Domestic Victuuri absolutely kills me.
I just can’t stop thinking about different scenarios, like…
…Yuuri waking up to the sight of Viktor resting his cheek on his chest, his pale hair and eyelashes sparkling in the early morning light. He smiles softly, tracing one of Viktor’s pretty cheekbones lightly with the tip of his finger, so he won’t wake him up.
…Viktor and Yuuri helping each other cook, accompanied by the quiet sounds of vegetables being chopped and soup bubbling away on the stove. A gentle touch as Yuuri hands Viktor the measuring spoons, their fingers brushing shyly and their cheeks flushing at the glancing eye contact.
…Yuuri insisting that he’s fine, even after a long, hard day of training at the rink, but Viktor can tell how exhausted he is. He offers to do the dishes so Yuuri can take a nap, and Yuuri is so grateful for the rest. When he wakes up, Viktor tends to the cuts and bruises on his feet, planting a sweet kiss on the curve of his ankle. Yuuri then does the same for Viktor.
…Viktor getting an awful chest cold, and Yuuri nursing him back to health with medicine and tender touches. Viktor is just happy to lay his heavy head on Yuuri’s lap while Yuuri’s cool fingers sift through his hair. As he falls asleep, he isn’t positive, but he thinks he hears Yuuri singing to him softly, the cadence and lilt of Japanese caressing his ears.
…Viktor coming home to find Yuuri in the throes of an anxiety spell. He panics a little, but Yuuri just reaches for him desperately, so Viktor holds him close, whispering words of encouragement and love until Yuuri is able to calm down. They watch movies and snuggle for the rest of the day to help Yuuri feel better.
…Playing with Makkachin in a park, and getting ice cream at a street vendor. Viktor declares that kissing Yuuri tastes even sweeter when he’s eating ice cream, and it makes Yuuri blush a very pretty pink.
…Yuuri retreating to the couch the night of their first real fight. He tries to fall asleep, but can’t. Barely an hour after he leaves, Viktor kneels in front of the couch, timidly asking if Yuuri is okay. Yuuri wordlessly lifts the blanket in invitation, and they cling to each other, sniffling and whispering sad apologies. They vow to communicate better to avoid future fights.
…Viktor and Yuuri having a date night in a tiny, charming St. Petersburg cafe, hidden away from paparazzi, just enjoying being near each other. Yuuri makes Viktor laugh so hard that he nearly chokes on his wine, and worriedly pats him on the back while he recovers.
…The bedroom being filled with the sounds of labored panting, breathy, pleading moans, and wet, slick thrusting. Viktor’s lips on Yuuri’s damp neck, kissing him gently. Yuuri curling his fingers into the back of Viktor’s hair, clinging for dear life as they both helplessly shudder through orgasm. An impossibly soft, whispered “I love you”, and an even softer answer.
…Viktor watching Yuuri sleep afterward. His beautiful throat and shoulders are smudged with hickies, his strong brow is relaxed, and his long, dark eyelashes fan out on his smooth cheeks, still rosy from afterglow. A warm, content flutter of love rises in Viktor’s chest, because how in the world did he get so lucky?
…do you ever think about stuff like that?
Because I do.