#it's like no matter what you do our love can't be contained

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

By fire and heart. Pt. 8

Daemma Targaryen. Second daughter of King Viserys and queen Aemma, you're the living portrait of your mother with the character of a true dragon, as a second daughter you don't have right to the throne but certainly, you will protect your sister's succession by heart.

Warning ⚠️: Credits of this images goes to the TikTok user ccarmyy! Grammatical and spelling errors, maybe this won't be good enough but In my head the story was a good one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

You arrived to the north and instantly ran to your future husband, hugging him, drowning in his scent, the desire you've been containing during the trip disappears as soon as you and him are in your chambers, he was a wolf riding a dragon and you were a dragon devouring a wolf.

The room was destroyed just like your dress and every clothe, you used every chair, every table, all your bed, and you still needed more.

«I'm your betrothed, it doesn't matter if we share our bed before the wedding, I'm already yours my lord.»

You were happy, you weren't sure if it was because of him, because you loved him or if it was the fact that all your desires were attended.

While you're enjoying and exploring new horizons of your femininity and the love between a man and a woman, at the other site of the kingdom, your father gave his last breath and your half brother is trying to escape the throne and the crown that his mother and grandfather want to put over his head.

You don't even imagine it, until you're taking a bath, eyes close, suddenly some visions, are tormenting you.

Aegon wearing a crown, Rhaenyra wearing another, you can see blood in their hands, hearing screams and pleadings, one of Aegon's children, you riding the back of a wolf, dragons roaring and spitting fire everywhere, Thank to the gods your future husband is close to hearing your heavy breathing, bringing you back to your reality with a touch in your shoulder.

- What's wrong with my warrior princess?

- I... I don't know, I'm sorry... Perhaps I'm just tired my Lord.

Smiling instantly you're trying to hide the obvious anxiety that is eating you alive, you can't fool him but he knows there's no point in insisting, you will talk about this when you feel ready so he only kisses you softly and leaves you to rest while he goes to attend his usual tasks.

For the next few days you've been keeping him busy in your chambers, fulfilling your marital duties, even though, you're not married yet.

Your place as the future lady of the north has also a lot of duties, so, during the day you're the lady of the north but at night, you're still the warrior princess, the one who rides the wolf of the north, the one who made the strongest alliance in the name of her sister.

You're In the training yard observing your future husband, when the wind whispers something in your ear, or at least that's what you think, you're alone, there's no one close to you.

«The greens are coming for you...»

Cregan suddenly is running to you, you didn't even feel it, you were falling, fainting. You ended up on the ground, Cregan instantly asked for help, everybody took you to your chambers, you don't know how much you slept, but In your sleep you could hear the roars of dragons, your sister screaming in pain, you had visions about a baby with a dragon tail, scales, feet and hands; you saw your father's crown, you heard the voice of your uncle whispering «Luke is deep in the sea... The queen of the seven kingdoms...and the princess who protects her...»

Cregan stayed at your side, hearing you mumbling strange things about war, about kings confronting and burning the world and how the gods were whispering and showing you the future. He thought the fever was attacking you, taking the best of you, another lady that would die in his arms.

Meanwhile your sister is dealing with the war that is approaching, dealing with the pain of her child's death, the little Visenya, who came to this world before her time.

Your sister is in need of help, her spirit is stronger than ever but her heart is weak, the pain is invading it.

She knows she needs any house big or small, she needs as many people as possible on her side. Messengers are on their way to every corner of the kingdom, some dragon raiders too.

Soon or later, the news will knock on your door. Your nephews are on their way to different sites of the kingdom,while you still can't wake up from your dream.

The tragedy following Rhaenyra as a shadow, you're the last light of hope, she never realized how strong it was the bond between you and her, since that day, when both destiny was sealed.

Daemon, received the news first, he had a soft voice only for Rhaenyra, softly telling her the horror her son lived in before leaving this world.

Lucerys Velaryon, the prince, the messenger that never came back home and Arrax, his young and brave dragon, defeated his rider until the end, the little beast dared to attack the largest and oldest Dragon, Vhagar. No one would ever know the bravery of the young prince and his dragon had to confront his uncle and his giant beast.

«Arrax! Luke! Where are you?...»

In your dream, you can hear your nephew calling you, you can hear the roaring of Arrax, you can only see silhouettes, poor you, you can't imagine what is happening in the real world.

Cregan has left your side, he still has duties to attend. But you have your maidens taking good care of you.

Targaryen are dreamers, some of them believe in what they see, some others, don't. But you're one who decides to believe them. As for magic, you wake up, gasping loudly, your maidens are instantly trying to calm you, they're more anxious than you, your mind is focused on your family, then someone informs you, your nephew, Jacaerys came to leave a message for you and Lord Stark.

- Bring me a coat, I have to see my nephew, now!

Everybody in the room is running, preparing you a bath and clothes, even though your servants told you, Cregan and Jace are on the wall, you don't care, you will fly in your dragon if it is necessary but you have to talk with Jace.

You're ready to leave when the doors of the entrance are opening. They're back, you run to Cregan, he catches your face between his hands, observing if You're okay, Jace is quiet, observing both interaction, as soon as you plant your eyes on him you hug him tightly.

- Jace, what is it, what is going on, why are you here?

- Aunt Daemma, I bring news, unfortunately not good ones. Cregan told me you were sick but you seem healthy.

- I am perfectly fine, I just... Had a vision or something. Doesn't matter right now, tell me, what are the news.

And while Jacaerys talks, you feel more and more sure about your dreams, your visions and all that happened in your sleep. At least nothing is completely bad, Cregan and Jacaerys are good friends and allies, if you already had the north in your hand, the fact that your nephew came personally to ask for help kindly without threat made this alliance stronger than ever.

- To win a war you have to know who your allies are, I'm so glad you had the chance to talk and meet Lord Stark.

The three of you are in a deep and important conversation, negotiating the last details of this alliance when a man comes to Cregan with a letter, a raven from Dragonstone, while he's reading, his expression starts to get cold and serious, you don't have to ask, you can bet it is about Lucerys and you were not wrong, Jace is young but is also a strong Targaryen who knows the importance of keeping the pain and the sadness for another moment.

Cregan, as the gentleman and leader that he is, understands perfectly your decision to leave. You have to go home, support your sister and fight at her side, now that you're sure he will keep his word, you can go and do the necessary to help.

- I'm not only loyal to our queen, I'm loyal to you, Daemma. The north will be waiting for your commands, and I will be waiting for my wife's return.

Kissing your forehead, your hands and your lips deeply, holding you tightly and wishing you good luck, he says goodbye.

You and Jace embark on the journey, but before going to dragonstone, you decide to make a quick stop, alone, at Kingslanding.

You had to be far or fly too high to not be seen by the guards, you're waiting in the sky, expecting a distraction to finally land not so far from the city.

Aemond's arrival is the perfect distraction, now you're taking the hidden halls of the castle, once you're sure you're in Aemond's chambers, you can see him, walking from one side to the room to another, biting his nails, too distracted by his own mind.

You consider killing him, right there and no one would expect it. Unfortunately, your anger and the poison you've been containing pushes you to ruin your best chance.

- How stupid you have to be to think that an old dragon who has been in battle its entire life wouldn't attack to kill? Also, it is ironic... You said they are bastards and yet, you gave him a classic Targaryen dead, he died riding his dragon.

He doesn't act surprised, but you're sure you scared him and quickly made him furious.

- How stupid you have to be to come here alone and talk to me in that way, Daemma?

- Oh Aemond, don't think I'm afraid of you, if I wanted I could kill you, you would be dead already, but it is not me who has to make you pay for what you've done, I'm here with the only intention to know why.

You know you messed up, you could take revenge but that silly mistake now has you playing a risky card.

- You can't be serious. All the long journey to just know why I did what I did? Doesn't matter, what is done, it's done.

He walks slowly in your direction, you don't step back, you have to keep your defiant position but also you have to make him feel like you're not an enemy right now.

- Really? Is that what your mother told you? The queen must be... Very pleased, after all, she was a great influence who helped and supported Rhaenyra's usurpation throne.

- The queen doesn't know what she wants anymore.

- Of course not, the queen has always spoken with two tongues, she has always been divided between her father and her childhood friend, that always has been her problem, but in the end she chose to be her father's puppet.

- Watch your tongue, Daemma, she's still my mother I will not allow you to talk about her in that way.

Time to move on, leave that conversation behind.

-I always considered you as the smartest one. You know? And with all that is happening right now I've been thinking about how unfair it must be for you to not be named as king.

His tensed jaw makes you calculate your words, you have to be careful.

-You're smarter, stronger and a great knight. Don't take me wrong, I do not intend to provoke you, I'm just pointing at the obvious.

He looks at you confused, somehow he's expecting anxiously for your next words.

- You and I, we have more in common than what you think. We're the second ones. We've been proving we're better than our siblings our entire life, with time I accepted my destiny but you, Aemond you don't have to make the same mistake. I think you deserve more...

- Be clear, Daemma.

You stand in front of him, touching his hair softly, looking at him with big bright eyes, praying to make your magic or have some luck to at least have a chance to escape by fooling him touching a weak fiber inside him, whispering the last words in the most sweet and innocent way you could, so close to his ear that your lips are almost caressing it.

- The crown should be yours, my king...

Aemond doesn't show any emotion, for a second you think you're making more and more mistakes so you look down at the skirts of your dress, when his large hand takes your chin to make you face him again.

- Why are you saying all this?

- Because I know myself, my sister and I know Aegon, none of us would be good leaders, but you, Aemond, you have what we don't, I've seen it in dreams, you will be sitting on the throne.

Perhaps you say all those lies with much confidence or maybe you had the luck you prayed for. But Aemond smiles a little, convinced, pleased with your words.

- You're saying all this with a reason, tell me what is it.

- I said I wouldn't be good sitting on the throne to rule, I just want... Dragonstone, I want to be the owner of something, that's all.

He's about to ask more questions when a guard knocks on his door. Without opening the doors and with a loud and cold voice he demands to know why are they interrupting him.

- What is it?

«Ah... Pardon me, my prince, but your brother requested your presence at the small council.»

- See? Aegon can't handle the responsibilities, he's weak and easy to persuade, but you're different, you're difficult and impulsive, that's your advantage. You have to clean your path on this side and I'll do it on mine, do we have a deal?.

You whisper again feeling like a snake, filling his system with your poison, feeding his desires with false hopes and lies, because it's not your intention to betray your sister, you only want to escape. He looks back at you, caressing your chin, observing cautiously in your eyes, looking for any signs of lies, but maybe you played well, since he nodded in silence and left the room, as quick as he disappeared you did the same, coming back to your dragon, going home.

While you were in the sky, your sister was looking for her son, anything that could belong to Lucerys Velaryon.

Meanwhile the greens are struggling, different objectives, different causes and motives are on the table. Did you create more cracks?.

As soon as the moon is lighting the sky, you appear and soon, Rhaenyra does it too.

She doesn't even talk to you, or someone else in the room, some men welcomed you but that was all, her rage and grief were palpable.

After some people inform the advances, she listens or at least you would like to think she does. But the only thing she says, is something none of you weren't expecting.

- I want Aemond Targaryen.

Just like that, she doesn't say anything else and leaves the room. Daemon left minutes later, you feel like a ghost, not many people notice you, now you're feeling like the young version of yourself, isolated, wondering if you made the right decision leaving your comfortable place in the north.

Jace convinced you to go with him to have a private meeting with his mother, once there, you're behind the young man, who's hardly trying to not show how much the loss of his brother is affecting him.

- Your grace.

Both say in one voice, curtsying, Rhaenyra stays on her seat, her puffy eyes reveal all the tears she had been pouring.

Jace says something about a dragon in vale, then he mentions the men and the loyalty the north promised, his voice is cracking and suddenly Rhaenyra stops to play her character as queen and changes it for the mother figure her son needs.

You're still behind, unsure of what to do, the moment seems intimate and private, but then, Rhaenyra looks at you and without stopping the hug with her son, she offers one hand, indicating you can approach, instantly you run and join to the hug, sobbing and apologizing for not being here before.

The funeral was bitter and full of sadness, but somehow brought more union between your family. But Daemon mysteriously disappears, no one knows where he is, but you know his absence is something to worry about.

At the hour of the owl, walking between the walls and In front of everybody's noses, the revenge walked, the blood was soon to be spilled.

«The queen of dreams and the queen of dragons tied by the loss of an innocent»

The whisper wakes you up, you don't know why or how, but instantly you walk around dragonstone, checking on every kids room, because you were not prepared to lose someone else.

[hissterical-nyaan]

Raakh and Mere liye tum kaafi ho from Smzs are two ends of the proud desi gay spectrum for me

[septembersghost]

me watching any piece of media ever made: how can i make the thesis here about the wondrous, fulfilling, frightening, destroying, restorative, glimmering thrall of, and tragic inevitability of grief within, any and every form of love?

elvis (2022): *very first thing we hear* oh, let our love survive... *later*: love song i've known since childhood used in a dark, ominous way and a desperately tender one: some things are meant to be. take my hand, take my whole life too, for i can't help falling in love... *later still*: it was love. *last*: i need your love...

ah. okay. so you just made my job too easy. i don't even have to search for it. thank you. guess i'll go insane.

[evilminji]

Ooooh~ Drink mix up? >.>

Because! Wes DID, in fact, get that dream job. HAS learned... after many, many hours of "beat about the head and shoulders with an ethics pamphlet by his great aunt", to keep his mouth shut! Family curse of Sight? WHAT family curse?

He doesn't see shit! Mind your business.

What're you? A cop?

Look, he sent Fenton a gift basket. He was a shitty, shitty "I have to be RIGHT and nothing else matters!" Stubborn lil asshole of a kid. He got better. Grew up. No one is there best Self during puberty. He DOES, in fact, regret it.

Which is WHY, he is deliberately ignoring Kent's terrible, awful, paper-thin, "who meee~?" Aw shucks BULLSHIT excuse of a disguise, like it isn't blatantly obvious he's Superman. Yep. Nothing to see here! Nothing but us chickens! Mmmmm, morning coffee! Delicious.

But see, here's the THING.

The Itty, bitty, teeny lil PROBLEM...

Wes grew up in Amity "Totally Not Supernatural Hotspot For Centuries" Park. He is... to put it mildly, genetically? A freak. His biology is ALL fucked up. Everyone's is. And it WAS NOT made better by the Fenton's playing fast and loose with their hell basement. The Ectoplasmic NUKE that was that portal.

There is a REASON his morning coffee? Is COVERED. Contained. Fenton brand, LEAD LINED, specialty cups. The sort that can't be EATEN from the inside out. Eroded after a few uses. They're ugly as sin, but they work. He even ordered a few covers from Star's etsy shop. (Apparently he wasn't the only one who hated how ugly they looked. Good for her though, he heard it was doing well.)

He SAYS this? 'Cause his morning brew is less... straight COFFEE... and more... how to put this? A blend? Brew? Potion, really. Like an energy drink. From hell. Or, partially at least, the Zone. It's the combination of roots, seeds, and a few dried berries. Kinda like a tea, actually!

Tasty. Adds this nice fruity, warmth. A zing. Goes GREAT with the coffee. And it really perks you up... if you are Limnal. If you AREN'T? It'll desolve your esophagus like swallowing straight acid. And that's not TOUCHING the... witch-y, more Seer specific bit of the blend.

That stuff is medicinal. You know, "calm the mind" and "mental clarity". That sorta thing. With a good ol helping of "don't blurt out everyone's secrets, you spacey bitch! For the love of God, those are our INSIDE THOUGHTS!". Which? Really helpful! Infinitely less likely to get decked. It's a family staple.

Poisonous, though.

They're fine cause they've basically developed an immunity to that part, but like? Wouldn't recommend. It's why he NEVER shares his drinks. Food? On occasion. If he PLANS it and knows not to add and interesting spices. But DRINKS? Never. Weston family brews are basically NEVER safe.

Which? Begs the Very Important Question ™!

Who's Coffee Is This?

Cause it SURE AS FUCK AINT HIS!

You never realize quite how fast you can go from "completely calm and kinda sleepy" to "bomb strapped to my chest, primal panic AWAKE" until it happens to you. His coffee was ON HIS DESK. People have passed by. He talked to them. Cups put down and picked up. Lazy early morning. He doesn't even register, really, as his chair crashes to the ground.

He's shouting.

People confused. They don't realize yet. His head whips around, looking for that distinct cover. Before it's too late. Before someone takes that fatal sip. He spots it. Bolting from his desk. Crashing through coworkers, over desks. Chaos and outrage. "It's 'just' coffee!" They cry.

Kent turns, confused. Pretending. Raises his (HIS! Oh god!) cup to his lips, unknowing. Wes SCREAMS a warning. But he doesn't listen. "It's 'just' coffee" They never listen. Curse of Cassandra. God's damn it. This is why his family fucking CONVERTED!

He TACKLES the man of steel.

RIPS his cup away from him, knows his eyes are frantic. How much have you had?! Spit it out! Wes voice ECHOES in the sudden silence. I'm a META, Kent! It could KILL YOU!

And oh, Oh NOW they get it. Or perhaps it is the burn in his mouth that finally registers. He rolls, spits oil slick nebulae that eat away the floor. There is blood mixed within it. It took mere moments. Superman stares, transfixed and horrified, as Wes shakes. He... he should probably get off of him.

He'll move in a moment.

When his legs no longer feel weak from terror.

The news room is in chaos. Lane kneeling by her husband, Perry trying to do damage control. He... he's probably gonna lose his job, isn't he? Wes wants to cry. Protection laws only go so far, after all. And warning his boss about his dietary needs means jack shit, after an incident like this. Beloved as Kent is. Not that anyone likely believed him.

They never do.

And now he's nearly killed Superman.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @dcxdpdabbles

[nonushu]

09:58 pm - yjh

genre: fluff, secret relationship - warnings: mentions of being drunk? [a/n: i love long-haired jeonghan BUT short-haired jeonghan... oh my lord... this is also a bit rushed, hopefully, it's not too noticeable!]

whoever gave soonyoung the mic, he sure as hell isn't singing. instead, he's shouting at seungkwan through the booming speakers for whatever reason that there may be—most likely about something petty.

if you were drunk too, you'd be just as indulged as they were. but someone is making it hard to even care what's going on in the karaoke room. and if anyone else in the room was sober, they'd be able to see the literal hearts in his eyes.

jeonghan sits across from you, grinning as the lively scene of the two other men unfolds. no matter how much you motion for him to stop looking at you like he is, his stare somehow makes you feel more shy.

of course, jeonghan knows exactly what he's doing. he doesn't miss the subtle nervousness you try to hide from the others—if anything, he's enjoying the thrill of anyone who could become suspecting of the two of you.

you can feel his eyes on you as you get up when you decide it's time to leave. you take a breath before walking over to the food bar where you pack some leftovers for the next day.

jeonghan raises his brow at your sudden leave, rising from his seat to follow from behind.

"leaving so soon?" his voice soft, almost teasing.

you glance over your shoulder, snapping the lid on the container. "well, i have to go in early tomorrow. can't be too exhausted."

"but you're gonna miss the most memorable part of this," he chuckles, referring to soonyoung and seungkwan's dispute.

you scoff, shaking your head. "and then, i'll miss my hearing if i stay any longer,"

jeonghan's lips crack a smile as he leans in closer to you. his hands find their way to the small of your back. he pulls you gently towards him in a comforting manner but enough to make your breath hitch.

"jeonghan," you whisper, eyes darting around the room but doing nothing to stop him. "someone might see..."

but you know no one's paying attention to what you and jeonghan are doing, yet the thought of confrontation at the moment did not sound fun while everyone was wasted.

"you're really gonna leave me?" he pouts, putting his chin on your shoulder. "leave me here with our drunk friends?"

your eyes sided at jeonghan. "you can leave too, hannie,"

"well, someone has to drive them home," he whines, nuzzling closer.

you roll your eyes, unable to stop the smile that tugs at your lips. "well, aren't you such a good friend?"

"yeah..." he mumbles, arms now fully wrapped around you. "am i able to see you after work, though?"

you tilt your head to look up at jeonghan, returning the hug. "could you come over to my place as well?"

jeonghan's grin is boyish, his eyes lighting up. "it'd be my pleasure, angel,"

you sort of cringed at the nickname, but regardless, you loved it when he called you such. removing yourself from his arms, you head to the exit while giving him a playful smile. "see you then, jeonghan,"

before stepping out of the room, you feel a grip on your arm, slightly pulling you back. jeonghan stops you from exiting completely, still wanting you to stay with him longer.

with a low voice, he bends down to your level. "just one more hug before you leave?" his eyes are begging. "please?"

now you grin at jeonghan. "clingy, much?" but you embrace him anyway, hugging him closely.

his tone becomes sassy, yet he gives in. "yeah, well, you make it impossible to not be,"

the moment couldn't feel more perfect, but soonyoung's voice cuts through the air—through the very loud speakers, startling the both of you. "group hug!"

before you know it, soonyoung has his arms wrapped around the two of you, squeezing your bodies tight. you couldn't help but laugh while being squashed between the two men. jeonghan groans at him, but his grip on you doesn't loosen.

jeonghan must really love hugging you, you figured.

[kaijuno]

"No piece of art has ever emotionally affected me the way this robot arm piece has. It's programmed to try to contain the hydraulic fluid that’s constantly leaking out and required to keep itself running...if too much escapes, it will die so it's desperately trying to pull it back to continue to fight for another day. Saddest part is they gave the robot the ability to do these 'happy dances' to spectators. When the project was first launched it danced around spending most of its time interacting with the crowd since it could quickly pull back the small spillage. Many years later... (as you see it now in the video) it looks tired and hopeless as there isn't enough time to dance anymore.. It now only has enough time to try to keep itself alive as the amount of leaked hydraulic fluid became unmanageable as the spill grew over time. Living its last days in a never-ending cycle between sustaining life and simultaneously bleeding out... (Figuratively and literally as its hydraulic fluid was purposefully made to look like it's actual blood).

"The robot arm finally ran out of hydraulic fluid in 2019, slowly came to a halt and died - And I am now tearing up over a friggin robot arm 😭 It was programmed to live out this fate and no matter what it did or how hard it tried, there was no escaping it. Spectators watched as it slowly bled out until the day that it ceased to move forever. Saying that 'this resonates' doesn't even do it justice imo. Created by Sun Yuan & Peng Yu, they named the piece, 'Can't Help Myself'. What a masterpiece. What a message."

Extended interpretations: the hydraulic fluid in relation to how we kill ourselves both mentally and physically for money just in an attempt to sustain life, how the system is set up for us to fail on purpose to essentially enslave us and to steal the best years of our lives to play the game that the richest people of the world have designed. How this robs us of our happiness, passion and our inner peace. How we are slowly drowning with more responsibilities, with more expected of us, less rewarding pay-offs and less free time to enjoy ourselves with as the years go by. How there's really no escaping the system and that we were destined at birth to follow a pretty specific path that was already laid out before us. How we can give and give and give and how easily we can be forgotten after we've gone.. How we are loved and respected when we are valuable, then one day we aren't any longer and we become a burden...and how our young, free-caring spirit gets stolen from us as we get churned out of the broken system that we are trapped inside of. Can also be seen to represent the human life cycle and the fact that none of us make it out of this world alive. But also can act as a reminder to allow yourself to heal, rest and love with all of your heart. That the endless chase for 'more' isn't necessary in finding your own inner happiness.”

[prentissluvr]

something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket. 

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years. 

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.” 

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours. 

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have. 

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up. 

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch. 

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. 

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel. 

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat. 

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand. 

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love. 

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips. 

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap. 

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth. 

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible. 

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

[thehusbandoden]

He Doesn't Realize How Much he Needs You Until You're Gone Part One- Dabi

A/n: 100th writing I've posted :3

I hope you like it haha.

General info:

Genre: pure angst \\ wc: 2,425 \\ female reader \\ posted: 06/06/24

Warnings!: arguing, neglect, pure angst, crying, yelling, screaming, hurt, feeling betrayed, injuries (reader gets burned- not by Dabi), pushing your partner away (both parties), feeling worthless, feelings being discarded, mention of therapy, thoughts of leaving, thoughts of death, fear of a loved one dying, numbing your emotions, Dabi raging (burning things), leaving, partner being very tsundere, mention of blood (Dabi's tears), regret, guilt, becoming a husk, I think that's all haha. Pls lmk if I miss anything! <33

I will post two endings, one with angst and one with fluff. Lmk if you want to be tagged!

Tears roll down your cheeks as you spam Dabi with texts. You had just gotten into an argument with your beloved when he stormed out, cursing you out.

"Please." You quietly plead, your voice broken with sobs. "Don't leave me."

All of your texts remain unread. All your calls declined. You were having a panic attack by now, yet nothing seemed to get the villain's attention.

Just as you're about to completely lose it, you hear footsteps. Your freeze, listening with an indescribable intensity. The window opens. Your eyes dart to the activity.

Familiar black combat boots peek through the gap, falling to the floor. Your eyes travel up the familiar torn jeans, the worn out t-shirt, the burned neck, the crooked frown, and finally to the comforting turquoise eyes.

You let out a sob of relief as you see your Dabi standing in front of you. He looks down at you, grimacing.

"What happened to you?" He scoffed.

"I-I was worried." Your voice was hoarse and broken from your sobs.

"Worried?" He grunts. "You're more idiotic than I thought." He groans, grabbing the sandwich you made before the argument.

"I-I thought you were leaving me."

"I'm not gonna leave ya. No matter how annoying you are." He scoffs.

Annoying....

Your mind repeats the word several times, your face stiffening as you numb your emotions.

"Sorry..." you mumble.

"Don't start that pouty crap." He scoffs, shooting you a glare. "I'm tired of you being such a bother. I have so much to deal with. Your pathetic emotions isn't on my list."

You quietly fold your arms, moving to the couch. You watch Dabi silently, taking deep breaths to contain your emotions.

"I'm leaving for a mission tonight. I'll be back before next week."

His voice was less harsh, but nowhere near as warm as usual.

"O-okay.." you mumble, fidgeting with your sleeves. He rolls his eyes with a scoff, stomping into your shared bedroom.

~~

"I'm leaving now, brat."

You scramble to your feet, swiftly moving to his side. You lean up, hoping for a kiss as you ever so slightly pucker your lips.

You know your husband. He will notice... won't he?

His cold eyes move down to your lips. He grunts, turning around and leaving. "See ya later, brat. Don't be pouting when I get home, you hear?" He mutters, hauling himself through the window.

He always came in and out through the back window... it would be bad if your neighbors caught a highly wanted villain in your apartment.. hence the sneaking.

You've lived together for over a year now, you've moved four times now.

"Wait-" you call out, reaching out to your husband. His cold gaze burns into you.

"Um- a-aren't you going to... going to.."

"Spit it out, woman."

"Aren't you going to.. kiss me?" You blush. Dabi scoffs.

"Don't expect needles privileges after your attitude yesterday."

"Attitude?! Do you mean our argument?" You protest.

"Here it goes again." He groans. "You're always complaining and refusing to take accountability."

"Thats nonsense." You clench your fists, trying to suppress your emotions. Tears burned your eyes, but you refused to let them shed.

"What's nonsense is your attitude. You can't even keep me around now can ya? Your attitude always drives me off! I wonder why I ever married you in the first place. You give me attitude and then act like I'm the victim. Pathetic."

Tears well in your eyes. You bite your lip. "I won't ask for anymore from you." You whisper.

"Good. Keep it that way." He lands outside, shrugging his shoulder before walking off with an nonchalant attitude.

You close the window, leaning against the wall as you try to slow down your breathing. Tears fall down your cheeks as you curl in a ball, feeling hurt, angry, betrayed, and worthless.

The days pass by as you wait for Dabi to return. You didn't hear from him, and he was gone far longer than he said he would be. Every text was left unread, every call ignored, every voice-mail left un-listened to.

Eventually, you stopped trying. You got a therapist, and ended up deciding on what was best for you. When he comes home, if he doesn't treat you better, if he doesn't even listen or try to change, its better for you to leave. Even if it was just for a little bit.

Days turn into weeks, and weeks blur into months. Many nights you lay awake, doubting yourself. Doubting your worth.

It killed you inside. Your self esteem plummeted. You stopped going to therapy. All you wanted was your husband. Your husband's love, his validation, his touch, his mere presence.

Curled in a ball, you stared at the wall with a blank expression. Horrid scenarios went through your head as you imagine your poor husband alone, injured, and dying.

Tears blur your vision as you imagine him already dead, his loving soul leaving this world without even telling you goodbye. You hadn't even gotten a kiss. Or an I love you.

The tears don't stop. And they didn't as the hours slowly pass by. You felt like ripping your hair out, screaming, hitting, throwing things- anything to get your mind off of your husband's doomed death.

The window opens. Your eyes dart towards the unlocked glass pane. Combat boots pokes through. You gasp in relief.

A worn, exhausted, injured, and in pain figure follows the boots. Revealing your beloved, Dabi. You let out a small sob, launching yourself at him.

You close your eyes in relief as you feel his warm chest, the familiar staples bringing you comfort. As you move to open your eyes you feel a hand to your shoulder, your backside hitting the floor.

You look up in shock, Dabi looking down at you in disgust.

"I thought you said you wouldn't ask anymore from me." He scoffed. You grab your arm, holding it to your chest.

"I-" you start.

"I really don't want to hear it. Just let me rest." He groans. You slowly lift yourself off of the floor, silently moving into your shared bedroom.

You curl in a ball, hiding under the sheets. You hear him walking around outside of the room, silently listening. Tears blur your vision once more. You cover your mouth, tightly closing your eyes.

You shake with sobs, doing your very best to stay quiet. You can't help but feel worthless. Tears stream down your cheeks as you listen to your husband's familiar footsteps, glad he's safe at the minimum...

Hours pass by as you cry yourself to sleep, your stray tears staining your cheeks.

~~

Dabi's POV

Dabi strolls into your shared bedroom. "Oi, make me a sandwich will ya?" He grunts. Yiu don't move, irritating him.

He moves to your side, snatching the blanket. "I said-" he stops as he sees you asleep, tears stained on your cheeks. A strange pain dtabs at his chest. Shaking it off, he drops the blanket.

Staring at you, he gently cups your cheek, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. He pulls away, caressing your cheek. "I've missed you. Even though you're a pain." He whispers before pulling away.

~~

Your POV

The next morning

You blink open your eyes, rubbing at the lingering sleepiness. Yawning, your eyes lazily run over the room. The curtains were hiding the small bedroom from sunlight, the entire room encompassed in darkness.

Sitting up, you rub your puffy eyes once more. Dabi was no where near sight. Sighing, you absent-mindedly trace the bruise on your arm where you fell.

Your heart aches as you remember your therapist's words. This isn't healthy. It needs to stop...

The door opens, revealing Dabi. "Finally awake, sleepy head?" His voice wasn't the cold growl like last night, but it was no where near gentle.

You nod, timidly. Afraid of upsetting him once more.

"I'm starving. Want to make breakfas..?" This was his way of asking you to. If you agreed, there would be no thank you, for you "wanted" to.

If you said no, he would be irritated for a while. He won't cook, no matter how many times you beg him to while you're away, so he will oftenly go without eating if you're unavailable or refuse to cook.

Biting your lip, you nod. He gives you a short grimace, something similar to a small smile before walking out. Standing up, you yawn, stretching your arms. Your eyes ache from all the crying, but you push that to the back of your mind.

You walk out to the kitchen, beginning to cook. You feel Dabi's eyes on you, but you don't pay much attention. You were guarded, unsure why he's acting so differently this morning. Cautious of unleashing the monster once more.

"Dabi?" You murmur. He grunts in response.

"I talked to a therapist when you were on your mission..."

"A therapist? What for? Did you leak my identity?!" He snaps.

"No, I didn't. I was really struggling for a while and needed someone to help me."

"So you relied on a stranger?!"

"You wouldn't answer. I called, texted, I left voice-mails."

"Oh so you think that your crappy attempt to get my attention justifies getting help from a stranger!? Was he a guy?! Were you sleeping with him?!"

"What?! No! I would never!"

"Then what were you doing with them?!"

"I was getting help for my mental state, Dabi!"

"Oh poor baby, you think being lonely justifies that?!"

"You're being unreasonable. Dabi she told me it was best for me to leave you if you keep treating me like this. I'm telling you this so you can wake up and change. This isn't okay." You snap, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

"Leave me?!" He laughs. "You wouldn't. You can't live without me."

"You've been making me live without you for months, Dabi. You don't tell me you love me, you don't show me affection, I'm lucky just to have you not yell at me!"

"You're being dramatic." He spits. "You're a spoiled brat. I've been working my arse off for you and you're this ungrateful."

"You've been working for revenge! It's not for me, it never was! I have my own job that pays for all or our bills Dabi!"

"You're listening to a stranger's advice and plan on leaving me?!"

"Only if you don't change Dabi!"

"You knew what you were getting into when you married me, y/n. Stop playing the victim."

"You didn't treat me like this when we first married."

"Keep telling yourself that." He spits, putting his jacket on.

"Where are you going?!" You cry, the food far from recovery, you hazardously shove the pan into the sink, burning your hand. You cry out in pain.

"Y/n!" Dabi yells, hurrying your side. He aggressively graps your hand, making you cry out once more. "Idiot! Why did you hurt yourself like that?!"

"Just leave me alone!" You try to yank your hand away but Dabi yanks it back.

"Stay still!"

"Let me go Dabi!"

"Y/n just sit still!!"

You push him back, protectively pressing your injured hand to your chest. "I said to let me go!"

Dabi's face scrunches up as he looks down at you. After a few silent moments he turns away. "I'm over you and your dramatic act." He mumbled.

Walking to the door, he pulls his combat boots on. "Don't leave!" You cry, coddling your burning hand.

He ignores you, moving to the window. "Dabi! If you leave without us finishing this I'm leaving."

"Go for it. I don't need you. I never did." He sneered.

Your heart throbbed as your beloved husband jumped through the open window, not looking back. Falling to your knees you break into sobs.

You cry over the absence of your beloved, you cry over the pain, and you cry over the dreaded feeling of being completely alone.

You don't stop for hours. It goes on and on until your completely out of tears, numb to the feeling of utter loss. Your hand aches. Your eyes aches. Your heart aches.

It all just- hurts.

You slowly drift to sleep, the cold kitchen floor being the only thing that grounds you from the pain of betrayal.

~~

Dabi's POV

Three days later.

Dropping from the window Dabi nonchalantly glances around the room. It seemed unusually cold an empty. Paying it no mind, Dabi hazardly tossed his jacket and boots towards the front door.

"Y/n, I'm home." He calls, running his hands through his greasy hair, his roots were growing out. Rolling his eyes, he opens the fridge. It was... empty.

"Y/n!" He calls once more, huffing in annoyance. "I get home and can't even eat?!"

No response. "For Pete's sake you petty brat! Get out here!"

Silence.

Anger fills his being before he remembers your words before he left. A strange pain shoots through him, his eyes widen as he runs into your shared bedroom. Everything of yours was... gone.

His heart quickens as he searches the entire house for you. Nothing. Not even a trace. His breathing quickens as he pulls at his hair. Taking a shuddering breathe, he shakes his head.

"You'll regret this y/n... you'll be back and I'll laugh in your face!" He chuckles, losing a bit of his sanity. "I DON'T NEED YOU! YOU'LL SEE!" He screams, activating his quirk as he knocks over a chair. He let's out a scream, lighting anything and everything in sight on fire.

Months pass by. Dabi has turned into a shell, simply surviving. Work, sleep, work, sleep, work... a "good" day is when he remembers to eat or drink. A shower or change of clothes is out of mind.

Walking through the streets, he walks inside the charred apartment. Stepping inside, he closes the door. He doesn't care about his identity anymore, or anything really.

His turquoise eyes scan the apartment, his eyes landing on a photo of you and him. His heart strangely aches once more. "Y/n..." he murmured, his fists clenching.

Falling to his knees, he lets out a broken sob. His eyes burn, tears would be running if they could. Blood drips from his charred tear ducts. He falls to the floor face first, nothing but his beloved wife on his mind.

How could he be so stupid?! How could he be so utterly retarted?! He lost the one thing in this world that actually loved him. Grasping his phone, he dials your number.

Please. Please pick up... please... I need you...

~~~~~

Part two (coming soon) | alt. ending (coming soon) lmk if you want to be tagged!! <33

Dabi's masterlist | Masterlist | Navigation | Tips<3

Reblogs make me smile (bonus points if you tag) and comments make my day!!

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging. 

[mono-blogs-art]

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko - The Lesbian Office RomCom You Needed

Blatant flirting, hilarious misunderstandings, and lesbian shenanigans aplenty - this show is funny, over-dramatic, and most of all gay as hell. Here's my review! Spoiler-free version first, and a more detailed spoiler-y version under the cut. I hope you enjoy!

A quick summary: Overall: 9/10, you should absolutely watch this! Genre: RomCom, with some serious elements and a heartfelt exploration of sexuality Watch if you are looking for... : A silly and fun time, a happy ending, misunderstandings, and character development. Highly recommended to watch this with your partner(s) or your sapphic friends! Watch out for... : Although the tone of the show is mostly comedic, it contains discussion & depiction of homophobia at the workplace and past trauma relating to that Where to watch: Official TL on GagaOOLala, or Fansubs by @furritsubs (highly recommended!)

"Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko" (Ayaka-chan wa Hiroko-senpai ni Koishiteru) is a Jdrama adaption of a manga by the same title. The series premiered this year July 2024 and has wrapped up a short while ago, with a total runtime of 8 episodes of 24 minutes each.

The title of the show already says all; the plot is simple: Junior staff member Ayaka is head-over-heels for Hiroko, her senior at the company she works at. And she has decided to go on the offensive.

There are many obstacles in Ayaka's way: first of all, Hiroko is 13 years older than her (they are 23 and 36), and her superior at the workplace. Hiroko is beloved by both her superiors as well as her staff, so Ayaka's love for her is just one of many. And no matter how blatantly she ups her advances (and girl, she is BOLD), Hiroko is 100% convinced that all the flirting is just misplaced, straight-woman obliviousness.

The irony of it all is that Ayaka is absolutely barking up the right tree, because Hiroko is a lesbian, but has been firmly in the closet at work - something that she has no plans on changing. Her professional life and her personal must stay completely separate, at all cost. The only place she can truly be herself is the lesbian bar she's been a regular at for years.

^ Me when I'm a lesbian disaster doing insane mental gymnastics

However, "giving up" is not in Ayaka's vocabulary. As her seduction attempts keep escalating and being misunderstood, Hiroko's hard exterior begins to crumble bit by bit. Can Hiroko finally overcome her rigid ways, and let herself fall for someone?

Although the show is first and foremost a comedy, both Ayaka and Hiroko as characters are handled really well. They have their own problems, insecurities, reservations about the other, and both have a simple but great arc over the course of the series. Ayaka is discovering her sexuality, something she had never even considered before falling for Hiroko. What does being in love with a woman mean for her future? And Hiroko, who is already very confident in her sexuality, is confronted by her past trauma, and the fact that she's still not ready to come out despite the changing times. And while being undercover has saved her career in the past, it has also made her feel alone and isolated. She likes Ayaka back, but can't allow her true colors to show.

Something that I find very hard to achieve with comedy shows is the switch between funny and serious, and I think that Ayahiro manages this very well. Both of our main characters feel grounded enough in reality that when they get emotional, it feels relatable and sincere. For a silly show like this, striking a balance like that is crucial, and save for a few pacing issues in the later half of the show (that I honestly didn't mind at all), I think the show totally nails it. Ayahiro is not a realistic show, but it contains elements of reality that made me connect to it, despite all the insane shenanigans that go on. And because of that the show made me laugh and cry as much as it did, often in the same episode. It works, and Kudos to the writers (and actors!) for that.

Speaking of actors, one thing I must mention is that the show is very well made. The actors (especially Mori Kanna as Hiroko is the standout for me, she has a natural charisma and gay swagger) do a fantastic job, the leads' chemistry is great. The production overall has some real money behind it, with lots of changing sets that all look great and have been crafted with care. Ayaka's outfits are absolute KILLER, she is giving insane femme energy. The show also looks very pretty, the color graders turn that saturation up to 100 and it fits Ayaka's rose-tinted world well.

That's it for the spoiler-less part, I'll now get into specific characters and plot points with full spoilers up to the end of the series under the cut. If you don't want to get spoiled, I hope the review until now made you want to watch the show for yourself! I hope you enjoy!

First of all I need to disclaim that I have not read the original manga that she show is based on, so I can't compare the series to its original and how the plot is written there. I do intend to read it (I hope it gets localized to German so I can support the official release, but I might check out the English Official TL anyway before that) but for now, I will only judge the series as is.

Ayaka: Our protagonist is a femme fatale, in... another meaning of the word, I guess. She is a disaster, bad at pretty much everything she does except not giving up. Once she has set her mind to something, she will get it done. That leads her to often be inconsiderate and unable to see what others around her are feeling, which goes mostly for her best friend Risa, but also for Hiroko, whose feelings she also fails to consider even when pursuing her. Ayaka has to learn the hard way that her naivete is hurting others, and herself. She hasn't really thought her advances through, simply acting on instinct. But as the series goes on, she takes her feelings and her newly discovered sexuality seriously, and grows comfortable with calling herself a lesbian. She is also unashamedly horny, like, Oh My God, this girl is trying to get laid so bad. This is hilarious and refreshing to see, and although her seduction attempts are often played as comedic, it doesn't feel like she is being ridiculed for her sexuality by the show. Ayaka often crosses boundaries (physical and emotional) with Hiroko, both out of naivite and in deliberate attempts to seduce her. To me this was never truly infuriating, even though sometimes she really did go too far, but for me it always kept in tone with the comedy of the show. Even when Ayaka finally comes out in front of the entire office, she makes it clear that she doesn't want Hiroko to do the same if she's not ready.

Hiroko: Our deuteragonist is probably my favourite character in the show, and I think she's very relatable and well done. As an older lesbian, she's got plenty of experience, having even earned the title of "The Ace" in her lesbian friend circle for being a talented womanizer. But a traumatic experience of losing her last partner due to being found out at the workplace has changed her. She's afraid to get attached, she's unable to let people get close to her true self. So when Ayaka is fighting tooth and nail to get to her, Hiroko is caught in conflict between her feelings of attraction and her past trauma. She does everything in her power to dismiss Ayaka's advances to protect herself, and later when she learns that Ayaka is in fact not straight (duh), she still turns her down to protect Ayaka's (and her own) career. Hiroko is a bit of a conservative - something she's also called out for in her lesbian friend circle - she believes that coming out at work is impossible and irresponsible. And you know, I get it. Not only does she have personal bad experiences with exactly that, it's also not unreasonable to think it would be a bad idea to hook up with your junior of 13 years. Like, I get it girl. Hiroko is clearly attracted to Ayaka, not just physically but also emotionally, because Ayaka is everything Hiroko wants to be but can't. And that leads to Hiroko constantly underestimating Ayaka, even treating her like a child. She thinks Ayaka is not really thinking the gravity of her actions through, and she gets called out for that and has to overcome it. In the end, Hiroko ends up being a character that needs time, and needs to unlearn a whole bunch of shitty behaviour, something the show clearly also shows is being worked on and that Ayaka also respects (more on that later).

Risa: Easily the character I struggled with the most, Ayaka's best friend Risa is complicated. She's very observant but also shy, and secretly harbors a crush on Ayaka. Quietly struggling with her sexuality, she only decides to come out when she realises that Ayaka's feelings for Hiroko are serious. Oh, it's messy! She confesses to Ayaka, who in turn has to struggle with her feelings for someone else, but also not wanting to lose her closest confidant. And to her credit, Risa takes the rejection quite gracefully and continues to support Ayaka in her pursuit of Hiroko. However, Risa also outs Hiroko against her will to Ayaka, which... is just a shitty thing to do, even though she just wanted to help her friend. Good motive, still murder. After the conflict between Ayaka and Risa is resolved, Risa just kind of... is around, quietly worrying in her corner and kind of (in my opinion) overstepping her boundaries with Hiroko. I don't dislike Risa, but I thought her character was not done super well in parts, and although I understand the complicated situation she herself is in, the show doesn't really let her grow as much as the other characters. Anyway, good for her for bagging the hottest chick at the lesbian bar, though. Good for her!

The "break-up": The story's conflict comes to a peak when Hiroko finally realises there is only one way to shut this all down. She needs to fulfill Ayaka's desire, and then turn her down, once and for all. But Hiroko at this point still thinks Ayaka is immature and hasn't really thought her actions through. Ayaka sheepishly asks for a kiss, so Hiroko kisses her. "Now you've achieved everything you wanted." We're done, you can give up on me and this childish crush you have on me. And most importantly, I can let you go, too. Not realising that Ayaka wants much more. She wants a real relationship, she wants the kiss, sex, real emotions, she wants to see Hiroko's true self too. She wants a partnership.

The Finale: With the encouragement of her peers, Ayaka finds the courage to express her feelings to Hiroko one last time. And she finds just the right words to finally get through to her. Hiroko realises how much of an ass she's been all this time, how she ended up hurting the girl she loves and herself by denying herself happiness. This whole scene was so well done (Kudos to Kato Shiho as Ayaka, this is probably her best scene in the entire show), brother I cried so hard. And finally Hiroko can say what she should have a long time ago: "I'm sorry."

One year later: In the show's worst case of bad pacing, we immediately cut from their tearful reunion to "one year later", lol. I don't mind the sudden jump too much, but maybe a bit of a slower fade-out would have softened the blow, because I think a few people probably found this very jarring xD not too bad for me. I was actually positively surprised that we actually get to see the aftermath, see how their relationship has developed a year into it.

I've seen a few people complain about this "no-sex scene" (lol) and I just want to add my two cents. I actually really like how this scene played out, for two reasons. Reason 1 is that it's just very much in-character for Hiroko. We've seen her struggle back-and-forth with the intimacy Ayaka wanted from her for the past 7.5 episodes, and her own internalised homophobia and constant fear of "crossing the line". She's a traumatized person, and it makes total sense to me that even one year into the relationship, she's still struggling with sexual intimacy. Sure, a whole year is a long time not having sex with your partner (even though you both clearly wanted to from day 1) but like... it makes sense for Hiroko. She's still working through the past 10+ years of repression. I do understand how this scene can be interpreted as "the show is afraid to show them being horny and sexy together, they're cowards for making Hiroko so obsessed with Ayaka's "purity" etc" and like, yes, that is a totally valid interpretation, but IMO also a quite bad faith one.

"I'm happy to know you feel that way. Which is why, could you please wait a little more, just until I sort my feelings out?" "What?" "I want to cherish you, Ayaka." "Right." "I'm sorry for everything, Ayaka." "For everything?" "In the end, it seems like I still haven't came out yet. I understand that I'm making you endure something when you don't have to. But… I do want to be with you, and I want to keep my job. I'm really sorry for making you put up with my selfishness."

^ Like, that is the conversation that follows. It's not just about sex for Hiroko, that kind of intimacy holds a deeper meaning to her and she's just not ready for it yet, and trying to sincerely tell her partner that. And when Ayaka reaffirms her willingness to be patient in this scene and is respectful of Hiroko's choice, Hiroko realizes that she's being a stupid coward, and finally makes a decision...

... to come out in front of the whole office, who's been gossiping about their relationship the whole year anyway.

And that is the end of the show!

So really, Hiroko did manage to overcome her fears in the end, and it took her a whole year into a healthy relationship to do so. And I think that is honestly much more realistic than some people would like to believe. Is the smooch in front of the whole office silly and cheesy and over-dramatic? Of course, but that's the entire show so far. And if you think that kiss-and-dip is dumb then I can't help you, I think you just don't like fun.

Oh yeah, and my reason 2 why I thought that no-sex scene was done well is because it's just funny. Ayaka has been DTF since minute 1 of the show, and her still being unable to get it this far into it is just funny. I would have loved a little nod to them finally getting down at the very, very end, but eh, I can live with it like this. They've conquered the emotional hurdles, I'm certain they will cross that other bridge when they get there on their own time.

Conclusion: "Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko" is a great and incredibly funny lesbian show that touched me emotionally much more than I thought it would. It made me cry several times, the production and acting quality positively surprised me, and honestly deserves my Nr 2 spot of favourite Lesbian JDrama after Tsukutabe (which is a 10/10 show) for now. I really hope this type of show gets imitators, adapting relatively short stories into mini-series with great quality. I appreciate the more adult tone of this series, its shameless comedy while still being able to hit serious beats with real emotion. From what I've seen of the BTS, the actors and staff also handled the subject matter with respect and care and had a lot of fun making the show. I don't think a season 2 is needed, but I do hope that the series can inspire more similar works. I love Ayaka and Hiroko, and I'm so happy they got their happy ending, and by God, I hope they have the best sex ever in their beautiful lesbian future. God bless.

That's it from me, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this show as much as I did! Hopefully see you soon!

[soanliawriter]

He knows your weakness is him...

Soshiro Hoshina x f!reader

Subtle nsfw warning, trust me, the others I have in store is a lot more, intense, this is just the beginning! Happy reading! 😏

༺⌘♡⌘༻

Dating the Vice Captain of the Third Division is definitely something. You were the first to confess to him but it was embarrassing to say the least, with his usual fox eyed look widen his eyes, seeing his crimson orbs staring into yours, that day was when Kafka Hibino was getting promoted, you excused yourself and surprisingly your Vice Captain followed suite, leaving the others to party and drink for a while longer. His response was something you thought only happened in the movies or series.

"I like ya" he says in his kansai dialect, your heart couldn't contain the excitement it felt; it feels like it's about to burst. "What" you murmured silently as his eyes are back to his fox like eyes, "I like ya. For a long time" he confirmed it, now your brain is trying to solve the puzzle while your heart is ready to beat out of your chest.

Ever since that day, you two started dating. No one in his platoon knows, and you both plan to keep it that way until both of you are ready. Dating him is indeed something, you later learned that he loves teasing you, putting you on the edge as he loves to see you tremble in his touches, the sudden hugs or kisses he gives. It's the feeling inside you that loves it so much, even though you show a face towards him that you didn't like it; but in reality you do. Can't he just f*ck me right now? You thought as he does it again today as you both cuddled in his bed, his right arm hugging you, feather touching your arm up and down, it turns you on but at the same time, it's comforting.

"Vice Cap--ah!" Hearing him tutting after feeling the subtle but tender slap he gave your ass, "what did I say about that? Your my girlfriend, no matter our roles, we're datin aren't we?" That caught you off guard a bit, gulping as you nodded, "sorry, Soshiro" hearing a hum of satisfaction, you can tell he's smiling without looking, "yes baby?" He waits for your response, sitting up and looking at him, your fingers drawing lazy shapes on his bare chest, "can we?".

You two have been dating for 2 years, that long and no one has known you're dating your Vice Captain. Soshiro knows that when you don't finish your sentence, "are you needy baby?" He asked in a husky voice, that sent shivers down your spine as you're red as a tomato, without words you nodded. He chuckles deeply, sitting up on his elbows as his left hand cups your right cheek, "ya wanna baby?" There he goes again, teasing you. Feeling your body heating up, everytime the cool night breeze brushes on your skin sending chills down your pussy.

"Yes Soshiro... Please" begging was something he secretly loves, how did you discover that? He was fingering you so intensely as his mouth eats the sensitive bundle of nerves on his office desk once, he teases you to not letting you cum, when you started begging for him, he had a menacing smirk, "f*ck baby" he whispers as he lets you cum finally. Ever since that day that you knew his secret, you decided to use it tonight. Ovulation week is sure dangerous when you have a partner this hot and attractive. You thought once more.

"We'll go slow baby, okay?" He softly says before he leans in for a kiss. Making out was not new to neither of you, his kisses were often soft and tender, he starts it that way all the time, he starts to go harder, pushing your body down to his mattress, your legs automatically opening as he rests in between them, your arms hugging him as he continues his kisses. So passionate, so full of love. But that soon turned intensed as you felt his tongue tracing your lips, asking for entrance to enter your mouth, not wasting any time you granted his tongue permission to enter your cavern. Moaning softly as his calloused hands got under your shirt and bra, he clicked his tongue as he moved his lips up to the shell of your ear, "a bra huh? With me baby, ya don't need to wear one" cheeks flaring up as he massages your delicate breasts as he sucks on your ear sensually. "Soshiro~" hearing him chuckle deeply, "such a sensitive gal I got, hm?" He cups your chin and turned your head the other side to suck on your most sensitive ear, earning a moan a little louder this time.

His skillful slender fingers starts to stimulate the poor sensitive nipples you have that made you arches your back, feeling him even more. "I'm not doing much yet baby" he chuckles as he kisses your ear and going lower with his kisses yet again. Around your body goes so sensitive with him. Sucking and nibbling on your neck, marking you as his once again, his hands continuing their mission to give you a nipple orgasm.

"Ya like that?" He asks, no words were coming out as you nodded your head, he pulls away for a while, removing your shirt and tossing it somewhere in his bedroom as his kisses travels down, sucking on your collarbones marking you there. Once he's satisfied, he gave attention to your nipples once more, using his fang tooth to lightly bit on the left nipple of yours, "f*ck Soshiro" you moaned out, hearing him chuckling and feeling his smile around your nipple; he did the same thing on your right. His amazing with his mouth and tongue, even when he's biting your delicate fragile skin, once you started arching your back and grabbing a handful of his dark violet hair, moaning loudly, feeling his smirk against your skin. That was a sign you're about to reach your orgasm. Soshiro loves that just from this, he can make you orgasm, his fingers and dick hasn't been entered you yet.

"Soshiro.. Soshiro~~" he hums as he fasten his tongue and pinches and twists your nipple as you started quivering all over, feeling the pleasure rushing through your system, arching your back over and over again as you finally orgasmed, "f-f*ck! Soshi! Soshi!" Body shaking as you try to lift his head off of you, he chuckles as he examines your face, "that's ma girl" he whispers to your ear as his fingers teases your super sensitive nipples; it got you screaming and laughing pushing his hands away.

"The second course for tonight," he whispers down your ear, "my fingers inside ya, and ma tongue on that pretty little pussy"

༺⌘♡⌘༻

Stay tuned for part 2😏🔞

[mncxbe]

Could you write about the bsd boys' (dazai, chuuya and akutagawa) reactions to their fem s/o having an intense orgasm? like, she squirms, moans loudly and throws her head back (bonus points if they kiss her neck when she does)

I got so excited when I saw your request and I loved writing it. Hope you enjoy.

4 a.m

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂, 𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡

°☆○

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

this man knows your body like the back of his hand and he took his time to learn how to please you

most of the time he takes it slow, making sure you enjoy every second of it

Dazai is a tease; he always denies your orgasms, edging you until your core aches

your pleas and begs only determine him to keep up this act

he prefers to be on top so he can see your expressions; he's so mesmerized by the way your eyes roll back and the way you bite on your lower lip as he finally allows you to cum

The bedroom was filled with the sound of your whimpers.

"Dazai, please I can't take it anymore" you whined, tears starting to cloud your vision. Your boyfriend has been at it for hours now, edging you beyond belief. No matter how much you begged him he just wouldn't let you cum. As for now, he had you on your back, thighs pressed against your chest as he rammed himself into you.

He only only cooed at your words, mischief glimmering in his eyes. "Aww bella. I'm sure you can take a bit more. Would you do that for me?"

You only nodded, earning a grin from the man. "Good girl" he said lowly, flipping you over to your belly. He raised your hips until they were alligned with his cock, one of his hands pressing onto your lower back to keep your curve. When he thrusts into you again, a sharp moan escaped your lips. "There you go, bella. Here's your reward for being so good today"

You could only squirm and babble nonsense into your pillow as he moved in and out of you at a relentless pace. Soon enough, you were getting close to your release, your walls clenching around him. You half expected him to deny your orgasm again but he kept ramming you.

One of his calloused hands grabbed your neck, forcing your head off the sheets. "Gonna cum for me doll?" he uttered between grunts.

"Y-yes 'samu" you replied in a shaky voice. You bit down on your lower lip in attempt to contain your lewd sounds.

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear "Then go ahead". His mouth found the sweet spot right under your ear and he started sucking on your skin.

This was enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. Your legs started to shake as you let out a ragged moan, almost like a cry. Your boyfriend let go of your throat, allowing your head to rest on the pillow again but he kept whispering sweet things into your ear as he worked you through your high. "That's it dear. So tight f' me"

It didn' take long for him to finish too. Even after he pulled our you were still slightly shaking. Dazai carefully placed a hand on your thigh, which gained him a sharp whine.

"N-no more" you managed to utter while trying to regain your breath.

He chuckled, taking in the view before laying next to you again. His arms snaked around your waist pulling you closer.

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂

no because hear me out this man doesn't really know what he's doing

compared to Dazai, he's really unexperienced and although he does his best to learn to how to please you, he lacks the confidence

he can often gets lost in the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, which causes him to pick up the pace

he literally doesn't realize that he made you cum so much until you start shaking under him, moans rolling off your lips

my baby is so confused at first but he quickly regains his composure and keeps thrusting into you.

he definitely wants to see you squirm again

praise him, tell him he's a good boy and he'll literally never stop pleasing you

Akutagawa was on top of you, his hips slapping against yours as Rashomon kept your legs open. The black fabric snaked around your body, sqeezing you in all the right places.

As a result you were a whining mess, mouth slightly agape. You were trying to conceal your fucked out expression but Akutagawa's hand seized your wrist. "Don't you dare hide from me. I wanna see how good I make you feel" he spoke in a sharp voice, his words only making you clench around him even tighter.

"Oh fuck" he cursed, hands grabbing your hips as he pushed himself deeper into you. He picked up the pace, completely focusing on the warmth of your core. He is so pussy drunk, watching as his cock went in and out of your wet folds.

The black fabric tightened around your body - the last drop in this cocktail of pleasure. Your back arched, thighs squeezing the sides of is abdomen. It was only then that his eyes moved to your face and he quite literally froze. With your eyes rolled back, your body was jolting in pleasure. "Please don't stop now, Ryuu" you pleaded, your glossy eyes meeting his. He immediately started moving again, gaining another desperate moan from you.

Soon after he came too but that didn't mean you were done. He used Rashomon to tie your legs together, hooking them over his shoulder as his fingers kneaded the plush of your hips.

"We're not done yet pretty. I wanna see you do that again, alright?" he said as he resumed his movements. It's safe to say you were in for a long night.

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂

Mr fancy hat is a true gentleman who proritizes your pleasure over his own

he prefers to be on top and in control but sometimes he will let you ride him. After all, what's better than receiving some special treatment from their s/o after a hard day at work?

he's quite handsy; loves seeing twitch and squirm under his touch

Chuya couldn't keep his hands to himself. And how could he? When you were riding him so prettily, nails digging into his chest as you tried to find some support; eyes shut tight. He could tell that you were close to your release by the way your movements got sloppier.

He chuckled, cupping your cheek with one of his hands as the other one traced lines along your belly.

"So pretty for me, doll. You like it when you have your way with me? I bet you do."

He thrusted his hips, making you jolt in pleasure. You picked up the pace, rocking your hips faster. Chuya's hand moved to your clit, lazily rubbing circles. "You're doing so well baby. Don't stop now" The words of praise added to the physical pleasure were enough to make you come undone.

You threw your head back, mewling in pleasure. A wave of satisfaction and desire took over your boyfriend as he watched you ride through your high. He pulled you down on him, your bare chest pressed against his and he caressed your figure.

Your body was still sensitive, each touch making you moan lowly into his ear.

Chuya's hands eventually rested on your hips but his lips went straight to your neck, leaving butterly kisses from place to place.

"Good girl. How about I get the bath ready for us?"

You gently nodded and slid off him, arms wrapping around his torso. A smile made its way to your lips "I'd love that. But let's stay like this for a bit."

"As you wish, my love" he replied, giving into your embrace.

[wyatt-writes]

Missing you.

Miguel ohara x bottom male reader

This contains: Smut, established relationship, 18+

After a long day of work I was spent, I turned the key to my apartment and quickly jumped in the shower. Once I was done I went into my room with my favorite towel wrapped around me. I looked around for the boxers I had folded before I went to work but they were gone? I needed those because I had no other cleans ones at the moment. "What the- I swear they were right here." I groaned to myself in frustration. Next thing I seen, Miguel coming out of a portal. "All ripe and ready for me I see?" Miguel teased. "Stop taking my boxers." I stated. "I didn't take them." Miguel replied. That little liar.

"I know you did, you can't go a single second without something of mine." I responded. Silence filled the room for a second or so, Miguel approaching me. "And what's the harm in that?" Miguel said, picking me up and placing me on the bed. "You know, work had me away from you at all times. I miss you." Miguel said with that glint in his eyes.

Miguel's statement caught me off guard, but before I could respond, he had already started kissing me passionately. His hands roaming my body, sending shivers down my spine. I couldn't resist his touch any longer, I gave into my desires and let myself get lost in the moment. As we continued to kiss, Miguel's hands found their way under my towel, teasing me with every touch. My mind was clouded with pleasure as he trailed kisses down my neck and chest. This was something we hadn't done in a while and it felt exhilarating. I couldn't help but moan as Miguel's lips trailed lower, reaching the sensitive spot on my stomach. He knew exactly how to drive me wild and he was doing just that. "I'm going all the way tonight, are you ready?" Miguel said again between kisses.

I spoke in agreement and all the stress from work vanished as Miguel brought me to a state of pure bliss. His hands moved lower and soon enough we were completely lost in each other, consumed by our passion and love for one another. It was like nothing else mattered in that moment except for us. Miguel took his fingers putting them in my mouth, I sucked on them in desperation. As much as I wanted him to just put it in, I hadn't prep myself in awhile and he had a monster in those pants. After a little he took them out and I whimpered in the loss of contact.

"So needy~ but don't worry mi amor I'll give you what you want." Miguel said as he inserted his now coated fingers earning a moan from the sudden friction of his thick fingers. He continued to work me over, my body pulsating with every stroke. The anticipation was killing me. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, Miguel whispered, "I'm putting it in."

I could hear the excitement in his voice and I knew that he was about to give me exactly what I've been wanting. As he positioned himself, I could feel the immense size of him, and the thought of him entering me overwhelmed me with delight. With a deep breath, I embraced him, feeling his warmth and strength surrounding me. He slowly pushed into me, his dick stretching me to accommodate his size. It was painful, yet exhilarating. Miguel's breaths were ragged, and I could tell he was trying to control his own desires. "Oh, Miguel, I need you, now more than ever," I pleaded, wanting him to ease my pain and fulfill my every desire. Miguel's eyes locked with mine, his gaze filled with a mix of love, lust, and determination. He picked up his pace, slowly thrusting into me, eliciting a mix of pleasure and pain. I clung to him, feeling his every movement. Each thrust brought me closer to the edge, but I still ached for more.

"Please, Miguel, fuck me harder," I begged, my voice shaky with need. Miguel grinned wickedly, his eyes darkening with desire. He increased his pace, pounding into me with short, sharp thrusts. I moaned, my body responding to his every movement. The pleasure was overwhelming. "I'm so close-" I moaned. "M-me too." Miguel said in between thrusts, his pace slowing down as he was getting closer. “Let's come together." I told Miguel, as he pulled me in his embrace. With one final surge, Miguel thrust himself deep inside me, and I felt his warmth flood me, a wave of ecstasy washing over me. As our bodies shook with pleasure, I wrapped my legs around his hips, desperately clinging to him, my nails digging into his skin. "Miguel. ." I whimpered, my voice shaky and breathy. "I love you so much." Miguel smiled, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. "I love you too, cariño." He gently whispered in my ear, before we lay there, our bodies still connected, basking in the afterglow of our passion.

We laid there, our hearts beating in sync, our breathing slowly returning to normal. For a moment, there was nothing but us, surrounded by the hazy aftermath of our lovemaking. The raw intensity of our emotion left both of us speechless. When Miguel finally managed to find the strength to pull apart. Planting me with kisses before he picked me up to go shower.

Wordcount: 913

A/n: possibly cutting down on dialogue, ps to my friends if they see this. It wasn’t me.

[watermelonlovershigh]

A Chilly Nights Sleep ❄🛌 /blurb/

AN: i wanted to write something that had to do with the weather getting cooler outside so i came up with this little blurb. i hope you enjoyyyyy!!!!! please remember to leave your feedback. much appreciation.

This story contains: pure fluff

{ youngish dadrry - husbandrry - soft!harry - dunkirk harry era - Masie-(May-z-e) }

word count- 703

Your daughter Maise wakes up to her room being cold and decides she wants to finish her night of sleep in-between her parents so they can keep her warm.

It's currently three in the morning on November 2nd and little miss Maise just woke up in her big girl bed, shivering from the cold. Maise is your four year old daughter and for the most part has no issue sleeping in her own room which is just down the hall from yours and Harry's bedroom. Unless she's sick or had a bad dream she'll usually stay put in her room until the morning sun peeks through her curtains and wakes her up. But now, her issue is that she's cold.

Of course Maise has blankets on her bed but the air around her is fridged. So the only logical thing to do in her four year old mind is go in her parents room to wake them up and ask to sleep in their bed.

Maise climbs out of her big girl bed and quickly walks down the hall into the room you and Harry are fast asleep in. Harry's on his tummy with his face facing the outer edge of the bed and you're cuddled up to his right side. You both somehow stay asleep when your daughter opens and closes your bedroom door and it isn't until her tiny hands come to gently pat Harry's face that one of you arouse from your sleep.

Grumbling, Harry can vaguely feel something touch his face. Then once he comes to a bit more, he realizes its his four year old daughter. That has him quickly sitting up in bed, now in dad mode. Worried something had happened. "What? What is'it, baby? Somethin' the matter? Are you sick?" He's really just rambling at this point which is something Harry does when he starts to worry.

Though it's pretty dark in the bedroom, there's just enough light from the street lights outside the window for her to look up at her father and shake her head no while answering, "No daddy. My room got cold and I wanted to sleep with you and mummy. So you could keep me warm." All the stress leaves Harry's body and his heart expands twice its size.

Reaching down, Harry scoops Maise up from under her armpits and lifts her in his lap. "Course you can, my little love. We'll keep you nice and warm." She leans forward to embrace her daddy in a hug which he takes a moment to hug her back. But then it's time to lay back down and go to sleep so he helps situate her in the middle of the bed and lays down again himself.

Maise quickly scoots over to give you a cuddle. You somehow stayed asleep through all the comotion. You are a pretty deep sleeper. But once you feel the familiar embrace, you flutter your eyes open and see your daughter now in bed with you. "Hi, baby," you croak out, "what'r you doing in our bed, hm?"

Keeping her voice in a whisper, your daughter says, "My room was too cold and daddy said I could sleep here so you both could keep me warm." Just like Harry's, your heart nearly explodes from how much love you have for this little girl beside you. The little girl you created with the love of your life.

Looking over her small body, you see Harry looking at the both of you, a sleepy smile on his face, and reply, "We will keep her warm, won't we, Harry?"

Harry scoots over as close as possible towards the middle of the bed so that you both are nearly squashing Maise between your heated bodies. He leans down to kiss the back of her head and then leans over to peck your lips. "Mhm hm, keep her all nice and toasty, we will. Can't have our little girl gettin' cold on us. That'd be a shame."

All the sudden Maise lets out a loud, "Shushhh!" followed by her muttering, "Sleepin' now. Quiet, mummy an' daddy." Harry and you just giggle at her sassy attitude and fall back on your individual pillows to actually get some sleep again. For the remainder of the night, you and Harry keep your daughter between your bodies to make sure she stays warm and never gets cold.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[factorydefaultlu]

Coriolanus can't stand the fact that you sleep with both him and Sejanus. One of his least favorite things (among the many) is sharing. But especially when it's rubbed in his face so much. Watching Sejanus and you disappear, only for Sejanus to come back with a stupid grin and you to come back re-applying your lipstick. Hates when he takes off your blouse and sees love bites that he didn't leave. He hates how his mind wonders beyond his control. Seeing you speak with Sejanus and grab onto his arm, flaunting your closeness - why not him? (The truth is Corolanius would 100% reject your public affection but in his mind you're still betraying him). 

He especially hates how everyone else knows that you sleep with both of them. The others sneer about you behind your back. Talking about how much of a slut you must be to be fucking two men at once. None of that backlash ever comes back to Coryo (or Sejanus for that matter), but it still grates on him. That others know so much that you aren't fully his. What aggravates him most is when Sejanus or you talk about it.

Mentioning it so casually, like this is normal. Sejanus will come up to him. Smiling like a dope and talking like their friends. After checking if anyone is around, he'll bring you up. Asking if Coriolanus had seen "our girl" around anywhere. It makes him grate his teeth and practically stomp off. You watch Coriolanus leave your bed after he cums, like he always does and remark about how Sejanus stays with you after. He'll say "Then go find Sejanus" and try to seem calm but it always comes out like a sneer. He has to stop himself from screaming when you casually joke to him one day that he is "boyfriend #2". He'll never admit but his mind wonders to why he isn't at least "boyfriend #1"? 

this ended up pretty long but i couldn't contain myself.

-☃️

JAW ON THE FLOOR

Snowman anon you outdo yourself every time. Do you write? Do you have a blog? I need to eat your words with a spoon like soup. Delicious soup

[mitsuyaya]

[ phonography ] okkotsu yuuta x fem! reader

♡ contains: 1k+ words. MDNI, smut, mutual masturbation, phone sex, guided masturbation (?), vaginal fingering, male masturbation, dirty talk, established relationship, long-distance relationship

♡ summary: Yuuta believes that he isn't a pervert, that he has great self-control, and that no matter how long you two are apart, he can control his urges—turns out he's all wrong.

♡ end note: cross posting part 3/6 of my yuuta’s bday bash. happy birthday my love ♡

By any means, Yuuta isn't a pervert.

He isn't horny all the time, isn't always sex deprived – your boyfriend isn't always that addicted to the feeling of your skin and limbs tangling with his.

To the feeling of your lips on his, eyes fixed on him, hands melting against his own – he doesn't yearn for your body all the time, you know that too.

“I need you baby, please. Can't take it anymore” his voice staggers, for a minute you thought he's in grave danger, that he's on the brink of death, not until you heard the sound of slicks and his low grunts from the phone.

He isn't a pervert, you know that all too well, but apparently during these times where you're both far apart from each other, he felt vulnerable, felt hopeless and lost without you.

Which is pretty hilarious, since he's the strongest (after Gojo of course) and yet he can't do one little task.

“Where are you y/n?” he sounded so desperate, with the tone in his voice, you could only imagine what his expression would be like.

Sweat beading into his forehead, eyes shut close from frustration, head leaned back on the headboard, hands lazily wrapped around his exposed length.

“I just got home, I'm at the front door right now.”

“Could you go to our bedroom and get on the bed right now, take off your clothes and panties for me, pretty girl.”

The power he had on you, even if he's nowhere to be seen right now, even if his presence is nothing more than just his voice from the phone – he still had the same effect on you, still had the lingering dominance in his words that you can't help but feel your knees shaking, trembling.

Without so much as a second thought, your feet dragged you into the bedroom, taking two flights of stairs at a time. If you weren't horny earlier, well now you are, he's a fucking curse really.

“Are you there yet?” you managed to pull yourself all the way to the bed, pants and underwear discarded somewhere around the bedroom floor.

You heard Yuuta's sharp intake of breath, you can sense the urgency in his voice, desperation pouring from his tone, you can feel just how much torture he's going through – the need to cum, to feel you.

“Yes baby, what do you want me to do? Want me to help you? Want me to guide you?”

It's hurting you more than it is to him, the way you could almost picture your boyfriend on the verge of tears had you clenching your thighs, no matter how much it seems nonsensical for him to be this way – you can't help it, the man you loved is just on the other side of the phone, of the world.

And you, his girlfriend, couldn't help him from something as trivial as this, distance is a fucking bitch.

“N-no, I just want you to stick a finger in your cunt f’me tell me how it feels, please.”

Nodding at his order, which is pretty useless since he can't see you, your fingers slid from your stomach into your folds, letting the pads of your finger collect your slick before easing it into your hole.

You moaned, it isn't enough but it makes your head swirl, not enough to soothe your loneliness but this’ll work, for the meantime that is.

“Yuu, f-feels good” he took a sharp breath, quivering, your voice sounds so angelic and so erotic – God, it's so much better if he's here. Your finger moved in and out, plunging inside your inviting walls so sweetly.

“C-can I add another finger please Yuu, want ‘em” fuck, fuck, fuck you sound so sweet, so cute when you beg. You're already begging when he isn't even doing anything yet.

“Put another f’me, curl them nicely mkay, imagine it's my fingers” you obeyed, letting you middle finger ease inside your gummy walls, curling it upwards just like what he always do, just what he does when he's present.

Think about how he does it instead, his mouth slating against yours. Licking every nook and cranny, swallowing your moans – his fingers working it's magic on your pussy. Grazing every spot inside you, it's ridiculously addicting.

Your thumb went straight to your clit, massaging the little pearl, letting out a moan of ‘Fuck, Yuu need y’so bad’, Yuuta made quick work to fist his cock, hands gripping the base harshly while listening intently to the obscene sounds you're making.

“Grind your pussy on those fingers baby, don't cover your moans. Lemme hear ‘em, lemme hear your pretty moans baby” his words work like magic, your hips rubbed against your fingers, making it plunge deeper into you, it feels good, so so good.

Yuuta tilted his head back, his hand gripping the phone. He fears that the more he listens to you he's going to break it any moment now.

Your voice sounded so hot that he could see how you'd look like right now, sitting prettily on the center of the bed – skin glistening from sweat, hips grinding against your palm desperately, staring at him with those puppy eyes – oh fuck, he'd fuck you right there if he could.

Still, it wasn't enough. It'll never be enough.

“Pretty, do you hear me?” You’re so lost in pleasure that his voice just passes from one ear to another and you can't seem to hear anything other than how your pussy makes such embarrassing noises, dripping with slick, so wet.

“Yuu, m’gonna cum”

“No!”

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and surprised – you slowed your movements, listening to his voice, more focused now.

“M’sorry yuu, just miss you s’much, ca-can’t do anything without you” he heard you sniffle, he stroked his cock fast and hard, fuck fuck fuck, he can't hold on much longer.

“Shit, no no baby it's ‘kay, I just can't hear anything, can you please put your phone near your pussy?”

“O-okay” You remained still for a minute, feeling awkward by his request but you obeyed nonetheless.

You placed your phone near your fingers, continuing what you were doing earlier. Free hands palmed your breasts, tweaking the hard nipple against your fingers, shit you're not gonna last long.

“Ah, mhm Yuu gonna cum, please Yuu can I cum, please let me cum.”

“Yes yes yes, go ahead baby cum, scream my name okay”

With another stroke of your fingers, your body trembled, orgasm washing over you screaming the words he so badly wanted to hear – Yu-Yuuta! – He soon followed, panting and grunting before he spilled his load, making a mess over his fingers and some spilled on his bare stomach.

It still feels lacking, a bit lonely after Yuuta has cleared his mind – he feels like a loser, even if you're just at the other side of the phone.

He's used to having you, having you just beneath his fingers, so when he's called in again for an overseas mission, he thought he'll last – turns out, he's wrong.

“Y/n...”

Silence.

“Y/n? Baby?”

He heard you snore, snoozing soundly, yeah, he remembers you fall asleep so easily after sex.

Sighing, he smiled to himself an image of you sleeping so cutely flashed through his mind – he should really finish this mission, urgently. Probably after he finishes cleaning up.

“Sleep well pretty girl, I miss you.”

[flametrashiraarchive]

Hi! Me again lol. If we're limited to how much we can ask you don't have to answer. I was wondering if you could do Giyuu x Y/N who was also a hashira but after the final battle. They're finally able to be together and months later find out they're expecting. It can be SFW or NSFW. If you're not comfortable with this I totally understand.

-☀️

Yes! Happy endings ftw. 

I thought it would be cute to have this be part of the bathhouse pieces just for the sake of a throwaway joke, but this reader is specifically AFAB so please ignore it if that's not for you. It's the Bathing with Giyuu Multiverse.

I’m really sorry it doesn’t really include the pregnancy part (I alluded to it but they’re really difficult for me to write about sometimes) but I hope the love between Giyuu and you makes up for it. 

This piece does contain slight spoilers for the end of the Demon Slayer manga so be warned! (spoilers from here on out!) 

Also, I refuse to accept that the thing with the mark and how much time he has left is canon. It’s too sad so it doesn’t happen. You and Giyuu are gonna grow old together. 

I hope you like it!!

AFTERMATH

Giyuu Tomioka x F!reader. NSFW.

Memories of your fallen comrades haunt you long after the rubble is cleared away. Nightmares of what befell those you care about wake you when you finally do manage to drift off. The scent of battle lingers on your skin for weeks. Smoke, blood, and death. No matter how many times you've tried to wash it off it clings to you. 

Which is why you find yourself traipsing to the onsen in the darkness, your katana still grasped firmly in your hand, because you still can't quite believe that it's over. The battle is won, and the world is safe. 

You can relax in the onsen completely safe and completely alone– 

"You're kidding me?!"

Giyuu stares at you, half submerged in the steaming water, his expression one of wide-eyed surprise. But once he sees it's you, his face softens again. "Ah… is it time for our annual awkward bath together?"

You laugh for the first time in days. Giyuu has always been a little less guarded around you, but since the fight ended, he has been far more open. He's funny. Peace looks good on him.

"Do you mind if I get in?" You ask, "It's not like we haven't seen everything already."

He shakes his head. "I don't mind. We've been through hell and back together, this is nothing."

"Yeah…"

"Should I turn around?" he asks.

Oh Giyuu. Even after everything you’ve been through together; the battles, the quiet moments, the nights you spent together early on where you promised it was just once to get it out of your systems, and the times later when you both agreed you could die at any moment so why the hell not. Even after all that, he’s still a perfect and slightly awkward gentleman. 

Your breath shivers as you slip off your yukata in answer and those deep blue eyes of his drink you in. 

He stands, gazing up at you with his lips slightly parted. It'll take some time to get used to the sight of him without his right arm, and no doubt it'll take him even longer than that. But he's alive. You both made it. You survived. 

He wades toward you and offers you his hand, helping you step down into the water. His eyes never leave you. Yours never leave him. And you both just stand there, the water only up to your hip, laid bare before each other in this newly peaceful world.

You no longer smell smoke, blood, or death. Giyuu’s scent is soft, clean rain, washing over you and carrying the horrors away.

His smile is so soft and serene your heart aches.

A muscle in his cheek flexes before he speaks. "I didn't lose you," he says, as though the fact is only just sinking in, as if he'd mourned you even before the battle had even begun and is only just allowing himself to believe you’re really there, that you really survived. 

It’s a feeling you know well. 

A slow smile lifts his lips, his eyes meeting yours, his sapphire gaze filled with unending tenderness. You reach up to caress his cheek and melt as he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 

"We made it, Giyuu."

"We did," he says, his voice so quiet and calm. "I should have told you this before the battle, but I was afraid to because I thought telling you would mean you wouldn't make it. Like I’d put a curse on you or something. And if you don't feel the same–"

"I love you."

His eyes widen a little, but soften a heartbeat later. He chuckles. "Yeah… yeah, you took the words out of my mouth." 

"I've wanted to tell you that for the longest time."

"Me too.' He dips his chin, pressing his forehead to yours as a quiet laugh of relief emerges from him. With your heart fluttering, you close your eyes and just enjoy the sensation, and the quiet intimacy of being loved by Giyuu.

His lips hover so close to yours, gentle breaths fanning over your skin. Your heart aches with need for him as you tilt your face toward him to bring your lips closer.

He closes the gap, his kiss as light as gossamer, sending your heart into a frenzy. The kiss is so gentle it's almost painful, the fluttering in your chest more than you can bear. It shivers through every fiber of your body, more potent than any breathing technique as every cell in your body seems to sigh his name. 

Giyuu. You're alive. We made it, and we can finally let ourselves love.

Little by little, the kiss deepens until Giyuu's tongue is caressing yours. His lips are soft and oh-so gentle, stirring up the butterflies in your belly. You open your eyes, seeking reassurance that this isn’t all just some dream. The intimate sight of him causes your heart to leap; his eyes are closed, his pretty dark lashes resting on his pink-dusted cheeks, so peaceful in that moment you can’t believe this is the same world which demanded so much sacrifice. 

He skates his hand down to the curve of your lower back, gently pulling you closer until your bodies are flush with each other. The rise and fall of his chest staggers against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him, bathed in moonlight and the rising steam of the onsen. And though the battle only took place in one tiny pocket of the world, it feels as though you are clinging to each other among the wreckage, even here surrounded by serenity.

As much as you crave each other, you take your time and love one another slowly, washing each other with all the tenderness the world couldn’t spare you until now. You sit with your back to him as he washes your hair, his fingers deftly moving over your scalp, making goosebumps pebble along your thighs. He bows his head and weaves a cloak of kisses across your back and shoulders, making sure not to leave a single inch of you feeling unloved.

And then, when you’ve both washed away what you needed to, he takes your hand and leads you back to his home; a big, empty house waiting to be filled with the family and the love he never even allowed himself to believe he could have. The comforting scent of him lingers in the house and you feel as though you never want to leave. He doesn’t want you to go either. 

Moonlight shines through the windows, casting silver light over the pair of you as you lie together in Giyuu’s bed, lost once more in tender kisses. The relief and love, the guilt of survival, the way your mind can’t quite slip fully out of fight mode… It’s overwhelming. He notices the moment your tears start to fall. 

“Love… it’s okay,” he whispers, stroking them away with his thumb and you know he understands completely.

“We’re allowed to be happy, aren’t we?”

He smiles softly, and nods. “Yeah… we are.”

His breath is hot against your skin as he trails kisses over your jaw, down your throat, and to your chest. When his lips reach the top of your breast he pauses, lays down his head and closes his eyes, listening to your heart’s rhythm and your breathing with a quiet sigh. You know this will go on for a while; that no matter how often you reassure each other that this is real, that you both made it, that it’s okay for you to love each other, some part of you both will always question.

Because since when has the world ever been this kind?

“Can I love you forever?” he asks softly. “Is that okay?”

Your fingers thread through his soft black hair as he kisses down your stomach. “Please, Giyuu… please do.”

He brings you simple solace with the wet heat of his mouth. He settles between your thighs, eyes closed, lapping at your tender flesh with his fingers interlaced with yours. Soft and slow and so loving your heart can barely take it. He tastes every inch of you, drawing comfort from your sighs and the way you gasp his name. A groan emerges from him as you bear down on his tongue, grinding yourself against his gentle mouth. And only then does he quicken his pace, giving you what you need to drive you over the edge and plunging into ecstasy.

You can’t help but laugh a little as he raises his head to gaze at you. Giyuu always has the haziest, prettiest expression when he’s drunk on your pussy, and the war hasn’t changed that one bit. His cheeks are flushed pink, his lips glossy with your slick arousal. 

He gets back onto the bed, lying face-to-face beside you and guides your thigh over his waist, angling his hips so he can enter you. He sets a languid rhythm, kissing you the entire time, his cock only entering you halfway so he can make it last as long as possible. He fought through hell to be here with you and he’s going to make sure he cherishes every second.

“You’re… so wet…” he gasps against your lips.

You try to bite back a grin and fail. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you fuck the water hashira.”

Giyuu’s composure breaks and he laughs–really laughs–resting his forehead against your chest. “I love you.”

Gods, what a world this is; that you get to love him, that you have the luxury of time to stop and laugh together in the middle of sex. Giyuu has such an adorably boyish laugh too; one which crinkles his nose and shakes his shoulders. It’s a sound you want to hear a billion times more over the course of your life and a sight you will never tire of.

“I love you too, Giyuu. I always will.”

He’s still chuckling until he rolls you onto your back and presses himself deeper, wiping the smiles from both your faces as pleasure drowns out your amusement. The delicious stretch pulls a groan from you, and when he starts to roll his hips you can’t help but cry out. The control he has over his body is breathtaking, and the loss of his arm doesn’t hinder him at all as he has you wrap your legs around his waist and fucks you hard and deep, filling the room with the lewd symphony of slapping flesh and your wanton cries.

Every time before, he has pulled out of you, both of you unwilling to bring a child into the world when each tomorrow was so precarious. But now he presses deeper, his eyes alight with new possibility, and love like he never allowed himself to believe in. He groans as he fills you, resting his head between your breasts and listening to the thundering rhythm of your heart as you wrap your arms around him and hold him through his orgasm. 

And then you lie together in the aftermath; just you and Giyuu at the end and the beginning of it all.