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#you are so bright and wonderful and sooooo lovely
exocean · 2 years
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happy birthday my dearest love! @seo-changbinnies 🥰❤️
#no i know you said a hug was enough and i pinky promised but !!! i couldnt NOT do anything#im sorry its not much i had to improvise a bit with how i was going to make something <//3#i hope you like it nonetheless!!!#also i was going to make everything yellow but somehow i ended up here????#HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i hope you have the absolute best day ever and maybe even more importantly the most wonderful year ahead of you#i hope this new year will be kind to you and bring you lots of joy happiness love good memories and new experiences#may your wildest dreams come true#i hope you can spend your birthday happily and surrounded by people who love you as much as you deserve (which is the most possible amount)#thank you for always making me smile#i wanted to add these tags in a full set but i guess that will have to wait but they made me smile so much#you are so bright and wonderful and sooooo lovely#truly the biggest heart i have ever had the honour of meeting <33333333#thank you so much for being my buddy !!! im having the absolute best time being yours <33333333#and i will make you something bigger once im able !!#love you the most !!!!!! <333333333333333#and i decided to use my own timezone since your bday will be longer that way hehe <3#love you!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3333333333333#and i've learned this from you but i wanted to say it back to you : soy muy afortunado de tenerte como mi amigo#( i hope i wrote it correctly!!)#hi marie!#buddy.fav#changbin#stray kids#my edits#marie day <3
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cutexasxabutton · 9 months
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|🎄| ❝Uh, uh, I think this is a tag dump?❞ |❄️|
#|🎄| Lovely weather for a Sleigh Ride together with You |❄️| Noelle In Character#|🎄| Christmas Gifts |❄️| Noelle Reblogs#|🎄| A beautiful sight; we're happy tonight; Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland |❄️| Noelle Aesthetic#|🎄| In my heart is a Christmas Tree Farm |❄️| Noelle Headcanons#|🎄| May your days be Merry and Bright |❄️| Noelle Answers#|🎄| Simply having a wonderful Christmastime |❄️| Noelle Musings#|🎄| You're all that I need; Underneath the tree |❄️| Susie#|🎄| Thanks; old friend; for packing; Christmas stockings full of nice little things |❄️| Kris#|🎄| Christmas time is here; Families drawing near |🖤| Rudy#|🎄| Who decides the test of what is really best? |❄️| Berdly#|🦌| I'll Have A Blue Christmas Without You |❄️| Dess#|🦌| Even Santa Claus gets the blues |❄️| Asgore#|🦌| It's a difficult responsibility; That you accept from the Number 1 lawmaker |❄️| C. Holiday#I actually think her name should be clarice (ken said that to me and it made sooooo much sense) but most of the fandom calls her carol so I#left it vague there#|🎄| Dressed in a Snow White gown |❄️| Noelle Darkworld Verse#|🎄| Let it snow; let it snow; let it snow |❄️| Noelle Snowgrave Verse#|🎄| The Joy in my Heart is Ablaze and it's Keeping me Warm |❄️| Noelle Undertale Verse#|🎄| Wish as I may; wish as I might |❄️| Noelle Main Verse#|🎄| You light me up like starlight on a Christmas tree |❄️| Susie x Noelle#there are a couple shared tags with her dad here#seems silly to repeat character tags; ya know?
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yueebby · 6 months
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hii omg I love ur fics sooo much they're really helping me recover from.. gege. I was wondering if I could request gojo x drunk!reader. like maybe they come back from partying with geto and shoko and are just completely tipsy. but they're reallyyyyy affectionate and flirty and gojo literally goes insane like his heart can't take it . bonus points if reader won't stop peppering him in kisses.
"you're sooooo hot.. and- and strong! ohmigosh are you single?" AND MANS IS JUST BRIGHT RED.
preferably fem-reader thanks ^__^ <333
drunk in love — gojo satoru
contents. fluff, established relationship, alcohol (drunk!reader), gojo being gojo, youre drunk and in love but gojo loves you more
notes. anon your request was so cute i just had to write it TT i kind of got carried away from the original prompt.. but enjoy this as a form of therapy from that one eyed cat!! ps i hate drinking so idek if this is accurate :>
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the night had been long, and shoko is starting to regret letting you consume what felt like half your body weight in drinks during your night out in roppongi. impatiently, she checked her phone, hoping for a response from gojo to her text message. huffing in frustration, she turned to geto, “i thought you called him. where is that idio–”
"shoko, who is that?" in your drunken stupor, you shamelessly ogled the stranger approaching the entrance of the bar. shoko facepalmed as she watched your intoxicated heart eyes for the snow-haired man.
"she's all yours now."
gojo chuckled when he saw your inebriated state, "what did they do to you?" he had just returned from a tiring mission, but seeing you was enough to lighten the weight on his shoulders.
you shifted your gaze between shoko and the handsome stranger, causing mental whiplash. a mumbled apology escaped your lips before you left shoko's side to get a closer look at the man.
amusement danced in satoru's eyes as he observed you stumbling toward him. as the loving boyfriend he was, satoru wrapped a strong arm around your waist to prevent you from tripping.
you placed a hand on his chest to steady yourself, and couldn't help but notice the firmness of his physique. "so strong," you hiccuped, running your finger down his chest, "and handsome... are you single?" you blinked up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes.
suguru, watching from the sidelines, struggled to stifle his laughter as he observed his best friend's face growing increasingly red. the way you were looking up at him was driving him crazy. satoru cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to regain his composure though it was hard with the way his heart was beating so erratically.
"do you not remember me, sweetheart? your strong and handsome boyfriend?" satoru's glossy lips turned down in an exaggerated pout, and you gasped, confused on how you'd forgotten a face so beautiful. it was dangerous, how tempting the man in front of you looked.
giving in to your impulsive thoughts, you grabbed his face with one hand, squishing his cheeks together. satoru’s eyes widened as he noticed your intent on his puckered lips.
with an impish grin, you planted a series of quick kisses on his cheeks, then moved to his lips.“how,” kiss. “could i,” another kiss, “forget,” kiss, “such,” kiss, “a handsome face?”.
suguru and shoko watched in mild horror, as you showered gojo with affection. a dopey grin spread across his flushed face as he allowed you to have your way with him. he's afraid he might implode from the how adorable you were.
“i’m the most handsome man in the world, yeah?” he asks you with a grin, encouraging you to answer as he pulls you closer by the waist. satoru couldn't fathom what he had done to deserve this, but he would gladly repeat it tenfold if he could relive this moment once more.
you nod happily. “the most!”
“well aren’t you lucky to have me as your boyfriend.” satoru flashes his cerulean eyes at you above those dark sunglasses of his. just when you think he can’t get any hotter, he proves you wrong.
your friends' silent presence is suddenly shattered by laughter, jolting you back into the awareness of their company. satoru’s grin dissipates into a frown when he sees that your attention is taken off of him.
"'[name] is lucky to date him,' so he says," shoko giggles. "suguru, do you remember that one time satoru pretended to be a waiter at the restaurant [name] was on a date?" shoko not-so-secretly says to geto. "he got all drunk and then started rhapsodizing about how he was going to marry her."
satoru gasps at the memory of his awkward pining days. his attention quickly diverted back to you, anticipating your reaction.
suguru hums, “ah, or that one time he got distracted and nearly got us killed on a mission all because [name] sent a selfie.”
you pull away from satoru’s hold and he swears he feels all the warmth leaving his soul. his hands instinctively reach out to you, but you’re one step ahead, already making your way to the evil pair in front of him.
“really?” you ask the two, eyes shining eagerly.
shoko nods, an evil grin growing on her face, “you seriously never noticed that stupid dazed look he has when he sees you? even yaga has noticed it.”
gojo’s jaw drops at the sound of his best friends’ attempt to embarrass him. in his defense, he was just a man in love! satoru's infamous pout returns, and he’s trying to pull you back into his embrace and away from those traitors. to his dismay, you ignore him. did you even know that he was dying by the second without your affection?
“tell me more!” you gush, entranced with the idea that your boyfriend was just a lovesick puppy.
“is that really necessary?” satoru mumbles under his breath, though the telltale reddening of his ears betrays his indifferent facade.
“toru i didn’t know that you were obsessed with me,” a giggle erupts from you. to show your adoration, you turn back to cup your boyfriend’s face. he leans into your touch immediately.
“i still am y’know,” his gaze softened. your heart melts at the way he lowers his voice.
“i can’t watch this any longer,” the short haired female gags, searching her coat pocket for a much needed cigarette. suguru agrees silently, tearing his eyes away from the cloying display of affection.
you don’t notice your friends leaving while you’re too engrossed doting on satoru.
“baby– heh– we should head home now,” he groans softly, shivering upon your fingers tracing his undercut. if you continue this any longer, satoru's brain will be fried to the point that no reversed curse energy could fix. the effect you had on him was undeniably unjust.
“can you run me a bath when we’re home?” you pleaded, your voice tinged with weariness. after a night of drinking in roppongi, you felt the weight of the celebrations clinging to your skin.
satoru's lips curled into a playful smirk as he recognized the opportunity presented before him. "only if you'll let me hop in~"
a mischievous agreement danced in your eyes as you responded, "hm okay." you leaned in to place a tender kiss on the corner of his lips. satoru, his affection intensifying by the moment, gently gripped the back of your head and guided your lips back to his. gosh, he was so in love.
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i was going to post all mine but im currently rewriting it so bear with me please !!!!
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irndad · 14 days
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won't you be my sunshine-a.h.
a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!
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Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 
This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.
The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.
Which isn’t to say that he has one. 
There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 
It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.
That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 
Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 
He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 
“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 
He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 
“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”
She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 
He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 
He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 
He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 
It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 
“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 
“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 
“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”
It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 
He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 
“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 
It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 
“I thought you’d never ask.”
(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 
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girlboypersonthingy · 1 month
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valentines day with lucifer pleaseee
YAASSS IM SUCH A LUCIFER SIMP *bangs on table* I love him so much, it’s a problem. Like look at him… 🥹 thanks for the request and ENJOY!
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(I don’t own this picture)
Lucifer x reader- Valentine’s Day 🤍
Whether you two have been together for 3 weeks or 3 centuries, he will ask you to be his valentine every. single. year.
Baby boy is such a hopeless romantic I stg
Goes all out too! Would never just get you flowers and chocolates. From the king of hell?! No way. Only the absolute best for his love.
In this case, this is your very first Valentine’s Day together!!! D’AAAWWWWW
You come home/back to the hotel the day before valentines and there’s red and pink balloons every where, rose petals all over the ground, the lights are dim and soft. Very much a romantic movie scene type thing.
“(Y/N)~” Lucifer calls out to you sweetly, softly as he watches you look around at all the new decor.
When he finally has your attention, he holds his gloved hand out to you, beckoning you to come to him.
You can’t help but smile as you run to hug him. He laughs softly against you before he pops the question, his arms gently squeezing you against him.
“(Y/N)? Will you be my valentine, sweetheart?” And all you can do is laugh and hold him even closer.
“Oh, Luci~ Of course I will!”
OBVIOUSLY this dork makes you a cool ass duck as a gift. It’s one that really relates to you, has something to do with your looks or personality or an inside joke between the two of you. It’s special just for you 🥹
Def wants to take you on a nice date somewhere. Maybe a fancy restaurant, maybe to a bar, maybe a coffee shop for some caffeine and sweets.
Def asks you what you want to do and leaves the choice to you. He’s fine with whatever as long as he can hold your hand and give you kisses every 2 seconds so often.
DEFINITELY picks you up in a fancy ass car with a chauffeur and champagne and everything!
Whatever you decide to do, he’s sooooo distracted the whole time. There’s so much on his mind rn and it’s all different thoughts about you, most of them innocent 😈
I mean how is he supposed to keep his thoughts 100% clean and innocent when you dressed so nicely for your valentines date and you keep laughing extra loud at his jokes and blushing bright red at every compliment he shoots your way.
Of course he dresses to the nines as well. He looks great in white, don’t get me wrong. But him in a deep red suit with pink accents for valentines?!,!!??!,? PLZ 😍
He also loves the way people stare when you two go out together. Sure, it’s not totally conventional for the king of hell, Lucifer himself, to be so deeply in love with someone of your status but that’s what really bonds you two. It’s not some arrangement or a deal made for your soul or anything besides true love and attraction for each other.
He loves and trusts you so much, you’re so different from everyone else who fights for his attention.
And you’re just thanking your lucky stars, wondering how the hell you pulled him. He’s so perfect omfgggg
He is sure to ask you if everything is to your liking, how you’re feeling, what you want to do next. He’s very observant and considerate.
It’s hard to even eat or drink or whatever you’re trying to focus on bc he keeps staring at you and holding your hand and winking at you Everytime you guys make eye contact.
Don’t get me wrong! He’s lovey dovey and super sweet all the time but on this holiday of romance and love, he’s going 1000 times harder!
He would totally take you back to his house to finish off your romantic evening.
Probably puts on some music and takes off his coat to get more comfy.
Offers you a drink and goes to make it himself, adding some cute little garnish to it just to be fancy for you.
Sits on the couch in the living room with you and keeps his hands on you in some way. Touching your thigh, holding your hand, rubbing your arm or your back.
Proceeds to talk your ear off about everything and anything as his hands roam your body subconsciously.
Luci definitely talks a lot, rambles on and on to you all the time. Hope you’re a good listener ;) he doesnt have many other loved ones to talk to you so you get to hear it all
He talks so much he probably often tells you the same story over and over again. You tell him “Yes, Luci. You told me this already.” with a sweet smile at least once a day.
Tries to kiss you but accidentally bumps his head into yours instead.
Now you’re both laughing so loud, blushing so bright red and can’t maintain eye contact for more than a second or two.
He probably cracks a joke to ease the tension in the room too. And even worse, it’s some lame dad joke or a pun lmaoooo
Leans in again, much slower this time. His eyes flutter shut and he purses his lips as he approaches.
His kiss is scorching hot but so so soft.
Maybe you guys have kissed before, maybe not. But this kiss hits different. Maybe it’s the Valentine’s Day sweetness in the air, maybe it’s because he’s so goofy and silly and comfortable with you all the time, maybe it’s the drinks you’ve had tonight, maybe all three?
But this kiss…is the most passionate you’ve ever shared with him.
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uncouth-the-fifth · 9 months
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click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader
read it on ao3.
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Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!
FIVE YEARS LATER
The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.
But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.
Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.
On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.
He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.
But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.
The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain. 
This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.
It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.
Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?
The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.
You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.
You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.
Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.
By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—
—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.
There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.
You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.
On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.
Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.
You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.
You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.
Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.
Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside. 
He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.
He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.
You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”
Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”
There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.
“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”
Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?
You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.
Your throat locks up with tears.
Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”
Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”
Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.
“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.
There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.
“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.
You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.
He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”
When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”
Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.
“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”
Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”
You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”
You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.
Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.
“You’re really not saying yes?”
Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.
Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”
The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.
“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”
You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.
Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.
After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.
“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”
This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.
He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”
This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.
“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”
You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”
Okay. Weird.
Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”
They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?
But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”
Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.
You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.
He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.
The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.
“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.
There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.
“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”
“Can I help?” Sam asks.
You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”
“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”
Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”
You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.
When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.
“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”
You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.
Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”
You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”
…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”
That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”
You squint at him. Liar.
“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”
A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.
Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”
“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”
Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”
Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”
A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.
It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him. 
You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!
There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.
“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”
Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.
You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”
Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”
The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.
Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.
You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—
—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.
In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”
Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.
The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.
He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.
The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.
It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already. 
Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.
Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—
You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.
“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”
You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?
He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”
You stop.
This is. This is new.
There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.
Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.
“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.
He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.
It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to. 
He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.
…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.
“Sammy,” you sob out.
“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”
He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.
“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.
Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.
“Take it off,” he rasps.
This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.
“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.
You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.
He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”
Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.
You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”
It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”
A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.
You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.
“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”
Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.
“Then don’t.” He begs.
If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.
You’ve never seen him take this way before.
He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.
You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.
“God,” Sam utters, spellbound. 
You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.
You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”
Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”
The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.
You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”
“Yes, doctor,” you tease.
Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.
“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.
You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.
This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.
Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”
And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.
By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.
Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”
“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”
“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.
Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”
Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.
The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”
As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”
Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”
Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.
Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.
“God, I love you,” he moans.
Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.
…Wait.
“What?” You register, slow.
Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.
“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.
There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.
“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”
You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”
It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.
“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”
“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.
He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.
“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.
When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.
“Sammy!” You choke.
That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”
Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.
You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—
…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!
“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”
The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”
He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.
“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.
You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”
You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—
In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.
A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”
If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”
You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”
His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.
“Tell me you love me again.”
Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.
You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”
The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.
With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”
“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.
You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.
When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.
“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.
Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you. 
“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”
“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”
Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.
You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.
“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.
The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.
You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?
Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.
What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?
Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”
He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness. 
Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”
Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.
Lie to me, you’d begged him. 
…And Sam had.
_
The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.
Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.
He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.
Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?
Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.
The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.
Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.
To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.
You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.
“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.
…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.
You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.
You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”
…That’s not what the note says.
You read it.
Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.
You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…
Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—
…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.
“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”
- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1
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apollyonsdarksecrets · 7 months
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You can call me, Sir.
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven
Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.
Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,
Specific chapter warnings : Failed CPS case, implied abuse with belt, clothes shopping (I tried my best to be as body neutral as possible), sugar daddy Arron, sales lady is rude towards reader, Things are getting spicy, first rules, use of pet names, reader is described as having hair long enough to sweep over one shoulder, trying on clothes, Let me know if I need to add anything!
A/N: The amount of love that has been shown for this story so far has absolutely filled my heart! I’m sorry this chapter took a minute to come out, I got married last week sooooo 😍 that slowed the process down a little. Haha 💜
*~*~*~*~*~*
9 years ago
The worst part was the way her nose stung, like a million tiny needles stabbing her all at once. But she had to breath through it, because only selfish, weak, incompetent people cried. So she forced her thoughts solely on the older woman who sat across from her, her grey hair loose around her shoulders, and the bright pink blazer she wore with matching skirt. ‘I think name is Deloris?’
Not what you would have thought when you heard the term ‘CPS worker’. She smiles at the young teen as if she was Y/n’s best friend and there isn’t a care in the world as her fountain pen taps against her yellow notepad. “You’re mother must have been a lovely woman.”
A muscle in Y/n’s jaw twitches, but she manages to return Deloris’ smile briefly. “She was.”
“So is that really the reason you have been skipping school?” Her green eyes were full of mock sympathy, and Y/n can only assume how many of these ‘troubled teen cases’ she has had to work.
“Yes ma’am.” It was the 8th anniversary of Y/n’s mother’s death. Today. She can hear her father in the other room, moving about the kitchen, pretending to not be listening through the thin walls. Y/n squeezes the pillow in her lap tighter to her churning stomach, already anticipating how the rest of the night will go.
“I’m sorry, dear. I know losing a loved one can be hard, but that doesn’t mean we can go about making things hard for the ones we still have.” Deloris tilts her head, her lips in a slightly pout as she regards Y/n, who only bites her cheek to keep quiet. She drops her chin to her chest, fanning shame with a small nod, placating the woman. “Good. I’m going to go talk with your father now, I hope you understand the severity of the situation you’ve almost caused. I expect to hear you are in school tomorrow.”
Deloris doesn’t take long in the kitchen with Y/n’s father, her pitchy laughter grating on Y/n’s ears. Her father escorts the worker to the door, his hair is combed, beard neat and he’s dressed still in his work clothes. A fitted grey collard shirt and jeans. His usual Forman outfit. At one point in Y/n’s life she can remember thinking her dad had been very handsome, but that had all been before the drinking.
“Have a good evening Miss. Deloris.” Her fathers southern accent is always laid on heavy whenever he is trying to impress someone, or to get his way. And for most of his life it worked well. Y/n wonders sometimes if that is how he had charmed her mother.
As the pine door shut, Y/n closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath before the storm. When she opens her eyes again, she’s staring at the brown tweed couch across from her, out of the corner of her eye she can see her father’s still form in the archway of the living room.
The sound of leather hissing through his denim belt loops makes her stomach drop, her breath quicken in her already tight chest. “Gone an got me in trouble huh?” He folds the worn leather over in his hands, snapping it together watching as she jumps in her seat. Her gaze remains focused on the spot Miss. Deloris had occupied, the old springs and cushioning holding her shape. “You ain’t learned trouble girl.”
Present Day
It’s almost unbearable how cold it is outside, the dark clouds over head threatened to snow on the busy sidewalk as you shove your hands as far into your jacket as they will go. Aaron is pressed against your side, his arm wrapped around your back, directing you through the crowd and to the front of a large store.
Chic’s End
Your nose scrunches slightly at the different mannequins in the brightly lit windows who’s clothing is on the higher end of fashion. Pieces you’d never find in your own wardrobe. Aaron guides you towards the door but you stop abruptly shaking your head. “Hotch, aren’t there places a little less… fancy?” Your tone gives away your discomfort as you scan the nearly empty store.
Aaron sighs, stepping around you so he can look you in the eye. “Rule number one: call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us, Hotch is too formal. Now I’m sure there are, but you deserve to be a little spoiled…” He pauses, his phone vibrating in his pocket making him frown. “Now go inside, let me check this and I’ll be right in.” As he fishes for his phone he pulls open the door for you, letting you walk in with a small head rush.
‘Our first rule?’
You take the moment you have some to look around the store front, a few customers are mingling about the rows of clothing, associates putting away inventory or helping their guests. A brunette is standing at the register, her hair sprayed and pinned into a tight bun atop her head. She glances at you, her nose turned up at your simple outfit, without a word of welcome she goes back to her work.
The door is opening a moment later, a small bell going off as Aaron steps in, the icy breeze trying to follow. “Sorry, David was checking in.” His voice reaches the woman at the counter, grabbing her attention. She watches as he shrugs out of his winter jacket, her gaze fixing on the flash of jewelry on his wrist with a smile.
“Is he okay?” You ask, handing Aaron your own jacket as he hangs them on a coatrack.
“Oh yes, he’s-.”
“Good afternoon, is there anything I can help you with?” You turn, the same woman from before now standing in front of you. She’s wearing a form fitting black dress, the apparent dress code for the establishment, a silver name tag pinned to her collar reading ‘Denise.’ Gone is her dismissive attitudes from before, her blue eyes staring intently at Aaron with a sly smile.
You feel something in your chest squirm, making you take a step in front of Aaron as you pull your best smile into place. “Oh thank you, but we are just-.”
A warm hands is suddenly on your shoulder, pulling you into Aaron’s side. “We’re looking for some work attire; blouses, pants, skirts and such. Along with more casual wear.” He squeezes your shoulder as you slide him a disgruntled look.
Denise regards you with a tight lipped smile, nodding her head slightly. “Of course. Right this way.” She turns on her heel, an extra sway in her her step that makes you roll your eyes as you pull out of Aaron’s grip following her. He follows behind a few paces, regarding you with masked amusement.
She takes you to the back of the store, pointing out the sections of racks you’ll need and where on the walls you can find work appropriate pants and skirts. Denise turns to Aaron once again, stepping to close for comfort as she stares openly at his suit. “You know, we have the latest in Brioni’s suit jackets that I think would complement you rather well, Mr…” She brushes her hand against his arm and your eyes widen.
“No thank you. I’ll let you know if we need any further assistance.” Aaron comes to stand beside you, his expression hard to read as he places a hand on your lower back. Denise’s eyes narrow slightly, her smile faltering before she pulls her emotions back.
“Please do.” She saunters of, throwing one last look over her shoulder.
You laugh unbelievably, “Jesus… she was a bit forward.” You turn toward the rack beside you, picking up the first shirt your eyes land on. It’s a simple white blouse with navy blue pinstripes, the neckline is a little low for your taste but otherwise it’s very pretty. You pick up the tag and instantly drop it, your mouth falling open.
“What?” Aaron asks, sliding the clothes along the pole, looking through the selection.
“This! These clothes are way to over priced.” You turn the tag towards him, and he squints at the small numbers. ‘75.56’. He frowns slightly and you think he’s about to agree with you, call this whole ridiculous thing off until he shrugs.
“That’s not so bad.” He grins at the incredulous look you level him, showing perfect teeth. “Darling you’ll come to realize the value that comes with certain things. Soon enough you’ll see the value in yourself as well.” He chucks you under the chin softly and you think that’s it.
You’re going to explode.
Everything it too much.
“Hotch, I can’t just let you waste that kind of money on me. You don’t know what you will need it for later, bills, or -.”
Aaron steps into your space again, bending down until he’s eye level with you and you clam up. His eyes are dark, burning with an intensity that has your shoulders slumping slightly. When he speaks his voice is quiet but direct, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “What did I say our first rule was?”
You stammer, your grip tightening on the fabric still in your hands. “You said… to call you Aaron.”
“Correct. So that’s one. Now, when I say I am doing something for you, buying you something, getting you something; do not doubt me. If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. Do I make myself clear?”
All you can do is nod, your throat dry and tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. “Good girl. Now if you really find calling me Aaron to difficult, you can always call me sir.” You suddenly look like a fire had been lit underneath you, your face flushing a new shade of red he’d yet to see before. You turn away from him, trying to hide your emotions and aggressively shuffle through the clothes before you.
Aaron straightens with a satisfied smile.
*~*~*~*~*~*
An hour in and there is a mount pile of clothing in the cart in front of you. Everything you’ve selected draped over one side and everything Aaron selected on the other. You had found a discount rack, the red tags a twisted mess by now, but the 15% off sign did little to quell the guilt eating you.
“Okay… this is more clothes than I think Garcia even owns. I think we should-.” You’re talking absently, glancing up only to find Aaron is walking in the opposite direction of the checkout. “Oh for the love of all things holy.” You quickly follow, pulling the cart behind you as the hangers rattle together. He stops in front of a display of eloquent evening gowns and you follow his stare to the forefront of the display. A deep emerald green satin dress takes your breath away, with a sweetheart neckline and a slit that goes half way up the mannequins thigh. You peak around the back in awe, it plunges well down to the lower back, a sheer material with beautiful rhinestones occupying the negative space.
Aaron watches as you pick up the bottom of the dress, rubbing the buttery material between your fingers. “I would love to see you in it.”
You shake your head, though your focus remains on the dress. “There’s no reason to, when would I ever wear this? Besides we’ve been here for nearly an hour, if we don’t leave soon I’m sure Denise is going to jump your bones.”
Aaron chuckles at that with a shrug. “You might not be wrong, she’s been lurking around the corner ever since I took my jacket off and she caught sight of my watch.” You glance down at his wrist as he shows you a golden Rolex. You hum in understanding, putting the two together. A handsome, stylish man, with a nice suit and a watch that coasts a couple of grand. She sees dollar signs. “Go ask her for a fitting room.”
Glancing around you notice she’s no more than ten feet away, pretending to be busy with an already neatly arranged display of sweaters. You walk over, hands clasped behind your back. “Excuse me?”
She doesn’t bother to look up, her head tilted as if in contemplation as she stares at the stack in front of her. “Yes?”
Your jaw clenches slightly, but you smile regardless. “I’d like to try that green dress on, where are your dressing rooms?” That finally catches her attention, she looks around you to the dress your talking about and then to the cart beside Aaron, the red tags turned her way. With a bemused smile she finally looks you in the eye.
“Sorry, that dress isn’t on sale, dear. Maybe come back some other time.” Her high voice carries farther than she thinks, reaching Aaron who’s eyebrows raised in surprise before furrowing as anger bubbles in his chest.
Before you can say anything he is by your side, startling you both. “She didn’t ask you if it was on sale. She asked if you had a fitting room.” Denise pales, his voice is harsh and edged making her shift on her feet as she begins to stammer
“Well I… it was just-.”
“Just what? It’s a simple question, this is a clothing store so you must have fitting rooms. She would like one opened.” Denise can no longer keep eye contact, her gaze flickering from his face and away again. “Now.” The command in his voice makes her move, her mouth agape and she’s pointing indirectly over her shoulder. She turns, quickly walking away and you’re left to stunned to react. Aaron’s hand finds your back again, pushing you forward, his other hand on the end of the cart.
The dressing area is three beiges booths with deep red curtains for doors. A large mirror takes up one wall that is lit up like Time Square during Christmas, and there are mirrors in the booths as well. “You said the green dress?” You nod, giving her your size and she’s running off again, her head down and face red. Aaron takes a seat in one of the mahogany chairs, folding his arms across his chest. He’s watching Denise leave with that same look he gives every unsub as they are being hauled off to their final destination.
“Um… thank you, for… for that.” You speak up, breaking the silence waiting on Denise to return.
He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his black shoe tapping the polished floor. “You don’t typically show when you’re upset or irritated, I had to step in. I also couldn’t stand by and let you be berated like that.”
This time it’s you who crosses their arms, glowering at him. “I wasn’t showing I was upset, so what she was being rude? It didn’t affect me.”
His lips pull into a sarcastic smile, head shaking. “Sweetheart, I’ve been working with you for three years, nearly four. When you get upset over something, even if it is trivial, you dig your nails into your palms. Most likely because you would rather focus on that then what’s stewing in your mind and your chest.” You blink at him, awareness washing over you as you shake out your hands, crescent indents marking your flesh.
Before you can snip at him Denise is back, placing the dress in one of the rooms and leaving without a word. Aaron raises an eyebrow and you huff, turning and walking into the booth before snatching the curtain closed. You take a moment to breath, your annoyance merging on anger as you begin to undress.
You have to force yourself to remember this is all apart of the contract, this is all small steps to whatever greater end goal he has. You can’t fully trust he’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart, no one is like that. Working a career where you catch murderers and kidnappers and rapists has shown you such. The thought lingers at the back of your mind that maybe he’s pushing you to break and go to therapy where they will force your leave. It wouldn’t happen, you’ve come to far to let anyone treat you that way.
You step out of your pants, bending down to pick them up when you notice movement in the mirror. You look up, making eye contact with Aaron from where he sits and you go still. The only thing that moves is your heart as it suddenly jumps into double time.
Aaron’s eyes slowly rake over your body, the hunger in his eyes evident even from where you stand and you can feel your body respond. Heat rushes through your veins, leaving you lightheaded. He shifts in his seat, your eyes dropping to where he tugs at his pants legs, a noticeable bulge in his lap that makes your guts clench. From anxiety? Want? Curiosity? You aren’t sure. You quickly look away, his smile turning wolfish as you straighten and spin around, giving him a full peak at the matching black bra and panties your wearing before yanking the curtain fully closed.
All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, your fingers suddenly tingling and your lungs working for air. Shakily, checking the curtain again and again you strip out of your bra, and pull the dress over your head. The satin is soft and cool, the green leaving your skin glowing in the light. It hugs your body in ways you wouldn’t of imagined and you… like it. It screams seduction, fun, and someone you’re not but someone you once might have wanted to be…
The only issue is you can’t zip it yourself. You struggle for a few minutes, contouring your body this way or that, but you can’t get the zipper more than half way up your back.
Reluctantly you pull the curtain aside just enough to peak your head out, your eyes instantly finding Aaron’s. He raises an eyebrow, his hands clasped together in his lap and you are more than aware of why. “I need her help.” Your voice is floaty and you clear your throat. “I can’t zip it up.”
“I’ll help you.” He stands, crossing the small distance in three long strides, quicker than you can reject his help.
“Wait- no, I’m-.” But he is pulling the curtain away from the other side and you curse the interior designer with a flourish of silent profanities. In the small space he seems larger than life, all broad chest and long limbs. He steps closer and you back up, an all to familiar dance you two have rehearsed before.
He holds his hand out, a gesture of reassurance but he is still looking at you like a starved man. “Spin around, pretty girl.” Your legs feel suddenly numb, like you’d never used them before in your life as you continue to stare. “It’s okay.” He whispers, taking another half step forward.
“It’s fine, it fits well enough without it zipped I’m sure it’ll fit great when it is.” You fight to keep your body lose and face expressionless, trying to mask the feelings bubbling in your guts. Aaron doesn’t say anything, only continues to stare you down, gaze never wavering. “Really.”
“Turn around.” You don’t want to listen, but the timber of his voice makes your body ache in a way that catches you more by surprise than anything else has these past 24 hours. Cautiously you lay your hand in his, letting his pull you in before spinning you around so you’re facing the mirror. He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, his fingers grazing across the naked skin pulling gooseflesh to the surface.
You stand as still as possible, hardly breathing as he gently slides the zipper up. His palms spread across your ribs, warm through the thin fabric. “What do you think?”
“It’s a beautiful dress.” You whisper quietly, trying not to back down from his stare.
“You make it beautiful.”
“You’re only saying that.” He pulls you closer, your back hitting his chest, your body molding to his. A gasp disappears on your lips, his hips pressing into you lower back his erection prominent making you shiver.
“I can promise you I’m not.” His hand slips to your stomach, splaying across your abdomen, and a small noise hitches in your throat. He tilts his head down, pressing a tinder kiss to the crown of your head and all you can focus on is where he’s touching you and where he isn’t, but where you want him to. Your panties are suddenly slick feeling as you shift against him, his erection digging further into your ass.
“Aaron…” You try to warn, and he watches the way your eyes flutter, the shields you’ve so desperately and carefully constructed cracking under the weight of his stare. Some logical part of your brain, buried beneath the mush of your thoughts, is screaming and begging to run away. But how long had it been since you’d felt that fire in the pit of your stomach, curling your toes and making your thighs pinch together?
You’re about to open your mouth, say something, anything at all, when he is suddenly pulling away. “Come out here so I can get a better look at you.” Aaron steps behind the curtain leaving you to your spiraling thoughts and an ache you’d never imagine. Your face is flushed, eyes wide and pupils blown out over the color of your irises. It’s hard to keep the air in your lungs from rushing out in soft pants.
All you can think is that if this is how you react to a few simple words and actions, you’re screwed.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The next half hour is spent paying for your clothing, a bill Aaron wouldn’t allow you to see, then moving the bags from the car to your hotel room. You stare at them now, laid out on your bed with furrowed eyebrows and your thumbnail caught between your teeth. How would you get these in your bag and on the plane with as little notice as possible?
“Maybe we can go get you another duffle bag tomorrow.” Aaron answers as if he could read your thoughts, and if you didn’t know better you would say he did.
“It’s okay.. Thank you for the clothing.” You manage, giving him a tight smile as you glance to where he is standing at the foot of the bed.
The entire car ride was filled with tension, his presence alone setting you on edge, all while he remained calm driving down the busy streets and helping you to your room.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He smiles at you, possibly more so from your compliance, his eyes like coffee. “Would you like to join me for lunch?”
You bite your nail harder, looking back to the bags. “I’d like to just order my food to my room, I need to get this organized and finish my reports.” You expect him to argue but he only nods, coming around the bed and kissing the top of your head before he walks towards the door.
“I’ll check on you in a little while.” With that he leaves, and as the automatic lock slides into place you crumple. You sit heavily on the bed, running a hand through your hair like it might comb your thoughts back into place.
What are you doing?
What is he doing?
You groan in frustration, the feeling of not having control over what happens next beating on your bones and muscles. You haven’t relaxed since this began and you have a feeling you won’t for a long time to come.
*~*~*~*~*~*
If you would like to be tagged in the next parts please comment below and I will gladly add you! Thank you all for your support!
@kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs
368 notes · View notes
squoxle · 21 days
Note
Hiiii sisisssyysysyys! I was wondering if you do a hee ff and it’s just y/n and him. I want the plot to be like a late night of the streets in nyc. And you can do whatever you want 😊
Girl 😩 I apologize in advance if the story is kinda wonky…I really wanted to make this for u ASAP…but I’ve just been sooooo busy 😭❤️ anywayzzz I hope u like it
❝𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬❞ ~ 𝐋.𝐇𝐒
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•♥☙♡ ʚɞ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʜᴇᴇ𝖲ᴇᴜɴɢ!ʙᴇ𝖲ᴛ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ 𝖷 ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ғᴍ | ʚɞ ᴡᴄ: 𝟫𝟨𝟢 | ʚɞ 𝖲ᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇ𝖲ᴛ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴғᴇ𝖲𝖲ᴇ𝖲 ʜɪ𝖲 ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴏʀᴋ 𝖲ᴋʏ | ʚɞ ᴄᴡ: ᴀɴɢ𝖲ᴛ, ғʟᴜғғ, ᴍɪɴᴏʀ 𝖲ᴍᴜᴛ (ᴀ.ᴋ.ᴀ. ᴋɪ𝖲𝖲ɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ 𝖲ʟɪɢʜᴛ ғᴏɴᴅʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ) ♡❧♥•
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Heeseung held your gaze as if he were frozen in time and space. The sexual tension burned like firey flames from your hearts. But nothing could have prepared you for this moment.
The moment when his delicate lips would meet yours.
The moment your lives would change forever...
. : ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝒶𝓎...
Heeseung had called you the night before to make plans for today.
"There's something I want to talk to you about," he whispered softly, "In person..." his words trailed off.
What could be so important that he couldn't just tell you over the phone. Heeseung rarely blew things out of proportion, which left you curious. Wondering what he wanted to talk about.
Somehow you managed to tuck your curiosity away in the deepest part of your mind for the majority of the day as the two of you hung out together. Though you couldn't deny the fact that he had done a great job keeping you distracted.
"Hey, what do you think about this?" he giggled as he turned around to show you a pair of oversized glasses.
"I think you look like a clown," you chuckled back, watching as a bright smile grew across his face.
"Him, you're right. Maybe they'd look better on you," he said as he walked closer to you, placing the glasses on your face. His expression softened as you adjusted the glasses yourself.
"I probably look even dumber than you," you scoffed lightly, pulling your lips into a slight smirk. You watched as Heeseung's eyes followed your movements. "Uhh..." you started, cutting through the silence. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm just a little hungry. How about we go get something to eat?" He asked.
"Sure, what're you in the mood for?"
"Pizza?"
"Wow! I'm surprised you didn't say ramen," you said in an attempt to keep the conversation going.
"Well, I only like it when I make it," he smiled. "It's not like I can really make my own pizza," he chuckled as the two of you walked off.
. : ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔...
After sunset, you and Heeseung walked across Brooklyn Bridge. You loved how it lit up at night, the lights mimicking the stars in the sky that were harder to see out here.
Heeseung knew how much you loved stargazing, but couldn't do it anymore after relocating to such a big city. The sense of longing washed over you as you walked across the metallic structure.
"What?" you asked as you felt Heeseung's gaze on you.
"Nothing, I was just thinking about something."
"Does it have anything to do with that thing you wanted to tell me last night?" your question hung in the air for a bit before Heeseung let out a sigh.
"Uhh...yeah, but I'd rather talk about it in private," he said as the two of continued your walk across the bridge before entering Cadman Plaza Park.
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The air was cool and moist, and the streetlights highlighted small puddles of water that pooled near the botanical arrangements. At this point, you had just noticed that Heeseung was holding your hand.
You walked with him under a set of trees, away from the other few people who were also enjoying a night walk in New York.
You lied down in the grass next to Heeseung as you peaked through the tree branches to see the night sky bleeding through.
"____..."
"Yeah?"
"You know that thing I wanted to tell you?" He rolled onto his side to face you, propping his body up on his elbow.
You waited patiently for him to speak, as you could see his shy side coming out. He bit his lip softly before continuing.
"I-I don't want this to ruin our friendship or anything, but," he paused, playing with the grass between his fingers. "I really like you...and I have for a long time."
To be honest, you had liked Heeseung from the beginning, but you settled for a friendship rather than a relationship and you still didn’t know why.
He looked embarrassed as hell. You took a little too long to respond, leaving an uncomfortable amount of silence in the atmosphere.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Just forget I said anything,” he continued before lying down on his back, closing his eyes after taking a deep breath.
A thought crossed your mind and you weren’t gonna be stupid enough to let it pass by. You leaned over to kiss Heeseung’s lips.
His cheeks were slightly red his doe eyes jumped open when you placed your hand on his chest. “I like you too, and I have for a long time now,” you smiled.
His lips formed into a smile as he pulled your face into his, kissing you again. You straddled his body as he gripped onto your waist, pulling your body closer to his. You slowly rocked back and forth, feeling him grow harder beneath you.
Though you had just started, the sexual tension was strong now and your movements excited him. It was obvious by the way he sat up and breathlessly gasped for your touch.
Your tongues intertwining as he moved down to your neck. “Maybe we should continue this somewhere else,” he chuckled softly against the wetness on your neck as you reached to palm his bulge.
“Yeah, you’re probably right about that,” you said looking at his flushed face and ruffled hair. “Would it be weird if I said you look hotter with your hair like this,” you smirked.
“Not weird, but definitely enticing. Makes me wonder what you would look like all flustered and messy,” he said before kissing your lips again.
. : ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 𝒩𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝒹…
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❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!
❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @chlorinecake @mimikittysblog @nikisdubblchococake @wonbinisbabygurl @hynjinnn1 @mrswolfhard3 @laylasbunbunny @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon @sughoonieeee @babyy-bambii @adrika04 @sehunsharpasseyebrows @wtfyangjungwon @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @rikiloversworld @shawyle @sunoosrightbuttcheek @uarmyxtae @lovesickxmina @urfavberry @urauntiefaye @breadlover01 @taehyunsfavmoa
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harufluff · 2 years
Text
○°♪「enhypen reaction to their s/o saying i ‘i love you’ for the first time」♪°○
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warnings - some cursing, little suggestive ;)
genre - fluff, angst for some, gender neutral reader, enhypen x reader
requested - no
a/n - second post!! this one is for enha (all members) thank you to everyone who liked my last post!! ilysm!!!!!! (seriously thank you sooooo mucho. makes me so happy) btw these are scenarios :))
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 ꧁JUNGWON꧂
you and jungwon were hanging out at your house on your bed. he was laying his head on your chest looking through his phone while you are reading a book. he kept looking up at you to see what you were doing, but you seemed very interested in your book from his view.
he kept staring at your pretty face, when you suddenly looked down at him making eye contact with him. you both blushed and looked away. “s-sorry” he said “i-it’s ok won”. he looked back at you and tapped you shoulder to get your attention. you looked at him confused when he leaned up and closed the distance between you. as you both pulled away, you kept eye contact. you watched as the blush pink danced across his cheeks. you wondered how red you were if he was almost red as a tomato. “y-y/n” he said “jungwon” you just looked at each other.
“jungwon…” you asked still staring at him, “hmm?”. “i love you.” you watched as his eyes widened and his ears got red-er. “y-you what?” you looked away surprised at your confession. he turned your head back from your chin. “i love you too”. he smiled and pecked you lips sweetly.
✿ HEESEUNG ✿
when you woke up with your beautiful boyfriend, heeseung, laying next to you. you stated in awe as he peacefully slept. you could hear him quietly snoring in his sleep. you giggled as quiet as you could without moving. you wrapped your arm around his waist in order to try and go back to sleep with him. he groaned a bit as you scootched closer to him, not feeling close enough already.
you finally got comfortable in your position, his arm around you upper body and yours around his waist. you felt something tighten around your waist, that thing being heeseung’s arm. you look up to see your sweet boyfriends kind doe eyes, in crescents as he smiled softly at you. “hi baby”. he says with a raspy voice. “hi seungie”. you say with a bright smile.
you lay together for a few more minutes, not wanting to get out of bed and face the day. “hey, love?” he askes, “yea?” “can we just stay in bed today?” he askes sweetly already knowing the answer, but asking anyway “i wish. i just want to stay in bed with you.” you say, while curling into his chest. you continue “all i want to do is stay in bed with the love of my life.” you felt his heart start beating faster. “w-what did you say?” you realized what you said and looked up to him. “love you too”. he says with the same sweet smile you hope to wake up to every morning for the rest of your life. you kept eye contact as he climbed on top of you, his arms on each side of your head. “can i show you how much i’m in love with you?”. the rest is history.
◒ JAY ◓
you were getting worried as you waited for your boyfriend. you looked at your phone ‘10:47’. you groaned as you waited for him to come through the door. waiting on the couch, you tried calling him again. immediately went to voice male. “jay where are you? i’m worried. please come home”. you waited for another 30 minutes before you heard the doorknob wiggle. you ran to the door but before you got there jay came in. “where were you?!” you yelled annoyed that he was home so late.
“get off my back. i was just hanging out with friends”. he said sounding just as annoyed as you were. “jay, i was worried about you! why didn’t you call be back?!” “because! you’re being clingy! and it’s annoying as fuck!” he yelled back, making you step back a bit not expecting that as his answer. you gave him a glare, walked to you room, and shut the door behind you.
you felt pricking at the back of your eyes. you were left alone with silence for a good 10 minutes before you heard a knock on the door. “baby. can i open the door? please?” you didn’t answer. “i’m coming in.” he walked in to see you laying on the bed. “babe.” he said, disappointed in himself for making you feel this way. “babe please look at me. i’m sorry, ok?” you turned your head, still not making eye contact. “i’m sorry too. i was just worried”. he hummed. “i just love you so much. i was worried i would loose you. or even worse you got hurt.” he didn’t make a response for a second. you looked at him. he had wide eyes and his mouth agape. “say that again”. you realized what you said and “i love you, jay”. he kissed you forehead and made you lay down with him for the rest of the night.
ꕤ JAKE ꕤ
as you walked into the cold apartment, your boyfriend jake right behind you, you shivered slightly. you thought it would go unnoticed. you were wrong. “you cold?” he asked sweetly “huh? oh! y-yea i’m good”. “you’re shivering baby”. he told you, grabbing your hand and bringing you over to the couch. he went to his room and came out with a cozy blanket. “here we go”. he said as he put it on your shoulder’s and tucked you in. “j-jake. baby it’s fine. im not that cold.” he smirked and continued taking your shoes off.
“c’mon. just lemme take care of you for once”. you blushed and let him continue. he hummed a little song as he walked to get the remote and then the tv on for you. “here you go. choose whatever you want, love”. we took a few more minutes before coming back over to you. “now i finally get to snuggle with my baby”. you giggled a bit at his remark. he pulled you into his chest and you snuggled in making his heart flutter.
“my baby is so cute”. he said “mine is too”. he smiled. you felt yourself drift into a well deserved slumber. before you fell asleep you heard the love you of your lives voice “goodnight love”. the next thing you know it’s the morning. you woke up in your boyfriends arm around your body. you turned your head to see your boyfriend sleeping peacefully. you smiled “im so in love with you”. his eyes opened with surprise. “did i just hear you right?”. he asked “yea”. you blushed still looking at his eyes. “i love you sim jake”. he tackled you down and kept you under himself “and i love you, l/n y/n”
❆ SUNGHOON ❆
i’m sorry i have to. i love this au sooo mucho. im a proud sunghoon lover. i’m sorry this is so long hehe
you were getting ready for your date with your boyfriend, sunghoon. you wore a cute black blouse and black plaid pants. you looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled, proud of your look. you went outside your apartment building and waited outside for a little bit.
then you finally saw your boyfriend walking up to you in all black just as you are dressed in. he smiled at you. “hey, love”. he said with a smile “hey hoon. where are we going?” you asked curiously. “nope. not telling.” he said and shook his finger in front of your face.
when you got there, he ran over to your side of the car and opened the door for you. “why thank you sir”. you said snarky-ly. “why if course my lady.” he said smirking at you. he put his arm around your head and put his pretty hands over your eyes. “guess who”. “hoon i know it’s you” you giggled. “go forward. i’ll tell you when to stop”. you agreed and started walking forward, doing everything you boyfriend told you in order to not fall.
“ok ready?”. “ready”. he moved his hands and you saw a beautiful ice skating rink with no one in it. “you like it?” he asked stepping in front of you to see your reaction “sunghoon. this is amazing”. he smiled “im glad you like it. let’s go get some skates on. he helped you put you skates on. once you got on the rink you were finally at peace. you skated around for who knows how long until you said something. “hoon. this is amazing”. “im glad you think so”. you looked into each others eyes until you said “i love you”. he started laughing not think you were serious. but then he looked at you again and took your face in his cold hands. he kissed you lips sweetly. “i love you too”.
𖥸 SUNOO 𖥸
“BABYYYYY!!!” you heard from the other side of the grocery isle. you turned your head and saw your sweet boyfriend yelling at you holding a box of something you’ve yet to find out what it is. “hmm?” you asked. “CAN WE GET THEESE?? PLEASEEEE????!!!”. sunoo asked giving you the puppy eyes he knows you can’t resist. “lemme see…hun these are 70% sugar”. you told him, hopping it would convince him. “but whyy?? they look yummy.”he gave you a pouty lip. ‘oh no’ you though in your head. you sighed. “put it in the cart”. “YAY THANK YOU BABYYYY”. you giggled quietly “he’s so cute” you say to yourself.
when you finished paying, you went outside the convince store and sat at the tables across from your boyfriend. “ok sooo we have pepero, ramyeon snacks, choco pie.. and a whole lot of other stuff. OK what should we have first?”. you were looking at your pretty boyfriend while he went through everything.
“y/n? why are you looking at me like that?”. you giggled at yourself a bit “i just think it’s cute how you’re going through everything. i really love you”. his mouth went agape and he put his hand over his mouth to cover it. “DID YOU JUST SAY YOU LOVE ME???!!!” you nodded grinning. we walked over to you and b hugged you so tight you almost couldn’t breath. “s-sunoo i can’t breath.”. “ahhh whoops”. he smiled at you with the biggest grin. “i love you too bub”.
𖠰 NI-KI 𖠰
you are your boyfriend we’re having your usual arcade date. “y/n! let’s go play the mario cart game!” you laughed at your boyfriends excitement. “ok ok let’s go!” you played three rounds, all of which he won. “i told you i would beat you” he said as you walked around to find another game to play together. you turned your head to see a claw machine full of a dolphin plushie you thought was the cutest thing ever. however riki thought you were the cutest thing ever. “should i try and get you one?”. he asked “huh? o-oh! no no no! it’s fine i don’t need it” “c’mere. lemme spoil you for once”. he dragged you back over to the claw machine. it took him two times to get the plushie. “WOW YOU ACTUALLY GOT IT??? ITS SO CUTE!!!” “hehe im glad you like it”. “AHHHH I LOVE IT!!! RIKI ITS SOOOO CUTE THANK YOU SO MUCHHHHH”. you were going absolutely coo coo over the plushie. “THANK YOU RIKI! I LOVE YOUUUU!” he froze where he was. “d-did you just..” you finally looked away from the plush to meet eyes with him. “d-did i just…” “you did”. he smirked at you. you could feel your ears warming up. “don’t worry. i love you too, dork”.
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i hope you liked it. this was really long. ilysm!! <33333
-haru 🐥
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x-noechi-x · 11 months
Text
My love ♡
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Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x (fem) reader
Warnings: Arranged marriage, your child is an oc
Noechis note: Just the lil story of how you got together with your husband. I had no plan. sooooo yeah...
Happy Birthday Kyojuro!
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Your husband has always been a bright and energetic man. He always smiled around people, making them smile as well. He was a sunshine who brought light into your life. Your relationship started as a contract marriage between your families.
At first, it was awkward around you two. You had never seen each other before and soon you would be husband and wife. It sounded ridiculous to you, but your parents forced you, saying that you could divorce after a year. Under that condition, you stopped complaining. Kyojuro, your soon-to-be husband, also never complained. Probably because his parents told him the same thing. That you were able to get a divorce after a year.
You found out that the marriage was arranged by your parents alone. Kyojuro’s family wouldn’t have forced him to marry someone, but because his mother had been sick for a while and the cost of the hospital was getting too expensive, they had no choice but to agree.
In a way, you felt sorry for him. His mother was sick after all. But at the same time, you wondered why they agreed to make a deal with your family. Your father was an owner of a smaller company, but you had a lot of money that you inherited from your grandparents and other parts of the family you didn’t even know.
The day of the wedding came sooner than you expected. More like you honestly didn’t care as much. Your mother wouldn’t let you do any of the preparations. She acted like it was her wedding. You let her be, knowing that there was no way that she would stop acting like that anyway.
“You look beautiful. My beautiful daughter is getting married. I never thought this day would come”, your mother cried. It seemed like she never expected you to get married in the first place. Maybe you should’ve run off when you had the chance, but you couldn’t do that to Kyojuro. His family depended on that marriage right now.
Besides the fact that the people believed that it was a real marriage, it went exactly like you had expected. Your husband and you didn’t say a word to each other, focusing on the other guests as if it was a real wedding.
“How are we going to continue now?”, you asked your husband as you entered your now-shared home. Kyojuro stayed quiet for a while, not answering as he looked at the ground. “I mean we can divorce in a year”, you added, making your husband look up with wide eyes.
“They haven’t told you?”, you chuckled at his reaction. It was kind of cute, you had to admit that. Kyojuro only shook his head. “I didn’t know that this was possible”, he referred to the contract that he had signed so his mother would get the medication that she needed.
“Then let’s decide on this. We will divorce in one year and until then we will act like husband and wife”.
You agreed on this plan, living like husband and wife would. Kyojuro worked as a teacher which meant that he was getting up earlier than you did. He made sure that he would make breakfast before leaving. When you woke up, you would eat, get dressed and go to work after doing some chores.
It depended on the day who of you got home first. But whoever arrived first would either cook or order some take-out. It was a peaceful lifestyle that you continued for at least half a year. Somehow it seemed strange that you would divorce soon, but it was part of the deal, and binding Kyojuro with this marriage to you, wouldn’t be fair to him.
“I’m home”, you heard your husband say as he entered the home you shared. “Welcome home”, was what you replied. A look at the calendar earlier told you that you only had three months left in this marriage. “I ordered some food; I hope this is okay. The bath is ready as well so you can wash up before we eat”, you smiled at him, making him smile back at you.
The joy you experienced by spending time with him was something you were sure no one could replicate. You were in love with him. And you were sure that this love would only bring you misery in the end. Because it was going to end sooner than you wanted.
You were zooming out as you sat on the couch, not realizing that Kyojuro was done with his bath already. “Y/n?” “Yeah?”, you were startled when your husband called out your name. “Are you okay? You seem sad the last few days”, Kyojuro explained his thoughts.
“I´m fine. Don’t worry, Kyo. Everything is fine”
And like that, the last months passed by and your marriage was about to end.
“I don’t want to get divorced!”, Kyojuro told you one evening, close to your one-year anniversary. You had a shocked expression on your face as you looked at him. “I know that you don’t want to either. So please Y/n. Give me a chance to make you happy”.
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“I´m home!”, you heard your husband’s voice call from the front door like usual. As soon as another person heard the voice, they jumped up, running towards the person at the front door. “Papa!”, yelled Chinatsu, your daughter who had just turned five years old.
That evening so many years ago, you and your husband decided against getting a divorce and trying a real relationship. It wasn’t easy at first and the whole road wasn’t easier.
Your husband picked up your daughter, carrying her towards the living room where you were. “Welcome home, love”, you smiled at your husband, making him smile back at you.
“I’m happy to be home, love”, he said before giving you a kiss.  
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tag: @apparentlycursed @inupiko @nemistitties @ledafox @warabidakihime @moonmaiden1996 @raaaaainn @xxshadowxx407 @charc0allatte
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silenzahra · 24 days
Note
🥰 for the writing prompt? Writer's choice!
Referring to this post ✨
This fic was loooong overdue! I am really sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, but I hope it was worth the wait! 🙏
Thank you sooooo much for sending me this prompt! It has truly melted my heart to work on this idea 🥺 I really hope you like it! 💖
Are you ready for some brotherly fluff? 🤭💚❤️
Here's the link to AO3 in case you'd rather read it there! ✨
Wordless Love
When Luigi arrives home, Mario still hasn't returned.
Luigi sighs and closes the door behind him. The pipes in the castle really must be clogged. He wonders if he should come to his brother's aid, but he knows that, if Mario needed his help, he would have called him.
Besides, this gives Mario and Peach a chance to spend some more time together.
With a somewhat amused smile, Luigi leaves the toolbox on the entrance cabinet and hangs his hat on the rack. He's feeling very tired after a long day of single-handedly serving his Brooklyn clients, and all he feels like doing is taking a shower, grabbing a quick dinner, and going to bed.
But he can't go to sleep without Mario. Even though he knows his big brother is safe and sound in Princess Peach's castle, Luigi needs Mario to, at least, be home so he can fall asleep.
So he heads to the bathroom and takes a fast, but warm and relaxing shower. When he finishes, and since Mario isn’t home yet, Luigi opts to leave everything ready to make dinner later and goes out into the garden.
It's cool, as autumn is coming to the Mushroom Kingdom, but that doesn't stop him. Luigi smiles as he walks through his small garden, the one he has cultivated with so much care and attention since he and Mario moved there. He looks closely at each plant, each flower, and makes sure to irrigate the ones that need some water. He talks to each and every one of them, tells them how beautiful they are that night, and quietly sings a little song during his walk. He also makes sure to check that the automatic watering system he installed with Mario's help is still working perfectly, and smiles to himself, satisfied, after verifying that it is.
These flowers, this garden, are his pride and joy. Every day he’s more and more happy for the good fortune of having a small corner in which to raise his favorite flowers. When he lived in Brooklyn he had to make do with a couple of flowerpots, but, in the Mushroom Kingdom, there’s room for all the plants in the world. So, without a second thought, Luigi transplanted his first two flowers and, since then, he’s grown many more.
And now his beloved garden looks beautiful in broad daylight as well as under the faint, bright glow of the full moon. Each flower has a particular beauty and scent, and Luigi has learned to recognize each one by its fragrance before he even sees them.
When he re-enters the house, he realizes that he has spent a whole hour outside, walking among his plants and singing to them. However, just as he closes the garden door behind him, the front door, which is opposite him on the other side of the living room, opens at last.
“Mario!” he exclaims as soon as he sees him enter, and runs towards him. “You’re back!”
Before his brother has time to drop his tools or close the door behind him, Luigi pounces on him. Mario lets out a loud laugh of surprise and staggers back a little at his impetus but does not hesitate to return his brother's embrace with the same heartiness.
“Yeah, I’m back,” he mumbles, laughing, as he pats Luigi’s back.
They smile at each other as they part, happy to be together again. Luigi takes Mario’s hat from him and hangs it on the rack next to his.
“Looks like there was a lot of work at the castle today, right?” he says meanwhile.
“Oh, you just can’t imagine!” Mario exclaims, dropping his tools any which way on the entrance cabinet. “I think we’d better go together next time. We’ll simply postpone all the appointments we have with our Brooklyn customers.”
Smiling, Luigi carefully sets each tool in its place inside the toolbox he’s been carrying all day.
“I thought about coming to help you,” he admits, “but I didn’t know if you’d be... busy.”
He wonders if Mario will understand what he’s referring to, if he'll catch the hidden meaning beneath that one word, but he senses he'll have to keep that joke to himself.
“Busy?” Mario looks at him with a raised eyebrow, confused. “What do you mean by that?”
Luigi lets out a low chuckle as he places the last tool.
“It’s nothing, don’t mind me,” he says, amused, and grabs Mario’s hand to lead him to the kitchen. “Come on! Are you hungry? How about I make you a lasagna?”
“Lasagna?” Mario repeats, his face suddenly lighting up like a lighthouse in the middle of the darkest night. “But of course! What kind of question is that?”
Luigi lets out a chuckle, cheerful and touched in equal parts. His brother will never change, and Luigi adores him more and more every day for that.
Amid jokes and laughter, the brothers enter the kitchen. Luigi, after putting on his green apron with a pattern of orange flowers, starts cooking immediately, and Mario, instead of sitting down, stands next to him and passes him the ingredients and utensils needed to prepare the lasagna. In the meantime, he tells Luigi how his day has been, as they separated in the morning to go to work in different places, and explains how difficult it was to unblock all the pipes in the castle. Then, always ready to listen to him, Mario asks Luigi how his day has been, but Luigi, more focused on the cooking, shrugs and quickly summarizes what has been a very normal working day for him.
“And how’s Peach?” he asks casually as they wait for the lasagna to be ready. “How did things go with her?”
“Just as usual.” This time it’s Mario who shrugs, but Luigi doesn’t fail to notice that a slight blush is now covering his brother’s cheeks. “You know her. She’s very... kind and sweet. Just as usual,” he repeats, looking away.  
Luigi covers his mouth with his hand to hide a giggle. He would love to hear more, to encourage Mario to tell him more about those feelings that have undoubtedly blossomed in his heart after meeting the beautiful princess, but Luigi doesn't insist. He knows his brother so well that he’s convinced he will open up when the time comes, when he feels ready, and Luigi wouldn't want to pressure him for anything in the world.
It doesn't take long for the lasagna to be ready at last. As he does every night, Luigi serves his brother first, and smiles at the keenness with which Mario takes the first bite. As he sits down, his plate already full, he notices his brother's satisfied expression, and the soft "Mmm!" Mario emits as he chews causes Luigi’s smile to widen.
“My goodness, Luigi,” Mario exclaims admiringly. “Your cooking gets better every day!”
Luigi blushes and laughs nervously.
“Th-thank you,” he stammers, embarrassed, before starting to eat too.
During dinner, however, Luigi realizes something that makes him uneasy: his brother is tired. More than him, even. Luigi knows this because Mario, who usually talks non-stop between bites, remains silent this time, just centered on savoring the lasagna, a clear indication that his energy has diminished considerably since he came back home. Luigi sees it in his eyelids, which appear somewhat droopy, no doubt exhausted and eager to close until the next day. Luigi senses it in the slowness with which Mario gradually puts the food into his mouth. Still, every time their eyes meet, Mario gives him warm smiles and makes sure to keep telling him how delicious he finds the lasagna.
Luigi loves to cook and always feels flattered that his brother so enthusiastically enjoys the dishes he lovingly prepares for him.
But tonight there is something more important.
Tonight is not just about having dinner with Mario and spending some quality time with him before going to bed, but also about taking care of his exhausted older brother.
“Come on,” he says as he gets up, once they’ve both finished dessert. “How about I run you a hot bath to help you relax?”
Mario smiles, and his grin, although full of affection as always, is also a true reflection of the fatigue that plagues him from within.
“I’d love that, Lu.”
Determined, Luigi begins to pick up the dishes, but, when he’s about to start washing them, meaning to do it quickly so that he can take care of Mario, he senses some fingers on his shoulder that make him turn around. He meets again his brother’s sweet smile, who reaches out his other hand to take the plate that Luigi had grabbed.
“I’ll wash them,” Mario offers.
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” Luigi refuses, worried that Mario’s tiredness will increase.
“I insist, Lu.” Mario, unwilling to surrender, gives him a gentle and playful hip thrust to softly push him away. “You made dinner. It’s only fair.”
Luigi knows Mario's determined expression too well to know there's no point in trying to stop him. Defeated, he agrees to step away from the kitchen sink with a resigned sigh and watches his brother with a hand on his hip.
“All right, you win,” he concedes, at which Mario’s smile widens. “I’ll go draw your bath.”
Mario nods with a chuckle as he does the dishes, and Luigi takes off his apron, which he had inadvertently left on during dinner, and goes into the bathroom. The first thing he does is close the door and turn on the heater to warm up the room. After putting the plug in the bathtub, he turns on the hot water faucet first and lets the tub fill up a bit before turning on the cold, but not too much. He wants the water to be hot and to last like that long enough for Mario's muscles to relax after today's hard work.
In the meantime, he hangs Mario's bathrobe on the rack next to the tub and places a small towel on a stool in case his brother wants to wash his hair. Luigi also prepares the shampoo, soap and sponge, and puts them on top of the towel so that Mario can reach them from inside the bathtub. He takes the hairdryer out of the cupboard where they keep it and carefully sets it in a corner of the sink, because he knows that Mario does not like to go to bed with wet hair, so he will need it if he decides to wash his head. Luigi quickly leaves the bathroom to go to his bedroom for a moment: he hurriedly opens the top drawer of the dresser they share, takes out Mario's favorite pajamas and returns to the bathroom at lightning speed. He then pours some soothing bath salts into the water and places a towel on the floor, in front of the tub, so that Mario won't slip.
Finally, satisfied with his work, Luigi turns off the faucet, switches off the heater and goes out into the hallway in search of his brother.
“The bath is ready!” he announces with an exaggerated flourish as he enters the kitchen.
Mario laughs, giving him an amused look, and puts the last plate away on the sideboard before following him. Although the bathroom is very close to the kitchen, Luigi guides his brother as if they were inside one of those old mansions with an infinite number of corridors and rooms and opens the door with a graceful bow.
“I hope you find it to your liking, sir,” he says, modifying his voice so that it sounds deep.
Mario lets out a chuckle again but puts his shoulders back and places both hands behind his back as he walks past Luigi into the bathroom.
“Very warm and cozy, butler,” he replies, imitating his brother’s tone.
Luigi, still bent over and with his arm outstretched, is forced to cover his mouth with his other hand to contain the snort that was about to escape from his throat. However, when he straightens up, his laughter is stifled by the tender look, full of gratitude, that Mario, standing in front of him, throws at him.
Then Mario reaches out and wraps an arm around his neck to pull him close, giving him a quick squeeze in which their cheeks squish against the other’s. The moment is so fleeting that Luigi does not have time to raise his arm to reciprocate the gesture of his brother, who, a second before releasing him, turns his head to place a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you, Lu,” he says, his voice full of warmth. “It’s just what I needed.”
Luigi's heart beats a little faster, full of bliss, and a touched smile blooms on his face as the blood rushes to his cheeks. Despite the fact that Mario showers him in affection quite often, Luigi just can’t help blushing. Inside him, tenderness and emotion intermingle with a certain embarrassment that makes him feel bashful, as he does not think he deserves so much gratitude. After all, he’s taking care of his brother in the same way Mario has taken care of him and watched over him all his life. That's how they’ve always worked and that's how they will continue to work.
Still, he keeps smiling at Mario, who watches him with his warm grin tattooed on his face as he slowly slides shut the bathroom door. On impulse, when there’s barely a small crack left, Luigi raises his hand and waves it in farewell, and Mario, with a chuckle, reciprocates his gesture immediately.
Luigi sighs, satisfied, when the door finally closes. He’s sure that the bath will do Mario good, so he goes to his room to give his brother some space and privacy. He really hopes it will be to his liking and help him relax.
Once in his bedroom, Luigi feels as if the autumn chill has crept into it through a window. He makes sure all of them are closed and opts to turn on the radiator to warm up the bedroom a bit, especially to keep Mario from getting cold when he finishes his bath. Luigi goes over to his brother's bed, uncovers it and grabs the pillows to soften them a bit, since that's how Mario feels most comfortable. He turns on both nightlights, Mario's red one and his green one, and looks around to make sure everything is in order.
As he stands in the center of the room, Luigi feels a huge wave of exhaustion wash over him. His day has not been as hard as Mario's, but he certainly needs to rest too, although he knows he can't do so until his brother goes to bed as well. He doesn't want to pressure him or interrupt his bath, so Luigi takes his time to tidy up the room a bit, uncover his own bed and put on his pajamas.
Just as he finishes buttoning the top of his green and white striped pajamas, he suddenly remembers something. He almost forgot! He rushes hurriedly out of his room and into the kitchen. Trying to go slowly so as not to break anything with his usual clumsiness, Luigi pulls a glass from the cupboard, fills it with fresh milk and pops it into the microwave.
He’s walking past the bathroom just as the sound of the hairdryer reaches his ears. Luigi sighs in relief, for he knows what that means: his brother will be out in no more than five minutes, so he will find the glass of hot milk waiting for him on his bedside table, where Luigi carefully places it. Satisfied, he picks up the book waiting on his own nightstand and goes to the living room to sit in his rocking chair, where he plans to read while waiting for Mario.
The book is so interesting that it grabs his attention right away, making him lose track of time. When the bathroom door finally opens, Luigi realizes that he has read ten pages almost without blinking. He smiles to himself, for he's loving the story he's reading, and places the bookmark between the pages before looking up.
As he does so, Luigi lets out a little chuckle: his brother, standing in the doorway, has skin almost redder than his pajama top. Mario, hearing him, smiles with resignation.
“I overdid it with the hot water, didn’t I?” he says with a laugh, heading for the bedroom.
“A little,” Luigi replies, amused, going after him.
This time it is Mario who holds the door for him, and Luigi gives him a nod and a chuckle as he enters the room. Gently and smiling, Mario takes the book from his hands and goes to Luigi's bedside table to leave it there, while Luigi, somewhat surprised, closes the door behind him and walks to his bed as well.
After dropping the book, Mario turns to face him. Luigi stops in front of his brother and wonders if, perhaps, Mario wants to tell him something or ask him for something else before going to sleep.
But his brother doesn't utter a word: with a warm smile on his lips, he raises his arms and wraps them around Luigi, resting his chin on his shoulder and placing a hand on the back of his neck to bring him closer. Despite his initial astonishment, Luigi immediately relaxes in his big brother's arms and, with a smile, lifts his arms to wrap them around Mario's waist as he closes his eyes. His brother, patting his back gently and running his fingers through his hair at the back of his neck, lets out a deep and resounding sigh while still hugging him tightly.
“Thank you for always taking care of me, Lu,” he whispers, his lips close to Luigi’s ear.
“Oh.” Luigi lets out a nervous giggle. “You don’t have to thank me, Mario. That’s what brothers do, right?”
Luigi feels him laugh in his arms.
“I’m certainly lucky to have you as a brother.”
Luigi's heart warms up, overwhelmed by a deep emotion. He feels his eyes moisten and he embraces his brother with more strength and affection, hoping, wishing, that his way of hugging him will be enough to let Mario know that he is the one who feels fortunate to have him as his big brother. If he had nothing else, if he were homeless and jobless and could not find anything to eat every day, he would still feel the luckiest man in the world if he still had Mario by his side. He doesn't need anything else to be happy.
They remain like this, embraced, Luigi's hands on Mario's back and waist, Mario's hands on the back of Luigi's neck and back, for a time they cannot, and will not, determine. Wrapped in a warmth that comes from both the radiator and their own hearts, the brothers enjoy those brief moments of peace and safety in each other's arms, in which, without the need for words, they express how much they love the other and how important they are to each other.
With a sigh, Mario begins to pull away from Luigi, very slowly, as if he doesn't really want to, and Luigi understands, for he too is reluctant to end the contact. His brother slides his hand from the back of his neck to his cheek and watches him intensely, his blue eyes glistening with emotion.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
And Luigi knows, with absolute certainty, that Mario is speaking from the heart, as he always does when he expresses his affection towards him, as deep as Luigi's for him. With a heartfelt smile, Luigi raises a hand and places it on Mario's.
“I will always be here for you,” he promises, looking into his eyes.
With tenderness shining in his, Mario widens his smile and carefully begins to gently press Luigi's head down as he does the same. Luigi, knowing what his brother intends, lets himself be guided without hesitation and closes his eyes for a second before their foreheads meet. The sigh they release, in unison, as if they had rehearsed it, is deep, intense, and reflects all the peace and serenity that this touch makes them both feel.
“And I for you, Lu,” Mario answers in a soft whisper.
When, seconds later, they raise their heads, they give each other one last smile, as full of love as all the smiles they’ve shared since the day they were born. Mario caresses his cheek while Luigi gives him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, and then he softly gasps when, suddenly, he remembers something.
“I almost forgot,” he says with a chuckle as he walks over to Mario’s bedside table.
He carefully takes the glass of milk in his hands and turns to his brother, who beams enthusiastically as he sees what Luigi is offering him.
“Thank you, Lu!” he exclaims, accepting the glass.
Luigi smiles, moved at the eagerness and speed with which Mario drinks the hot liquid. When he finally finishes it, he lets out a sigh of pleasure and Luigi covers his mouth to hold back a giggle, not only because of his brother's satisfied expression, but also because of the spot that glistens under his moustache. Mario looks at him with a raised eyebrow, though he laughs too, and Luigi reaches over to his nightstand for a napkin to wipe his brother's face. The latter lets him do it and they share a last moment of knowing laughter.
Luigi then takes the glass from his brother's hands and goes to the kitchen to wash it. Before leaving the bedroom, he hears Mario drop like a bundle on the mattress, and when he returns, as he expected, he finds him lying on top of the sheets any which way. With a giggle that is both amused and tender, Luigi comes to his side: he slowly pulls back the sheets from under Mario's body and carefully covers him with them. Mario, eyes closed, smiles and snuggles in, and Luigi gently tucks him in and places a kiss on his cheek.
“Good night, Mario,” he whispers. “Sleep well.”
Mario's smile widens and a deep sigh escapes from his lips. Luigi, hoping that his brother will indeed sleep well that night, gives him a gentle caress on his hair before turning off the radiator and heading, at last, to his own bed.
And just as he is about to turn off his lamp, the last light still on in the room, he hears a sleepy, exhausted voice coming from his brother's bed:
“Good night, Lulu.”
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gabessquishytum · 4 months
Note
Hob recently moved into this kick-ass new apartment building -- it's apartments are all centered around a courtyard. Hob's apartment looks out over the front fountain and a little bench (he thought he saw a black blur surrounded by pigeons, when he quickly looked out his window the other day).
In any event, Hob loves finally living alone! It means he can walk around naked all he wants - do his morning yoga naked; bop around cooking (non splat-ery things) or cleaning naked - and not worry about offending a roommate. He can masterbate any time, in any room, he wants too. Hob is so happy!
Hob bought curtains, okay. He even put them up. Thank you very much. But,,,,he might have,,,,put them up not great. Suffice to say, Hob doesn’t realize he's giving his cross courtyard neighbors (Dream, Cori, Destruction) a free show. Hob gets home from classes around 3:30 (on Mondays, Wednesdays & Thursdays) -- he's gloriously naked by 3:45 -- and he does "Sun Salute" bright and early every morning. Nakedly.
Dream, Cori and Ollie know someone should say something,,,offer to at least fix hot guy's curtains,,,,,but he's sooooo attractive. He's hairy in all the best ways, his cock looks beautiful, even from the distance (and even when not hard). He's so hot they just can't stop looking. They don't even know each other are just staring (; they're not friends, they just grab drinks every now and again, when they can convince Dream to stop "arting").
It gets worse when Naked!Neighbor breaks out the dildos and lube -- he just goes to town on what is obviously a slutty slutty hole (look at how it takes the dildo!! 🫣) and the boys just can't even deal!
WOOO yes this!!!! this is wonderful!!!! Love the idea of the three roomies all lusting over oblivious Hob.
One night the guys have persuaded Dream out of his room and they're all having drinks together - everyone's a tiny bit tipsy, even Destruction. The conversation inevitably turns to crushes and romance and (because Cori is there) sex.
Destruction blushingly admits that there's this one guy he really likes. They've never even spoken, but he's so hot, exactly his type. He looks like he could really take everything Destruction wants to give him, and oh, he's so captivatingly flexible. He can't believe he's admitting it out loud but this guy totally made him lose no nut november.
Cori interrupts with a cackle, and his own crush story. He hasn't had to use porn in months because he's been watching thinking about this one guy. Cori is just obsessed with him and his sinfully plump little arse. He's got 101 fantasies about what he wants to do with this guy.
To save himself from having to hear about Cori’s various kinks yet again, Dream shares that he also has his eye on someone. He's been sketching this guy for months and swears that he has the perfect physical form. His skin is like a sunrise, his hair is like the richest earth... Dream is extremely poetically horny about him. True to his name he's even had (wet) dreams about the guy.
The three of them all raise a toast - to each of them getting their respective man! It's a rather wholesome moment after all.
And, as though their hopes and wishes have all started to come true... they all get a chance with Hob!
Destruction spots Hob having trouble with his bike one day, and helps him fix it. To thank him, Hob invites him back to his place and it's not long before he's demonstrating his strength and flexibility with his thighs hooked over Destruction's shoulders.
Cori meets him in the hallway and they get chatting about true crime podcasts. Before long, Cori finds himself invited back to Hob’s flat. Within 15 minutes he's getting intimately acquainted with that perfect arse and fucking Hob hard and fast over the kitchen table.
Dream finally bumps into Hob in the cute little courtyard, and they get talking about the pigeons and Dream’s drawings. Hob ultimately invites him up to talk more as he's interested in buying one of Dream’s paintings... but they quickly get distracted. Hob shows exactly why he did all that practice bouncing on the dildo and rides Dream’s dick into oblivion.
And still the three roomies don't know that they're banging the same guy! And Hob doesn't know that the three guys he's had amazing sex with recently are roommates!
And he still hasn't got his curtains fixed! 😁
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alexanderlightweight · 7 months
Note
Wednesday writing -
I love your stuff sooooo much 😍 makes my week. Hopefully you're having a good one.
I would be happy with anything but I really want to see some wooing/surprised at how far the other is wing to go along with them! Like Magnus taking care of amnesia Alec, or magnus getting drawn in by Alec in the adoration vs. Heck even others being surprised by this too.
Honestly I'm just going to be happy with anywhere your muse goes but just give me some emotions! You're so good at it.
Hey! Thank you for the compliment and the well wishes! This week is doing much better than last thank you! I hope you’re having a good week!
I hope you enjoy this, it’s in all my fears forgotten
I hope these are enough emotions, let me know if you want more
💜 lumine
Magnus looks over the files that have been sent to him with a frown before he finally decides on his course of action.
Out of the half a dozen files that came through, only one is Magnus positive that Alexander would feel comfortable with.
It’s with an easy conscience that he signs over his consorts Institute to Mirai Lakecastle, Alexander’s second and someone competent and sure-headed enough to keep it together.
The clave will have no reason to argue and Mirai abides by the same code as Alec, it’s why Magnus picks her.
That and Alexander’s trust.
His faith and confidence in his second has grown since their first meeting and Magnus trusts Alexander’s instincts and his opinion.
It’s a lot of power to sign over, especially so quickly.
Magnus could do so much with the authority Alexander gave him but he doesn’t care. Magnus has a new and widely coveted political power and clout. It’s unthinkable that he would sign it over with so little hesitation or use. Yet Magnus wants nothing more than to concentrate on tending to his love who has changed so much and yet so little.
Alexander is truly no different than he was, only that he is how he was before the wounds of his past chiseled him into the man Magnus loves.
And yet he is also the man Magnus loves, the very foundation of him and Magnus finds that he adores him desperately.
Magnus cannot lose Alexander, as long as he is by his side then Magnus is happy to love him as he is, however he is.
Which means that there is no time to waste playing clave politics when Magnus can be introducing Alexander to a thousand things his boy had forgotten he once wanted. It’s a cursed blessing, to learn so many secrets that Alexander himself only remembered by forgetting so much.
Magnus opens a small portal, just enough to send his own response back to Alyssa. Then as soon as it’s confirmed to have been received, he snaps it closed and goes to find his boy.
Alexander is outside lying on his stomach, stretched out over thick green moss and dipping his fingers into the cold shallows of the nearby brook.
There are bright flashes of color as the fish dart around his touch and the rocks and Magnus laughs, heart lifting despite the weight of this morning.
“Enjoying yourself?” He asks, kneeling next to Alexander and pressing a palm to his shoulder.
“It’s cool and the suns bright,” Alexander sends him a faint smile before looking back at the water. “I don’t remember doing things like this before.”
Magnus doubts that he has and worse, they’ve hardly had time to even think of something as simple as a picnic where this could happen.
“Should we go boating?” He asks without a second thought and Alexander gives him a pleased smile and a nod. “Wonderful darling, I’ll set up a pavilion boat,” Magnus waves a hand as he speaks, “they run on magic, lovely. Absolutely divine and much better for the environment.”
In his delight, Magnus gets absorbed in his thoughts for a moment. It’s just a moment, but it’s long enough to miss the adoring and content smile that Alexander sends him.
Or that his eyes, while still confused, are deeply pooled with indulgent devotion.
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sweetleaf-cafe · 2 years
Text
BSD Characters w/ a small, clumsy s/o
(These are two requests from my old blog that I took down after some issues, I'm putting them back up so that readers can go back and look at them and I also still love these and don't want them to waste away in my google docs.)
Characters include: Dazai, Chuuya, Atsushi, Akutagawa, Fyodor, Fukuzawa, and Mafia!Dazai
Under a cut bc it's a long post~
Dazai
First off, he would think it’s super cute and totally uses it to his advantage.
They’ll just be working at your desk when they’re suddenly trapped in his arms while having to fend off tickle attacks.
Then when they’re walking around, he’ll be holding their hand to keep them from walking into anymore walls, teasing his s/o all the while. 
All of the sudden, everything is going to be on the highest shelf when s/o gets home, and he'll be hiding somewhere watching s/o make a desperate attempt for a book on top of a shelf. 
When you climb onto a chair, he snickers, causing s/o to turn and fall.
WIth his super fast reflexes, you can bet he’s there before you hit the ground.
On the inside, he’s freaking out, because he won’t always be there to catch you.
He wouldn’t know what to do if he ever lost you, inwardly he would die.
“Belladona, don’t tell me you mean to end yourself without me! Won’t we go out in a romantic double suicide?”
“Maybe if you quit putting everything on the top shelf!”
(Dramatic pose)”I may never get my romantic ending.”
Loves to gently pull his s/o into his arms and touch his forehead with theirs.
He might whisper quietly into their ear.
Overall, these moments are peaceful and quiet.
Unlike his usual antics
Chuuya
He’s ecstatic to have an s/o who’s shorter than him!
Chuuya here is definitely smug, and it shows. XD
Nicknames are a must.
Nicknames like “Shortstack” or “Small fry”
He’ll definitely tease, but won’t take it too far or hurt your feelings.
The moment he sees you about to run into a wall completely unfazed, he’s running over
“OI! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THAT”S A WALL!”
“Huh? HUH?!?! I almost ran into a wall, thanks, Chu-Chu!”
“CHU-CHU?”
(Smirk) 
He’ll definitely hold things above your head while s/o tries to grab for them
Inwardly thinks they’re adorable
Will give it back to them
Eventually
Loves the feeling of wrapping his arms around them, completely enveloping them with his body.
It makes him feel that they are both safe.
Sometimes, he’ll use his ability to make them float.
Their excitement literally makes them 110% cuter in his eyes
Atsushi
Honestly wonders how he deserves such a wonderful and cute s/o
He is super helpful and won’t tease
Unlike a certain suicidal maniac
Whenever they need help getting something, this cute cinnamon roll is already scrambling to grab it. 
No chore is too big or small for him
A bright smile adorns his face every time they need help
He just loves making things easier for his s/o
Literally loves them sooooo much
Constant reminders to be careful, 
He doesn’t want his s/o to get hurt!
Pls be careful for this smoll boi
When in public, he’ll try to hold their hand
Blushes every time, no matter how long they’ve been together
“Wait Atsushi, stand right there!”
“Huh? Okay… Why?”
“Just stand there for a second!”
Literally is so confused when his s/o races to grab a chair before placing it right in front of him.
“A chair? What are you doing with that?”
S/o stands up on the chair and gives him a kiss on the forehead, grinning like a fool.
Atsushi_exe._has_stopped_working.
When they trip and start falling, Atsushi’s mind is blank for a second.
Suddenly his s/o is in the arms of a certain tiger-man.
How is s/o still alive?
Akutagawa
He treats his s/o with respect, though will keep a careful eye on them
Cannot help it
How can they not walk through a hallway without a faceplant?
Rashoumon will catch them if they start to fall, if Akutagawa can’t make it.
Still, thinks they’re so cute
Rarely says it out loud.
He doesn’t know how to function in a relationship, needs tips from Chuuya and Gin 24/7.
Blushes every time he needs to grab something for you.
Ends up covering his face, pretending to cough.
He’ll reach down and pet their head as a way of showing affection.
Freezes for a second when his s/o initiates affection
Needs the love
Pls give him affection
When they’re walking around in public, he’ll either be watching them carefully, or holding their hand to keep them from death by tripping.
Gets teased by Dazai all the time.
“Hey Ryu! I’m going to make tea, which kind would you like?”
“Green tea would be fine.”
“Gahh!” 
Rashoumon immediately lunges for s/o on instinct.
“Sorry Ryu.” A sheepish grin plastered over their face.
“That’s it, I’m moving the tea to the bottom drawer.”
Fyodor
He finds his s/o pure and sweet, only to find that they are also clumsy as well? 
Absolutely adorable.
Nicknames are a must with this guy, he’ll probably end up calling his s/o little mouse, in Russian. 
He’s a very affectionate boyfriend, will rest his chin on his s/o’s head and whisper to them in Russian.
While you are out and about, he will hold your hand to guide his s/o.
When they’re on their own, he will likely have someone following them to keep them from getting hurt. (And he’s a yandere too…)
Teases whenever they need help grabbing something though.
Fyodor smirks playfully, though the expression remains hidden from his s/o as they attempt to creep up behind him.
When they spring, he doesn’t move an inch, allowing them to have their fun.
“Got it!” 
Fyodor touches the top of his head as he feels his hat being lifted off.
Turning, he finds his s/o donning a grin, along with his ushanka.
“How does it- EEEK!”
Before his s/o touches the ground, he’s cradling them in his arms.
“It looks lovely, little mouse.”
Fukuzawa
Fukuzawa will smile softly at his adorable s/o, unable to withhold his joy.
Thinks his s/o is even cuter than cats.
Super protective.
He is smooth, and when his s/o trips, they’ll be caught with a flirtatious line.
When he’ll watch as they skip around, only to gently grab their shoulders when they almost turn into a wall.
“Huh, what is- OH IT’S A WALL!”
He’ll chuckle at this, leaving s/o to grumble quietly to themselves.
If s/o feels down about their height and/or clumsiness, they will be greeted with reassurances and a basket of kittens.
When they’re walking around, he’ll either hold their hand, or walk beside them.
Mafia!Dazai
Now isn’t his little s/o just adorable?
He’s the type who will just stand at full height and watch his s/o’s attempts to jump for a kiss.
Will eventually scoop them up into his arms without warning, leading to a very annoyed s/o.
“Quit it, Dazai!”
“Aww, you don’t want me to kiss you anymore?”
(Blush) “W-What? Stop teasing me!”
“Isn’t this cute, such a tiny, fierce s/o.”
He’ll sometimes accompany them to their own work, simply watching them attend to matters.
Will keep an arm slung around their waist, warning others to back off.
If they cannot reach something, he’ll provoke them slightly. 
Dazai will eye them carefully as they strain for a jar, standing on a chair to aid their efforts.
When they fall, he’ll catch them swiftly, his joking manner gone for a moment.
Only to quickly return, upon his darling’s safe return to his arms.
“Belladonna, you would look even more beautiful falling with me!”
(Cue the sparkles)
“Shut up, Dazai!”
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tsireyafilms · 1 year
Note
Hi! I was wondering if I could request/suggest some earth/modern AU avatar headcanons? What about having avatar characters (whoever you choose) as your roommates? Like college or just in general. (Platonic gn reader). Thank you for your time!
roommates
avatar earth!au (college edition)
includes: neteyam, lo’ak, kiri, tsireya, aonung, rotxo
summary: hcs of what it’s like to be their roommate! also a few general college hcs relating to the character :)
a/n: ANON UR MIND. this is an amazing idea thank u sm for requesting!! I hope you enjoy <3
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— neteyam
i feel like neteyam goes to some prestigious Ivy league school so here you are with him!
he is put together so some of his habits definitely rub off onto you (totally not because he unintentionally wakes you up at 5 am)
^ such an early bird. this man has DREAMS, ASPIRATIONS, and places to be. he signed up for all early morning classes and you have no idea how he functions.
when both of you moved in, he noticed your side of the room was looking a little bland, so he bought you posters of ur favorite artists to give it a personal touch.
he is so smart and kind. if you are struggling on any work he will help and tutor you to the best of his ability
both of u are very competitive with grades, but always hype eachother up nonetheless. if you pass a test, neteyam is your cheerleader!
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— lo’ak
his parents forced him to go to college… so for the first month you were definitely his cheerleader and got him to show up to classes on time!
^ waking him up by throwing pillows at his face, or by playing music obnoxiously loud
his ass is always gaming, occasionally studying when you pester him.
he is inconsiderate sometimes, but not on purpose. you still love him (platonically) even if he gets on your nerves.
lo’ak is a very good person to wind down with however! if he sees that you are stressed or too caught up in your work, he’ll drag you away from it and ask to watch a movie/go out instead.
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— kiri
you and kiri def planned to be roommates way ahead of time, your lives depended on it. she was not going to tolerate living with a stranger.
she is such a night owl. you could wake up anytime between 10:00 pm and 3:00 am and see the faint glow of her laptop. she has things to get done!
^ she is very considerate however. “is the light too bright? sorry y/n!”
the air in yalls room is so crisp. kiri has so many plants adorning her side of the room.
speaking of the room, even if you have a lot of stuff your side looks very minimalist compared to hers. kiri practically packed every belonging she had and brought it to the small dorm.
occasionally, you find crystals lying around the dorm, and in the corners of the room (they are there for a reason however)
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— tsireya
reya would literally be the sweetest and best roommate ever.
I like the idea that both of you didn’t know each other at first, and she was very easy to warm up to.
^ she definitely had a little questionnaire to ask you, just to know you better. being comfortable in the living quarters is very important to tsireya, so she wanted to make sure both of you could get along (not that she would instigate anything 😭)
tsireya has sooooo many clothes, she lets you borrow some fits/accessories when you go out together.
she’s really good about sharing responsibilities. most of the time, you go shopping and she cleans the dorm.
tsireya is an english major, wanting to be a teacher 💗😭 sometimes she reads books to you in an elementary voice to practice for the future.
both of you always walk to classes together, or until you have to part ways to go to different buildings
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— aonung
unrelated but I feel like he got there on a basketball scholarship
^ you always go support him at his games, especially if college is far away from home and his family/friends can’t make it.
he parties. so often. the amount of times you’ve heard him enter the dorm at 3:00 am … he is so lucky you consider him a friend.
^ you’ve definitely nursed him to health after having nasty hangovers (he has no idea how to hydrate properly)
aonung is an extrovert through and through. he has people over so often. at first you were iffy about it, feeling awkward. over time it became a thing you grew used to, and you even befriend some of the people yourself.
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— rotxo
hear me out… idk I may be reaching yall but this man had like 2 seconds of screentime so it’s acceptable. this guy is a sociology major. he seems like such a helpful and kind type idk 😭
anyway, he is literally roommate material, very kind and considerate.
I feel like he always brings food from home after breaks. like his parents know about you and he’s like “my mom made you some! :]”
he’s so sentimental, like his side of the room is adorned with photos of him and his family, or random heirlooms.
^ you always hear him on the phone with his mom in the evenings
he definitely uses you as the subject for his sociology projects. for example: one time he showed up to your dorm in a clown costume without acknowledging the look at all. it was extremely confusing and funny for you
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Note
Hiya!! Love your work so much😆
I was wondering if you’d write something where the paladins (especially keith hehe) have to go to a formal event like a gala to bring the coalition together (??) and how they’d ask y/n to be their date and/or how they’d react to y/n in their formal attire?? (maybe even add Matt too if you feel inspired) Thank youuu 🫶
Brooooo stoooppppp I am so weak for this idea holy shit 😩 And you are my first non anon request so THANKS FRIEND 🥹 I went with my three fav paladins 💙❤️💚AND Mattie boy 🧡Also I love writing with emojis, sorry not sorry. ENJOY DARLING~
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KEITH ❤️
OH MY GOD POOR LITTLE SHY BABY BOY
He waits until the last minute to ask you, let’s be honest. Like a day before the event, he’s sitting beside you in the training room, trying to catch his breath when he goes “So that thing tomorrow. Wanna go together?” And you’re like 😏 “Are you asking me to be your date?” And now he’s like 🙄 “Shut up before I change my mind.”
It’s silent for a second but he’s staring at you. “So, are you gonna answer my question?” “Yes, Keith. I’ll be your date to the gala.” And he’s bright red in the face now.
He tries to act all cool and mysterious as you both leave the training deck and go opposite ways. As soon as you’re out of sight, he’s SPRINTING to Lance’s room.
“HELP I HAVE A DATE AND I DONT KNOW HOW TO ROMANCE!!!” 😰
He’s so fucking annoyed as he spends hours trying to memorize and properly recite pick up lines to Lance as practice.
He also totally does not steal a bottle of cologne from Lance’s bathroom before he leaves.
The morning of, he finds Shiro for wardrobe assistance. Big brother Shiro totally cleans Keith up, giving him a more semi-formal look. Keith thinks he’s too cool for a coat and tie. Shiro also convinces Keith to pull his hair back into a low pony tail.
He decides he’s just too nervous to meet you at your room so he kinda just sits on his bed for a while, fully dressed and smelling great and waiting for you.
Finally you step into his open door way, instantly catching his attention. He stands quickly, almost stumbling over his own feet as he approaches you, admiring your look for the evening.
“OH WOW. Oh…Uh…sorry. You look really nice.” You look so nice he’s stressed out about it like wtf why are you so gorgeous? He thinks you’re sooooo far out of his league.
“I like your hair pulled back like that.” You smile at him and he thinks he might just spontaneously combust rn.
He keeps his arm linked with yours as you walk together to the front of the castle where all the guests are.
Once there, you mostly hang out together or with the other paladins. You’re both kind of shy and you find comfort in being together. You’re like the two emo kids at prom who just stand against the wall and complain about the lame music.
At some point, you two disappeared from the party. Allura and Shiro are like Hello? Where did they go? Shiro wanders outside to look for you only to find you both laying on your backs in the grass right outside the castle’s front entrance, staring up at the sky. He smiles as he hears you laughing at something Keith said.
“Im serious! Lance told me to say ‘even in zero gravity, I’d still fall for you’.” “BOOOOO that’s a terrible line!” You laugh up to the dark night sky.
His hand moves slowly to the side until it meets yours. When you feel the touch, you link your pinky finger with his and look over at him. He’s still staring up at the stars as a smile grows across his face.
He was so worried about disappointing you tonight, he just wanted to charm you. But he didn’t need pick up lines or fancy clothes to make you smile. Just being his normal self seemed to make you happy.
LANCE 💙
You guessed it…Lance is going all out for you.
The morning that they are told about it from Allura, he’s literally interrupting the whole meeting to ask you to be his date.
Freaking cheese ball gets down on one knee, takes your hand and kisses the back of it softly. When he looks up at you, he’s got that flirty smirk on his thin lips. “Would you, (Y/N), make me the happiest man in the universe and be my date to the coalition gala?”
You: 😍🥵🤭
Lance: 😘😏😎
Everyone else: 🤢🫣🙄
Obvi, you say yes with dreamy eyes and a goofy smile on your face.
You thought it was cute that he asked you even though you’ve been dating for a while now. You just assumed you’d be going together anyways. What a sweet boy~
While you’re feeling fine about the whole thing, Lance is freaking out. He’s digging through his clothes looking for something fancy to wear, he’s doing double face masks, he’s forcing Pidge to smell different colognes and help him pick the best one, he’s practicing his slow dance AND his salsa skills. Keep in mind, the gala isn’t for another week but he needs to get prepared NOW!
“There’s not even gonna be music, idiot. It’s a gala, not prom. When are you two even gonna have the chance to do the lift from dirty dancing?” “SHUT UP, PIDGE! IT’LL HAPPEN!!!”
He just wants to impress you so bad. It’s his top priority at the moment.
The night of the event, he’s freshly showered, dressed for the gods, smelling like a whole bath and body works and he’s sitting in your room keeping you company while you get ready.
“Lance, the gala doesn’t start for another 4 hours. Why are you- nevermind. Forget it. You look great.” And he gets so excited at the compliment.
He watches as you get ready. He’s not as talkative as he usually is.
“You okay?” He nods with a dopey grin on his face. He’s just admiring you, that’s all. A compliment leaves his mouth like every 5 minutes as you continue to get all dolled up.
He follows along side you all the way there, his hand is in yours and it’s SWEATY. He’s so nervous.
Once you’re there, his attention span is that of a gold fish. He’s so excited and chatty and asking people questions and he never fails to introduce you to everyone…every single person…S E P A R A T E L Y. He just wants to brag.
“This fine little honey right here…yeah, all mine. I know what you’re thinking, how’d I get so lucky? I ask myself that every day.” What a sap omfg
He notices you’re looking less than happy, kind of tired. Your social battery is at like 5%. He can tell you need a break.
As you’re standing beside Allura, listening to her talk to an ally of the coalition, Lance grabs your hand and pulls you away. You’re running behind him just to keep up with his long legs.
“Where are we going?” “You’ll see.”
THIS MF SET UP FAIRY LIGHTS AND MUSIC AND CANDLES IN HIS ROOM. BRO IS LITERALLY SUCH A HOPELESS ROMANTIC I CANT DEAL WITH IT. That’s why he came to your room so early. He didn’t wanna risk you coming in to his room and seeing everything.
You might think this is so extra but if Lance is anything, it’s extra. He takes any chance he can to make you smile and feel special. He’s so sweet, it’s disgusting.
“I just really wanna dance with you, (Y/N)…” “You did all this…for me?” He nods with a shy smile, bitting his lip as he watches for your reaction. You’re over the moon, your smile uncontrollable now.
So you dance together for a couple songs. He gently caresses your back as he sways with you, occasionally letting his hands roam to your hips. At this point, his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s smiling. It’s cute and sweet and innocent and you’ve never loved him more.
PIDGE 💚
LMAO PIDGE WILL NOT EVEN ASK YOU.
Bc they’re too shy for that romantic shit.
They’re like “Who else would they go with? I’m not worried.”
They assume y’all are going together bc you’re obviously more than just friends.
They will get dressed up nice for you tho. They know everyone else will be dressed up too but they secretly WANT to make you swoon over them. Like plz feed their ego.
They actually go to Hunk for help with their wardrobe. Hunk is the best wingman to ever exist, change my mind. Also, they are really unsure whether they want to wear something more masculine or more feminine and they really trust Hunk with the topic of their gender identity.
“Hey, you guys ready?” You pop into Hunk’s room, all dressed up and ready to go.
“Almost! Hunk is just helping me with the zipper on-“ Once Pidge lays eyes on you, the little gears in their head stop completely. It’s like everything else faded away as they looked you up and down. You’re so angelic, wow oh wow.
“Aww, Pidge! You look stunning.” Aaaaand you broke them. You’re gonna have to turn them off and restart them.
“Uh yeah, you’re good now.” Hunk assures and nudges Pidge back to reality. “Go.” He whispers as he ushers them to move towards you.
You walk together in complete silence, your arm linked with theirs. Finally, they speak up first.
“Are you nervous?” “Yeah, are you?” “Yeah…” “I hate parties.” “Me too.”
So together you devise a plan: you’re gonna sneak around and pull silly little pranks on people and just eat all the food you can get your grubby little hands on.
And you do exactly that. You’re both having so much fun! You’re laughing so hard you’re snorting. You’re far from nervous now.
Pidge is the best at breaking you out of your shell and making you feel comfortable. You can be your true, authentic self around them. They are your best friend first and your ✨partner✨ second.
After a while, you two sneak off to their room to play video games. The food was good and the pranks were hilarious but you had both had enough.
As soon as the door shuts behind you, you’re both ripping off your uncomfortable fancy clothes and changing into pajamas.
You’re sitting beside them, watching the loading screen for the game. It’s taking a while…
“So…what do I have to do to get you to stare at me like that again?” Pidge whips their head around, watching you with nervous eyes. They take a deep breath before they speak. “I always stare at you like that. You’ve just never noticed.” “AAAAWWWWWWWW REALLY?!”
Forget the video game. CUE THE CUDDLEFEST!!! 💚💚💚
MATT 🧡
Matt literally goes like this: 😌👉🏻👈🏻 “Hey…uhm hey…wanna be my date to the gala tomorrow?” *blushies*
And you’re like “Matthew, we’ve been dating for 8 months.” “Yeah, so?” You sigh heavily. “Yes, I’ll be your date, you dork.”
He doesn’t go to anyone for help with anything. Man is so confident and he knows you love him no matter what he looks like.
But of course he cleans up for you. He dresses up all formal and uses mouth wash like 10 times. He puts on so much lotion. He got some from Lance bc his hands are always so dry. He just wants to hold your soft hand in his own soft hand, ya know?
He’s waiting outside your door for a while, giving you privacy while you get ready but being right there for you when you’re done.
Once your door slides open, he turns and now he’s looking at you like he just won the lottery.
“HOT DAMN, YOU ARE SO FINE! What did I ever do to deserve you? Oh my god, you’re so perfect. You are the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on, did you know that? I swear, you are so precious-“ “Maaattttt, stooooopppppp.” You’re blushing so hard rn and he LOVES IT.
He walks with his arm around your shoulders, chatting with you about who is attending the event tonight and the importance of it all.
You sort of follow him around most the night, not doing much of the talking bc you’d rather listen to him talk.
He is so intelligent, just like Pidge. He uses words so big you cant even begin to imagine what half of them mean. He was so smooth with his words, the way he could spit facts about anything and everything without a second thought took your breath away.
At some point, you lost him in the crowd. He was busy, he was working to protect the universe. You understand. This is more than just a party.
You wander outside for some fresh air and a break from all the loud banter. Matt is meeting you out there within minutes.
“Hey. You alright?” He rests a hand on your upper back, rubbing his thumb back and forth between your shoulder blades. “Yep! Just…need a break.” “Yeah, I get it. It’s overwhelming.”
He turns and looks over his shoulder before he waves, a big smile on his face. “Oh hey! Yeah, this is (Y/N), my partner. The one I was telling you about.” He’s introducing you to an ally of the coalition who he’d just met earlier this evening.
You can’t help but smile, your heart pounding in your chest. He was talking about you to someone here tonight? What was he saying? Did he just call you his partner??? You’ve never actually heard him call you that. You’re so blushy and flattered and happy.
After a brief meeting, the visitor leaves you two alone. You pull Matt into a hug, squeezing him as tight as you can.
“You know I love you, right?” “Yes. You know I love YOU, right?” “Yeah, I know.” “Good, don’t you ever forget it.” You can decide who said what. Either way, y’all are so in love it’s not even funny.
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