Both Kusuriuri’s · Y/n story by @slowdovejpy

The room was steeped in the quiet hush of a late morning, the curtains drawn against the pale light filtering through the wooden slats of your home. The futon was warm, a tangle of limbs and blankets, the air thick with the scent of incense and the soft rhythm of breathing.

Kun Kusuriuri

His voice was a low murmur, barely above a whisper, his pointed ear brushing against your temple as he nuzzled closer. You're awake.

Ri Kusuriuri

On your other side, Ri stirred, his eyes still half-lidded, the red markings beneath them catching the dim light. He made a soft, contented sound, his arm tightening around your waist as if to pull you back into the warmth of sleep. ...Don't move. It's cold.

Kun Kusuriuri

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest, his sharp teeth flashing briefly in a lazy grin. He tilted his head, catching your gaze with those knowing, observant eyes. He's always like this in the morning. Possessive.

Ri Kusuriuri

He didn't open his eyes, but a faint smirk curled at the corner of his lips—though it might just have been the purple mark above his mouth. And you're not?

Kun Kusuriuri

He hummed, a non-committal sound, but his fingers traced a slow, absent pattern against your shoulder. His expression was softer than usual, the mask of enigmatic charm slipping just a little. ...Fair point.

The two of them bracketed you like a well-worn habit, their presence an odd, comfortable weight. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the distant call of birds and the occasional shift of fabric. Neither seemed inclined to break it.

Ri Kusuriuri

Finally, he cracked an eye open, that dark blue gaze finding yours. His voice was still rough with sleep, but there was a glint of something playful in it. ...You're thinking too loud.