⋆˚࿔ᯓ 𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬!
⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬.ᐟ- the boys had been unusually clingy that day, all of them gathered around you in a rare moment where everyone’s guard fell at the same time. they adored being close to you—your warmth, your presence, the way you laughed when they teased each other. somewhere in that comfortable haze, one of them leaned down and gave a gentle, playful bite to your thigh, and the others followed with equally soft, harmless nips.
the moment they realized what they’d done, they froze.
all of them immediately apologized—tripping over their own words, faces warm with embarrassment. they explained that sometimes their affection comes out in impulsive ways, especially when they’re overwhelmed by how much they care for you. it wasn’t meant to hurt you or make you uncomfortable; it was just their strange, instinctive way of showing attachment.
you reassured them you were okay, and their tension eased as they promised to always ask next time—no surprises, no impulsive bites—only affection you want and welcome.
⤷ 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.ᐟ- rudo ৴ enjin ৴ tamsy ৴ zanka ৴ corvus ৴ august ৴ gris ৴ follo ৴ fu ৴ zodyl ৴ jabber
(creds to that one girl who requested this, i accidentally deleted your prompt💔)
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ rudos surebrec (aged up!)
after a long day of beating trash beasts into dust, you and rudo were exhausted—sore, grimy, clothes torn in places—but the moment the door to your shared room clicked shut behind you, the tension drained from his shoulders.
he didn’t say anything at first. he never really had to.
instead, he just pulled you toward the bed, letting himself fall onto it with a sigh before tugging you down beside him.
you barely had time to settle before he crawled into your space, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. rudo always cuddled like someone who’d been starved of warmth all his life—tight, quiet, precious.
you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft strands fall through your hands. “today was crazy,” you started rambling, voice relaxed, “i swear those things are getting faster. and then enjin made me— well, actually, i don’t even know why he made me wait until he strikes first, but—”
you kept talking, hopping from topic to topic with no real structure. one minute about training, the next about a random bird you saw, then about how your shoelace kept coming untied.
rudo didn’t interrupt.
he just listened, humming sometimes, letting your voice wash over him.
he shifted a little, head dipping lower until he rested it on your thigh. his arms tightened around your waist as if anchoring himself to you.
you kept talking—something about a snack you wanted to try later—when suddenly rudo’s grip flexed, fingers pressing into your side as he leaned down and gave your thigh a small bite.
“…rudo?” you paused, half laughing, half surprised, hand hovering above his head.vhe froze. then he slowly lifted his head, eyes wide, ears going red.
“s—sorry,” he muttered, voice lower than usual. “i didn’t— i mean, i didn’t think. it just… happened.” you laughed softly. “why’d you do it?”
rudo’s gaze darted away, jaw tightening before he finally confessed,
“you… talk in this way that makes me feel calm. after everything today… i just… wanted to feel you. to know you’re here. sometimes i get this… urge.”
he swallowed hard, burying his face back against your stomach to hide how flustered he was. “not to hurt you—never that. just… to be close. biting feels… grounding.”
you gently ran your fingers through his hair again, smiling.
“you can just say you wanted attention, you know.”
he groaned quietly, embarrassed. “…yeah. that too.” you tilted his chin up with your hand, meeting his eyes. “it didn’t hurt. you’re okay.”
rudo relaxed immediately, shoulders dropping as he settled back against you. he curled himself into you even tighter, mumbling against your thigh— “good… ’cause i really like being here. like this.”
you stroked his hair again, voice soft. “then stay.”
and he did—quiet, warm, content, wrapped around you as you kept talking about everything and nothing, his small bite already forgotten… except for the faint blush that lingered on his cheeks the rest of the night.
you were both exhausted from the day, the kind of tired that sinks deep into your bones. once you made it back to your room, you didn’t even bother turning on the main light — the soft lamp by the bed was enough.
enjin didn’t say much as he tugged you down onto the mattress with him, one arm immediately curling around your waist. he always cuddled with purpose: steady, dependable, protective.
his black-painted nails traced slow, absentminded lines along your waist, following the shape of your body like he was memorizing it for the hundredth time. “you comfortable?” he asked quietly, voice low and calm against your ear.
you nodded, melting into him. “yeah. you?” “mm.” he pulled you even closer, chin brushing your forehead. “better now.”
you both lay there wrapped together, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt just to feel the warmth of his skin. he let out a soft breath at that, the rhythm of his touches slowing.
after a moment, he shifted, sliding down slightly so his head rested against your stomach. his hair brushed your skin as he settled, arms still snug around your waist.
you were in the middle of stroking through his hair when you felt it—
a gentle little bite to your thigh.
your voice hitched. “enjin—!”
he lifted his head a little, and you saw it—
the rare, soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips, the kind he only ever showed you. his shoulders actually shook with a quiet laugh, warm breath fanning against your skin.
“you okay?” he teased lightly, eyes half-lidded with amusement. you covered your face with both hands, heat rushing up your neck. “you can’t just— bite people out of nowhere!”
he rested his chin on your stomach, looking up at you with that calm, steady gaze that always seemed to cut straight through you.
“you were talking,” he murmured. “and your voice was relaxing. i felt close to you. i just…”
his fingers slid up your side again, nails light against your skin.
“…wanted a little more.” you swallowed, flustered and unable to stop smiling. “you could’ve just said that.”
enjin hummed. “i did.” “no, you bit me.” he let out another quiet laugh, deeper this time. “same thing.”
you smacked his shoulder lightly, but he only shifted closer, laying his head on your thigh now like it was his pillow.
“i didn’t hurt you,” he said softly—almost a question, almost a reassurance.
“no,” you admitted, brushing your thumb over the curve of his ear. “just… surprised me.”
his eyes softened. “then let me stay here.”
and with his head warm against your thighs, his nails drawing gentle patterns on your waist, and that rare smile still lingering on his face, you let him.
enjin didn’t bite you again—
but he didn’t stop laughing quietly to himself about your flustered reaction, either.
you were still warm from the first surprise bite, your thigh tingling where his teeth had brushed your skin. enjin, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself — his head resting comfortably on your stomach, his arms draped around your waist like he had zero intention of ever moving again.
his black-painted nails drew lazy circles on your hip, each touch slow and deliberate.
“you’re still red,” he noted calmly, eyes half-lidded as he watched your face.
you groaned. “well, whose fault is that?”
he didn’t answer. instead, his lips twitched into that subtle little smile — the one that meant he was thinking something he definitely wasn’t going to tell you.
you tried to ignore it, threading your fingers into his hair again. “just relax. we’re cuddling. no more surprises.”
“…sure,” enjin said in a tone that was absolutely not reassuring.
before you could question it, he shifted just slightly — enough for you to feel his breath trail down the inside of your thigh. your heart jumped, breath catching.
too late.
another soft bite, even gentler than the first, but still enough to make your whole body jolt.
you slapped a hand over your mouth, a helpless noise slipping out anyway.
enjin laughed. actually laughed.
a deep, quiet sound straight from his chest.
“you’re adorable,” he murmured, nuzzling the spot he’d just bitten. “i knew you’d react like that.”
you lightly smacked his shoulder. “you did that on purpose!”
he didn’t even pretend to deny it.
“yes.”
he rested his chin on your thigh, looking up at you with that maddeningly calm expression.
“because you get flustered,” he said simply.
you covered your face, groaning into your hands. “you’re impossible…” “mm. but you’re still holding me,” he pointed out, slipping one arm tighter around your waist. “so i’m not too impossible.”
your heart fluttered embarrassingly hard.
“don’t say things like that—”
“why not?” he asked, voice dropping to a warm murmur. “you look cute when you get shy.”
you squeaked — actually squeaked — and he let out another low laugh, clearly enjoying every second of your reaction.
but then he softened, leaning forward to kiss the spot he’d bitten, slow and gentle.
“no more biting,” he whispered. “not unless you want me to.”
you peeked at him through your fingers, cheeks burning.
“maybe… later,” you muttered.
enjin smiled — small, warm, and just for you. “i’ll hold you to that.” and he curled back into you, head nestled on your stomach again, one hand stroking your side as if nothing had happened.
except he was definitely hiding a smirk.
and you were definitely still blushing.
tamsy had claimed his usual place stretched across your stomach, arms loosely wrapped around your waist as if he were afraid you’d drift away. his long blond hair — tied up but messy from the day — spilled over your skin while you absentmindedly ran your fingers through it, brushing the strands in slow, calming strokes.
he loved this.
he loved you like this — gentle, warm, relaxed.
his body molded into yours, every inhale syncing with your breathing as though your heartbeat steadied his.
but tonight… something was different.
his eyes kept sliding up toward you, lingering on your face, your mouth, your throat, and then drifting back down to where his head rested. each glance held a spark — not mischief, not playfulness — but something far more territorial, deep, and quietly needy.
“you’re staring at me again,” you murmured, nudging his cheek with your knuckles.
tamsy shrugged, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.
“can’t help it,” he said, voice low. “you’re too pretty.”
your cheeks warmed. “tamsy…”
but he wasn’t listening anymore — not really.
he shifted lower, his breath brushing along your hip bone. his hands settled firmly on your sides, thumbs stroking circles against your skin as if he were preparing you, easing you into something he’d already decided on.
“what are you doing?” you asked, though your voice had already softened.
he didn’t respond with words.
instead, he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your hip.
another to the tender spot just above your thigh.
and then one more, dangerously close to where your breath caught in your throat.
“tamsy,” you whispered, half warning, half plea. “don’t you dare—”
a soft laugh vibrated against your skin.
“oh, i’m going to.”
before you could shut your legs or squirm away, he opened his mouth and sank his teeth into your thigh — hard enough to mark, soft enough to make heat bloom under your skin instead of pain.
you gasped, hands flying to his hair.
he kept you still with a firm grip on your hips, holding you steady while he made the mark exactly how he wanted it — deep, full, and impossible to hide.
when he finally pulled back, your thigh was already flushed with a darkening imprint of his teeth.
“tamsy!” you squeaked, covering the bite with your hand. “that’s— that’s huge!”
he only smiled up at you, satisfied, smug, absolutely unashamed.
“good,” he said.
not teasing — serious.
you stared at him. “good?! what do you mean good?!” he rested his chin on your stomach, his fingers sliding over your marked thigh with a slow, possessive graze.
“i want everyone to see it,” he murmured. “to know you’re mine.”your breath hitched — not from the bite, but from the way he looked at you then.
soft eyes.
soft voice.
deadly serious.
“tamsy…” you whispered, flustered beyond belief. he lifted himself just enough to kiss your tummy, then your hip, then the edge of the bite mark he’d left.
“what?” he asked, feigning innocence. “it’s true. i don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. i want them to know you chose me.”
your heart thudded violently at his words.
he snuggled back down, head on your stomach like he hadn’t just claimed you in the most blatant way possible.
“besides,” he added, flicking your thigh playfully, “you blush like crazy when i mark you. it’s cute.”
you groaned and covered your face with your hands, heat rushing up your neck.
tamsy only laughed — low and warm — and pulled your hand away so he could lace his fingers with yours.
“too late now,” he whispered. “you’re mine… and i’m yours.”
and with that, he kissed the mark again, sealing it like a promise.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ zanka nijiku (aged up!)
markers uncapped, coloring books spread across the floor, and you sitting cross-legged right in the middle of the chaos, looking way too proud of yourself for dragging zanka into this.
he sat beside you, legs stretched out, posture relaxed in that effortless way only he could manage. slender but toned arms resting over his knees, eyes occasionally flicking to your doodles with that calm, unreadable expression he always wore.
you nudged him with your shoulder.
“color with me,” you demanded, offering him a random marker.
zanka blinked once. “…why?”
“because it’s cute,” you said simply, forcing the marker into his hand.
he sighed, but the faint curve at the corner of his mouth gave him away — he’d already lost this battle. so he sat there and dutifully colored inside the lines, matching your energy in his quiet, steady way.
eventually, you both sprawled out on the floor, taking a break. you stretched your legs out, leaning back on your hands as you rambled about absolutely nothing — colors, snacks, the shape you accidentally drew that looked like a potato.
zanka listened, as he always did, with soft, silent amusement dancing in his eyes.
then he looked at you.
really looked at you.
the way your shorts rode up just a bit.
the way your thighs tightened when you stretched.
the way you were completely unaware of the effect you had on him.
a thought flickered through his mind — a mischievous one.
one he rarely acted on, but right now? he wanted to hear it. he wanted to hear that sound you always made when you were flustered.
so before you even noticed him move, zanka shifted forward.
“zanka? what are you—” his hand slid along your thigh, steady, warm.
and then
he leaned down
and bit.
not hard — but firm enough to make your whole body jerk in surprise.
“z-zanka!!” you yelped, voice breaking into exactly the sound he wanted. he pulled back slowly, a calm smirk ghosting over his lips as he watched you clutch your thigh, face flushed and betrayed.
“you…” you whined, narrowing your eyes at him. “why did you do that?!”
zanka rested his elbow on his knee, chin in his hand, looking far too satisfied. “i wanted to hear you make that sound,” he said plainly, honesty as sharp as the bite.
your cheeks burned hotter. “you could’ve just asked!” another small huff of laughter escaped him — rare, soft, and genuine.
“no,” he replied, leaning back on his hands. “this was better.”
you grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. he caught it with one hand without even looking. and when you started whining again about how you were totally going to get him back, zanka’s smirk only deepened.
“go on,” he murmured. “i like it when you complain.”
after the first bite, you scooted away from him dramatically, legs tucked up, glaring at him like he’d personally betrayed the entire foundation of your relationship.
zanka just sat there, calm as ever, marker still in hand, watching you with those steady eyes that gave nothing away—except the slight lift at the corner of his mouth that told you he was enjoying every second.
“don’t even think about doing that again,” you warned, pointing at him accusingly. “i’m not thinking about anything,” he said smoothly.
you could see it in the way his gaze dipped, slow and deliberate, to your thighs.
in the way his posture shifted just a little closer.
in the way his fingers drummed once against the floor—restless, tempted.
“zanka,” you said, inching back even more. “i’m serious!”
he hummed.
a soft, unimpressed sound.
like your threat was cute, but not convincing.
“come here,” he said simply. “no.” “then i’ll come to you.”
you didn’t even have time to protest.
zanka moved with that quiet, controlled grace of his, leaning in before you could scramble away. his hands found your waist, grounding, steady, and he guided you back onto the soft pile of blankets and coloring pages beneath you.
your sentence turned into a squeak the moment his breath brushed your skin.
you felt him smile against your thigh.
“i told you,” he murmured, voice low, calm, and annoyingly fond, “i like the way you sound when you whine.”
slower this time.
more deliberate.
teeth sinking just enough to make your whole body shiver.
“ah—! zanka!!” your hands shot to his shoulders, pushing, pulling— you weren’t even sure. all you knew was that heat spread up your neck, your breath got stuck somewhere between a scold and a laugh, and he was far too pleased with himself.
he pulled back, dark eyes lifting to meet yours. “…there it is,” he whispered, the slightest smirk tugging at his lips. “that’s the one.”
“you— you can’t just—!”
you were so flustered you couldn’t finish a single sentence.
zanka reached up, thumb brushing the new mark blooming on your thigh. “i can,” he said calmly, “and i did.”
you covered your face with your hands, groaning. “you’re impossible.”
he leaned back, stretching out beside you on the floor, head resting on his arm. “and you’re dramatic,” he said. “but it’s fine.” your fingers peeked out from your face as you glared at him. “i’m not dramatic.”
he tapped your thigh—right where he bit you.
his smirk widened just slightly.
“you are.”
“…i hate you,” you muttered.
“mm,” zanka hummed, settling comfortably beside you, “but you still come crawling back every time.”
you grumbled. he chuckled.
and somehow, in the pile of coloring pages and blankets, you ended up curling into his side anyway.
the room was dim, warm, quiet — the kind of quiet that only existed when corvus let himself fully relax. you were curled into his chest, legs tangled with his, your head resting under his chin while he absentmindedly played with your hip and thigh.
after everything — the long day, the washing, the slow unwinding together — he felt heavy and warm around you, like a weighted blanket made of muscle, heat, and quiet affection.
you shifted slightly, and his hand followed the movement, sliding up and down the side of your thigh with slow, thoughtful strokes.
you didn’t notice the change at first.
the way his fingers tightened.
the way his breath deepened.
the way his eyes followed the shape of your thigh like he was tracing every curve in his mind.
you only noticed when he spoke.
“i want to leave a mark.”
you knew corvus didn’t say things he didn’t mean. he was straightforward, steady, honest — every word weighed, considered, chosen.
you turned your head slightly. “a… mark?”
“mm.” his hand smoothed over your thigh again, thumb brushing the inside gently. “a little one. just for me.”
your face burned instantly. “w-why?” he leaned closer, lips brushing your shoulder before he answered.
“because i like knowing you’re mine,” he murmured. “and i like knowing people will see it.”
the words sent a shiver through you.
corvus wasn’t possessive in a loud way — he was possessive in a quiet, undeniable, certain way. the kind that felt like a promise, not a threat. the kind that wrapped around you like warmth instead of chains.
he shifted you carefully onto your back, moving with that patient strength he always used with you. he pulled your thigh over his hip, positioning himself between your legs, eyes never leaving yours.
“is this okay?” he asked softly, thumb rubbing small circles into your skin.
you nodded before your voice could catch. “yes…”
his gaze darkened just slightly — not hunger, not aggression, just… focus. attentive, deliberate focus entirely on you.
and kissed your thigh first.
slow. warm. like he was asking.
you felt his breath linger against your skin.
felt his lips press again, firmer.
felt his hand squeeze your hip, grounding you in place.
“corvus…” you whispered, breath trembling.
“i’ve got you,” he murmured.
and then
slowly
purposefully
he bit.
his teeth sank into your thigh with perfect pressure — not sharp enough to hurt, but deep enough to make your body melt, deep enough to leave something that would bloom for hours, maybe days.
a breathy sound escaped you, and corvus exhaled against your skin, pleased, almost proud.
he held the bite for a moment before pulling back, kissing the mark he left.
his voice was quiet when he finally spoke again.
“there.”
he brushed the bite gently with his thumb.
“mine.”
your cheeks flushed so hard you couldn’t speak. you hid your face in your hands, and corvus chuckled — a deep, soft sound that vibrated through his chest and into you.
he lay back down and pulled you into him, one large hand returning to rest on your thigh, right over the mark he left.
“don’t hide,” he murmured into your hair. “i like seeing you flustered.”
you groaned and buried your face deeper into him, and corvus only laughed again, holding you tighter, proud of the warmth blooming under your skin.
you and august had been working for hours.
fabric everywhere.
measuring tape dangling from his neck.
pins stuck into a cushion on his wrist.
half-finished cleaner uniforms draped over chairs like tired ghosts.
and august was complaining.
“i swear if one more seam pops on me— I’M GONNA SCREAM—”
“you’re already screaming,” you muttered, stitching calmly.
“WELL I’M GONNA SCREAM LOUDER,” he snapped dramatically, throwing himself back in his chair.
eventually, the exhaustion caught up to both of you. he flopped onto the floor with a groan, arms spread wide like he’d just been slain by the workload.
“break,” he declared. “we’re taking a break. right now. i’m dying.”
you laughed and lay down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. he didn’t even hesitate — august immediately pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
the room went quiet.
soft.
comfortable.
you felt his chest rise and fall against you, his breath slowly evening out. his fingers idly brushed along your thigh, absentminded and warm, tracing little shapes into your skin.
you didn’t notice at first.
but august did.
because a thought hit him like a truck.
a terrible thought.
a loud thought.
“…hey,” he whispered, voice suddenly mischievous. you side-eyed him. “what are you plotting?”
“NOTHING,” he lied immediately— loudly. too loudly. you narrowed your eyes, suspicious, but relaxed again.
that was your mistake. because august’s gaze was locked on your thigh.
and the next second— “wait— augus—!”
you yelped, body jolting as he bit your thigh— not hard, but definitely enough to make you squeak in shock.
“AUGUST!!” he pulled back, grinning like he’d just won a championship belt.
“HAHA!! GOT YOU!!” he announced proudly, voice echoing through the entire workshop. you smacked his chest. “what is WRONG with you?!”
he dramatically clutched his heart.
“i— i couldn’t help it!! YOU LOOKED BITEABLE!! your thighs were RIGHT THERE!! what was i supposed to do? IGNORE THEM?!”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” he declared. you glared. he beamed. then he leaned in again, voice lowering to a playful whisper against your ear.
“besides… you made the cutest sound.” your face burned instantly, and august saw it. oh, he saw it.
“OH MY GOD— YOU’RE BLUSHING— THIS IS AMAZING— YOU’RE SO CUTE—”
“shut uuuup!” you groaned, burying your face in his chest.
august threw his head back laughing, arms wrapping tight around you as he rolled the two of you across the floor, uniforms and fabric scattering everywhere.
“worth it,” he said, loud and smug. “SO worth it.”
and when you peeked up at him again, he was still grinning like a fool—
eyes warm, loud heart even warmer.
it started with something stupid.
something so stupid that gris would deny it if anyone ever asked.
the two of you were supposed to be relaxing — a rare quiet evening in the living room, him seated on the couch while you lay sideways with your legs across his lap. he was flipping through a book, calm and steady as always, while you scrolled absently on your phone.
until your foot twitched.
and accidentally poked his side.
gris froze.
you froze.
neither of you said anything.
“...was that on purpose?” gris asked, eyebrow lifting. “no!” you protested, but your voice cracked at the end.
gris was a well-built man in his early 30s — broad shoulders, strong arms, and a presence that made you feel small in all the best ways. but what he never admitted was how easily you amused him.
especially now, when your legs were stretched across him, close enough for him to feel every tiny movement.
“mm.” he hummed, unconvinced, and returned to his book.
you kicked him again.
lightly.
playfully.
gris slowly closed his book. you swallowed. “gris…?”
instead, he wrapped one large hand around your ankle and dragged you closer — effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. you squeaked as your legs slid further onto his lap, your thigh ending up within his reach.
“you’re restless,” he said simply. “i’m not!” “you are.”
“gris, I—” and then he did the most unexpected thing.
his hand slid up your thigh—warm, slow, deliberate. “maybe this will keep you still,” he murmured.
before you could process what that meant, he leaned down
and bit you.
right on the softest part of your thigh.
not hard— just enough pressure to make your breath catch and your whole body jolt. “g—gris!!” you squeaked, face instantly hot.
he exhaled against your skin, calm, unbothered, like he hadn’t just altered the atmosphere in the room entirely.
“mm,” he said quietly, brushing his thumb over the spot, “that worked.”
“y-you can’t just bite me because I kicked you!” “i can,” he said, tone firm but gentle. “and it stopped you.”
you glared at him, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat was pounding.
he glanced down at your thigh again, the faint mark already forming, and — annoyingly — a small smile tugged at his lips.
“you’re cute when you get flustered,” he added.
“you shouldn’t tease me then.”
you buried your face in your hands, groaning, and he rested a warm palm on your leg again, thumb rubbing slow circles right near the bite — like he wanted to remind you it was there.
gris reopened his book, casual as ever, while you melted beside him.
but every once in a while,
his eyes drifted back to your thigh—
and that tiny smile returned.
it all started with him losing a battle against boredom.
you were minding your business on the bed, scrolling through your phone, enjoying the quiet, when follo suddenly marched into the room like a man whose life had been ruined by having nothing to do.
“i’m bored,” he declared dramatically, throwing himself onto the mattress beside you.
you didn’t even look up. “hello to you too.”
“no, you don’t get it.” he sprawled out like a starfish. “i’m, like, existentially bored.”
you snorted. “that sounds like a personal problem.”
“it is,” he agreed, rolling onto his stomach. “fix it.”
before you could respond, he started doing that thing where he couldn’t stay still — kicking his feet, tapping the mattress, fidgeting with the blanket, poking your hip with one finger like a child begging for attention.
“what are you doing?” you asked, finally looking down at him.
“dying,” he said flatly. “slowly.”
he flopped again, face-first into your pillow, then dragged it to his chest and hugged it like the world’s saddest koala. after a moment, he peeked up at you with squinted eyes.
“you’re comfy,” he mumbled.
“i’m literally sitting.”
“exactly.”
before you could move away, he slid down the mattress with the dramatic flair of someone performing in a play only he knew about. he ended up half on your lap, half on your thigh, looking smug and very proud of himself.
“there,” he said, resting his cheek on your thigh. “much better.”
you felt him settle, arms loosely wrapping around your leg, like holding onto you anchored him. his breathing calmed. his eyelids drooped. for a moment, it was peaceful.
soft breathing against your skin.
you didn’t see it, but you felt it — that shift in his mood like a spark going off behind his teeth. before you could question anything, he leaned down and bit your thigh.
not hard.
but definitely enough to make you gasp and jump.
“follo!”
he immediately burst into laughter, hands flying up to hold his stomach as he rolled onto his back.
“oh— oh my god— your noise— your FACE—” he laughed so hard he kicked his feet. you glared down at him, rubbing the spot he’d attacked. “you’re insane.”
still wheezing, he reached up, hooked an arm around your waist, and pulled himself back toward your thighs like a clingy cat.
“i know,” he said proudly.
you sighed. “you think this is funny?”
“no,” he said, then grinned, “i think it’s hilarious.”
you tried to push him off, but he clung onto your leg dramatically.
“no. i live here now. this is my spot.”
“your spot?”
“mmhm.” he nestled his cheek back against your thigh. “perfect pillow. warm. soft. reacts beautifully when bitten.”
he just smiled up at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes — the one that said he’d do it again just to hear you whine.
and honestly?
he probably would.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ fu orostor (aged up!)
the evening had already melted into that soft, cozy quiet that only came after a long day. your room was dim, lit only by a warm lamp and the soft glow from the hallway. the air felt gentle, peaceful — the kind of peace fu never really got anywhere else.
he hovered by your bed at first, clutching the hem of his shirt, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
“y-you’re sure i can… lay down with you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“yes, fu,” you laughed softly. “come here.”
he nodded stiffly, climbing onto the bed like a scared little rabbit. he lay down on his back first — stiff as a board — before slowly turning onto his side to face you. his eyes flicked up, meeting yours briefly before he immediately looked away, cheeks turning pink.
but then, without really thinking, he scooted closer.
and closer.
and closer—
until his forehead bumped gently against your thigh.
“…oh,” he squeaked. “i— sorry—” you ran your fingers through his messy hair, brushing it away from his face. “fu, it’s okay. you can relax.”
his whole body shivered. not in fear — but in the kind of relief that felt foreign to him. he cautiously rested his head against your thigh, letting out the smallest exhale, like he’d been holding his breath for years.
“it’s warm…” he mumbled, barely audible.
you kept playing with his hair, soft and steady. fu melted slowly into you like butter warming on a pan — shoulders dropping, breath evening out, lashes fluttering every time your fingers traced along his scalp.
you started talking about your day — random little things, tiny stories, silly thoughts. fu listened with a quiet kind of devotion, nodding gently, humming in agreement, eyes half-lidded from the comfort.
but every now and then…
you’d catch him glancing at your thigh.
just tiny, quick, guilty little glances.
then he’d stare at the ceiling.
then your face.
then— back to your thigh.
you smiled quietly. “fu… what’s on your mind?”
he flinched so hard he nearly jumped off the bed. “n-nothing!! it’s nothing! i wasn’t— i didn’t—”
“…okay it was something,” he admitted in a tiny voice, hiding half his face behind his hands. “but it’s embarrassing…”
“try me.” he curled in a little more, like a flustered shrimp, voice trembling through the smallest confession:
“i… um… wanted to… m-maybe…”
he swallowed hard.
“…bite you. a little.”
you blinked.
he hid his face again. “i’m sorry…”
“you can,” you said gently. “if you want to.”
his whole body tensed, then relaxed, then tensed again — like his brain couldn’t decide if this was terrifying or the best moment of his life.
slowly, carefully, he lifted his head from your thigh and leaned in closer. his breath trembled as it brushed your skin.
and then—
very softly, like something fragile—
just a tiny pressure.
barely anything.
but full of how nervous and careful he always was with you.
the second he pulled back, his eyes went huge.
“i— i— i’m SO SORRY—!!” he yelped, sitting up straight, hands waving frantically. “i didn’t hurt you, right? i swear i didn’t mean it like— well i DID mean it— but i didn’t mean it to be bad— i—”
you cupped his cheek gently, smiling.
“fu. i liked it.”
he froze like someone unplugged him.
then collapsed forward, face burying into your thigh again — hiding in pure embarrassment.
“i did it because you’re warm…” he mumbled.
“…and because i like being close to you… and because… um… it felt right. i’m sorry if that’s weird.”
“it’s not weird,” you whispered, stroking his hair again. “it’s cute.”
fu let out a tiny squeak — somewhere between a sigh and a whimper — and nuzzled himself closer against your leg, holding your thigh lightly with both hands like it was his anchor.
“o-okay… but um…”
he peeked up at you with wide, soft eyes.
“…you have to warn me if i ever do it too much. i don’t always think when i feel safe…”
you laughed, warm and gentle, as he practically melted into your lap again.
“don’t worry, fu. i’ll let you know.”
he settled, breathing slow and steady, clinging onto you like the safest place he’d ever found — cheeks still pink, but a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“okay… i trust you…” he whispered.
“…so much.”
and he fell asleep like that — hugging your thigh, soft, warm, and completely smitten.
zodyl wasn’t the type to show anger.
not loudly, not outwardly.
his rage was the quiet kind — the kind that tightened his jaw, sharpened his stare, made the air feel colder around him. and tonight, he walked into his quarters with that exact storm simmering beneath his skin.
bad meeting.
idiotic vandals.
plans falling out of line.
he hated when things slipped from his control.
but he hated the feeling in his chest even more — that silent, hollow ache that only came when everything was too much.
when he opened the door, he found you already stretched out on his bed, resting on your side. you looked up instantly, sensing the tension that clung to him.
“zodyl?” you whispered softly.
he didn’t answer. he just shut the door behind him and crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps. his expression was unreadable — a blank mask, cold and composed… but the flicker in his eyes gave him away.
he needed you.
not as a leader.
not as a fighter.
just… you.
you reached out a hand, inviting him closer without words.
zodyl exhaled quietly — the first sign of his guard slipping — and sat beside you on the bed. he didn’t speak, didn’t explain, didn’t ask. he simply leaned down, placing one hand beside your hip as his forehead came to rest against your thigh.
the cold man, the calculating leader… burying himself in your warmth.
you brushed your fingers through his hair, slow and careful.
his eyes fluttered shut. “rough day?” you whispered. “…yes.” the word was low, almost gravelly. “i don’t want to talk about it.”
“okay,” you murmured. “you don’t have to.”
that’s why he came to you.
no pressure.
no demands.
just peace.
your touch kept moving through his hair, smoothing the tension out of him piece by piece. his breathing steadied. his shoulders lowered. his hand slid lightly onto your thigh, holding you there — grounding himself.
and then…
without lifting his head, without warning—
slow, firm, controlled — not painful, but undeniably deliberate.
your breath caught softly. “zodyl—”
he didn’t apologize.
he didn’t look up.
he didn’t even flinch.
his lips brushed over the spot afterward, an almost-kiss, before he spoke against your skin in a low, steady voice:
“i needed to feel something warm.”
another small bite — gentler this time, almost like he was testing the edge of affection. “i needed…” he paused, breath fanning against your skin, “you.”
your cheeks warmed, but your fingers kept combing through his hair, soothing him wordlessly.
zodyl shifted slightly, tracing his thumb along your thigh where his teeth had touched. he wasn’t a man of emotion, but right now, the way he held you gave him away completely.
you grounded him.
you calmed him.
you brought him back from the cold.
after a quiet moment, he finally lifted his head enough to look at you — eyes sharp, tired, and softened only for you.
“don’t ask me why,” he murmured. “i won’t have an answer.” you smiled faintly. “you don’t need one.”
zodyl leaned back down, resting against your thigh again — this time without anger in his body, only a quiet need for closeness he’d never admit out loud.
“…thank you,” he whispered into your skin, so soft you almost missed it.
and he stayed there, finding comfort the only way he knew how — wrapped in your warmth, teeth marks on your thigh, heart steadying in your presence.
jabber didn’t walk into the room — he burst in, like he always did, grinning wide like he was made of static and adrenaline.
“oiiiii, girl,” he drawled, voice already too loud, too excited, “you alive in here or do i gotta kick the door again?”
you were lying across your bed, flipping through a book, perfectly peaceful.
that lasted about two seconds.
jabber saw you.
peaceful.
tilted his head like a deranged bird.
“mmh—” he dropped onto the mattress beside you like a boulder, sprawling across your legs with zero warning. “there you are.”
you sighed. “jabber— you’re heavy—”
“i KNOW!” he giggled, sounding thrilled. “that’s the point!” before you could shove him off, he rolled onto his stomach, chin propped on your thigh like it was a pillow sent from the heavens directly to him.
“y’know…” he hummed, poking your thigh with a gloved finger, “you shouldn’t just leave these little thighs out in the open like this. i get ideas.”
“oh i don’t DO that,” he laughed.
and he didn’t.
not even for a second.
he dragged his fingertip down your thigh, eyes glinting with that sick excitement he lived on.
“mm, soft,” he murmured, practically purring. “don’t look at me like that. you KNOW what this does.” you stared flatly. “jabber, don’t—”
his hands gripped your hips like he had to anchor himself, and he sank his teeth into your thigh with all the enthusiasm of a kid biting cotton candy for the first time.
“jabber!!” you yelped, grabbing his shoulder.
he just laughed against your skin, the sound unhinged and way too pleased, lifting his head only to press another bite a little closer to your inner thigh—still gentle enough not to hurt, but definitely enough to make your breath skip.
“hahaha— oh you should SEE your face,” he cackled, licking his teeth like a psycho. “c’mon, girl, you KNOW i like when you get all twitchy like that.” you smacked his arm. “you can’t just BITE ME because you feel like it!”
“i can and i DID,” jabber said proudly. he leaned back in, nosing along your thigh, grin stretching ear to ear.
“you smell good when you’re mad,” he whispered, voice dipping into something husky and chaotic. “makes me wanna make you madder.”
he paused.
blinked.
then grinned wider.
and he sank his teeth in again, slower this time, purposely teasing, holding your thigh steady with both hands like you’d run away if he let go.
“mm-hmm?” he hummed against your skin, kissing the spot he just bit like he was rewarding himself.
he looked up at you, eyes wild, hair messy, grin sharp. “girl,” he said, voice low but buzzing with excitement, “you have NO idea how crazy you make me.”
another kiss. another bite. another laugh.
“and i’m not stoppin’ anytime soon.”
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