注意喚起 ★⎯⎯ Heeseung - f. reader : fluff, comfort, clingy Hee, domestic setting, established relationship, skincare routine, physical affection (cuddles, kisses, touch), playful banter, emotional intimacy, safe space vibes.
★ : Something soft for a change, because my creativity feels burnt out from writing so much smut. Believe it or not—and even if some people don’t agree—writing only smut isn’t really fulfilling. It’s even a bit unsettling to be recognized solely for smut content, when from my very first steps as a writer, not just here but also on Wattpad, smut has never been my main inclination. In fact, writing only smut for my blog feels like trying to sustain a relationship based purely on sex and nothing else.
Heeseung arrived at the apartment just as night was beginning to envelop the city. It had been months of tours, airports, and impersonal hotels, months in which his body was surrounded by crowds but his heart felt incomplete. As soon as he walked through the door, all he did was look for you. And immediately, he found you in the living room, curled up on the couch. You had a blanket covering your lap, your glasses sliding slightly down your nose, your hair in a messy bun, and you were wearing the most comfortable clothes you owned. An open book rested in your hands, illuminated by the floor lamp at your side. There was no trace of makeup on your face, and yet he thought he had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.
It was impossible to measure who was happier at that moment: you, surprised to see him suddenly appear, or him, who had counted the days, certain that this reunion would be their only real goal.
Before you could fully react, Heeseung dropped his backpack on the floor with a thud, as if carrying a weight he was no longer willing to lift. With one hand, he gently took the book from you and placed it on the coffee table. Then, without asking, he lifted the blanket and settled between your legs, lying face down on your chest, burying his face in your neck with a long, almost trembling sigh.
"Hee..." you murmured, caressing his back without thinking. He didn't say anything immediately; he just let himself be enveloped in your warmth, as if he wanted to imprint your presence on every fiber of his skin. You tugged the blanket around his shoulders, as if you were his refuge after a storm. "When did you arrive, my love? Why didn't you tell me? If you had, I would have made you dinner, at least," you asked quietly, as if afraid of breaking the calm of that moment.
His voice sounded muffled against your neck, deep and tired, but full of affection: "I already ate earlier. I didn't want you to worry about that. All I could think about was getting here, letting you pamper me a little. I've missed you so much, I needed to feel you, baby. I need your affection, I need my girl." Your heart tightened in your chest. You wrapped both arms around him, your fingers gently tangling in his hair, caressing each strand as if with that gesture you could restore all the calm he'd lost along the way.
"I missed you too, honey. I wanted to see you, to have you here with me," you whispered sweetly. He barely lifted his face, moving away from your neck to look at you directly. And that's when you noticed: on the side of his jaw, the pimples that usually appeared with stress were marking his sensitive skin. "Oh, my poor baby..." you murmured tenderly, brushing his face with your fingertips.
He raised an eyebrow gently, still nestled against your chest with no intention of moving away, and let out a husky laugh. "Is this really the first thing you've said to me in months?" he replied, his voice vibrating with a tone between amusement and emotion at the same time.
"Of course I am. You know I care about you, that I love you, and that if I don't take care of you, who would?" you replied, brushing your fingers over his skin.
Heeseung pulled away to sit up, and looked at you, his eyes shining with tiredness and tenderness. He stole a quick kiss on your lips before nodding. "Okay, let's go, you take care of me. But know that I only let myself be bossed around because it's you."
Without hesitation, you stood up and led him to the bathroom. Although he walked behind you, he never let go of your hand. When he sat down on the stool in front of the mirror, the first thing he did was pull you toward him, wrapping his arms around your waist. He rested his forehead on your stomach for a few seconds, as if he needed to anchor himself to you, and then raised his head with a soft smile.
"Now then, beautiful. I'm all yours, do whatever you want with me," he murmured, amused. You took the cleanser and, with gentle movements, began applying the foam to his face. He closed his eyes, but he never let go of your waist, keeping you close while you worked. Every so often, he turned his head slightly to brush your fingers with a fleeting kiss, making you giggle softly.
"Don't make it difficult for me. I'm on to something important here, Mr. Lee," you protested in a whisper, though it was hardly a real scolding.
"And how am I supposed to not do that, when I finally have you here? You can't even imagine how happy I am right now." —he answered, opening one eye only to look at you with mischief and tenderness.
When you finished rinsing him with the warm towel, Heeseung leaned forward a little, resting his face on your abdomen again, and placed a slow kiss just above the fabric of your shirt. His hands, still firmly on your waist, gently caressed your back as if he were recording every detail of you in his memory. You applied the moisturizer to his jaw in circular motions, and he leaned his head into your hand, chasing the contact. His lips parted in a sigh of relief. He looked up at you, and what you found in those eyes was so intense it made you catch your breath: not just gratitude, but pure love, quiet devotion.
"Promise me you'll always take care of me like this," he murmured softly, almost a vulnerable plea disguised as a joke. To which you leaned in and kissed his forehead, then nuzzled the tip of his nose with yours in a tender Eskimo kiss.
"You don't have to ask me. I already do it willingly, and with pleasure." When you finally applied the soothing mask, he chuckled softly when he looked at himself in the mirror, but instead of mocking, he turned to you. He took your wrist and pulled gently, just enough to bring you closer, and planted a lingering kiss on your palm before looking at you again.
"You have no idea how much I missed this... how much I missed you." His arms wrapped around you firmly again, and you had no choice but to lean against him, between his legs, while your hands gently stroked his hair. The mask needed time to take effect, but in reality, the cure he was looking for was already there: in you, in your warmth, in your love, giving him rest.
The mask's time eventually ran out, and you began to carefully remove it, sliding the damp towel over his skin as if it were the most delicate thing in the world. Heeseung kept his eyes closed, letting your hands guide him, and you found yourself smiling at him so calm, so confident in you. When you finished, you dried his face with a soft, clean towel and, stepping back a bit, looked at him, satisfied.
"There, love. You can look in the mirror now; I'm done with you," you said in a playful whisper. Heeseung slowly opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow, feigning pride.
"So? How do you see me, my darling?" he questioned with a flirtatious, almost arrogant, but no less casual tone.
"Like new, sweetheart ". you replied with a satisfied smile. He leaned toward you, bringing his face so close you could barely breathe.
"I'd say I'm still the same, just with more pampered skin." Before you could answer, he suddenly sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up in one movement.
"Heeseung!" you exclaimed in surprise, laughing immediately, gently hitting his shoulder. "What are you doing? You're going to make everything fall apart".
"I don't care about anything, or anyone but you." he replied firmly, although the smile on his face made him look more tender than serious. And he didn't let go. He walked with you in his arms to the bedroom, and although you protested between giggles, your heart was beating strongly with pure affection. As he entered, he gently dropped you onto the bed; The mattress dipped, then propelled you upward in a small bounce that drew another laugh from you.
Hee watched you for a few seconds, as if recording the image in his memory: you, laughing in the sheets, your cheeks flushed. He quickly removed his t-shirt and leaned over you, resting his hands on either side of your body. His expression changed slightly, becoming more serious, more vulnerable.
"I really need a lot of closeness with you this time," he confessed, with a sincerity that was evident in every syllable. He didn't wait for your response. He tugged at the fabric of your t-shirt and, with an ease brought by experience, slipped under it. His husky laugh mingled with yours as you felt him curl up there, burying his face against your chest as if seeking his own refuge. You couldn't contain your laughter at seeing him so comfortable in that position.
"God, you're so clingy right now, and so cute," you commented tenderly, looking at him as he settled in.
"I don't care. This is where I want to be, leave me alone," he replied, his voice muffled against your skin. He shifted more comfortably, letting out a long, relieved sigh. He hugged you tightly, wrapping himself around you as if he was afraid you'd let go, though you wrapped your arms around him too, your hands sliding under the t-shirt until they reached the warm skin of his back. Suddenly, he poked his head out from under the stretched collar of the garment. His hair was a little disheveled, and his lips were pursed, waiting for something obvious. "Give me kisses, please. I need your healing kisses," he asked in a soft tone, somewhere between innocent and pleading, but also with a certain playful undertone.
"You're so silly sometimes, baby boy." you whispered with feigned prejudice, but you leaned in without hesitation and covered his face with short kisses, one after the other, until his eyes closed in satisfaction the moment your lips made contact with his, giving him a soft, lingering kiss. Then he just stayed still, enjoying the moment, with that peace he'd longed for. You hugged him even closer, stroking his back tenderly, and murmured against his hair, “You can rest now, Hee. I'll take care of you.”
And in that moment, between your arms and your kisses, he found the only real rest after months of absence and fulfillment of the agenda without rest.
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what if when agatha was a kid her hair would always be knotty and she’d yell and cry and throw fits when evanora tried to brush it because she brushed it too rough and fast. so one day evanora cut basically all of agatha’s hair off as a punishment and so she wouldn’t have to deal with agatha’s tears
so now agatha hardly ever gets her hair cut more than a trim and hates brushing it but if you are gentle when you play with her hair and are able to even work your way up to washing or brushing it for her she’ll get so soft that she cries
In which the Reader finds out Aziraphale and Crowley are Supernatural entities and has a fair few questions for them.
Requests are: OPEN
“So… let me get this straight,” you say, “those are not coloured contacts… Zira, you’re an Angel, and Crowley is a Demon.” You blink as though it will clear the shock and confusion from your system. “And not as in cutesy pet names ‘Angels’ and ‘Demons.’ Real, biblical, Heaven and Hell ‘Angels and Demons.’” Oh, you might just faint if you weren’t careful.
Crowley sticks his bottom lip out thoughtfully for a moment, swishing his wine around in his glass. “‘Bout sums it up, yeah.”
You let out an exasperated sound that’s not quite a word but not quite a formless sound either. Your hand comes up to rub at your forehead. A habit you’ve grown into. You were going to get wrinkles if you weren’t careful.
“I don’t- what do you mean,” you reply, frustration eating at your brain. “I have so many questions.”
Aziraphale smiles comfortingly, patting his lap. They’re both sitting on a two seater lounge next to each other- Crowley splayed out in his usual fashion. You let out a little noise of protestion before immediately caving and going to lay across the two of them, head in Aziraphale’s lap.
The headache immediately eases, and you wonder just how much Aziraphale had to do with it. Anything was possible, right? And now you were thinking about it, all of your aches and pains mysteriously disappeared when he was near. Odd, but suddenly making a whole lot more sense.
“Oh, my dear,” he coos, one hand coming up to play with your hair softly. “I know it’s hard to understand. Humans aren’t quite as aware of us as they used to be.” He looked to Crowley, who was downing some more of his wine ever-so-helpfully. “Crowley, love, do you remember back at the beginning- the Human’s recognised us as Angels and Demons by sight? It’s certainly not like that anymore.”
“Mm, right,” Crowley replied, laying a hand over your legs and shifting them more comfortably for you onto his lap and not seeming a might bit bothered by the idea that humans did not recognise him by sight anymore. “You have questions, then?”
You flustered for a moment, looking between the two of them.
“Are you allowed to answer things?” You ask cautiously. You didn’t want to get them in trouble. Could they get in trouble?
“Uh, sure,” Crowley shrugged, setting his empty glass down on the side table. He propped his elbow on the back of the lounge so he could face towards you.
“Is… God real?” You asked with another moments hesitation.
“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale replied, a reverent look on his face. “Most definitely, I’ve spoken with her once or twice.”
You swallowed thickly and thought you might just move on from that line of questioning. The implications of what that meant were astronomical and way too much to focus on right now.
“Do pets go to Heavan? Oh, please say yes.”
Crowley chuckled and gave the outside of your thigh a comforting pat.
“Yes, love, pets go to Heavan. I believe they have a rather nice park, too,” Aziraphale smiled, brushing his thumb between your eyebrows to ease the tension there.
“And- how old are you, really, then?”
“Oh, we’re about six thousand years old,” Crowley says tiredly. You can empathise. Six thousand years is a long time. You’d be tired, too. You rub a hand down across your face, snuggling into Aziraphale’s tummy a little. “We’ve been here since the beginning.”
“Since the beginning? Wait- does that mean- what about the Dinosaurs?”
Crowley looks at you with a sly grin.
“That might’ve been us, I’m afraid, love.” You eye him in a way that says what-exactly-does-that-mean? To which he laughs, and replies, “it’s a joke Humanity hasn’t got yet.”
You groan and cover your eyes, horrified by the information that has now been shoved at you. You don’t know what to do about any of this information.
“Oh, dear, Crowley,” Aziraphale chuckles, looking down at you with such love. “I think we might have broke our favourite human.”
Crowley squeezes your thigh and chuckles. “Mm, unfortunate. Might have to get a new one, eh, Angel? What do you think?”
“I rather think you might be right,” the literal Angel replies softly. You glare up at the two of them between your fingers, “but I do quite like this one.”
Crowley reaches over to pull one hand away from your face, bringing it to his lips to kiss softly. You cheeks heat at the intimate look in his eyes. His, you now realise- entirely real eyes and not at all contact covered. You lose yourself in them for a moment as he rubs your knuckles, lips pressing into the skin.
“Will you tell me something?” You ask, brushing a finger over Crowley’s cheek. “Something interesting you’ve done. I’m sure six thousand years worth of stories is a lot.”
“Mm,” Crowley replied thoughtfully. “I suppose we do. As long as it’s not the fourteenth century. I hated the fourteenth century,” he makes a face. You filed that away to ask about another time.
“Oh, I know,” Aziraphale said, cheeks about to burst with the strength of his smile. “Shall we talk about the court of Henry the eighth?”
Crowley lets out a barely contained bark of a laugh. “Oh, yes. Now that was an interesting assignment. Bit close to the fourteenth, though,” he added with a hint of a warning.
“You’ll live,” Aziraphale brushed him off as he began to tell you all the interesting tid-bits that only someone who was there at the time could tell you about.
The three of you talked for several hours about different eras of history. You asking questions, Aziraphale being quite factual, and Crowley adding all the juicy facts and drama into the mix to keep things interesting.
As it turned out, they had a lot of information about a lot of things, and you were looking forward to asking them questions about everything under the sun, before the sun, and everything in between.
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THIS blog will be centered around my new Etsy to be! you can commission me here, or once i get it set up, the Etsy i plan on creating! i will not only draw cute art, stickers, emotes, or other such collectables, BUT! i will also create
the brothers scenting the mc as their younger sibling 🥺, cause of this the mc always smells like a mix of all of their familial scents
the brothers are protective over the mc the same way most older siblings are of their younger siblings n it often manifests in them scenting them frequently
ok but: the mc being unable to scent them back since theyre a human n humans dont really have a way to scent others, cause of this they resort to using a cologne/perfume to scent the brothers back (they made sure it was woodsy smelling since thats what familial scents smell like, woodsy), wanting them know that they see the brothers as siblings as well 🥺
~ t4t anon
I’ll just be standing in the corner crying this is too soft omgsjsg I love this fucked up family sm sobbing-
Also MC wearing the brothers jackets or shirts as a way to trade scents and make sure the brothers have some of their natural scent too!!-
