notices you’re in his arms, he’ll squeeze you until you wake up.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Cuddly sleeper. He’s holding onto you like his life depends on it. He mainly likes when you hold him. He loves to just lay his head on your chest and fall asleep in your arms. If he wakes up and he’s no longer in your arms, he’ll wrap his arms around you instead. He needs to be cuddling with you in one way or another.

Jamil Viper:

He’s a big cuddler. He loves when you hold him. And if you run your hands through his hair? He is melting. He’s so stressed all the time and he has to do so much work all day. Getting to fall asleep in your arms is the highlight of his day. It’s like all his worries fade away the moment he’s in your arms. If you find that he’s sleeping in today, just let him. He needs it.

Vil Schoenheit:

Cuddling improves sleep, so Vil is a cuddler. He wouldn’t be spread out all over you, but he would hold you in his arms. His favorite cuddling position is spooning. He likes to hold you against him. His sleep has always been good, but has improved since getting with you. Good job, you single-handedly helped THE Vil Schoenheit get better sleep.

Rook Hunt:

He doesn’t care. As long as he can sleep in the same room as you, he doesn’t care. He will sleep however you want. You’re beautiful no matter how you want to sleep. What sleeping position does he prefer? Whichever one you prefer.

Epel Felmier:

He likes to cuddle, but he never admits it. He thinks cuddling is a girly thing. He wants to hold you in his arms. He does move a lot in his sleep and has kicked you a few times. And fell off the bed. When somebody asks if you guys cuddle, he’ll deny and just say that he holds you. It sounds manlier to him.

Idia Shroud:

He likes to cuddle, but he doesn’t like to say it. He’s too embarrassed to bring it up. He will NOT initiate under any circumstances. You have to initiate. You have to ask for cuddles. Otherwise, he’ll just lay beside you. He’ll sleep on his back and just stare at the ceiling. He’s too tense to sleep when you’re next to him.

Malleus Draconia:

He likes to cuddle. You’re not afraid of him and he likes to have that reinforced by cuddling with you. Especially if you let him hold you. You feel safe in his arms, not afraid. He’s so happy. He’ll be smiling in his sleep just because he’s holding you. He does enjoy being held too, but mainly prefers to hold you.

Lilia Vanrouge:

To no one’s surprise, Lilia is a cuddler. He’ll just force himself into your arms. He’s nuzzling into you with a little smile on his face. He would also do this when you’re asleep. He’ll wait until he’s certain you’re asleep and crawl into your arms so you’ll be pleasantly surprised when you wake up.

Silver Vanrouge:

He likes holding you. He falls asleep before he can fully put his arms around you, but he loves holding you. If he wakes up to find that you crawled into his arms, he’ll be super happy. (You might not be able to tell, but it’s true). He has occasionally fallen asleep in your lap. It might not be his favorite position to fall asleep in, but it’s his favorite to wake up in.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Next to you. He can’t hold you or be held by you, because then he might be slower to react if something broke in. He can’t go through the extra effort to release his hold on you or climb out of your arms. The most he’ll do is hold your hand. It’s either holding hands or nothing.

[verstappen-cult]

i love ur writing sm🥹🥹 i would love a scenario where y/n is dating max & charles,and she's a somgwriter who often wakes up in the nighttime with lyrics in her mind and has to sneak out of bed to write them down/make voice notes of the songs so she doesnt forget😭😭 maybe sometimes they wake up and they love to listen to her singing but keep it a secret between them so she doesnt feel bad ab waking them accidentally 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Max is the first one to wake up when he feels you getting out of bed, being very careful as to not wake them. As always. He pretends to be asleep when he sees you turning around to make sure they’re still sleeping, and Max can’t help the smile that appears on his face.

He lies there, unable to fall back to sleep knowing what you’re doing in the living room.

Charles wakes up when he turns around and doesn’t feel your body next to him. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and snuggles closer to Max, who happily opens his arms for him.

“How long has she been awake?” Charles asks, head resting on his boyfriend’s chest.

“I’ve been hearing her for about ten minutes.” Max answers, closing his eyes and trying to make out your whispered words from across the hall.

“You think she knows?” Charles smiles against Max’s chest when he hears your beautiful voice, followed by a curse when it doesn’t sound right.

Max shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

They stay silent, barely breathing, when you start signing again. They’re glad that it’s three in the morning and the city is sleeping because it’s possible for them to make a few words of the song. You never let them hear your songs, at least not after they’re finished, so they feel pretty lucky when they witness these kinds of moments.

“Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long,” Max smiles. You’re back to writing the song that has become his favorite, even though it is definitely not finished but the words, the way you sing, what you’re trying to tell through those words? Max feels identified. “And I’ve been meaning to… ugh no!” He hears the frustration in your voice and wishes to be there with you to tell you how beautiful the lyrics are.

“You think we should tell her?” Charles looks up at Max, hand caressing his naked chest.

“No, or she’ll stop.” Max leans to place a kiss on Charles forehead.

“I don’t want that,” Charles pouts, closing his eyes to try to fall back to sleep with your voice. “I like listening to her process.”

Max silently agrees. He follows Charles’ example and closes his eyes too, still paying attention to the words falling from your lips.

“And I’ve been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad and that must be why,”

Charles hugs his boyfriend tightly and places a soft kiss right above his heart. They both know the meaning of those lyrics, even if you haven’t told them anything yet.

“And I think you should come live with me and we can be pirates. Then you won’t have to cry, or hide in the closet.”

Those are the last words they hear before falling asleep.

They don’t know at what time you went back to bed, but the next morning you’re sound asleep, snoring peacefully, snuggled between them. The only proof of your little escapade is your bulging notebook of lyrics on the coffee table and a blanket on the couch.

[soobnny]

request. you falling asleep on skz’s chest and telling them you love them for the first time in your sleep

sorry it took me so long, anon! but here is the request u sent me

BANG CHAN

— it would be a little late in the night when you finally fall asleep, maybe around 11pm. it’s one of the rare days chan doesn’t allow himself to fall prisoner to another all-nighter (not that it ever bothered you, but chan’s been making effort in spending more time with you in the present instead of in his head)

— he definitely sleeps better with you, how could he not? with your head on his chest and your cheek a little mushed and your lips in a small pout and your ear to his heart. it’s perfect circumstances to sleep and your breathing is such a lullaby to him, and a reminder to ground himself in the present more to enjoy moments like these. you guys don’t get to cuddle often so it’s nice to take everything in when he can

— chan’s just on the verge of falling asleep when you say it and i think he wouldn’t be able to believe it first (talk about an instant alarm ?). he’d just blink down at you for a moment before the sweetest smile plasters on his face, the crinkled eyes until they almost disappear and lip biting type to stop himself from smiling too much

— his heart would just expand tenfold because you really are the person he sees himself with in the future and to hear those three words he’s almost told you a million times before leave your lips is just so reassuring and so beautiful to him; that you love him back, and he can’t wait to tell you in the morning

— when he’s finally processed it, he’d lean down to kiss you .. just every part of your face. but like, he’s so careful about it so you don’t wake up

— he falls asleep maybe half an hour later because all his life his mind has been running and running and running but with you in his arms, and those three words, he feels so safe that he allows his mind to rest. sometimes, it’s enough to just let his heart beat and love

❝ i love you. god, i love you too. i’ve been wanting to say it for so long now. ❞

LEE MINHO

— i think lee know’s def the type to know he’s in love first because it’s such a drastic difference to suddenly consider you in everything when he used to never do it before and he’s not oblivious to his feelings. like he’s the same but also so different ? little gestures of love would build up to his light bulb moment that he is so in love with you and he wants nothing more than to tell you but he doesn’t want to scare you off

— you stay over at his house when it happens. doing schoolwork? cramming for a paper? somewhere along those lines. you never notice the time when you’re with him and suddenly seconds turn into hours and it’s too late for you to commute home and lee know’s mom used their car so he can’t drive you home either. just proposes you stay over bc it’s not like you haven’t done it before

— you two always spend silence in comfort so he doesn’t know you’re asleep at first when you say those three words to him and the way you say it is so faint that he almost misses it. but he doesn’t. he hears it loud and clear

— his heart swells even more when he looks down to see your eyes closed and your mouth slightly parted and his response is just the fondest expression on his face. the most endearing smile and a finger brushing over your features because wow, this is the girl that snuck her way into his heart and unknowingly stole every part of him

— would brush your hair out of your face to see you properly before finally whispering that he loves you too. he’d say the three words the next morning.

— years later, he’d always brag he was the first to tell you that he loved you but you’d never know it was you. it’s a little secret he keeps to himself, and the moment is so intimate that it’s his only

❝ ah, (name). you’re all i’ve ever wanted, did you know? ❞

SEO CHANGBIN

— for changbin, i truly believe there is no moment of sudden realization. he’s well acquainted with love like i think he’s most in touch with that emotion. he feels so deeply and i think he learned most of that from his mother. he wouldn’t be afraid to embarrass himself in the name of love. in fact, he thinks it’s the greatest feeling on earth and it’s something you shouldn’t ever take for granted (i’m sorry, i’m a softie changbin enthusiast)

— everything is steady with him. loves you more day by day by day but he’s always known he’s been in love with you and nothing is ever overwhelming with him like it’s always so safe

— when you say it, he feels his heart beat 98383 times faster because what do you mean the person he’s so in love with loves him back ? like i feel like it just doesn’t cross his mind honestly. like he loves you and that’s that and he’s satisfied with loving you but suddenly his whole world just stops when he hears those words

— changbin would try to keep his position still though, even though he feels like jumping around and spinning you around in his arms but he just doesn’t want to shake you awake from your sleep

— spends the rest of the night thinking about you saying that you love him. there’s nothing more beautiful than the reciprocation of a feeling of love so great

❝ i love you, and that’s always been enough for me, but god does it feel so great to hear it from you. ❞

HWANG HYUNJIN

— he loves like in movies, in books, in art. despite being such a hopeless romantic though, everything is actually so new to him. it’s only with you that he experiences that shortness of breath, that jumble of words, that all-nighter because you can’t stop thinking about the person you love the most, and those damn butterflies

— even the first time you fall asleep on his chest, he freaks out. and he freaks out even after the 9183th time but who can blame him? he may look like such an expert, such a poet, such a man of love, but he’s nothing more than a boy who’s falling in love for the first time

— so, it is the 9184th time you’re asleep on his chest and he has a hand running through your hair when you mumble it in your sleep

— FREEZES. for maybe a good 5 mins? honestly it feels like forever because he really is frozen. and then, that music plays. the music when the love interest shows up on the screen in movies. it plays in his head and his heart is pouncing like crazy and it’s just such a moment to be in love

— pulls you closer when he finally recomposes himself and has the most lovesick smile on his face for maybe an hour before he allows himself to fall asleep because this is all he’s ever dreamed of

❝ you’re someone straight out of my dreams. ❞

HAN JISUNG

— to me, jisung feels a little reckless when he loves. but like, not in a bad way. it’s more like, he’s been careful his whole life and keeping on a guard because he values his silence and his comfort over everything else but god, when he loves? he jumps straight in. he jumps even without the guarantee of anyone catching him. when he loves, there is no doubt, no second guessing. he simply dives head first

— he’s falling again, falling and falling, it’s never ending. even as you fall asleep on his chest one afternoon after watching a movie together

— he JERKS the moment he hears you say it like actually just jerks from his place and accidentally wakes you up from your slumber

— you freak when you wake up thinking that something must’ve happened because he’s staring at you with wide eyes but at the same time, he’s also apologizing for accidentally waking you up. you’re just in the process of asking him about it when he cuts you off by kissing you

— when you kiss him back, there is nothing in his head but “wow, so this must be the feeling of being caught” because he’s finally landed safely in your arms after all that falling

— don’t be mistaken though, he’d fall over and over again because the feeling of having you catch him is so addicting

❝ (name), is this real? ❞

LEE FELIX

— oh felix, the sweetest boy who falls in love in the sweetest way. definitely is the type to see colors brighter and hear music louder and just have all his feelings amplify because of you. stars come together when you look at him and he feels himself revolving around you like he’s just !!! there is no explaining how deep this boy loves. it’ll be like fireworks, like earthquakes, like thunderstorms but it’ll also feel like breathing and the quiet patter of rain. you get every variant of love with him because he’s so adamant on showing you every part of him

— you two cuddle up to each other all the time. he loves skinship, he loves physical touch, he loves holding you and being held and kissing you and hugging you and everything that makes it feel like you’re close to him so he doesn’t question when you fall asleep on his chest

— he’s on his phone, probably taking a picture or video of you when you suddenly say it. there’s just instant tears in his eyes the moment the words leave your mouth. he cries because he’s overwhelmed that you feel the same way about him and he’s scolding himself for being so dramatic over it but also he seriously cannot stop crying like what have you done to him?

— smiles and cries and laughs and leans down to kiss your head over and over and over and you can only ask why his eyes are so red and puffed when you wake up and he wastes no time to tell you that he loves you. drops it immediately. he’s been waiting forever to say it anyway (actually, he’s said it quite a few times but only when he thinks you can’t hear)

— won’t stop saying it anymore like every hour is a good opportunity to tell you that he loves you

❝ i can’t get over how beautiful it is to love and it’s all thanks to you. ❞

KIM SEUNGMIN

— the peak best friends to lovers story. seungmin isn’t the type to throw the feeling of love around. he isn’t the type to fall in love quickly either. he falls in love in moments you spend as friends, but it also kind of takes him such a long time to admit it because he’s always rejected the idea of romance and the gentle emotions that come with it. he’s so used to teasing and tough love that he suddenly can’t function properly when he realizes he’s growing softer because of you

— seungmin holds out from saying ‘i love you’, mostly because it’s hard to rid the stubbornness he’s carried all his life, but don’t get me wrong. there are so many times when he’s almost said it but stopped himself before he could. maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to startle you either. it’s a scary feeling after all, and being his best friend, you know about all his flaws. how could you choose to love him despite it all?

— even so, he is still powerless to love. no one can ever go above the feeling no matter how hard he tries. when you say it in your sleep, he finally lets go of whatever he’s been holding on for so long. he’s ready to willingly admit he’s in love with you and has been for such a long time

— he runs a hand through your hair, just thinking of how comforting it is to be with you, of how you make him smile without even having to be there with him. just the thought of you makes him so happy and it’s infuriating because why does losing to love feel so much like winning instead? is it because it’s you he’s falling in love with?

— would ask you if you’re sure because he’s someone that values sureness, honesty, and just Purpose. he loves on purpose and he wants to make sure you love him by your own choice too. he’s always chosen to take every step closer to you all his life

❝ do you really mean that? please mean it. ❞

YANG JEONGIN

— time always slows when you’re with him. he also gives me romance between friends because like seungmin, he’s not the type to take love lightly. he only ever says the three words in important moments. he never wants to just throw those words around because romance is so important to him, and he’s always been the one to seek for it because it’s so beautiful

— when he meets you, he just thinks, so this is what love is. he understands now why people tell stories about it, why it’s subject to so many songs. he understands when he looks in your eyes

— it’s an afternoon of teasing where your eyes meet and you just double in laughter because whatever the hell you’re talking about is so funny to only the two of you. the boys will never understand the language you’ve crafted for yourselves

— you fall asleep after having played games and ran around and teased each other all afternoon and it’s in his arms while the two of you are watching a movie

— when you say it, he falls silent. he closes his eyes and crosses his fingers and prays he isn’t just dreaming this up, might pinch himself even because it’s just so unreal to him that you love him like he might be the Foolish silly type but when he loves, he really does give it his all

— you wake up at one of the louder scenes of the movies and you’re like ??? why is jeongin staring at you like that so you’re like stop staring .. but he kind of just grins really LOVESICK and you’re like oh my god what is happening. he’s looking at you different and his eyes are softer

— with a yank of your shirt, he kisses you and mumbles how much he loves you against your lips

❝ i love you. and i will choose to love you everytime. ❞

[youneedsomeprompts]

~ SUBTLE LOVE ~ WRITING PROMPTS

requested by: anonymous request: hi!! idk if this has been req before but do u have prompts for subtle love? it will take some time for u to realise that their actions are somth u do out of love. thank u!

Feel free to use and reblog!

Part 1 (kinda): ~ GENTLE LOVE ~ PROMPTS

listening attentively when the other is talking

taking the other into consideration whenever making a decision

smiling at the other to encourage them

taking over the other's tasks to disburden them

the last thing they're thinking about before falling asleep is always the other

sitting back and staying quiet to leave the stage for the other

giving the other their space, knowing they need it

enjoying the sound of the other's voice

distracting the other when they see they're distressed and close to freaking out

trying to learn every way to put a smile on the other's face

experiencing this strange feeling in their chest when the other comes to them for support and a word of kindness

"You can call me. Day or night. I'm there for you."

enjoying the most basic time spent together just sitting next to each other, each doing their own

hyping the other up

being their biggest cheerleader

checking up on the other regularly when they know they're not feeling their best

thinking about the other at the most random times

'Oh, this coffee has such nice latte art! I wonder if [person B] would like it.'

'Oh, there's a new movie showing in the cinema about an ice skater. [Person B] once did ice skating. Would they like this movie? Or are they even better at ice skating than the ones in the movie? I'm sure they're the best ice skater!'

stopping themselves from messaging the other too often

sharing their food with the other

always making another coffee/tea when they're making one for themselves because sharing is caring

smiling by instinct when they see the other

^ breaking into a grin and being unable to stop it

sending the other little notes of encouragement to show that they're thinking of them

"You're doing just fine. I know you've got this."

promising to catch up, even when there is no time at the moment, they're making sure it doesn't go under

"Wanna talk about it later? I will make time."

making the other a priority

giving their honest opinion when it's asked