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aclowntiny · 9 months

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A Date Like No Other- Basketball Player!Mingyu x Female!Reader (College AU)

Inspired by the famous tumblr post 😄 also I’m quite tempted to do a part 2 for this one if anyone is into that hehe

Word Count: 3600 | College AU, Basketball Player!Mingyu, Humor, Fluff | Warnings: drinking mentioned, one suggestive comment, one minor swear

He was the guy on campus everyone would have sold organs to go on a date with. The sports guy. The really tall guy. Handsome, plays on the school team, movie love interest guy.

You were the weird girl hardly anyone talked to, and you just liked him because he drew on your notes with you.

History was boring you- you’d already answered the questions and they read the pages out loud at a snail’s pace, sending your eyes diving into the pages lest you want to rip your hair out and coat your long thin institutional table in it. Saving that, you reached into your backpack and pulled out a green ultra fine marker, popping the cap. You reached over and doodled a frog sitting in his funny little amphibian hunch on one of the multitudinous papers strewn about the table before the guy sitting next to you glanced over, a huge smile spreading across his face before he suppressed laughter.

"I've been frogged!" That, of course, had him almost snorting in aborted amusement.

Wait...did that mean? "Oh, sorry, those were your notes, huh?" You asked in response, hand hitting your head lightly. "I got them mixed up, sorry for defacing your property. I can get you a new sheet if you were going to turn that in-"

"Nah," your neighbor, whose name was Mingyu if you remembered from roll call, held up a hand of both restraint and reassurance, "it's fine! I'm going to keep it. I love him. I think he needs a hat, though."

"Oh, I got it." This time, it was a brown marker you grabbed, quickly outlining and filling in a tiny cowboy hat for your creation. "There we go, how's that?"

This time, a full snort. "He looks handsome to me. What's his name?" Mingyu whispered as your professor drew a tad bit closer.

"Uh, Clint Eastwood?" You shrugged, having not exactly thought that far- in fact, not at all, the whole shindig starting at full zero thoughts, head empty.

"Well, I'll take him with me to every class I have," Mingyu replied, glancing fondly at the doodled frog before taking his pencil and drawing a fly between two pieces of bread, "and feed him, too."

At that, you exhaled a quietened laugh, smiling back as wide as he'd done.

"What? Wouldn't that be what a frog eats?"

You had to admit that it would be.

From that day on, you two added one or two things onto Clint Eastwood's page every class session. He had a top hat at the ready for dressing up, a little garden of flowers, a very badly drawn horse to ride, a soccer ball to play with, and a plate of the takeout Mingyu had just really wanted that day. You didn't even know what his major was. Maybe it was just sports. Could one go to school for simply basketball? Who knew? You guys didn't really talk, just drew and whispered and laughed about your froggy little world. Either way, to your simultaneous amusement and annoyance you found yourself really able to see the hype behind the legendary Kim Mingyu. For all the popularity, he was a good guy. And you know what, he was cute. But, like, heart cute. The face cute was just a bonus.

"Hey (y/n), do you ever go to any games? I've never seen you at one," Mingyu mused as you strode out of class, backpacks loose over your shoulders.

"Well," you paused, letting your expression be cut by a half-joking, half-serious wince, "no offense, but I'm not a huge sports person? So I haven't gone because I don't have anyone to go with and it hasn't seemed worth the money. Not because of the game, just because of how much they charge for the ticke-”

"Hey, don’t worry, I get it," he laughed, "well, my little sister could use someone to go with, and the ticket would be on me. I save on buying them for myself because, well, you know."

"You're too busy slamming dunks or whatever it is basketball players do," you supplied.

"Depends on your position," Mingyu just chucklef in response, pushing the big silvery-painted fire exit-esque handle of the history building's double doors open.

"Basketball has positions?" You burst out incredulously, squinting both in confusion and at the onslaught of sunlight assaulting your eyes as you emerged past the threshold.

Another laugh. "Come and find out."

The game was made more fun by knowing a player- it gave you something to care about as your eyes followed Mingyu's run along the smooth floors, the way he leapt to toss the ball to some guy just as tall or even taller than him. He really played with passion, passion and a clear sense of fun if his remarks on the court were any indication. His sister was pretty cool, too. She looked like a fashion model straight out of Seoul, but she was fun and sassy, not afraid to tease her big brother about the shot he missed when he ran up and greeted you at the sidelines or shoot a questioning look between you two as you told him to do it for Clint Eastwood, whom Mingyu replied was his good luck charm before shuffling back off on sneakers that squeaked against the floor.

Even though you didn't actually hang out with him the whole time, just at celebratory victory ice cream after, you came to history lecture the next session feeling closer to Mingyu, and he must have felt the same as he started talking to you instantly. You rarely initiated conversation, but always welcomed it.

He thanked you for coming to the game as if he hadn’t paid for it, then asked what your major was. You told him and bounced the question back. Turns out it was business, not sports. That history lecture was just GE you both had to get out of the way. The most interesting history lessons to you weren't generic national history or war maps, but all the odd sideline stuff like how some people believed huffing toilets might have helped them during the Black Plague.

"They what?" Mingyu asked, eyes widening and mouth agape as class commenced.

Maybe that was why people didn't really talk to you.

Such reflection was inaccurate, however, as you mindlessly doodled a ridiculous-looking bug-eyed dog on the now-shared note paper and Mingyu chuckled and gave it a collar, smiling when your glance upward met his eyes.

The moment you rose from your seat after lecture, notebook shoved back into your backpack and pencil case into one of the side water bottle holsters or whatever they were called, Mingyu started talking to you again, this time about how glad he was that he didn't join a fraternity like his teammate Johnny.

"Yeah, because see, this one guy just got so drunk he didn’t know where his car was and his girlfriend lost her nose ring, then another guy was sick and they threw him outside and he woke up in the cold locked out of the house, and the houses stink, too, like they smell so bad…”

"Yeah," you muttered, taking each of your bag straps in your hands this walk, palms sliding over the rough fabric, "dude, you couldn't pay me to live in one of those."

“…they’re practically taking after those Black Plague people!” He joked, bringing a smile to both your faces as he mimed taking a sniff, waving his hands in front of his nose and bursting into laughter.

“Except they should know better,” you added, shaking your head in amusement, “they need to get smart like you and I.”

He didn’t laugh, just nodded in approval. "Right? And everyone there has already hooked up with each other. I'm so tired of all that, too. That's not the kind of date I've been looking for, you know?”

In a sense, you did not know, being that none of your classmates had even hardly made conversation let alone a risqué pass, but you got it. Being as popular as Mingyu was, you’d seen how fellow students threw themselves at him sometimes. Had to get uncomfortable, especially if his facial expression at a few of them said anything. They weren’t usually very original, either, poor guy. He was just a clear end goal, and someone who loved his sister and his little drawings and celebrated with ice cream as often as cocktails and laughed at toilets didn’t deserve that. Mingyu wasn’t an ideal, he was a real person. Someone who just needed to have some damn fun for once.

“Sure. You need some- no, you deserve some- creativity. If it was up to me, I’d take you on a date like no other,” you joked, chuckling as your gaze rose back up to his eyes.

“You would?” At the sight of Mingyu’s eyes widening, you wondered if your phrasing had inadvertently crossed a line. Sure, you were totally willing, but- “Alright, just name a time.”

“Wait, really?” This time it was your turn to gape, one hand dropping off your backpack strap to fall to your side. Your heart picked up its pace. Never in a googolplex of years would you have thought Mr. It Boy K. Basketball would want a date with you. Being his friend was surprising enough.

“Yeah, of course. I think it’d be fun,” Mingyu beamed at you, “and I trust you. My sister likes you, too. If…if you really meant it, that is.” He added that last bit as his own gaze dropped and one hand reached up to rub the back of his neck.

Giggling shyly at his sudden sheepishness as well as the situation’s sheer absurdity, you tilted your head his way, smile melting back out of the shock. “Well, thanks, that actually…really means a lot. Get ready for an epic time, then!”

He cocked a brow, turning down between a row of potted trees toward the food court. “Have something in mind already?”

Actually, you did have something you always wanted to do if you could get someone else- it would look too weird to be the only one. Why not do it with Mingyu?

“Be afraid,” you nodded, smirking in satisfaction.

“Well then, how should I dress?”

“Just casual is fine,” you shrugged and teased, “we can’t all afford black tie, Mr. Business Major.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, still giving that wide smile you’d come to anticipate seeing, “Friday night?”

“Friday night,” you repeated.

“Get ready for Friday Night Showdown!”

“Um, (y/n), this is the grocery store.”

Your lips turned upward proudly as you rotated from a fist pump into a Vanna White pose before the mart. “I know.”

“Are we…” Mingyu paused, clearly searching for words. “Fighting in here or something?”

“We are not,” you replied cryptically, looking all the more satisfied as you passed between the automatic doors, Mingyu at your side.

“Am I doing your shopping?” He looked at you with still-raised eyebrows, though amusement colored his expression.

“That would be messed up!” You denied, shaking your head. “Though admittedly funny.”

“Don’t get any ideas for date two!”

Your heart flipped at Mingyu’s easy smile, how casually he said that…the way he flushed and looked away the moment the words left his mouth. He was already thinking of your next date? Hope he likes seafood, you internally joked.

“Yeah, no shopping tonight unless you wanted some snacks. Because tonight,” you skipped over all the central aisles of kitchen supplies, soap, and dry goods, making a beeline for the meat section… well, more specifically the fish counter, “is all about the face-off.”

In a split second you caught Mingyu’s eyes dart down once more past rows of cans, bottles, jars of just about every color you could ask for, dancing over their numerical markers as if to say farewell to actual shopping. Then, his gaze was back on you, your gestures, over your shoulder to the tank at the end of the fish counter. The tank full of lobsters with big claws and small patience. His eyes met yours again. He knew. You could see it.

You nodded. “Oh yeah. Pick your champion.”

He twisted his cap around backwards, revealing his face, those big, innocent brown eyes, once more. “Uh, quick question: how do you suggest I keep mine straight from the others?”

He was asking in earnest. That was another thing you liked about Mingyu: not only did he possess childlike wonder beyond what somebody in his age and station in life probably should, he was also a bad liar in the purest, kindest of senses. He really, truly, had never had a grocery store lobster beatdown date, and he couldn’t fake interest if he tried. So now he wanted tips, advice you could give him as if you had already had loads of grocery store lobster beatdown dates. All you could do was smile back at the tall basketball player and every small kindness he’d shown you thus far. The way he’d simply seen you.

“Good question. Don’t they have different colored wristbands?”

He arched a brow, clearly fighting a snicker. “Different what?”

Pantomiming a band with one hand grabbing the other, you stuttered. “You know, the… the claw restraints! The wristbands!”

“I don’t think they have wrists, (y/n),” Mingyu teased, reaching over and ruffling your hair.

Well, of course you realize this means war. “Alright, you are on,” was all you said, eyes narrowing.

He perked up at that. “What’s the bet?”

“Winner gets to pick the next activity,” you reply, sauntering a few steps closer to the lobster tank and pointing to one with a purple band over its claws that was clearly ready to throw- well, for lack of better terminology- hands, “and I choose this one.”

“Well, in that case,” Mingyu returned to your side, arm pressed against yours as he peered into the tank, “the logical choice would be to pick the one in red in front of yours. May the best crustacean win.”

And at that, his competitive stare melted back into that boyish look as he turned to you. “…did that sound cool?”

It almost came out as a snort, you burst out laughing so violently. “That was legendary,” was all you could wheeze out.

“Ha ha! I can’t believe it!” Mingyu grinned and bobbed up from his bent tank stare like an excited puppy, pumping the fist that wasn’t holding the mart beer can he’d bought as his lobster shoved yours away in victory.

The pair of crustaceans had been locked in claw-to-claw combat, tussling very slowly over nothing in particular but their proximal frustrations, and Mingyu’s had apparently vented harder, shoving yours back after some aggressive minutes. Mingyu had gotten into the fight, nudging you when something extra exciting happened and even providing commentary on sideline fights between sips.

First drawing a fly sandwich, then that. Truly, who'd've thunk?

“Neither can I," you mock-pouted, crossing your arms, "purple always wins."

"Says who?" Asked Mingyu, who leaned down closer to you, face mere inches from yours.

"Says me," you shrugged, feeling warmth spread across your face.

"Well, you know what?"

You could feel warmth of his breath ghosting faintly over your cheeks, your lips. "Wh- what?"

"As much as I enjoy a good bar," he leaned back a bit, clapping, "I did need something else. Something new. This was fun! Wanna go play basketball in the park? I bet we'll have the court to ourselves!"

There it was again. The reason everyone liked him. Movie love interest vibes, even beneath the oddly-tinted fluorescent lights of commerce. A smile like a boy on the body of a man. Probably not something they usually imagined to see over a lobster tank. Over hoops in the park, though? That tracked, even if it was a bit of a one-eighty from his breath fanning your face.

Beside any of that, he had won the right to choose.

"Sure," you smile, "let's keep your winning streak up."

And with a hand clasped around yours, that athletic strength was tugging you out the grocery store door to a rush of evening wind and the sound of mutual laughter.

Basketball really was that man’s passion. Just about the only thing about it you knew about the sport was what a slam dunk was, but what different shots scored different points? You wanted to throw a three-pointer, but what was a three-pointer?

You learned what it was, what an assist was, that elbowing was illegal or something like that because every game had a reason to send the players to sports jail like grown-up cops and robbers.

You got the ball in the basket twice with no help, and that was achievement enough. Mingyu had ran across the court to high-five you both times as if you’d just won him a game. When you messed up the angle of another throw, he got behind you and, trying your best to focus with his chest flush against your back, you tried again and sent the ball sailing without the betrayal of the previous throw’s dramatic arc.

“So can we give Clint Eastwood a basketball now too?” Mingyu asked out of the blue, dropping to the concrete at your side, legs crossing and knees brushing.

“What,” you chuckled, “do you have him with you or something?”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled a small white square out and unfolded it to reveal the piece of lined notebook paper with margins full of marker and pencil scratch, most notably your hatted frog friend. He kept those notes in his pocket?

With the one not holding Clint, he ran a hand through his short black hair. “I do like to have him with me,” he answered with a tentative smile.

You twisted slightly, feeling your spine pop from its prior exertion, and remembered his words from the basketball game as he’d visited your seat, making you laugh with a failed attempt at spinning the ball on his finger. “As a good luck charm?”

He shook his head. “I think we’ve added something almost every time we’ve been together. He’s like a log of all the memories we share.” With that, he scooched closer to your side, his jacket falling over the folds of your own clothes slightly. “And I like our memories, Frog Girl.”

What could you say to that? “Frog Girl?” You just giggled, eyes on his.

“That’s right,” Mingyu nodded, “I can’t believe I would never have talked to you if you hadn’t drawn a frog.”

“Ah, college,” you sighed, tilting your head, “the golden years, and yet it’s so easy to ignore everyone else.”

“Well, no longer,” Mingyu shot back, gaze honing in on…well, you weren’t sure, but you liked it, “I figured out what I want to do with my victory wish.”

You smiled at the phrase ‘victory wish’, a term that was just so him. “I thought that was this.” For emphasis, you waved a hand along the court, feeling the night breeze that much more on the skin of your palm.

“Nope,” he shook his head, smirking as his eyes fell back on yours, “I didn’t say I was using it then, I just asked if you wanted to come out here and you said yes."

Well, coat you in flour and call you a biscuit. "You evil genius, you." At that, you gave a grin and a shake of your own head, unable to resist feeling a bit impressed. Man plays games, he picks up some strategy. You'd have to remember that.

"I prefer to think of myself as a nice genius," Mingyu said, and then, switching tones completely, doing another one-eighty to one sweet enough to make your heart swell, he continued, "and about my wish: can I kiss you? I can't think of a better way to end Friday Night Showdown."

Deathly afraid of saying something stupid, you answered by shifting from your crossed legs, folding them to the side as you sat up, knee resting slightly on the edge of his leg as you pressed your lips to his. The slick of his sports jacket between your fingers felt cool as you gripped it to hold both yourself and Mingyu in place as he surged forward into you. For his speed, his eagerness, his kiss was surprisingly soft, not digging too deep but just firmly holding you, treasuring you as if the feeling of your lips was about to fade. Oh, buddy, I'm not going anywhere, you murmured in your head against the feeling of his ever-so-slightly chapped lips.

And as he pulled away, separation painfully slow, deliberate, Mingyu looked you dead in the eyes, blinked at the sudden return of hazy park streetlight, and said “Wow.”

You nodded. “Wow.” Can’t believe how well those lobsters worked, you wanted to say. "You're full of surprises, Mr. Basketball."

“Mr. Basketball,” he mused, gaze briefly drifting from yours, then back. “I wasn’t sure you were going to be that into me, being so funny and smart and artistic and stuff, but I just couldn’t help myself. And boy am I glad for that,” he grinned.

For that, all you could do was kiss him again.

No more hoops were shot that night, only words tossed out with new glee as you, now wrapped in Mingyu’s jacket, pointed out lesser-known constellations, like the Dutch giraffe one or the Poop Deck. After all, you had a reputation to keep up on that date, and everyone had already seen the Big Dipper.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x female reader #female reader #college au #humor #fluff #let me know if y'all are into part 2 I have Ideas™ lmao

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gyll-yee-haw · 2 months

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Might I make a humble request? How about a virgin reader having her first time with Jake, and there's lots of nervousness and they go slow... just thoughts that won't leave me alone. Thank you!

Hii, baby! I've selected your humble request to be our Valentine's Day Special ❤❤ thank you so much for inspiring me! Hope you love it <3

Warnings: virgin!reader, virginity loss, masturbation (f), dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, innocence kink, creampie, Jake being the sweetest bestest bf ever... happy valentine's day everyone 🌹

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---

You and Jake had been dating for a few months, and today was your very first Valentine’s day together. You were beyond excited, especially after waking up to flowers and a sweet letter being delivered at your door.

He had been working a lot lately, but that night… he was all yours. You had plans for dinner and all.

You spent all day getting ready. You wanted to look breathtaking for him. Bubble Bath, moisturizing, perfume… you did it all. And finished by putting on the dress he bought you himself. It was simple and hugged your body in the right places. Jake had taste.

Your efforts were worth it. When he picked you up later that night, he was blown away by how beautiful you looked. It was almost too much for him. He could feel himself getting flushed just standing in your presence. Your beauty got him weak in the knees, he was just so in love with you.

—

Dinner was very nice. It always was. No one made you laugh quite like Jake did. No one would hear you talk for hours and never lose interest. With him it was so different… the biggest proof was that he never took advantage of you. Most guys would do anything to get you in their bed as soon as possible, but not him. He was waiting for the right moment.

If we’re being honest… Jake wasn’t in a hurry at all. He wanted you, he wanted you badly. But he enjoyed having a relationship like yours… so different from all he ever had. So slow and pure. Every single detail proved that you loved each other for who you truly were.

You, on the other hand… well. The word wasn’t hurry, it’s just that you felt ready. You trusted him. You craved him. Especially after nights like this. All you wanted was to go home with him and just… do what other couples do.

And tonight seemed like the perfect night. It was a special occasion, you felt confident with the way you looked… something about him removing the dress he bought for you… it just felt right and you couldn’t stop thinking about it since you put it on. And that’s why you were planning to bring it on tonight.

"So... not long until Road House premiers, huh?" You smirked. “Are you excited?”

"Oh God…" He laughed nervously. “I haven’t been this excited for a movie in a while.”

“I know… I can tell.” You laughed too. “I’m so proud of you.”

He grew a little bit emotional hearing you say that. Your support over the last months had been crucial. He would never be able to thank you enough for it.

He squeezed your hand, looking at you with a soft smile. You knew that was a good night to admit to him how you felt… the chemistry between the two of you was strong enough to give you the courage.

"You're... so beautiful." he said, as his eyes traced your curves and he took in all of your features.

"Fuck." You whispered to yourself.

"What’s wrong, honey?" He leaned in towards you.

"Can I tell you something?" You asked, staring at his lips at this new proximity.

“Always, baby.” He said sincerely.

“I’m losing my mind over the promotional pictures and videos… I… can’t wait for the movie, of course, but it’s just… God, you look so hot.”

“Wow, thanks, baby.” He laughed, taking a sip of his wine.

“No, you don’t get it…” You looked down at your plate. “I feel… all warm inside, you know…”

“Hmm…” He started to understand where the conversation was going, but decided to tease you a little more… he wanted you to say the words. “Well, that’s normal, baby, I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yeah… guess you’re right.” You realized the game he was playing. And you would play it too. “Sometimes… while you were away I just had to take care of it. Alone in my room. Of that warm feeling, I mean.”

“How?” He felt like his heart was pounding out of his chest.

“Had to touch myself.” You admitted. “Pretending you were right there… always thinking of you.”

"Yeah? Well, you're a good girl for it." he whispered in your ear.

"Am I?" You felt… good about the compliment. He had never spoken to you in that tone before.

"Oh... you don't even realize. You're a perfect girl. I’m happy to know you’ve been taking care of yourself… feeling good." His hand went to your thigh, caressing it slowly. “And thinking about me. I’m truly honored to hear that.”

The hand on your thigh, the voice in your ear, the words he was saying…

"Jake..." You whispered to him. "I... need... hmmm..."

"What do you need, my love? Do you need some loving? Attention? Do you need me to take care of you?" He asked, with a smirk.

"Yes… want you to take care of me, fuck... can we please go to your car?"

His eyes lightened up immediately.

"Of course, honey." He replied with a smirk.

Jake made sure to leave a fat tip on the table before standing up and guiding you to his car.

He opened the door for you, before taking the driver’s seat. You started to feel nervous again, and he noticed it.

“Do you feel uncomfortable, honey? I promise you are safe. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

"I'm... I'm just nervous" You admitted. "But I do want you... I need you"

"It doesn't have to be tonight." He assured you.

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and looked at you with so much warmth and affection.

"Will you kiss me?" You asked, almost whispered.

He didn’t think twice, bringing his face closer to yours. The kiss was sweet and gentle, as a symbol of how things would be with him when the time came.

His body was tense. He was probably more nervous than you. Terrified of pushing you over your comfort zone. If anything, tonight had to be perfect.

"We're going to take our time with this.” He promised. “And I'm going to make sure that everything is perfect for you, okay?"

He kept kissing you slowly, hand back on your thigh.

"I'm so lucky to have you." You smiled against his lips.

His fingers brushed your inner thighs, making you spread them automatically.

"Will you tell me when to stop?" He breathed heavily, eyes growing darker.

"Yeah… not gonna happen…" You chuckled.

He laughed, shaking his head.

"Will you help me? You’re not away anymore…" You smiled, maintaining eye contact while you pulled your underwear down slowly. His face was priceless… he knew that he had to keep his composure in order to stay in control of the situation, but…

You parted your legs, giving him a better view. "So wet, see? It's what you do to me."

"Oh my God..." He whispered, running a hand down your thigh. You almost couldn't believe that this was actually happening.

"Jake? Have you done it too?” You asked as your fingers started to work slowly on yourself. “Pleasured yourself thinking of me?"

"Fuck, baby, so many times…” He admitted. “You turn me on like no one else ever has."

"Fuck..." You moaned, working a little faster as you tried to imagine what he looked like doing that.

He just couldn’t believe the scene before his eyes… His innocent girl… It was like a fantasy coming to life and he barely had the words to describe how he felt.

"You’re beyond perfect, my darling." He said, eyes glued to your pussy.

"Will you touch me? Please…?" You gave him your sweetest doe eyes.

His face was nothing but desire as your fingers were replaced by his.

"I want to touch you... all over your body... feel every inch of your skin..." He whispered. "Make you feel so good..."

His fingers started to move faster and your hips bucked against his hand. The noises you were making had him throbbing in his pants.

"You like it when I touch you, love?" He asked sweetly. “Are you gonna cum for me? Show me how pretty you look when you cum?”

"Keep going, oh my god..." You nodded desperately.

He leaned in closer, kissing your neck.

"I'm so close, Jake... please, don't stop..."

His heart was racing… he wanted to please you so badly. His fingers went faster and the eye contact made you break.

“Jake! Oh fuck…” You gasped, feeling your orgasm wash over you.

He watched as your breathing went back to normal, a big smile on both of your faces.

"Are you okay, love?" He took your hand in his, bringing it to his mouth to give it a kiss. “You did so well for me, I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't believe how good that was..." You sighed, almost dreamy. “It was… different from when I do it… so much better.”

"You deserve the best, princess.” He assured you with nothing but love in his eyes. “I told you I'd take care of you..."

"But…" You struggled to find the words.

“What, baby?” He chuckled. “Need anything else?”

“I… well…” You smiled shyly. “I wanna go all the way. With you.”

—

It all happened too fast... but somehow not fast enough. You needed more. You needed to belong to him like you never belonged to anyone before.

Next thing you knew was that you two were on his bed, you straddling him.

"Yeah? You wanna be a good girl and sit on my cock, sweetheart?"

"Yes..." Your brain was absolutely shut by the possibility, you weren't thinking very well...

But then it hit you... you weren't that sure what to do... for fucks sake, you had not even touched a cock, ever. How were you supposed to do that? Oh God, he would absolutely hate it... you can't afford for him to hate it, not with the thousands of girls who wanted to be in your place.

"Are you okay, baby?" He could see the doubts and worries on your face. "Remember we don't have to do this now. Only when you are ready. I would glady end the night here if...

"No!" You weren't even trying not to sound desperate anymore. "I want you so bad, Jake... I'm just... not sure if I wanna be on top, you know? I..."

"Don't worry about that, honey." He said, sweetly, stroking your arms reassuringly. "Tell me how you want it."

"Hmmm..." You couldn't maintain eye contact because you were a little embarrassed. "I mean, when I imagined this, I always... I mean, it doesn't have to be, if you think it's lame and borning, I... I mean..."

"Talk to me, baby. Clearly." He grabbed your chin very gently, making you look him in eye. He had the kind of smirk that indicated he already knew what you wanted. "We have to be open with each other, you know. So we can make it work. There's no reason to be ashamed of anything. Whenever you have any kind of wish, I want you to tell me, okay? Want you to ask me nicely. I'll do whatever you want, as long as you say the words."

"Okay." You smiled shyly. "Can... can we just go missionary? Only this time, I think... it would be less scary."

"Who told you missionary is lame and boring?" He couldn't contain his laugh.

"I don't know... the internet?" You laughed too. "I was just trying to impress you."

"Oh, sweetheart..." He said very sweetly. "There's nothing in the world I would prefer right now. Wanna be able to kiss you and watch every single expression and little sound you make for me, yeah? Don't wanna miss a thing."

You could feel your skin burn. God, you needed him.

"Will you take off your pretty little dress for me?" He asked, as he unbuttoned his shirt.

You didn't think twice.

He had forgotten by a brief second that your underwear was lost somewhere in his car, leaving you now completely naked on his lap.

"Oh baby..." He stopped everything for a moment. To look at you in a way no man ever looked before. And not because you never had sex before... that look wasn't lust, it was passion. "You're so fucking beautiful... lay on your back for me, I don't... fuck, I can't wait much longer."

You giggled at how much he sounded like a fool for you. He was insanely in love.

You did as he said, and watched eagerly as he removed the rest of his clothes. Your eyes widened as you saw his erection. It made your mouth water. You couldn't believe it was about to be inside you.

"Jake..."

"Yes, sweet thing?" He asked, worried.

"Need you." You whined.

He chuckled, laying on top of you.

"You're adorable, did you know that?" He said, giving you a quick kiss. "Are you ready, my love?"

"Yes, ready." You nodded.

Nervousness came back to your belly as you felt him brushing the tip of his cock on your folds.

"We'll start slowly, okay? Tell me if it's too much, please." He pushed the tip inside and lost a bit of posture. "Fuck, you're so wet..."

He started trusting like that, just the tip. Slowly. Moaning because of the way you squeezed his girth so tightly.

"Please, talk to me..." He asked. You had gone silent without noticing, just because you were enjoying it more than you could have imagined.

"Jake... it feels wonderful..." You smiled at him. "So good..."

"Yeah?" He smiled back. "Can I get a litte deeper?"

You nodded excitedly. Oh... so there was it... the pain people talked about. But it wasn't too much. You could take it. You were proud of yourself.

"Good girl..." He praised, keeping the movements slow. "Almost all the way in, angel."

"That's..." Your eyes widened. "That's not all?"

He would have laughed, but he had to use all his strength to hold himself back and not cum right there. It was only your first time and you had already unlocked 2 new kinks for him: size and innocence.

"We can... well, I can stop here, if..." He was looking for the words, but the look in your eyes had him losing it.

"No..." You frowned. "Want all of it."

"Are you sure, baby?" He asked, and you nodded. "Fuck..."

He probably wasn't even halfway there, because if felt like an eternity for him to push the rest inside.

"Such a brave little girl, taking me so well..." He said, kissing your neck, hands squeezing your tits, all he could do to make you relax.

"Hurts a bit..." You admitted.

"I know, angel." He continued the kisses, still not moving his hips. "But it's gonna feel good, I promise."

"Hmmm...Jake..." You felt your eyes fill with tears.

"What is it, baby?" He looked at you absolutely heartbroken. "Did I hurt you?"

"No..." You tried to explain something not even you understood that well. "I just want you so bad..."

"Baby!" He chuckled. "You don't have to cry... I'm gonna give you absolutely anything, you understand me? Fuck... gonna make you feel so fucking good... can I move now, princess? You think...?"

"Yes, Jake... what you...hm... what you were doing before felt so good."

"I know." He pulled out half of his cock, pushing it back again, watching your face. "Felt so good for me too... you're squeezing me so good I..."

"Do that again." You interrupted him.

"What?" He repeated his movement.

"Fuck!" You moaned. "You're so deep!"

"Y/N..." He felt like he was the one who was about to cry now. "You have no idea what you're doing to me..."

"Am I turning you on?" You chuckled.

"No, baby, you turn me on when you give me that pretty smile, when you kiss me... right now you're driving me insane." He admitted. "Do you think... I can go a little faster than this?"

"Yes..." You nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Fuck, baby, thank you." He moaned, hips starting to actually thrust now.

It was surely a lot more painful than what he was doing before. But the way you felt so full... the way you slowly began to get those goosebumps when he hit a certain spot...

"Princess?" He called. "Are you feeling good?"

You nodded, huge smile on your face. Jake couldn't help but kiss that smile.

"Yeah?" He continued. "Fuck, I'm feeling so good... we gonna keep it slow for today, okay? Nice and slow..."

You were dying to discover new sensations with him, but you were grateful for taking it slow for now.

"But..." You said, a little worried. "Do you think... do you think it's enough?"

"What do you mean, love?" He asked, hips keeping a nice pace.

"Is it... enough for you to cum?" You asked shyly.

"Oh my sweet girl..." He moaned. "Forget all you read online, okay? I don't need to be mean and hurt you... I'm feeling so good right now, I'm actually holding it back... don't want it to end."

"Don't want you to hold it back." You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Yeah?" He bit his lip, trying to keep calm. "Will you do something for me, angel? Before I let go, I want you to cum one more time, do you think you can do that?"

"I don't know..." You panicked a little. "It feels very good, but..."

"I know, baby." His lips went back to your neck. "Want you to touch your sweet little clit like you did earlier in the car... do you think you could do that?"

You nodded, hand going down, looking for your clit. It was so swollen at that point, that just a gentle brush of your fingers sent electricity through your body. And Jake's cock somehow felt bigger...

"Fuck, baby!" He seemed to feel that too. "You have no idea how good it feels when you squeeze me like that... fucking need you to cum..."

"Hmmm..." You moaned as you started to rub it really good. His words alone where sending you to the edge.

You began to get spasms as you felt yourself getting really close. Everytime it happened, Jake would let out the hottest grunt in the world. You felt like crying again.

"Jake..." You moaned, all your body tensing up.

"Do it, sweetheart, cum for me now, please..." He accidentally started going a little faster. Not as fast as he wanted, but faster than before.

"Jake!!!" You gasped. "Don't stop, don't stop, I... I'm gonna cum..."

"Yes, princess, fucking cum for me, cum for me... shit."

The way you screamed his name and squeezed him sent him to another dimension.

"Baby, I'm gonna cum, fuck, is that okay?" He asked trying to hide his desperation. "Don't think I can pull out, you're squeezing me too good..."

"No! Don't pull out..." You replied, absolutely cock drunk. "Keep going!"

Oh man, that did it for him. He grabbed the sheets so hard, still afraid to hurt you. Then, with a deep thrust, he lost himself inside you. Gave you every last drop of his release, not being able to hold back his loud grunts.

"Happy Valentine's day!" You said excitedly, watching him trying to catch his breath. "Did you like your present?"

"Fuck..." He collapsed on your chest. "It was the best present ever, my sweet angel."

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x y/n

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sebsbarnes · 5 months

Text

a ghost || tangerine

tangerine x reader

summary: "are you happy?" the question felt like a burning knife slowly carving your heart out.

or ex lovers see each other for the first time

warnings: none! (i wrote this in 10 mins sorry if its bad)

word count: 700+ ; angst

tangerine masterlist

you should have known that eventually you would run into tangerine. you both resided in the same town since it happened, but it's been a year since you were this physically close to him. there had been times while driving you could've sworn you saw him in the distance but to appease yourself you chalked it up to your imagination. but right now, this was reality, and there was no denying it.

"tangerine," you exhaled heavily as the man walked towards you.

"hey darl- hey," he stopped himself from using the term of endearment.

anyone nearby in the park would've never guessed that you two were once deeply in love based on the blaringly obvious awkward tension clouding the air around you.

"how have you been?" you asked rubbing your arm to self soothe.

he scratched the side of his head letting out an awkward chuckle, "erm, yeah i've been alright. lemon's good, yeah, he's doing well."

"oh, that's good, good," you could feel your skin crawling as you stood there in silence, occasionally glancing away from each other.

tangerine pointed a thumb to a picnic table, "would you like to sit?"

you hummed, nodding your head and following him. while your seated across from him, you noticed tangerine's face was slightly thinner, his facial hair slightly grown out with a beard. he must've been on a job recently based on the marks scattered across his bare arms. but nonetheless he looked good, he always did.

"are you happy?" the question felt like a burning knife slowly carving your heart out. the air in your lungs vanished quickly and it felt as though your lungs were collapsing to dust. your stomach suddenly felt extremely sick and if it weren't for the lack of feeling in every nerve ending in your body you may have tried to stand up and release whatever might have been creeping up your throat from your stomach.

you have been asking yourself the same question for the last year. everyone else has been asking you the same question for the last year. but this was the first time hearing the words leave his lips and it stung, it burned. it felt like the time you and tangerine stayed at the beach too long and your shoulder's burned in pain for two weeks. it felt like the time you seared your hand on the hot plate while cooking for tangerine's birthday. you so badly wanted to escape this situation but there was nowhere to run and truth be told the only person you would want to run to is across from you.

"happy is a subjective word," you finally put syllables together to speak, despite it feeling like your vocal cords were shredding.

"love," he broke, "please i need to know."

"tan, you were the best thing to ever happen to me," you spoke truthfully, "the only times i was truly at my happiest was when we were together. i've- i've been managing since."

his eyes were glazed over and he was chewing on his lip, something he did when he was anxious.

"i'm so sorry for not putting you first in those last months," he confessed. the last three months of your relationship was rocky. tangerine had gained notoriety after the bolivia job and was being whisked away almost every day on a new job. he got cocky, more than he already is, and only cared about the high-profile jobs he was getting and the money that came with. slowly, you became a second thought to him.

"i know you're sorry," and you did, you knew he regretted his actions. but he couldn't turn back time.

"i think about you every day," he whispered, quickly ghosting his fingers over your hand.

before you could answer, before you could confess everything you needed and wanted to, you felt a hand on your shoulder. your eyes sealed shut, lips quivering harshly, a single tear rolling down your cheek. the voice of your new partner was behind you. that's why you were at the park today, to meet them for a date.

you knew that when you open your eyes tangerine would be gone. a ghost of your past that was no more.

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byeoltoyuki · 4 months

Text

❄︎ Not Over you ❄︎ teaser

↳ Pairing: Minhox Reader

❧ Genre : demon Minho / dad Minho (kind of) / exes to lovers / fluff / smut / slight angst

❧ Warnings: will be added later

❧ Summary: Minho had it all. He was strong, powerful and beautiful. An immortal that people either loved or feared. Except you. You, a simple human. You who he loved so dearly. And yet, You who had left him heartbroken.

❧ To be posted mid-January

❧ A/N: Hello guys! While I'll still be posting every Friday Memories of us, I couldn't resist to post another story I've been working on for a while.

❧ Taglist: if you want to be added just send an ask or comment ♥

It's out! ► ♦

➺➺

Minho thought that after being alive for nearly five thousand years, nothing in this world (or another) could surprise him anymore.

Wrong. Terribly wrong.

The moment he opened his door and found you shivering and looking terribly worn out, he knew the world had come to its end. Because why would you, his ex-girlfriend, the love of his life, be standing at his doorsteps after almost three years of absence?

He stared at you, unmoving, face blank, mind empty. It had to be a trick. Or maybe he had finally lost his mind from being so old. It had to be his imagination, his restless mind playing a very dirty trick. Minho closed his eyes, took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes once more, you were still here. No. It wasn’t a trick and it wasn’t just his imagination.

“What-“ He started and stopped. What was he supposed to say? The urge to slam the door right to your face was so tempting. It was what he was supposed to do. He offered you his heart on a plate, he offered you the world and you trampled on it and left without looking back. And yet, he couldn’t do it. Not when you looked like a ghost, a shadow of yourself. Whatever had happened to you, left a mark on you and despite his anger, his resentment, he couldn’t ignore the tug at his heart. He worried.

“I’m sorry.” You finally found your voice. Being in his presence overwhelmed you in so many ways. Being finally face to face with him hurt more than you had expected. You knew, going to Minho was a risk; for your heart that despite your choice never fully recovered, but also for your life. You knew, deep inside you, that no matter how angry, how petty Minho could get, he would never hurt you but you couldn’t control your fears.

Minho opened his mouth, a snarky comment right on the tip of his tongue but all of it vanished the moment his eyes finally fell on what you were holding in your arms. Too stunned with your presence, the dark green blanket pressed tightly against your chest went completely unnoticed. Until now. As he stared at it, he quickly realized that it wasn’t the blanket you were clenching so tightly against you, as if you were scared someone would try to steal it from you. No, it wasn’t just a blanket. Warmth and pure innocence radiated from within the blanket.

Minho took a step back. Surprise, fear and hurt flashed all at once in his eyes. And yet, one question remained. Why were you at his doorstep with a baby?

“I-“ You hesitated as your eyes went back and forth between your little baby and him. “I didn’t know where else to go.” It was the lamest excuse you could come up with but it was also the truth. Of course, there was a whole story behind your presence and you knew, inevitably, you would have to share it with him.

“You got to be kidding me.” Minho growled, frustrated with your explanation. “You come back three years later and with a baby on top of that.” To say that Minho was not amused would be the understatement of the century. He drew nearer, stopping inches from you.

And then it hit him. The scent. The scent, he hated so badly. His eyes widened in shock as he looked at the tiny hand that appeared from under the blanket and grabbed a lock of your hair. “Why is there an angel in your arms, Y/N?”

As he sniffed and tasted more of the baby’s scent, the answer formed inside his head but his heart, already aching just because of your presence, refused it.

You averted your eyes from Minho’s face and looked instead at your baby, your little girl and the reason you found your way back to Minho. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at her and press a kiss on her forehead. “Hana is my daughter.”

“No.” Minho refused and put space between the two of you. Maybe he wanted to distance himself from you just so your own scent could stop messing with his mind, or maybe he was hurt because of what this little human-being meant. “There is no way you got pregnant with a fucking angel.”

You winced at his unspoken words. You could perfectly understand his anger, after all, didn’t you leave him because you refused to deal with what he was? When Minho confessed to you about being a demon, he shared his most prized secret; he did it because he trusted you, loved you. But you got scared. You weren’t a strong believer to begin with but when faced with the truth, you had no other choice and it terrified you. You doubted everything and even his love. Demons weren’t supposed to be nice. They weren’t supposed to be able to love and cherish. And definitely not a human.

“I didn’t know.” You whispered, your voice shaky.

#stray kids #lee know #stray kids smut #lee know smut #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #not over you

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dotster001 · 2 months

Text

Q.P.R. Headcanons; First years

I never knew that I needed aro head cannons in my life but now I need like 42 more so I DEMAND *asking nicely* for more please - @bakdbfi

Summary: aro-ace first years x aro-ace gn! Reader. Things you guys get up to in a queerplatonic relationship.

A/N: hee hee I am once again on time for aro awareness week 😁

Dorm Leaders

Tbh, I've always wanted to go up to him and say, “Hey Ace, I'm ace!” But if you did this while you're in a QPR, he'd always come up with a snarky comment. Maybe say something like, "Nah, I'm Ace. Fuck off." Smh. He's so silly. I wanna throw rocks at him

He's the aro-ace that always forgets he's aro-ace. He'll come up to you like, “Guess who has a date!” Then he'll come see you afterwards, his eyes dead, and he'll be like, “So, I got distracted by how pretty they are. Oops.” He sees people as attractive, but when he tries to bridge the gap, he's always like, oh, yeah, nevermind. And then he complains to you about it, as though you were the one to set up the date!

He's always in your space. Being in a QPR with him is like gaining an extra cat. He's so affectionate, as long as you don't say anything. He'll scoot his chair so close to yours that your legs touch. If you're laying on the couch, he will climb over you and shove himself into your arms, in the most awkward, clumsy way possible. BUT IF YOU SAY ANYTHING…. he's gonna gaslight the hell out of you. He didn't want to touch you, get out of his space. Or, pay him if you wanna be in his space so badly.

Not only is he in your space, but he's stealing your food. What's yours is his, and what's his is his. He'll reach his fork over to your plate, and pick up your food. You'll wake up to a noise at three in the morning, and you'll see him raiding your fridge. If you ever become roommates, you'll catch him eating your labeled leftovers, zero shame on his face. What? True love is sharing food with your bestie!

Calls you his wife/husband/spouse when he introduces you. Then he can't fight off the shit eating grin on his face.

You know…honestly… if your mc isn't romantic with Ace, I'd say that in game they already kind of have a QPR. Calling it canon right now. He's just always slightly more close than a friend, but also not quite to romantic.

If you read the first rendition of these HC's, he's a lot like Kalim. He just…doesn't get it. Ace tries to explain that the love he feels for his best friend (you) is different to romantic love and he just never gets it. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, Deuce wants to marry his best friend. He says he wants to marry you all the time. Let's get married and have kids but like in a friend way. His mom and you just smile and shake your heads.

Btw? Mama Spade? That's your mom now. The Spade household has a room set aside for you anytime you want to come over, but it always ends up in Deuce joining you for a cuddle sesh. Sometimes, he won't change rooms until you are half asleep, and he'll slowly open the door, and stand in the doorway. He just looks so sad, standing there in his jammies, holding his extra pillow, so you'd be a monster not to let him in.

Would you co parent some chickens with him? Please please please! He promises he'll do most of the work, he just needs an extra helper!

If you are separated, he will die. He doesn't make the rules. He wants you to be his partner on projects. He wants you to move in with him. And of course you gotta go into the same career after graduation. When people meet him, they just think he is the mopiest little guy. Then, when they see the two of you together, it's like he's a completely different person! Deuce has been asked twice now if he has a secret twin. (Deuce doesn't understand the question)

Greets you with cheek kisses. If you don't do it back, or don't pay enough attention the first time, he makes a very obnoxious kissing sound. He learned this technique from Meemaw. She taught him that the more embarrassing it is, the more likely you are to reciprocate the love he gives.

The boy grew up in a country area with a sweet old grandma. He's always going to be feeding you. It's very rare, when you two are alone, that he's not trying to put some food in your mouth, because “you're not eatin’ enough!” And he's aggressive about it! If you try to dodge the fork he brings to your mouth, he's gonna chase you, pin you down, kick your shins, whatever it takes to get you to eat. Plus, he put all of his love into that food! Why don't you want it?!

Meemaw wants you both to get married. And whenever she says something, Epel makes a loud gagging sound. Which of course prompts you to begin bickering with him about why he wouldn't want to marry you, which usually results in him saying something mean or bratty about how you are unmarriageable. Meemaw sighs happily, thinking she's got you on the right track, but nah. You two are having a fight about something neither of you even wanted.

Likes to tuck you into bed. It's a weird thing of his. For all of how aggressive most of his love is, right before bed, he is at his sweetest. He tells you it's bed time, and pulls back the covers. He gently tucks you in, and gives you a kiss on the forehead. Then he flops onto the bed next to you, completely wrecking the moment. But he sleeps hot, so he's not gonna join you under the covers.

This one is like having a big brother. He has scary dog privileges. Any haters/bullies/naySayers are going to have to be able to spread their hate with him standing behind you and glaring at them. And if they somehow are brave enough to do it, then they have to be brave enough to ignore his vicious growl.

In his birthday note to me, this year, he was like, “my gift for you is to make you buff.” This is your everyday life now. You will be buff. How else are you supposed to be safe when he's not there? (This logic is flawed. He is always there.)

Wants to have a family. But since neither of you are super into the traditional way of having a family, he would like it if you'd adopt and co raise a couple of kids with him. He knows the two of you together would make great parents.

If you learned how to make pear compote, and then make it for him when he's having a bad day, he might almost figure out what romantic love feels like. Almost. His heart would just be so full, and so light, that he could almost mistake it for being in love with you. Almost.

He likes for you both to help each other out with cleanliness. You help him clean his ears and tail, and he helps brush your hair and teeth. It makes him feel loved when you help him groom. So he loves to return the favor. It really instills the familial feel he has around you.

Sebek’s a romance repulsed aro-ace. Anytime he thinks of anyone having ooey gooey feelings for another person, he dry heaves a little. In his words, “IF THEY HAD PURE DEVOTION FOR SOMEONE, THE WAY I AM DEVOTED TO MY LORD, THEY WOULD HAVE NO NEED FOR SUCH FOOLISHNESS.”

Never puts a label on what you two are. He invites you to move in with him after graduation to “remind him what happens if you forget to train and refuse to eat Lilia's healthy meals”. If you were a stranger, you'd be hurt. But you know it's an excuse. He really just likes having you around. It fills a hole in his heart.

His love language is “caring for your fragile human body”. If you slightly shiver, even if it's just a random reaction, he is scooping you up, wrapping you in a blanket burrito, and spoon feeding you soup. If you try to escape your blanket, he gently shushes you, caressing your cheek and whispering about how you need to hang on a little longer. He'll save you, don't go yet! (Similar things happen when you cut yourself, stub your toe, accidentally skip a meal…his dad and Silver may be human, but, no offense, he didn't care that much until it was about you.)

You're the equivalent of a comfort blanket. When Lilia sees Sebek having a bad day, he'll snatch you away from whatever you are doing, then place you in front of him. Sebek immediately gets distracted and starts cooing at you about how wonderful you are, and how other people should try to be like you. Every. Single. Time.

Trains you to sword fight. After you become special to him, he realizes that people may target you, in order to weaken him, and thus get a direct route to Lord Malleus. Delusional So he wants you to be able to protect yourself if he is out of reach.

He's big on setting his hand on top of your head, then messing up your hair aggressively. Then he lets out a booming laugh about how cute human reactions are.

Sometimes, he gets so happy when he sees you that he just…bites you. He'll come in for a hug, and the next thing you know, he's chomped down on your shoulder with a relaxed smile. Sometimes you'll be watching a movie together, and he'll unconsciously take your hand, and bring your forearm to his mouth so he can gently bite it. You're a fidget toy now. You'll have to get used to it.

#twisted wonderland #ace trapolla #ace trappola #aromantic reader #aromantic #asexual reader #asexual #deuce spade #epel felmier #jack howl #sebek zigvolt

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enviedear · 7 months

Note

anakin being touch starved baby boy that he is. just listen to me. he comes back from whatever activities of the day he had and just wants to snuggle with the reader and never let them go but he finds the reader still finishing her (theirs if u prefer gn) work stuff so he gets very pouty and touchy and starts snuggling to her like a little stray cat/ following her everywhere she goes just to stay close to her. (u can make it spicy at the end if u want to but it is not necessary) ❤️‍🩹🤌🏼 i am hungry for some fluff as i am drowning in my own work + hormones are killing me

love u xo

no this is so real and this fueled me into a spiral abt anakin being with a student girlie— like yeah he totally would go for a hottie with brains from the ISE. like yeah he no doubt can pull someone capable of making a starship out of nothing.

wc— 1.5k | tw— nsfw minors dni i will block you, fingering, piv, unprotected sex, anakin finishing inside of you, mentions of food and eating

you're trying your hardest to study for your upcoming exam, cups upon cups of finished caff's litter your desk. you're only halfway finished with your newest battleship render when anakin comes home.

his eyes are tired but when they meet yours he smiles, "hi baby, i missed you." he's quick to walk over to where you're seated, strong arms coming to wrap around your shoulders.

you lean back, inhaling his smell, "i missed you too, ani," you give him a pout, "but i really need to finish this before tomorrow."

he looks down at your holopad, "i could make dinner, do you think you'll be done by then?"

you smile, "i'll try my hardest."

he lingers for a moment, letting his head drop down to your neck. he leaves a trail of soft kisses in his wake, stopping at the side of your face before placing one finger under your chin and drawing you in.

his kiss is hungry, wanting— and you so badly want to indulge him, but before he can take it any further you break away.

"i'm serious, anakin. if i don't get this done i'm going to feel the wrath of every single one of my professors." your voice is stern, but the way he looks at you illicts a small smile.

he groans, pulling away, "okay, okay. but please try to be done in time for dinner. i've missed you so bad all day."

you nod and watch as he heads into the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans clattering filling the air. letting out a sigh, you go back to your work, but you can't help the thoughts that linger in your mind.

as you try to focus on your work, thoughts of him keep creeping into your mind. the way his lips feel on yours and the way he holds you close, making you feel safe and loved.

you shake your head, trying to clear your mind, but the more you try to push it away, the stronger the desire becomes. your project floats into the background of your mind as you work on it, fueled now by thoughts of your beautiful boyfriend.

glancing at the clock, you realize that an hour has already passed. you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking over your nearly finished work. as if on cue, anakin walks in with two plates of food.

"hey," he says, placing the plate in front of you. "i made your favorite."

you look up at him and smile. "thank you, ani. it smells amazing."

he leans down to give you a quick kiss on top of your head before grabbing his own plate and sitting across from you.

as you eat, small talk fills the air. you rant about your looming deadlines, while anakin shares stories about recent council meetings at the temple.

however, he's mostly relegated to mentioning how much he's missed you, "i thought about stopping by for lunch, but then master yoda asked me to step in for one of the youngling classes."

you give him a sorry look, "i wouldn't have been very good company anyway— i've been working on this since you left this morning." you can't help but feel guilty about being so busy lately, but with exams just around the corner, it's been hard for you.

anakin reaches out, massaging your tense shoulders, "i'm sorry baby, why don't you take a break?"

you bite your lip, "ani… i can't. i'm almost done though, i promise," you turn in your seat to face him, hands cupping his cheeks, "and then i'll be all yours for the rest of the night."

he has a challenging expression on his face, "i think a break would help," he leans in so that your lips brush, "let me ease up some of your stress, baby."

you groan, "ani, i don't know, i really need to—"

he cuts you off, leaving a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away, "ise gets all of your time now, i'm getting jealous."

you laugh, "oh, don't be jealous, ani. you know i love you more than anything."

he smirks and begins to massage your shoulders again. you close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief. the tension starts to melt away under his strong hands.

"you're too good at this," you say, leaning back into him.

"i have my ways of making my you feel better," he says, lips brushing against your neck.

you try and stifle a moan as he nibbles at your earlobe. his hands starting to wander down your back and you can feel his body heat beaming off of him.

"ani, i really need to finish this," you say, but your tone is starting to sound less convincing.

he pulls back, cupping your face and forcing you to look into his eyes. "i know you do, baby. but can't it wait for a little bit, hm?"

you nod slowly, feeling yourself giving in to his touch. he leans in again and kisses you deeply. his tongue brushes against yours and you feel a surge of desire wash over you.

he's quick to lift you from your seat, and you instinctively wrap your legs around him. he groans into the kiss, laying you down on the bed, hands exploring your body needily.

before you know it, your clothes are off and anakin is lying on top of you. he has a way of being able to get what he wants, most of the time that being you.

it was hard not to indulge him though, not when he felt so good.

he kisses you all over your body, igniting every inch of skin that he touches.

"ani," you moan his name as his hand drifts lower, toying with your sex.

you can't help but grind your hips against his hand, desperately trying to elicit more pleasure from him. you're greedy for touch.

he teases you lightly with his fingers before parting your lips, only to thrust a single digit into your slickness. your hands grip at his free arm, feeling his veins.

he teases you relentlessly, sending you into a spiral of pure bliss, until all at once, you're writhing beneath his touch, "ah! oh ani!"

he continues on, not stopping as you draw closer to yout climax. your body quivers, and you look down at him wantonly, wanting him more than ever. he smirks at the sight of you trying to regain some semblance of control.

"what do you want, pretty girl?" his questions drips with lust, eyes dark and enticing.

you choke back a moan at his words, "you, ani. i want you."

he presses his lips against yours once more before positioning himself between your legs. pressing his bulge against your opening, groaning as he sinks himself slowly into you.

you close your eyes, focusing on how good it feels— how perfectly he fits inside of you.

as he sets a steady pace with his hips, fucking you deeper and deeper with each stroke, the familiar tug building inside of you once again.

"oh god! you feel so good ani," you moan loudly, unabashed as her ruts deeper into you.

his head drops down to your neck, lips brushing against your ear, "that's my girl, just letting me make her feel good."

with each thrust now comes an increasing sense of euphoria that plagues your mind and body with waves of pleasure that wash over every inch of flesh; sensitizing everything around it. all at once it becomes too much.

you're nails drill deep into his back, and he grunts at the feeling. his hands dig into your hips, pulling you into him even closer.

"fuck, sweetheart—" he cuts off as you bite down onto his shoulder desperately, groaning loudly as you come in pulses around him.

your breaths are short and your head is swimming, the need for oxygen becoming a necessity.

your fingers finally begin to relax as your breathe evens out. "dammit," you exhale, exhausted from the sudden rush of pleasure flowing through every fiber of your body. anakin lets out a grunt of his own as your walls tightly clamp around him. you can barely keep up with his erratic thrusts, and he leans down to kiss you before finishing inside of you.

you moan loudly into his mouth as he cums, a stream of warmth flowing into you as your inner walls clamp tight around his cock. you feel him twitch and spasm inside of you, and his muscles momentarily lock up before you both relax into each other's arms.

you run your hands through his hair lightly before pulling apart from him. "i love you so much."

he turns to press a soft kiss against your cheek, before rolling off of you, grabbing for a towel, "and i love you."

you watch as he cleans you up, his face still reddened from his work, "you're such a good distraction."

he hums, looking at you, "you like it,"

you roll your eyes, "i know and it's a problem, i let you do it every time."

he grins in response. "it's not my fault you enjoy my distractions so much." and before another retort is made, he presses his lips onto yours momentarily before sliding into bed beside you.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin smut #anakin fluff #anakin x y/n #anakin x you

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kentocalls · 1 month

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where it goes | ryomen sukuna nsfw. spicy but wordy, minors do not interac. angsty but not really?

one night stands don't come with a schedule. he's so warm, so impossibly close, biting and sucking that sweet spot on your neck. setting a slow, grueling rhythm with his hips. he likes starting like this; ridhiculous you know this for a fact. everything in his control and usually you're happy to let him lead. clothes on, tension high, lazy hip rolls, one hand keeping you still. doesn't let you move until you're desparate, whiny and going breathless. doesn't speed up until he's done marking your neck.

your "please please please" has him grinding a tiny bit faster. it's not enough, you'll start to pull at his fancy dress shirt, break at the buttons, have to fill skin. and his heavy arm keeps your hips from snapping higher. "more, please, sukuna more." it's when you draw blood with your nails, when you pull at his neck, make eye contact does he actually stop. finds the look in your eyes wild, exhilarating. causes him to laugh into your pretty mouth, before claiming it. pulling back from a sinfully messy kiss, has you trailing after him, hungry for more with his favorite "thank you, please."

he wants to draw it out further, force you to beg. but it's that tiny voice that asks for permission, the one you slip out in between whimpers. "sukuna, please can i move? please can i touch more? please, need you." that makes him speed up, has him trail kisses all down your neck and chest. "thank you"

"i've got you angel. going to be good for me?"

"only for you."

you're so polite, he doesn't even stop the smile he gives you. draws a hand down to your hips, has you twitching with anticipation. brings his hand back up, squeezing lightly at your neck, lips biting at your shoulder. nails dragging at his back, pushing his hips closer, you need some friction, ridiculously hot and wet already.

"need it that badly huh..." his own voice husky with lust.

taunts you with "ready?" fingers tracing down your neck, down your stomach, where you want him the most. he'll pause again, you'd curse but you bite it away, moan his name but he won't move. has his mouth back on your exposed skin "tell me how much you want it and it's yours. "

there's a glass of water greeting your eyes when you finally slip back from dreamland, the cool liquid feels so good. body satiated yet still achey and hot. the morning sun doesn't hit your bed like usual. sukuna must've closed the curtain, another habit of his you've picked up on but don't understand. he's a morning person, shouldn't greeting the sun be part of his routine?

you rub sleep from your eyes, skin meeting the frabric of his expensive dress shirt and it pours thoughts into your head. do one night stands also clean and dress you after sex? do they massage your aching muscles, rub your lotion into your skin after a bath and whisper atta girl, you were perfect, are perfect, always good for me. over and over like a lullaby?

they surely don't wait for you to wake up, don't give you the biggest smirk and wander around your kitchen like they own it. plating leftovers and eggs, while holding a phone to their ear. snapping at the unlucky fool who isn't getting a shipment unblocked from a city you've never heard of. "this isn't the kind of fucked I enjoy." he gives you a wink before heading to the balcony; one night stands surely don't have their own ashtray.

one night stands also don't invite you to a company dinner, don't sponsor an entire glam team and buy you the prettiest gold dress already tailored to your proportions. don't hold you close all night and snarl away at anyone unworthy of meeting you (which turns out to be everyone but sukuna himself.)

one night stands don't chant "my perfect girl" into the back of your neck over and over while taking their time to stretch you open on the limo ride home. and he feels even less like a one night stand when he makes such a big fuss about how good you looked at the dinner. how everyone wanted to touch but they can't. "you're mine."

insatiable.

you pray for your tiny dining room table, not meant to have this happening. sukuna has your back against it, draping over you, soothing, telling you how he deserves a reward for not doing this at the company dinner. has you speechless with two of his fingers reaching deep. sukuna always gets your consent for a third, insistent on making you feel so full and so good. "don't hold back angel, it'll feel really full soon." pushes you so close to the edge only to slow down and pull back.

rips the damn condom wrapper with his lips and rolls it down so fucking slowly. has you begging, teary eyed when he finally aligns his dick with your drenched, aching pussy, breathing heavy. "please sukuna, please, fast and hard, please." he happily obliges, no snark that you're so warm and messy. he's barely holding himself back, you're his. just his.. "such a good girl." you hear the table cry underneath you two. "perfect."

one night stands don't come to your place of employment unannounced with lunch and snap "who the fuck are you?" at your soon-to-be-missing coworkers who ask "he's fuck-dating you?" they gawk at him as if he's too good for you. too tall, too handsome, too tattooed and wicked. he's barely breathing. jaw tight, chest squared, eyes wild. ready to snap everyone in half but sukuna calms with your hand on his wrist. a quick kiss to his check, "i got this, i'll call you." the filthy kiss he gives you leaves everyone breathless, "i'll be waiting." eyes way way way to sincere.

you're going to fire the assholes shortly anyways, it's not that deep. he's not supposed to actually care. he's a one night stand.

you're not supposed to call.

so if you don't, he won't notice right?

sukuna doesn't need to pry when it comes to you.

honestly, you're such an easy read to him. part of him wants to change that, displaying your emotions so readily isn't good in a world full of sharks. it's what drew him to you initially; he had to know what stupid joke the bartender said that had you beaming.

your emotions are for his eyes now, and he likes the way you express too freely. addicted to driving you mad, loves when you give into him. likes watching you, especially when you let him linger in your space. catches your live review of delivered packages or running commentary on the very specific grocery items filling your kitchen. likes your happy face, loves when you give him crap for always talking on speaker phone but he hates this look right now.

he stops himself from asking. because you don't ask about him, doesn't want to push you if you aren't ready. hates this game of inbetween but if you need more time that's fine, you're already his. he'd explain everything, it's always at the tip of his tongue, ready to spill over if you ask. you never do.

so he'll prove his dedication vows and has you fall apart every time.

craves the way you say his name like a prayer every night. knows he should accept that.

but when has he ever denied himself?

"one more, you can give me one more, come on pretty pretty girl." he sucks hard against your clit and you're so glad your hand is free to scream into. why the fuck is he this good? your legs are starting to cramp, hips moving on their own and you feel his smirk, pull yourself up high enough to meet his gaze. that is absolutely not the way a one night stand looks at you.

you're so hot, ready, pilant. he moves away from your body, starts to unbutton his shirt, he needs to keep it clean enough to be your night dress. watches your eyes follow his hands. "see something you like?" loves the way you still blush, color shades down your cheeks and marked neck.

you look away, you have to. eyes catching the digital clock displaying the early hours of the night. fuck, you're working tomorrow. "eyes on me." sukuna's undone enough buttons for his tattoos to show, hands immediately itching to touch. "you're being so well behaved."

he's shifting positions, you on his lap, groans at the wet, sticky, lovely mess slowly staining his very nice buisness pants, the belt unbuckled but nothing more. placing tiny kisses at your jawline. your eyes fall to the calendar near your sofa. it's a wednesday.

"wanna watch, gonna show me how ready you are, yeah?"

you don't hear him. mind stuck on the fact that it's a wednesday. and he had you in this same spot on monday too. it's granted he's here friday through sunday, weekends are your main days together. but that's not what one night stands do, they don't come with a schedule, right?

your preoccupation doesn't go unnoticed by sukuna. the fact that you haven't started touching him, haven't started begging, aren't pulling him to you, aren't demanding kisses gives him pause. sukuna leans back, your eyes are looking past him despite your hips straddling his legs with aching heat. "you still with me?" hands pull your face close to his. he doesn't like this look at all. waits for the breath your holding to release, for your shoulders to loosen up, his fingers tracing your frowed eyebrows, "not tonight then?"

that finally has your eyes snapping to him. for the first time since being with him, you're scared. if you say no, is that okay? if you say no, will all of it end? he won't come back tomorrow if you say no right? but he was here monday and it's wednesday. does it mean something?

a kiss to your forehead and he's sliding you off him, "i'm ordering takeout, you good with that?" you blink at him. "medium spicy, i got you."

you nod. he taps away at his phone wondering out of your line of sight.

leaves you more lost in thought. he's ordering you dinner before he leaves? he doesn't need to do that.

except, sukuna comes back with small warm towels, ready to clean you up. doesn't make a big deal out of it, finds your bottoms and slips them up your legs, puts you in his dress shirt and plants another kiss at the side of your head. pulls you into his chest and turns the tv on behind you.

one night stands don't spend the night right? especially if there's no sex involved?

tomorrow, you'll talk to him about this tomorrow. right now his chest is too warm and his hand in your hair feels too good.

he's not there in the morning. curtains still keep the morning sun out of your face.

the disappointment is expected but you're still sad.

nevermind you're still wearing his shirt from last night. never mind you just now realized how his hickes resemble the lines of his tattoos.

never mind he's left a message reminding you to eat before rushing out.

never mind your eyes are drawn to his laundry in your closet, neatly folded. your kitchen somehow still spotless from his earlier breakfast adventers, a piece of toast and juice waiting.

there's note on your fridge about a sudden work trip and threats to end the life of his incomptent employee if he's not back by friday.

you shouldn't buy into it right?

he's not going to text you while he's away.

he's not going to call when he's back.

of course, it's done now.

sukuna is pissed.

the few days has turned into a week turned into a month. if the fucking politican had done his job and approved the patent, sukuna wouldn't need to be testifying about bullshit he pays people to take care of.

but he's broken too noses and arms and has to play nice and appear civil.

it's an ungoldy hour when he's finally home.

he's not surprised your fridge is empty, glad he has a pizza already on the way.

washes the airport off of him, eyes closed as he pads into your bedroom. the memory of your bedroomt the only thing keeping him from commiting a crime the past month. collapses into the sheets, he's happy to be consumed by the smell of you. pulls at your side of the bed only for his hand to land on the cold.

the house is empty.

you're gone.

"we understand, we know he's the bad guy here. he was too scary to say no to right?" you have never believed a corrupt cop plot in your life but the two glaring at you with their fake empathy is nausating.

"what he threaten you with sweetheart? there's no reason for a good girl like you to be with a guy like him." oh how you'd punch him if your hands weren't handcuffed to the table. they called it standard procedure and insisted you aren't in trouble.

it's part of the rouse. make you scared, uncomfortable, angry. something, anything they can use against sukuna. you try to reach for the waterbottle in front of you but fail, one of the cops moves it even further away.

"that's a really pretty braclet, ever wonder where he got the money from?" you roll your eyes, you bought this yourself. still, no words escape your lips.

they keep pestering you with absurd questions. leaking information about what a bad guy sukuna is and how they're really on your side. you stay silent, the whole month dragging you down. the cops had caught you off guard, took you straight from work to ask a few questions.

they have kept you here way too long, haven't fed you, won't turn the ac off and keep slamming the door every time you catch a wink of sleep. "he's a dangerous man, you'd be okay with him hurting someone else? are you that terrfied of him?"

you've never felt scared with him. never. he's treated you very tenderly all new 'information' about his character considered. and it hurts, how this reinforces the fact you will probably never see him again.

you sneeze and glare at the mirror in the holding room.

you could say you haven't seen him for a month. say you know nothing about his line of work. and it would all be true, you know so little about sukuna. and yet, you don't. you trust what you've seen of him more than what the cops are saying.

he'd have good reason to potentially murder a few senators and judges. it's fine if he's an unsavory buisness man. he's never hurt you.

when the cops walk back, slamming a file down insisting you're behind on parking violations and baseless littering accustations do you finally slip with "i'd like to speak to my lawyer."

they get nasty, the tone changes, the words change, they tighten the handcuffs so they're digging into your skin. "we'll get right on it." that look terrifies you. you need to get out of this. would he even pick up if you called?

"this is an obstruction of justice, my client and the honored judge-" your barely able to open your, someone is uncuffing your hands. there's suddenly a team of lawyers in the room, one yelling about the inhumane conditions you've been kept in, another yelling about your state of duress, another barking about how your husband is an outstanding law abiding citizen, whose company is set to change the world and this really is shameful.

someone helps you stand, drags your body out of the cold room, your personal belongings finally handed back to you, but the army of lawyers doesn't rest. they get you out of the station, into a very warm vehicle and your too tired to bother with facts. you curl up on the backseat and take the best twenty seven minute nap of your life.

sukuna has you in his arms the second you're brought back to his penthouse. you're too tired, too out of it to ask questions, relax into him as soon as he says your name. you're here in front of him, safe. it should be enough.

but he's pissed they know of you, got to you, scared you. hates how proud he is of your silence, of your loyalty. promises to make it up to you every single night for the rest of your life.

when he lifts your hand to inspect your wrist a new wave of anger takes over. someone's gonna pay for the red imprints on your skin. someone's going to pay for not offering you food or water, keeping you in that shitty room for hours. someone's gonna pay for how ice cold your skin is under his touch. yeah, he gonna remind the fuckers who he is.

when he moves to get you into warmer clothes and a soft bed you protest fiercly. "no, please, please, please stay." you try to burrow yourself closer into his chest, hide away from everything.

"oh angel, i'm not leaving you." you will yourself to look at him, hate how speechless he makes you, hate how made you are at him, how happy you are he's back. "promise?"

the kiss he gives you is so tender. you're willing to let it build into more, please you need to keep him close. "not leaving promise."

"thank you." has him deepening the kiss. his hand in your hair pulling you in, one on your back keeping you flush against him. he needs you warm, needs to make you feel safe, good, happy. needs to feel your skin on him, needs to hear the voice that's haunted his nights all month long. he's not letting go now, or tomorrow, or the day after. you're his.

tomorrow, he'll make it forever tomorrow.

#ryomen sukuna fic #sukuna ryomen fic #jjk fic #jjk smut #april writes #something something your spouse can't testify against you #the last part of this fic!#thanks for making it this far #i will edit this on thursday or something #thank you & bye !!

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molsno · 3 months

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I made curry for the first time today! as usual, I just followed a recipe, but this one was just on the back of the box of curry sauce mix. it contains onions, potatoes, carrots, and chicken. it took me a lot longer than it probably should have because I did a lot of things I'd never done before. chopping onions was new for me, but then again, so was buying onions - I had to ask my girlfriend what a "normal" onion was when I was shopping. it burned like hell and I shed a lot of tears. and I swear I can still smell them even hours later. chopping potatoes was also new for me, but the smell made me wish I had mashed potatoes - maybe I'll try making those some time.

I was really worried I would mess something up, but overall, this turned out really delicious! I ended up finishing off my entire plate in about 10 minutes, which is extremely fast for me; I'm usually a very slow eater. I do have to say, I wish it had any spice in it at all. I got the mildest flavor because I know I handle spice badly, but I think next time I'll have to get a spicier kind and then work my way up from there. I think next time, I also want to try experimenting a little more by adding more types of vegetables.

overall though, I'm happy that I've taken the first step in another new recipe. sure it took me a few hours, but at least I have enough leftovers to last me for days ^^

#cooking #sorry if this isn't very exciting but every new dish I learn to cook is a big deal to me #my life of only eating frozen highly processed junk food is OVER‼️

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celestiallights515 · 3 months

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Snippet 1.3

"Do you have ay idea how much of a threat hero truly is? How badly you could've been hurt?"

Henchman hesitated once again, but their wince of pain when Villain held their face and drew their eyes to theirs was enough of an answer to soften Villain's gaze. They heaved a sigh, gently releasing Henchman's face.

"What did Medic say--Never mind. i'll go speak with them myself. Don't move."

henchman followed orders, spending their remaining time pondering Villain's actions. The softness of their grip and the tone of their voice, most strangely of all the soft concern with which Villain watched their face. They'd even brought them directly to the infirmary as opposed to their office, and as it turns out had asked Medic not to let them leave until their injuries were documented and treated.

Time managed to pass agonizingly slow and all too fast at the same time, before Henchman heard Villain's quick footsteps beating a staccato rhythm at the door.

...

Henchman's face was pale and laced with an all too familiar taste of fear. Despite the ease of their actions and coolness of their voice (practically a confession, by the way) their intentions hadn't gotten through Henchman's head.

Unfortunate, but a conversation for another time, one much more private and much more comfortable for Henchman.

"It seems you have a much better idea of the threat hero poses now than I thought you did. Fortunately for you, I have some errands I have to run, so here's what's going to happen,"

Villain's hands are twitching at their sides already, so they fold them behind their back to keep the movements from henchman. Villain's sure they noticed, but the wariness on their face keeps them from asking questions. They wouldn't want to know anyway.

"I'm going to take you back to the infirmary, where you will be treated further. I've already spoken with them about the procedure I expect them to follow, so know that I expect you to cooperate with them."

Villain had spoken to Right Hand while Henchman was in the infirmary, ironing out the next steps: Hero's death and Henchman's recover at the top of the list.

They’d wanted to stop, to look at each of Henchman’s injuries individually and see to it that each had been treated and dressed. They wanted to ask if Henchman was in any pain, if they were scared of Villain or remembering their fight with Hero, what could have possibly possessed them to get into a fight with them in the first place.

They were exhausted. They transported Henchman back to the infirmary, giving Medic one sharp look to remind them of their prior conversation. Henchman was to receive treatment for every cut and bruise regardless of if Medic thought it necessary or not.

Then Villain left, if nothing else then to make sure they didn’t do something stupid.make sure they didn’t say something they shouldn’t. It was difficult enough to keep reminding themselves that taking care Henchman’s injuries would only serve to confuse and worry them further. They didn’t need more on their plate.

But how they wish they could.

Short one today, next part hopefully tomorrow or the next day. Thank you all so so so much for the notes and kind words!!

Tagging: @nameless-beanie @crow-with-a-typewriter

#heroes and villains #short story #snippet #villains and heroes #villain x henchman #villain #henchman #supervillian #choose your own adventure #(kinda)#Romance won this time #but I'm planning something else for y'all whumpers so hang in there

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luveline · 2 years

Note

i've been in a james mood so if you're still doing baby blurbs what do you think of one with james and a touch starved reader <3

i think it’s the best idea ever, waiter!james x cook!reader <3 fem!reader

"Watch out, coming through! Oh, god, I'm so sorry."

You seize up, the warmth of James' hand lingering on your hip.

"I'm sorry," he says again, "I didn't mean to grab you like that."

James is your friend. He's also a waiter, and it makes sense for him to touch you. It's a busy kitchen and you're likely much more distracted than any line cook has a right to be. It's a necessary evil to be pushed around sometimes.

Still, James can see on your face how it's made you feel, and he's standing there with a plate in hand that he should really take out into the restaurant before he gets in trouble looking worried.

"It's okay," you say weakly, because it is. It's fine.

"Sorry," he says again. He grimaces at you and then spins on his heel. You watch him go, and you don't look up from what you're doing again until the end of the night.

James is smoking a cigarette just outside of the staff door. You should walk to your car and get home — it's late and cold and your legs and arms ache from hours of work — but he really is your friend, and you don't want him to think he's pised you off.

"I didn't know you smoked."

He smiles around his cig, takes it out and quickly blows a stream of smoke away from you. "I don't," he says, dropping the cig and stamping it out.

This is never going to work. Not when he's as charmingly handsome as he is. "Goodnight," you say awkwardly.

"Wait, wait!" he says, following your too quick footsteps. You startle and stop. "I really am sorry. For touching your waist like that, I thought you were gonna knock the plate out of my hand, s'all."

"It's okay, seriously." You smile sheepishly.

"No, 'cos- Because it obviously freaked you out. Sweetheart, I'm not trying to make a pass at you. It wasn't okay."

"You stopped me from getting a bowl of hot soup down my back, James. There's nothing to forgive."

He gives pause for a few seconds. "Alright," he says, slapping his thigh gently. "If you're sure. I'll see you tomorrow."

Your smile is much warmer as you reply, "See you tomorrow."

"James?"

You're about five feet away when the want to tell him, to tell anybody, gets heavy. It works up your throat and you can't help it, you turn back around and catch him as he's about to go back inside for close.

He turns around. The overhead light is white and stark and makes him look a shade from his usual sun-kissed brown. He takes another step toward you and it eases, dark hair halo'd by light.

You want to tell him so badly. It's hard to say. Harder to explain.

"People don't touch me, much."

He hides his surprise quickly but not quick enough. "No?"

You pull your hands out of your pockets. James takes a few amicable steps toward you until you can see the honeyed brown specks in his eyes. There's a softness to them that comes with patience, an openness that makes your confession a little easier.

"It's been a really long time and you surprised me. It wasn't because you freaked me out, or that I... didn't want you to."

And may a higher power smite you down where you stand, you could not have made it anymore embarrassing for yourself if you'd tried.

You can always count on James to be direct. "A long time?"

"I don't remember." The last time someone touched me nicely.

"Do you want me to do it again?" He takes a hold of his bicep in one hand, the firm lines of his arms shifting. "I could actually use a hug, if you wanted one too. It's been a really long day."

"I don't know if I know-"

"Of course you do. Like riding a bike, you don't forget."

He opens his arms.

If he were just a coworker you'd say no, but you and James get along really well. You've worked together for a few months and he's genuinely lovely, he spoils you with compliments and you feed him all the best bits of the kitchen leftovers. You genuinely believe it's friendship. Makes it easy to step into his open arms.

He doesn't tug you in like you're expecting. He waits for you to feel his hips, and his touch feels almost burning warm as he gets his arms over your shoulders. "See," he says, crossing his arms behind your shoulders, "s'easy."

You fold him in. Then, after a second, you readjust your arm. You can feel the planes of his back and the lean muscle underneath. It might be pathetic to admit, but you're overestimulated immediately. You shudder at his hand spreading wide over your shoulder blade, again when he digs his fingertips in lightly, clasping you through your jacket. Your skin tingles.

"You smell nice for someone who just spent eight hours frying garlic knots," he says nonchalantly.

You laugh into his ear. "You smell nice for someone who just smoked."

"Don't think that happened."

His hand moves tentatively to the back of your head. He cups your head and encourages your face into the smooth curve of his neck. Each movement feels as though it's being made through a layer of molasses.

You try not to gasp in breath against his throat.

"Relax," he murmurs, quietly enough that you might've made it up.

It's a good hug. He squeezes you again and you count the seconds. One, two, three, four...

You pull away. James let's you go without a fight. You can barely look at him. You miss the hand he brings to rake back his misbehaved hair, the way his eyes flit from your downturned eyes to your trembling hands.

"I don't know about you, but I feel better already," he says.

"Potter! What are you doing?" someone says suddenly. "I'm not closing by myself."

You spring away from him like you've been caught doing something wrong. He does the opposite, his arm crossing the gap, a hand held toward you reassuringly.

"Sorry, Frankie-pie. I'm coming."

Frank rolls his eyes and goes back inside. James simply smiles. He starts for the door, pausing at the stoop to smile at you from over his shoulder.

"Best hug I've had in ages. Let me know if you want another one tomorrow?"

He leaves before you can answer. You stare at the door as it scratches closed, an image of his dark eyes burned in place.

James hadn't been exaggerating. You feel better already.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter drabble #james potter x fem!reader #fem!reader #marauders era #marauders #the marauders fanfic #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders

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bluejaysandblackbats · 17 days

Text

Lost Boys

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Superfam

Summary: After Jonathan Lane Kent wipes himself from existence by canceling his own timeline, he finds himself stuck in the afterlife where he meets Jason Todd. He still wonders about the life un-lived on Earth, and how his parents would've felt about him.

Jason Todd, who is making the most of being dead, struggles with the reality of what he's left behind. He has one wish and one wish only: to send his family one final message.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Jonathan Lane Kent (Laney), Jason Todd, Catherine Todd, Boston Brand, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, John Constantine, Raven, Talia al Ghul, Ra's al Ghul, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Relationships: Platonic JayLaney

Additional Tags: Angst, Platonic Relationships, Magical Jason Todd, Resurrected Jason Todd, Queerplatonic Relationships, Canon Divergent AU, POV Multiple

Chapter One: I'm Just A Kid (Laney's POV)

He belonged in heaven. I don't mean that in a he-was-too-soft-for-this-world way or a he-was-the-most-beautiful-thing-I'd-ever-seen way. Jason never looked more at home than when he was in heaven being my best friend... Hell, he was my only friend.

I remember when I met him. I'd just come out of the fog of wiping myself from existence, and I was all alone. I spent who knows how long by myself before the day at the lake changed everything. I dipped my feet in the water and watched as the fish swam past. Freshwater fish had such engaging colors. I often spent my days there watching them swim around. It was always the same group of fish.

That day, in particular, I was overcome by loneliness, and I found myself crying. I just wanted it to end. I wanted to end the loneliness, and I thought I could die somehow for good that the pain would be over.

I wanted to throw myself into the lake and sink to the bottom, and just before I could muster up the courage to do anything, I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Mind if I join you?" the voice asked. I turned to face the source with tears in my eyes, and when I saw how Jason was dressed, I laughed.

"Hey! It's not that funny," he replied, "I'm Jason... Can I join you?"

"I was gonna drown myself, and it'd be awkward if—."

"I was around to watch?" Jason interrupted. "I don't think it works like that up here." He took off his pixie boots and dipped his foot in the water. "I don't suppose you took it into consideration that we're already dead."

"I don't know," I mumbled, "I was just thinking maybe I could—. Wait, how have I been alone so long, and why'd you just show up today?"

"I've never wandered out this way. If that's why you're doing this, I'm here now, I know where all the other people are," Jason whispered, "You still haven't told me your name."

"I don't exist anymore," I replied.

He walked around on his hands and plopped down right next to me. "Doesn't matter if you exist anymore or not. I'm sure you had a name before. What was your name when you existed?" Jason asked. He didn't look directly at me. Instead, he stared at the horizon.

"Jonathan Lane Kent," I answered.

"Laney?" he suggested.

"Sure... I guess," I replied. I hated it, but I didn't really feel like being Jonathan anymore.

"What's wrong?" Jason asked.

After sitting with him for what felt like hours, he got up to leave, and I grabbed his hand. "Please," I begged. I couldn't bear to be alone again. He squeezed my hand, and he took me to a cottage.

Jason stopped at the door. "This is my favorite part of being here," Jason whispered with a big smile on his face. "Ma! I'm home!"

She opened the door and embraced him, and he introduced me to her. "This is my Ma, Catherine," Jason replied as he went into the kitchen and set the table.

Something in me felt sorry for him. I almost forgot how badly I felt before I met him. He made my plate, and I stood there wondering why he felt the need to make dinner for dead people. I stood in the doorway and watched as he worked, and I pushed a hand through my hair. "Laney, you eat beef?" Jason asked. I nodded.

We all sat at the table and started to eat. Catherine doted on him and fixed his collar, and they talked about the food and their life. I was too busy stuffing my face to include myself in the conversation. The food was good. I hadn't tasted anything in so long. Their cottage was so warm and inviting that I almost forgot I wasn't alive. "Have any family you might want to see here?" Catherine asked. I shook my head. "Well, you can stay with us."

I smiled at her. I could see where Jason got his warmth. He poured me a glass of juice, and something in his eyes seemed sad. "So, who are you?" Jason asked. "Who are your parents?"

"My parents?" I asked. Jason nodded. "Clark and Lois Kent... Superman and Lois Lane? I dunno if they're even—."

"I figured, I just wanted to make sure," Jason whispered, "But you don't seem like—."

"I wasn't raised by them. It's a long story," I interrupted. Jason nodded. "But I don't exist anymore, so I don't really belong to anyone."

"Belong to?" Jason and Catherine questioned me at the same time, and I went back to eating. I didn't know what to say. I just didn't want to speak anymore.

The dinner seemed neverending. Part of me didn't want it to end. When the day as we knew it was over, we lay out among the stars, and I stared up at the sky. I wanted the night to stretch on forever. I thought that if the night ended that everything would be over. I thought I'd be alone again. "I was sad at first, but I think it's okay that I'm dead," Jason stated. I turned to look at him as tears streamed down the side of his face. "I um-. I miss him, though." He sniffed, and I turned on my side and reached for his shoulder before stopping myself.

"Who?" I asked. He turned his head away from me.

"Bruce... I mean, I know I'm better off here, but I—. No. I know... I just want to say it... I never said it when I was alive," Jason cried. "He was more of a dad to me than my own—. He was my dad. I just want to talk to him one more time."

I brushed his hand with my pinkie and looked back up at the sky. "I killed a lot of people, Jason... I don't know. I um—. I had to erase myself from existence to keep from messing up the entire—. I don't think my dad would want to talk to me even if I—."

He took a sharp inhale of air, and I sat up. Before I could try to say anything else, Jason wrapped his arms around me, and he held me. "We're never gonna grow up, Laney," he mumbled into my shoulder, and I burst into tears. It was the first time in my life that anyone ever just held me, and the first time I realized that I was just a kid too. We stayed there underneath the stars until the sun came out.

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drarrily-we-row-along · 1 year

Text

Quiet

Harry is small.

That's the only way that Draco can describe him. Small, and quiet, and constantly deferring to Draco's opinion.

And it made Draco fucking crazy.

So crazy that he just found himself pushing, pushing, pushing, and pushing at his boyfriend. Because he hadn't been like this when they were dating, it was something that had developed once Harry moved in.

"You know," Draco said over dinner, a dinner that he knew for a fact that Harry hated but that he hadn't put up even a token protest over when Draco had offered to make it, "I've been thinking."

"Oh?" Harry asked, tilting his head as though he was trying to show that he was actively listening.

He swallowed his bite of scallops, "I've been thinking I might paint the kitchen a mustard yellow."

The corner of Harry's eye twitched but he said nothing.

"What do you think?"

Harry blinked, "Errm. If that's what you-"

"What the fuck?" he finally burst, throwing down his napkin.

His boyfriend startled so badly that he dropped his fork with half a scallop, that he'd been pushing around on his plate, on the floor. "Sorry!" he said, quickly bending down to pick it up. "Let me get the carpet cleaner-" he added moving toward the kitchen.

"For fuck's sake we're wizards!" he exclaimed, flicking his wand at the stain on the floor. "And don't bother apologizing because I know you fucking hate scallops and have been forcing them down your stupid throat."

"Oh," Harry said, staring at the spot and looking unbearably small and fragile.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead, "What the fuck, Harry?" he asked softly.

"Sorry," he said again, crossing his arms around his waist, "Sorry, Draco. I don't mean to be such a burden, to be impossible to live with-"

"But you aren't," he protested. "You've been nothing but agreeable, and affable, and accommodating."

"That was a lot of alliteration," Harry said softly, cracking a small smile.

He sagged a bit, any last traces of frustration flowing out of his body, "Harry," he said, stepping toward him and taking his hands, "you're making me crazy. What's going on with you? There are so many things that I thought I knew-"

"I don't want you to hate living with me," he blurted. "And-" he looked down at their clasped hands, eyes shimmering with tears.

"Let me order a pizza," he said, "then we can talk while we wait."

"But you already made dinner. I-"

"A dinner that you hate," he argued. "I'll eat them for lunch tomorrow."

"I could just eat the-"

"Harry," he said firmly, glaring at him, "we're going to eat pizza and you are going to tell me why you're so afraid of telling me what you actually think."

His boyfriend just nodded despairingly and left while Draco pulled out his mobile to order pizza. When he'd finished, he followed Harry into the living room and pointed to the other end of the couch, "Can I sit with you."

Harry nodded but didn't say anything.

"You've never had a problem with telling me what you think," he started. "I mean, there have been times in my life where I've wished that you wouldn't-"

"The Dursleys were," he shook his head, "living with them was hard."

“Alright,” he said uncertainly. “I’m sorry-”

“They made me feel like by simply existing I was burdening them,” he whispered like a confession. “Like I could never be quiet enough, or good enough, or well enough behaved, or-” he broke off and shook his head. “And I know you’re not them,” he said, looking pleadingly at Draco. “I know you don’t expect me to pretend I don’t exist,” he added. “But part of me feels like I only get so many things that I disagree with, so many ways that I take up space, before you realize-” he broke off and looked down at his hands in his lap.

“Realize what?” Draco asked.

Harry took a shuddering breath and a tear slowly tracked down his cheek, “that I’m too much. That I’m too demanding, too loud, too hard to live with. I love you,” he whispered “and I don’t know how to keep you.”

For a long moment Draco just stared at him, then as another tear slipped down Harry’s cheek, he pulled him into his arms. “You aren’t too much for me.” He squeezed him tighter, “I knew who you were when I asked you to move in with me. I knew that we wouldn’t agree on everything, that sometimes I’d have to make compromises.”

Harry sniffled.

“And, yes, I suppose I’m more used to getting my way than most,” he conceded. “But I’ve always argued with you.”

“That’s true,” he whispered.

“And I fell in love with you anyway. You get to be a whole person with needs, and wants, and opinions all the time,” Draco said. “And none of that will be able to make me stop loving you.”

There was a pause, “how do you know?”

“Because I am already in love with you and having differences of opinion doesn’t change that.” He pressed a kiss into Harry’s hair, “we’re going to fight. We’re going to disagree. I’m going to be an arsehole and so are you. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you.”

“Will you tell me that?” Harry asked, raising his head to search Draco’s eyes. “When you’re mad, will you tell me that you still love me?”

Draco’s heart shattered further, “yes, darling.” He stroked his thumb over Harry’s cheek. “And if I forget to say it, you can always ask. I will never be mad enough that I won’t still be able to tell you that I love you.”

“Okay,” Harry whispered in reply. “You’re not really painting the kitchen mustard yellow, are you?”

Draco laughed and shook his head, “no.” He pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple, “this is your home too. You’re allowed to take up space.”

And it wasn’t always easy. It required a lot of communication, a lot of understanding, but they learned how to have opinions and how to completely love both each other and themselves.

#drarry #one shot #love #harry had a shitty childhood #not having a secure attachment style is a bitch #soft #communication is important #learning to live together #established relationship #tenderness

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mycomfortblanket · 4 months

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Under the Mistletoe

written for @su-univeralai for winter solstice! Love you dearly darling. Happy Holidays.

"Honest to spirits, it's probably the most childish thing I've ever heard of," Azula waves her hand in the air as if to ward off the idea itself. "I mean really, receiving items from people just because you asked nicely? Jut go buy it if you want it so badly and stop depending on others for happiness," Azula swirls her drink and levels her cool gaze at Sokka who has been recalling the traditions of the Southern Water Tribe.

"You're really missing the point of this," Sokka replies with an eye roll. "Plus, it's more than just getting presents. There's other important stuff!" He looks at the other people sitting at the table for some backup.

"Oh? Name some of this 'other important stuff' then," Azula challenges.

"Well, it's different in every culture. In the Water Tribe, the whole village comes together and we have a feast and tell stories around the fire before the gifts are exchanged at midnight!" Katara chimes in. "The Earth Kingdom, I think, does something similar..." she trails off, looking over at Toph for confirmation.

"Yeah, I guess. We have a big dinner together, but there is usually some kind of festival going on in town, but I wasn't ever allowed to go. The gift-giving thing wasn't really a tradition with us since... you know... I had everything a blind child of wealth could want besides my freedom."

"What about the air nomads, Aang?" Katara asks, her mouth full of sweet bicuits.

Aang blsushes and looks down at the fruit on his plate, pushing it around with his fork. Looking up, he avoids eye contact with everyone and immediately looks back down. "Uh, we had this thing called mistletoe. It's like a- uh... a little berry plant, but it would be hung up around the temples in random spots. The trick was... was to get the person you liked to stand under one with you. If you managed to do that, then you had to..." he blushes again and stuffs a slice of papya into his mouth to buy himself some time.

He can feel everyone's eyes on him as he chews slowly. He risks a glance up and immediately looks down at his hands when he meets Azula's gaze. "Come on, out with it, Airhead," she urges.

Aang swallows his food and clears his throat. "You had to..." his eyes flick up to Azula's and finds that he can't look away. "You had to kiss each other." He can feel his cheeks heat up as he admits this. Everyone else's was so wholesome and had to do with giving while his was... not. She holds his gaze for a moment longer and he swallows hard. Her golden eyes seem to challenge him slightly and the slight raise of her eyebrow just solidifies it.

"Hmph. Actually sounds like something I could participate in," Azula says after a moment of silence, her eyes never leaving his.

"Sounds like a load of shit to me," Toph interjects, ruining the moment. Aang snaps his head over to Toph, forgetting that the rest of the group is in the room.

Katara scoffs at Toph's brash demeanor, "Whatever, Toph. You're just jealous Kanto isn't here to take you under the tinsletoe," she waves her chopsticks at the blind girl. Aang notices the mess up on the name, but decides it's not important enough to correct.

"Hey, Zuko. I can think of better things to do with our mouths under some tinsletoe," Sokka waggles his eyebrows at Zuko and gagging noises can be heard around the table along with choruses of 'get a room' and 'grow up'.

~~~

Back in his designated bedchambers in the Fire Nation, Aang is folding up his robes for the night and laying them on the dresser when he hears the door to his room open. Before he can turn around, he hears, "Could you have been more obvious at dinner, dude?" Sokka's voice carries over to him.

"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything!"

"Oh, you kiss under this random bush thing," Sokka looks up at Aang with the biggest polarbear-dog eyes he's ever seen and his voice dropping down into a whining tone, "Please, Azula. Go stand underneath this with me and we an kiss and live happily ever after," Sokka drops down to his knees before Aang, his hands steepled in front of him. "Oh, please! Oh, please! Oh, please!"

Aang scoffs and rolls his eyes, pushing Sokka's head as he walks past him, "That is the furthest thing from what I did." He makes his way over to the couch that sits in front of the fireplace and picks up a stack of letters that he needs to read through and write replies to.

"Whatever, dude. Even Zuko said something to me about it and we all know how emotionally stunted that man is." Sokka plops down onto the couch beside him, propping his feet up on the coffee table and throwing his arm over the back of it.

Aang snorts, "I still question how you were able to get your feelings through to him without him panicking and running off." He opens the letter and starts to skim through it.

Sokka hums at his friend and leans a little closer while waggling his eyebrows, "Looking for some advice, dear Avatar?"

"From you? Never." They sit in silence for a moment, Aang pretending to read through the letters as his mind goes a million miles an hour. After a moment, a thought occurs to Aang, "What does the Fire Nation do for Winter Solstice? We never asked them."

Sokka pushes Aang's head in a playful manner. "Smooth transition. They used to do this thing called a Krampus Parade, where evil spirits would come and try to steal the joy, but dragons would come in and save the day or something? Nothing romantic in that department, though. Although Zuko say there's going to be a party the night of winter solstice, maybe you can come up with something then. But, just so you know, your little tinsletoe idea, it would be a pretty smooth way to kiss her," he says as he stands up and makes his way out of Aang's room.

~~~

The next morning, Jein comes in to set Aang's room up for the day, opening curtains, making the bed, filling the basin with fresh water. Once he is finished, he stands in front of Aang's desk with his hands clasped behind his back, "Is there anything else I can do for you, Avatar, sir?"

"No, Jien, you're always amazing, thank you." Jien bows and is just about to turn around to head out of the room when Aang's head shoots up with a thought, "Wait, I have a question!" Jien turns around with his eyebrow raised. "Do you know if there is any mistletoe that grows nearby?"

Jien gives him pretty accurate directions to a small town directly outside of Caldera that has the mistletoe that grows along a particular street. He manages to find several bushes immediately and packs several branches of the bush into his knapsack to bring back to the palace.

~~~

"I just think your time could be better spent doing something else or trying to woo her in a different way," Toph says as Aang stands on his tiptoes to fasten a branch to the top of the doorway.

Aang snorts and sets back to admire his handiwork of fastening the little branch. "I think you're just jealous." He looks down at the little Earthbender as she pulls another branch from the knapsack and hands it to him.

"Me? Jealous? I think you're forgetting who you're talking to," she mumbles as they make their way to the next targeted doorway. They manage to tag two more doorways before Toph pipes up again, "What exactly is your plan with this tinsletoe shit?"

"Haven't thought that far," Aang grunts as he jumps a little as he attempts to attach the branch to the door frame. "I'm sure an opportunity will come up."

Several days pass and Aang never manages to get Azula under a mistletoe with him. It's like she knows where they're located and manages to avoid him and the tagged doorways and random hallways at the same time.

The day the Winter Solstice arrives, the palace is filled with Nobels, leaders from countries and cities, and random people. Aang stands on the edge of the ballroom holding a cup of gin, his eyes scanning the crowd.

"Who're you looking for?" a voice comes from next to him.

Azula has managed to completely skirt around his searching eye and come to stand right next to him without him even noticing. He smiles down at her, "No one anymore." Her lips tilt up in the suggestion of a smile. Together, they both turn back towards the room and people watch.

Every so often, one of them will point out a particular stuffy looking Noble and make up his or her life story, trying to get the other to crack and laugh loudly.

"Oh, that guy over there," he nudges Azula's shoulder and gestures towards a man who is directly in front of them. "His mistress is actually his wife in disguise. She's planning on using his infidelity to take him for all he has. And once she does, she's going to buy a huge mansion on the coast and sit in her pool drinking mimosas all day."

Azula snorts next to him. "Why would she have a pool if she is living on the coast?" she asks, hiding her smile behind her glass.

"Why are you asking me? Go ask his mistress/wife. She's the one buying it. And-" he's cuts off by recognizing the tune that the band is playing. "Hey, dance with me?" Azula's small laughter immediately dries up.

"What?" she asks, her confusion showing on her face.

Without answering, Aang takes her glass from her and sets it on the nearest table before taking her hand in his. Leading her out to the dance floor, he spins her once before pulling her close, his hand cupping hers while his other rests on the small of her back. He can see the uneasiness on her face as her eyes dart from side to side, taking in the dancing couples next to them.

"Aang, I don't know this song."

"It's okay, just follow my lead," he pulls her a little closer until their chests brush with every movement that they make. The uneasiness on her face begins to fade as she gets the movements down and soon, she has a large smile on her face.

As the song comes to an end, he gives her one final spin before pulling her back in, closer this time, and gives her a slight dip. He can hear the small gasp she lets out when she catches sight of something over his shoulder.

He slowly pulls her back up, but her face is still trained towards the ceiling, towards whatever it is that she's looking at. "Did you plan this?"

"Plan what?" he questions, his voice soft. He leans just a little closer to her, inhaling her scent. "The mistletoe," she whispers. He's close enough that he can hear her over the music and the people talking. "Did you hang it there on purpose?"

"You know the name of it," he says, not phrasing it as a question. He's a little surprised. Everyone else had been getting the name wrong, seemingly not actually listened to him when he told what the traditions of the Air Nomads were.

Azula brings her face back down to his, her eyes searching his. "You planned this?" she questions again.

He gives her a small smile and her eyes flit down to his lips, "I've been trying to get you under one all week," he says. He barely has time to get the words out before she is pulling him down and slotting her lips against his.

#azulaang #azula #aang #atla #avatar the last airbender #winter solstice

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patchworkgargoyle · 3 months

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oc fic: if i could hold you for a minute

Have something I've been working on for a few months and that made me cry multiple times while I wrote it.

If anyone's curious about the context, I would be extremely happy to explain!!

Featuring Sam: original male character, @steves-strapcollection's. Dominik: original transmasc character, mine. Mentioned: Vinny, Tig (also Ger's); Willow (@tboygareth's); Pond (@stobinesque's) Rating: E || Words: ~7.8k || CW: major character death, semi-graphic descriptions of said death, hurt/no comfort, cunnilingus, penetrative sex Title from Francesca - Hozier

Sam’s knees ache. He’s known for a while he’s getting too old for this shit, and if anything’s going to remind him, it’s this. Shifting, he feels his shoulder brush against Dom’s. And though he knows it’ll give too much away, he still caves to the need to lean his shoulder against him.

It’s all he can do. His hands are tied, after all.

When Dom takes his weight easily, pushes back into him—a knowing, reassuring presence—Sam’s lips tick up in a brief, bitter smile, remembering how different things were barely a day before.

♣♣♣

Sam’s hands held Dom’s slender hips firmly against the door while he slowly pressed his body closer, effectively trapping him. Dom didn’t fight it. He arched into the weight of Sam’s body instead, as best as he could under his strong grip. Each point of contact made Sam crave more. And Dom was smirking in that infuriating way of his that made Sam hot under the collar, chin tilted up defiantly, head to the side, his stormy eyes dark and smug like a dare. A challenge he’d been issuing all damn night.

He’d managed to control himself, even as Dom hovered around him like an annoying goth hummingbird in the kitchen while Sam had cooked dinner. And because Dom could never keep his hands to himself when they’re alone, Sam had to endure every touch and caress without his resolve breaking. If he broke, he’d never get dinner ready.

Dom knew it, too, and proceeded to be a massive fucking pest.

He’d dart into Sam’s space and steal a slice of cheese, a chunk of tomato. Popped it into his mouth with a self-satisfied grin before Sam could slap his hand away and obscenely sucked his fingers clean. He’d had to re-tie his apron twice because Dom had sidled up behind him, wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist and distracted him by nipping at his ear so his clever fingers could loosen the knot. Sam should’ve learned the first time, but feeling Dom’s chest against his back, his teeth on his skin as he murmured about dessert, was too much of a distraction.

It was more annoying that Sam couldn’t even be annoyed at him. As much as he tried not to, every time Dom slinked up to bug him, touch him, tease him, Sam smiled, begrudgingly fond. It fed the desire slowly burning in his belly, the tension between them simmering like the sauce bubbling away on the stove.

Even dinner was a trial. Sitting across from Dom at the kitchen island—their kitchen island, in their new condo—and not even bothering with the dining table, they traded jokes and stories about their day and heated looks over their wine glasses. He’d wanted to kiss Dom so badly when he’d laughed loud and bright at Sam’s dry humour, black hair threaded with silver spilling over his shoulders when he threw his head back. Getting that sound out of him felt like he’d won the lottery, made him want to test his luck again, especially because Dom had this habit of hiding his mouth behind the back of his hand, or turning away, when he smiled or laughed that much.

He got shy. That was more thrilling than anything else Sam had ever done, no matter how often he’d seen it.

So once their plates were cleared and the last of the wine had been sipped, Sam’s resolve crumbled. He left their dirty dishes on the island so he could coax Dom off the stool and towards his bedroom for dessert, and this time, it was Sam who wouldn’t keep his hands to himself. He felt he’d earned that.

Now he had this addictive man under his hands, against his body, in their room, and Sam couldn’t get enough. He had to stop and stare at Dom almost in awe, taking in the mirth that wrinkled the corners of his eyes, the light flush on his cheekbones, his wine-tinted, kissed-red lips. Moments like this bowled Sam over sometimes; he had known Dom for so long that in one look he could catalogue all the changes that time had caused against all the things that stayed the same. And he loved every bit of it. Every bit of Dom.

“I know I’m pretty, my darling, but you’re starting to drool,” Dom said, looping one long finger through the simple gold chain around Sam’s neck. He tugged at it and Sam followed easily, thoughtlessly. “Why just stare when you could be fucking me brainless?”

Sam scoffed. “Christ, you're so full of yourself.” He wanted to sound annoyed and was only half successful, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“And yet.” Another tug brought their faces so close that each low, syrupy word Dom spoke made their lips brush together, just slightly. Temptingly. “I want to be full of you. Been waiting all fucking day for this.”

Dom's free hand reached down between them to palm at Sam's half-hard cock. He let out a small groan, twitching into the touch as Dom slowly stroked and squeezed him over his jeans. Deft fingers left light, teasing touches along his cock that only made him want. He needed skin on skin, craved the feeling of sinking into Dom's wet, warm cunt. More than that, he just wanted to be closer, always closer. Sam groaned again, this time frustrated.

“Then why are you teasing me?” he complained gruffly, though he knew the answer.

“Because it's fun,” Dom said.

Sam shook his head, unable to shake off his smile. “You’ve had your fun all night.” Leaning in, he brushed his nose along the tattooed column of Dom's throat, pleased when it pulled a shiver from him. The scent of his cologne—something musky and sharp, refined and animalistic—was strong here in the tender places of his body. Sam breathed it in deeply from his pulse point and hummed.

That Dom willingly bared his throat for him made Sam insane every time. It took over ten years to get through all of Dom’s carefully constructed walls and the reward was so sweet.

Sam took his time kissing up Dom’s neck, across his cheek. He poured his adoration into soft, scarred skin, letting Dom soak it up. When Sam reached his lips, instead of kissing him, he pulled back and smirked at the look of annoyance he got for it. Dom tipped his chin up, a silent question, but still Sam didn’t kiss him.

His smirk grew wider when Dom said, tetchy, “Do I have to ask?”

Sam shrugged. “I like hearing you say it,” he said. It took a lot of restraint not to laugh when Dom’s eyes narrowed further. He’d cave. Sam saw it coming in the twitch at the corner of his lips. Dom sighed.

“Please kiss me, Sam,” he asked, irritated and sincere, and like every time Dom had asked before, Sam lit up inside and immediately gave him what they both wanted.

Kissing Dom was the best fucking thing. Sam was gentle at first, basically chaste, kissing Dom again, and again. Slowly, deliberately, revelling in the feeling of his soft lips. Dom melted into him, matching each kiss with the same kind of affection. He gasped when Sam’s hands inched up under the hem of his untucked shirt, and Sam deepened the kiss, their tongues meeting softly, hungrily. The arousal burning in his belly grew steadily hotter as Dom’s tongue caressed his, their breaths mingling, kisses turning messy but no less thorough. Sam chased the taste of the Sangiovese that still lingered, acidic and sweet.

Sam grazed his fingers along Dom’s skin as each fiddly little button on his stupidly expensive black shirt came undone. Dom slipped out of it, letting it fall to his feet, and Sam began moving down, pressing his lips to the familiar angles of his collarbones, the planes of his chest. Flicked at one of Dom’s pierced nipples with the tip of his tongue and then caught it between his teeth and pulled; smirked at the small, cut-off whine that followed, then soothing him with the flat of his tongue.

When Sam dropped to one knee he looked up at Dom to see a flash of shock, quickly hidden by a complicated expression he couldn't make sense of.

“You okay?” Sam asked, resting a hand on Dom's thigh.

“Yeah…” Dom reached out to brush a few locks of hair away from Sam's forehead, twisting one around his finger to make it extra wavy before he tucked it in with the rest. The smile that broke out across his face was so painfully tender Sam couldn't help but return it. “I really am.”

He kept that hand in Sam’s hair and undid his belt with the other, the hiss of leather on fabric making Sam’s cock twitch as it reminded him of the times they used that belt in other ways. Dom tossed it out of the way though, and Sam helped him out of his pants, broad palm cupping his pale, wiry calf while he eased the fabric off of Dom’s foot.

Once he was naked, Sam’s eyes and hands eagerly followed the long, angular line of Dom’s body, stopping when he had his hands on Dom’s hips. Guided by the gentle hold on his hair, Sam kept his eyes locked on Dom’s as he kissed up one thigh and along the sensitive crease of his hip. He ducked down to tease the tip of his tongue along the seam of Dom’s cunt, finding him already slick. Sam groaned at the taste and delved deeper, making Dom gasp as he slowly lapped at his wet folds, then over Dom’s entrance to his dick.

“Taste so fucking good,” he murmured, and Dom huffed a laugh.

“You always say that,” Dom said like he was annoyed, but Sam knew it was fondness.

Sam smirked as he lifted Dom’s leg over his shoulder, making him shudder as he grazed his fingers along the inside of his knee before holding his hips again. “And I always will.”

“Fucking—oh—sap.” Dom went breathless when Sam dived back in, chuckling. Dom wasn’t any less sentimental. He was just as bad, if not worse, but Sam wasn’t going to interrupt himself again to say so when he’d much rather be eating him out.

He laved the flat of his tongue through Dom’s folds, just barely dipping into his entrance each time, toying with the hood and head of his perfect dick before repeating the process, tasting and teasing. He kept making these small sounds that drove Sam a little crazy. The grip on his hair tightened, the slight pain stoking his desire, and Dom’s leg started to squeeze his shoulder, asking Sam for more before Dom could even get the words out. But Sam kept it up until he heard a hollow thud and a frustrated whine.

“Sam, fucking—please,” Dom begged. Sam paused, glancing past the dark, trimmed hair he had his face buried in. Dom was breathing in a deep, measured way that Sam knew was his way of keeping level-headed, but his head was thrown back against the door and he covered one of his squeezed-shut eyes with one hand. Christ, he was gorgeous, and he always said please so prettily.

Sam wrapped his lips around Dom’s dick with a groan, sucking and licking at him. His hips tried to buck against his mouth but Sam held him still. The moans he was pulling out of Dom now had his cock achingly hard and he didn’t care. They’d get to it. Dom deserved all of his attention.

It wasn’t long before Dom’s legs started to tremble, the heel in Sam’s back digging in urgently. Sam slipped one finger into Dom’s cunt easily, then worked in a second, a third, until he was keening desperately as Sam found his sweet spot and didn’t relent. He was so fucking wet every thrust of his fingers made a squelching sound. Sam licked lower just to taste more of the familiar tang of him, dipped his tongue in alongside his fingers and made Dom heave a sharp breath. When he got his mouth around Dom’s cock again, Dom started babbling.

“Fu–fuck, Sam, darling, don’t fucking stop, g-god, I love you and your fucking mouth,” he said, panting, and when Sam gave an amused hum Dom whimpered at the sensation before continuing, “perfect fucking mouth, perfect man, shit.” Dom’s voice trailed off into frantic breaths. Each exhale carried a needy sound and his legs were fully shaking now. The praise made Sam giddy. Every time Dom called him perfect, said I love you, Sam wanted to hide, kiss Dom senseless, something. Dom loved him. Sam would never get tired of hearing it.

Slick began to pool in the palm of Sam’s hand. Nails dug painfully into his scalp. Sam knew he was close and eagerly sought the prideful high of making Dom come. When he did his whole body went rigid, a loud, deep groan rising from his throat as he twitched against Sam’s mouth and clenched around his fingers. Sam kept sucking and fingering him through it until Dom pushed him away with a shuddery gasp, his knees wobbling so much that Sam rasped, “C’mere,” and took Dom’s weight as he half collapsed onto Sam’s lap.

Laughing breathlessly, Dom tucked his face into Sam’s neck as they held each other. Sam kissed his shoulder and rubbed soothing circles over his back, more than content to let Dom collect himself even though he strained painfully against the fly of his jeans. But he’d wait, not expecting anything. He’d wait for him forever.

Dom pressed leisurely kisses up Sam’s throat before he reached his lips and shifted up Sam’s thighs to sit tantalisingly close to his dick. But he paused to look at Sam and cup his face in his palms, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, so openly, deeply loving that Sam felt… divine. Dom kissed him then and the whole world fell away. Sam couldn’t describe the way Dom’s lips touched his as anything other than devout. Breath hitching, Sam’s brows knit together as he held Dom close and kissed him back just as gently, as devoted.

“I love you so much, Samuele,” Dom whispered reverently when he broke away.

Sam kissed him once, his lips lingering before he confessed, “I love you too, Dominik, so much it hurts sometimes.”

“I don’t want you to hurt, my darling.”

“It’s a good kind of hurt.” Sam looked up at Dom, brushed his thumb over his bottom lip and said, “But another kiss could help.”

Dom rolled his eyes a little, but kissed Sam’s thumb through his fond smile. Wrapping his fingers around Sam’s wrist, he took Sam’s hand and kissed his palm, then his wrist, then the familiar knife tattooed on his forearm. He wondered if Dom could feel the way his heart beat for him under his lips.

“Better?” Dom asked, and Sam hummed thoughtfully.

“Might need a few more,” he said, and caught Dom’s lips in another kiss as he hitched him higher on his lap. Dom gasped into Sam’s mouth when his cunt rubbed against the bulge in Sam’s jeans. Groaning low and hungry when Dom started rocking his hips, Sam murmured, “Wanna be inside you, sweetheart, please.”

“Then we should get off the floor, unless you want to fuck me here.”

“You deserve the bed.”

Dom huffed, amused, but Sam tightened his grip around him and, easily keeping Dom in his arms, stood in one smooth motion despite his knees popping. The sound made Dom laugh more, mouth pulled into a teasing smirk as he said, “Watch your knees, old man.”

Sam scoffed but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead he walked the short distance to the bed, knelt on the mattress, and carefully laid Dom out on the bedspread, following him down to lick into his mouth, slow and sweet, before he stood to undress. Dom shuffled up the bed to get comfortable, lounging against the pillows, legs spread to show off his soaked cunt as he lazily stroked his dick between two fingers.

He was so gorgeous, spread out on their bed like that, lithe and relaxed. Dim light from the window made his skin glow like silver, the deep blue of his eyes bright and intense as he watched Sam strip. He preened a bit under Dom’s attention, flexing as he shed his clothes and smirking when Dom’s eyes darkened with want. Sam sighed once his cock was finally free from his jeans, stroking himself just enough to make Dom lick his lips.

“Come here,” he demanded, stretching out enticingly, and Sam, always helplessly drawn in by him, obeyed.

Climbing onto the bed, he took the hand Dom was using to touch himself and brought it to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. It pulled a needy groan from Dom’s chest. He took his fingers from Sam’s mouth and wrapped them around the back of his neck to drag him close, and Sam laid his body along Dom’s in one sinuous line. Finally they were skin to skin and Sam’s nerves lit up at the touch. He asked, “What do you need, Dominik?”

“Need you to fuck me,” Dom said, rocking his hips up. Sam’s cock rubbed against Dom’s pelvis and he exhaled shakily, grinding down on him.

Humming, Sam traced his nose down Dom’s cheek, kissed his jaw. “Not gonna fuck you tonight, kitten.” He waited for Dom’s offended, bewildered noise before he continued. “Gonna make love to you.”

Dom glared and shook his head, unwillingly smiling the whole time. “Ugh, you’re such a romantic,” he complained, but there was a blush to his face that wasn’t there before. Sam kissed his cheekbones where the colour was darkest and felt the warmth against his lips.

“You love it.”

“Only because it’s you.”

Sam grinned, painfully fond. “Guess I’m pretty lucky then.”

It was so easy to slip into Dom. Sam barely pulled back, didn't need to look down; he knew Dom’s body as well as he knew his own. His cock slid through Dom’s wet folds, and Sam kept his eyes on him as the head caught on his entrance and he sank in. Dom’s eyelids fluttered and they both sighed at the feeling of being stretched open. Sam wanted to take it slow and savour this, to sink all the way into Dom’s cunt and stay there in that tight heat he’d been longing for all night. Reaching up, he brushed some of Dom’s hair out of his face, cupping his cheek as they moved together.

He loved watching Dom’s face like this. Every twitch of an expression, nothing hidden anymore between them. Dom couldn’t hold his gaze like this for the longest time. He’d eventually look away, make Sam break eye contact, anything to avoid being seen. But he didn’t look away anymore. And the way Dom looked up at Sam now, like he saw something sacred in him…

Sam had to kiss him. He pinned Dom down gently and poured every bit of love into the kiss, feeling more than hearing Dom moan against his lips. When he fully sank home into Dom Sam gasped into his mouth, Dom licking into him with a needy whine.

He stayed there, just like he wanted, feeling Dom clench and twitch around him. And Dom didn’t squirm, didn’t complain, even brought Sam’s hips in closer with his leg and kept him there, buried so fucking deep they could’ve been one person. They just laid there, surrounded by each other, kissing for so long that Sam lost track of time. He lived for this intimacy, the feeling of their lips and tongues, sharing adoring touches, and the way he fit so fucking perfectly in him. He really was at home, here in Dom’s arms. Anywhere Dom was, Sam wanted to be, always.

“My darling,” Dom murmured so sweetly that Sam had to kiss him again.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“If you don’t move now,” he said with a threatening tilt to his head, “I’m going to throw the worst tantrum you’ve ever fucking seen.”

Sam’s loud laughter shook them both, and when he did as he was told, pulling out deliciously slowly, Dom’s smile widened even as he hummed thickly, his head falling back against the pillows. “God, I love you,” Sam confessed for the hundredth time.

“And I love you. Now make love to me, darling.”

“Anything you want.”

Sam pushed back in just as slow, both of them sighing in relief. He kept up that pace, letting his pleasure build like warm coals instead of a blazing fire. Dom met his thrusts with languid rolls of his hips, his fingers raising goosebumps where they roamed over Sam’s body, only sometimes using his nails as more of a tickle than a scratch, making Sam shiver at the faint sparks left in their wake.

The only time they looked away from each other was when they kissed, messy and slow and needy. Sam wanted this forever. He drew back and saw the raw, staggering adoration he felt reflected in Dom’s face and thought of the rings he’d been looking at a few days ago. Taking Dom’s left hand in his, Sam brought it to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

“I’m yours, Dominik. You know that, right?” he said, grinding into Dom harder, deeper, his voice getting rough and desperate. “All of me, every piece. For as long as you want and past that, even.”

Dom’s mouth opened around a low moan. “I know, fuck, I know. I’ll want you for as long as I can fucking have you.” He pulled their hands to his chest, guided Sam’s face closer with an insistent hand in his thick hair, and looked up at Sam with possessive, defiant love as he said, shaky but unflinching, “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll die before that ever changes.”

Sam blinked away the sudden wetness in his eyes and caught Dom in a searing kiss. It felt like a vow. He couldn’t describe the feeling overtaking him, other than overwhelming need. Not just for Dom’s body, or the bliss of coming with him, inside him, but for everything he was, all that they were to each other. They were as close as they could possibly be and it’d never be enough.

“Sweetheart,” Sam rasped, almost pleading, but for what he didn’t even know.

“Samuele,” Dom said his name with a shuddery whimper. “I’m here, I’m yours. Fuck, please.”

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Sam hiked Dom’s hips up one-handed, his right hand still holding tight onto Dom’s left. The new angle had Dom crying out, his back arching, eyes going unfocused as Sam’s cock dragged relentlessly over his g-spot. Dropping his head, Sam rested his sweaty forehead against Dom’s, words finally lost to instinct and the need to breathe each other in as their lips brushed in an open-mouthed kiss.

Dom’s thighs began to tremble again and he babbled Sam’s name in between his whining and swearing. As Sam’s climax drew nearer, his slow, hard thrusts lost their steady pace. He was so close he shook with it, and so in love with the man below him he could burst, a dam about to collapse, ready to be swept away by the impending flood.

“F-fuck, Sam, my darling, my lo–” Dom gasped and cut himself off with a loud whine.

“Your love?” Sam said breathlessly.

“Yes—god–” Dom’s face twisted with pleasure, looking almost wounded by it, but he held Sam’s gaze as he panted and shuddered and bore down on Sam’s cock and sobbed out, “my love.”

He clutched at Sam as he came with a choked-off cry, like he couldn’t bear to have any space between them, Dom’s free arm wrapped around his shoulders and keeping their bodies as close as possible. His cunt clenched so tight around Sam that he hissed as he fucked him through his orgasm, tumbling right after him, the dam breaking as he spilled deep inside Dom. His hips twitched helpessly at the feeling of Dom's cunt fluttering in the aftershocks, pulling him in as if to keep him there. Not that Sam would pull out until he had to.

“Your love,” Sam whispered reverently, kissing Dom even though they were both gasping for air and trembling. Dom nodded, his expression heartbreakingly tender.

Slowly, Sam manoeuvred them so they laid on their sides, chests still heaving in an unsynced rhythm. Dom closed any distance between them, making sure to keep Sam inside for as long as he could, and snaked his arms around him in a firm hug. It made Sam chuckle weakly. He loved the rare times Dom got clingy after sex instead of needing space. Returning the embrace, Sam held him just as tight, giving him a bit of a squeeze as he nuzzled into Dom’s sweaty hair and kissed the top of his head.

It was so easy to drift off like that. Sam could feel Dom’s heartbeat in his own chest as it slowed, and even Dom’s aimlessly wandering hands eventually stalled as sleep came for him, body going lax in Sam’s arms. The last thing Sam saw before he fell asleep too was Dom’s beautiful face in the moonlight.

As always, Sam woke first.

If given the very rare chance, Dom could sleep in well into the morning. That was something they’d both discovered: how soundly they slept together. Sam was still an early riser, but today he dozed in and out, half-awake as he watched his sweetheart sleep peacefully, safely. Supporting his face with the back of his hand, Sam smiled softly while Dom breathed steadily and drooled a little on the pillowcase. He looked forward to teasing him about it, could perfectly picture the sleepy, bitchy glare he’d get for it.

Scant few people could say they’d ever seen Dom like this. It amazed him, sometimes, that he was one of them.

Sam lightly traced the sharp features of Dom's face with the back of his index finger. So much of him was sharp, pointed; honed to a knife’s edge out of necessity. In contrast, Sam thought of himself as a hardened, blunt force, like a sledgehammer in calculated hands. Fear and pain and need had made them both tough and slow to trust in their own ways.

But somehow, even if it took years, they did trust each other. They'd both rolled over, shown their bellies, and instead of being gutted they felt gentle hands and careful lips on their most vulnerable places. Sam had fallen in love so quickly with the man he’d found beyond sharp teeth and sharper words.

It was almost surprising at first how sweet Dom could be, once he shed his armour. He really was a sweetheart underneath it all. Mostly. Sometimes. Like sour candy. The thought made Sam’s smile widen, got a quiet chuckle out of him, and Dom’s brow twitched.

“Mmm… what’re y’laughing at?” Dom grumbled as he brought his sleep-clumsy hands up to rub at his face.

“You, drooling,” Sam said.

There was the glare. It didn't do much when Dom’s face was still half tucked into the pillow.

“Fuck off.”

As Dom stubbornly wiped at his mouth, Sam coaxed him across the sheets, pulling their naked bodies together. He was so warm as he snuggled into Sam’s arms with a lingering glare for appearance’s sake.

“G’morning, sweetheart,” Sam said, quietly but full of love as he pressed their foreheads together, and Dom’s façade cracked easily, breaking into a wide, groggy, brilliant smile.

“G’morning, my love.”

His voice was a soft rasp of deep adoration. It made Sam feel buoyant, helium-filled. He kissed Dom despite their morning breath; he couldn’t help it, not with the way his heart felt like it needed to crawl into Dom’s open hands. Dom smiled against his lips as he returned the kiss, before tucking his head under Sam’s chin and curling in close with a sigh. Sam pressed a kiss to the back of Dom’s head, nuzzling into his hair again and breathing him in.

They laid there in each other’s arms for countless minutes, sharing soft touches that grew less innocent as the sun rose bright and golden outside. Dom’s sigh when Sam slipped his cock into his cunt sounded like contentment, and they rocked together lazily, indulgently, trading kisses and I love yous until Sam came. Then he crawled down the bed and cleaned up his mess from Dom’s cunt with gentle determination until he came too with a quiet groan. Resting his cheek on Dom’s thigh with what must be the most corny, sentimental expression he’d ever worn, Sam watched his love’s breathing even out as he came down.

“Should I get breakfast started, sweetheart?” he asked, and Dom looked down his torso at him, chin and neck all scrunched up by the angle. Sam’s grin widened at the sight.

“Thought that was breakfast,” Dom said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Snorting, Sam nipped at Dom’s skin to make him squirm. Dom scoffed melodramatically and tried to move away, but Sam trapped him with his arms and kept biting his inner thighs until Dom was wriggling and cackling and shoving him away, swearing and yelling about being betrayed. Sitting up, Sam yanked Dom down the bed and leaned over him to kiss him quick and filthy one more time before he said, “I’ll get it started. Take your time, kitten.”

He left Dom still laughing in their bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before he went to the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth, then the kitchen to get the coffee going, smiling to himself the whole time.

He was so fucking happy. In his darker moments during the years Dom was gone, heartbroken and aching over the distance between them, he’d desperately wished they could have a life like this. Not that he believed they ever would, most of the time. The idea was enough to keep him going though, to keep him fighting for it by taking down every mark that Vincenzo said would put Dom at risk. That it’d happened, that they were here in their home—only half unpacked but still theirs—felt like the best dream he’d ever had. His only regret was that he couldn’t make this happen sooner.

A door clicked shut down the hall. Dom was up. Sam seasoned and whisked up some eggs, pouring them into a pan. They’d just started to cook when he heard Dom walk into the kitchen, footsteps quiet from training and habit. Sam jumped when he felt a pinch on his ass as Dom went by, and caught the mischievous smirk on his face when he turned to give him a scolding look.

“Do you want to eat or not?” Sam asked.

Dom grabbed the mug Sam left out for him, pouring himself some coffee and turning to lean against the counter. All he wore was a pair of his own black boxer briefs and one of Sam’s old shirts that hung loosely off his shoulder, the faded grey of it making him look soft in the morning light. Sam’s mouth went dry at the sight. This was clearly a targeted attack, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“Your threats are very empty, my darling,” Dom said flatly, still smirking as he sipped his coffee.

“They are, huh?”

Dom hummed and shrugged, so Sam set down the spatula. Planting his hands on either side of Dom, he leaned into them to loom into Dom’s space, one eyebrow cocked. Dom, of course, looked like the cat that got the cream as he placed his mug out of harm’s way.

“Well, shit. Seems I’ve been proved wrong,” he said with blatantly false surprise. There was a tick at the corner of his lips, a flash of a genuine smile breaking through.

“Seems so,” Sam said.

When he reached up, Sam thought he’d be pulled in for a kiss. Instead, Dom gazed at Sam with a slight tilt to his head while he played with his hair, his long fingers straightening out the strands messed up by sex and sleep. Then he moved down to lightly scratch his nails through Sam’s beard, making him grumble and close his eyes at the pleasant sensation.

“Have I told you I love the beard?” Dom mused.

Sam chuckled lowly and said, “Yeah, every few months.”

“Ah. Good.” Dom’s imperious tone made Sam smile, growing wider when he felt Dom pulling him in for a kiss that tasted like their toothpaste.

“I’ve got eggs to scramble, Dominik,” Sam said, but he kept kissing Dom anyway, muffling his laughter.

“Then scram.”

Groaning in agony, Sam rolled his eyes and pulled away from Dom as he cackled.

They ate at the kitchen island again, almost mirroring the night before, but instead of sitting across from each other they sat side by side, shoulders brushing as they talked about their plans for the day. Dom had his foot hooked around Sam’s ankle the whole time.

Halfway through breakfast, though, Dom’s phone rang.

Vinny’s name appeared and, frowning, Dom answered with a short, “Vin?” Sam couldn’t hear what Vinny was saying, but he saw the instant change in Dom’s body language. His loose, relaxed contentment fled as he straightened up and his face hardened, turning grim. Family business, then. He asked a few terse, one word questions. One of Vinny’s responses made Dom’s eyes dart to Sam, something close to fear in the tenseness of his face, and Sam felt a chill.

“Pond?” he asked quietly.

Dom nodded, but quickly followed it with, “She’s alive,” and relief and dread both threatened to choke him.

“We’re on our way, Vin. Ten minutes, tops.” Dom ended the call and stood, beckoning Sam to follow him as he explained that Salvatore was holding Pond, Willow, Gareth, and a few others hostage to lure them to the vet clinic. They dressed in a hurry, grabbing their weapons and checking them over. He felt numb, mechanical. Sam kept his mind carefully focused on each task—grabbing his guns and extra ammo, checking the magazines—so that the images of River that haunted his mind wouldn’t overtake him.

“Sam.”

Dom’s hand covered the back of his own as he held his pistol in a painful grip. Meeting his eyes, Sam saw concern shift into raw, stubborn, pissed off determination on Dom’s face as he stood there fully dressed but still wearing Sam’s shirt, and if it were possible Sam loved him even more for it.

“We’ll do what we can,” he said, squeezing Sam’s hand, and Sam nodded. Dom knew there was no point in lying to him about this. There were never any guarantees in this business. But just having him at his side made Sam feel a little less numb, a lot more steadfast.

Pressing a quick kiss to Dom’s lips, Sam said, “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, darling. Let’s go.”

♣♣♣

Sam takes a deep breath, and takes comfort in Dom’s shoulder against his. But there’s something wrong.

This whole thing reeked of bullshit from the start, but now that Salvatore’s worked his way from Vinny all the way to Tig, and not one of the five of them has been shot, Sam knows something, somewhere, has been rigged. There’s no random chance in this, and that bullet may as well have a name carved into the casing. It sure as hell isn’t Salvatore’s, no matter what the slimy fuck promised when he started this “game,” and Sam’s next best guesses send fear clawing up his spine.

He turns his head and finds Dom facing Vinny. They’re sharing a look, and he knows they’ve figured it out, too. Shit. Shit.

Salvatore saunters away from Tig. “Wow, tough luck for me, huh?” he says. Sam can hear the insincere pout in his voice and wishes he could beat his face in. “Guess that's the risk with a game like this.”

Maybe he should be looking at Pond instead, but he can't. He doesn't want his last memory of his daughter to be of her horrified face. So he waits for Dom to look back at him, knowing that he will.

Dom turns after he has one more look at his brother. His eyes are as calm and blue as the sea after a storm, resigned in a way Sam hates. It looks wrong on the most stubborn man he knows. But the longer Dom looks at him, the softer his face becomes, crows-feet deepening in an expression Sam’s seen thousands of times now.

He knew what it was probably before Dom himself did, or at least before he could really acknowledge it. Love. Just seeing Dom look at him like this always made every set-back and argument and years of separation worth the frustration and heartbreak. It was all worth it, every moment, and Sam so selfishly wishes he could’ve had the rest of time to see it again and again. Pressing further into Dom’s shoulder, he feels him return the gesture.

Salvatore’s footsteps stall behind Sam and Dom, the distinct mechanical clicking of the revolver’s cylinder sliding into place, the final chamber inevitably filled with the only bullet. Sam hears a quiet, surprised chuckle. “Risk and reward,” he draws out the syllables like he's mulling them over, “that's been the game, the gamble, our whole lives. Only this time, I've stacked the deck in my favour. Luck doesn't fucking matter today.”

The words I love you are choking Sam’s throat, desperate to be said just one more fucking time, so he can be sure Dom knows because they’ve only been saying it for too short a time. He should’ve said it the first moment he thought it. He wants to keep saying it forever. He really fucking wants forever.

“Might wanna look away for this one, Sammy,” Salvatore says casually.

A flash of silver creeps into Sam's periphery and his heart plummets, lead-heavy.

And Sam, God help him, he does. He listens. He closes his eyes against the image of the gun being held to the back of Dom's skull.

♠♠♠

Dom’s already ran through every scenario he could think of. None of them get everyone out alive. It’s a fucking bloodbath at best. The civilians make it harder; easy weak points for Salvatore’s soldiers to take out. He can’t see any other way for this to go other than to let Salvatore’s insane power-trip play out.

And of course it’s fucking Russian Roulette. Such a cliché.

He can’t control the fear when Salvatore aims at Vinny first, the silver pistol buried in his golden hair. Every bit of Dom’s training and resolve go towards keeping himself still, but he instinctually pulls at the ropes binding his wrists anyway. The only thing going through his mind is not him not my brother please God not my brother—so he can’t watch. He can’t. He’ll do something really fucking stupid if he does.

Glancing at Willow instead, Dom sees they’re still miraculously keeping their cool—the only tell is the tension at the corners of their mouth—and wishes they didn’t have to be here for this. They’d been kept as far away from the business as any of them could manage, the one thing in Vinny’s life that wasn’t part of the hardships of the Family; it’s shit luck that this is their grand introduction.

Will makes the tiniest sound and Dom closes his eyes when the gun clicks, empty.

“You live to see another day, cousin!” Salvatore gloats.

Dom wants to gut him, split him open from the balls up, grin as his entrails spill out, hot and stinking, and feed his corpse to the pigs. Even so, he’s breathing steadily, pushing the panic into something useful, something that keeps him ready. But as Salvatore keeps going down the line, aiming that tacky revolver at each person and pulling the trigger with an anticlimactic click, the more he feels like being ready won’t do any good.

When he survives his own turn Dom barely reacts, too concerned that Sam is next. Any movement could ruin this, putting Sam’s life at even greater risk, but it's just as hard to keep himself composed when the trigger is pulled uselessly, unable to hold back the heavy breath of relief at the sound. Dom fucking aches with the need to hold Sam, for reassurance that he’s still there and alive beside him, especially when Sam leans into him.

All he can do is grit his teeth, return the touch, and swallow down the lump in his throat.

Tig is last, before Salvatore himself, because of course he is. Dom doesn’t watch the boy. Keeps his eyes on Pond instead as Salvatore makes some speech. The way Pond’s reacting, though, breathing heavily, panic and rage and realisation plain on faer face, Dom knows something is wrong with how Salvatore’s acting with Tig. And with the rest of the rumours he’s heard about that sick fuck, Dom makes a mental note to tell Vinny to be extra fucking brutal to their cousin when they get out of this.

If they get out of this.

No. When.

The telltale empty click goes off in the clinic and Pond flinches with a wounded sound before going slack with relief. Dom wishes he could’ve trained that reactivity out of her, hopes he’ll still have time to. Mourns, for the thousandth time, that he would even need to. She deserves a safer life than this hell that took her brother from her.

Dom takes a steadying breath and takes stock. If none of them were shot, that leaves Salvatore himself, as he’d promised. But there’s no way he’ll keep his word and blow his own fucking head off, not when he’s got this much of an upper hand. So he has a target. And he rigged the game to put on a show. The three best targets—Vinny, himself, and Sam—are lined up beside each other. Salvatore’s soldiers shoved them to their knees in that order specifically.

So it’s either himself, his brother, or his lover. Dom knows which of the three he’d rather it be, instantly. There’s no way Salvatore would listen if Dom started snarling at the fucker to provoke him to kill him, he’d know it was a last ditch effort to take the attention off Sam and Vinny; even if Dom was the target, Salvatore, the vindictive shitbag that he is, would just shoot one of them instead. That’s not a risk Dom can take. He has to see this through, however the cards fall, and that knowledge sits like a dead weight in his chest.

He leans further into Sam’s strong shoulder as Salvatore’s heels click slowly across the linoleum floor. Quickly, Dom looks at Vinny, who must’ve caught on too and is already watching him and Sam. Fuck, it’s such a relief that Kez and the baby aren’t here. That’s the only good thing, out of all of this: that Salvatore didn’t find out about that precious secret.

Dom shoots Vinny a sad, tired, wry smile, since he can’t tell Vinny he loves him one last time. Vinny’s eyebrows twitch upwards, a flash of despair swiftly hidden before he nods and turns to look at Willow. He knows, and that's enough.

And then Dom turns to Sam. His darling, his love.

Dom’s surprised to find himself so calm when he looks at Sam, but there’s nothing he can fucking do, no plan, no great escape. The only thing he can do is memorise the handsome face of the man he loves so fiercely, so deeply, that he wanted to spend his whole life with him. Fuck, Dom wanted that so badly. Wants it. He wants to tell Sam about the ring in his desk. He wants to tell Sam how much he loves him, that he’ll always love him, but there’s no fucking way words can even express that properly anyway, not here.

There’s so much sadness in Sam’s eyes, but even more love. It took Dom so long to see it because he’s a goddamn idiot, but it’d been there almost as long as they’d known each other. Love makes Sam’s eyes crinkle a little, the warmth of his gorgeous brown irises that much more intense. If only Dom could get that smile out of him one more time, the one that’s just for him. He wants to hold Sam, desperately, not just push a little harder into his shoulder and hope that he understands.

Salvatore’s droning on and on about luck as the revolver’s final chamber slides into place but Dom couldn’t give a shit. All that asshole wants is attention and Dom won’t tear his away from Sam, not for the world. When he stops behind them with a delighted little chuckle, Dom starts begging a God he doesn't believe in, one more time.

Please not Sam not my darling let him live please–

“Might wanna look away for this one, Sammy.”

Thank you, God.

The relief hits Dom hard when cold metal kisses the back of his head and he sags into it with a sigh.

I love you Sam I love you I love you I’m sor–

♣♣♣

Sam feels Dom's shoulders sag, hears his relieved sigh–

Cut short by a bang.

Dom–

The.

His.

The body.

His sweetheart falls to the floor.

His heart is on the floor.

Sam can barely hear the limp wet thud past the ringing in his ears.

He does hear Vinny’s broken choked-out “No.”

His chest is caving in.

There’s a black hole there now the size of a bullet wound.

He opens his eyes and sees red.

Everywhere.

Pooling under what’s left of Dom’s beautiful ruined face.

He hates getting blood in his hair. It’s all in his hair.

Oh god. Fuck. Oh god.

Why?

Dom is dead on the floor in a pool of his own blood with his face blown off and Sam can’t lie there with him.

Dom is wearing his shirt and it’s soaked with blood.

Something’s happening in the room but Sam doesn’t care.

A door shuts and there’s movement around him and he’s shaking he thinks but the blood is spreading.

It’s red everywhere. In his pretty hair. On his shirt. Leaking from the crater of his face and–

“Sam.”

Pond’s hands rest gently on Sam’s shoulders and he flinches.

“Sam, don’t look.”

“I didn’t though.”

He didn’t look so he has to now.

Someone cuts the zip ties around his wrists and he reaches out a trembling hand to touch his shirt on Dom’s limp body.

Sam knows what dead bodies are like but he thought this time Dom might be cold not warm because Sam’s gone cold now.

Sam’s cold but Dom’s still warm and that’s wrong somehow.

“Dad.” Pond’s voice trembles.

I don’t want you to hurt, my darling.

He has no choice now.

#kinda late to post this i know but i'll reblog it forever bc i'm actually pretty fucking proud of this #samdom #goth babygirl dom #oc fic #sav scrawls stuff #i need a tag for sam.......

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