#and I’d never want to make him uncomfortable or be pushy or anything like that

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[mshalfemptygirl]

Cupid (S.R)

Plot: Our favorite Doutor confess feels to his best friend also co-worker, Y/N.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Contents: Really quicky mention to drinks, cases, makeout but fluffy for sure.

A/N: hello readers, I disappeared for a year because of work and college and a serious health problem but I'm better than ever and coming back to writing has brought me back to life. I hope you like her because she's cute, a couple from a romance movie basically, so like and share if you like it.

"Alright, Spence. What are your thoughts on the woman over there in the dark green dress? She looks elegant, charming, and quite attractive. She might even share an interest in the books you enjoy, don’t you think? What’s your take?" I gestured toward the woman who had just taken a seat at the bar, alone. I was on a mission to play matchmaker for Spencer. Although he hadn’t asked for my help, I thought it would be useful to offer a female perspective. Spencer’s inherent shyness meant he needed substantial guidance in social situations, especially when it came to women.

The ambiance was pleasant. We were seated at a table near the main entrance. Given that it was Thursday, the bar was relatively quiet, but it was the only day we both had free to unwind after a grueling series of cases in New York. Honestly, I’m not sure what’s been happening this past month, but I’ve reviewed so much material that when I close my eyes, I still see the words on the pages. And Spence? The poor guy has never analyzed so many maps in his life. I thought this break was well-deserved, and he certainly deserved a chance to spend time with someone special. Well, both of us could use a moment with someone, but I’m on a cupid’s mission and need to stay focused—no distractions, no more than three drinks.

"She’s attractive, but I’m not fond of blondes, and she seems a bit too tall for my taste. I don’t think it would work out," he replied. I frowned and looked at him with disbelief. This was the fifth woman he had dismissed that evening, and his options were rapidly dwindling. I downed my beer in one gulp and stared him down, hoping to make him realize it was now or never. "Spence, you don’t need to be so selective. I understand it’s challenging for you, but you’re only looking for someone to kiss. I’d love to kiss that girl! She’s stunning. Just approach her, buy her a drink, and then kiss her. Go on, now," I urged impatiently. He needed to make the first move.

"I understand, Y/N. She’s attractive, but I don’t want to kiss her, that’s all," he said, turning back to the bar and taking a sip of his whiskey. I knew him well enough to sense he was hiding something. This was a significant step for him, and despite our discussions about taking a break, he seemed reluctant to pursue it. Ugh, he could be so stubborn.

"I know there’s more to it, love. Are you feeling overwhelmed? Am I being too pushy, is that it? I’m sorry if I’m a bad cupid. I’ll stop. Look, I’m waving the white flag—peace," I said, grabbing a napkin and waving it theatrically. I flashed a grin, and he chuckled. It was always like this: he was the serious one, and I was the humorous one. He loved books, and I adored movies. He was the little angel, and I was the little devil. "Very amusing, but I swear, I have nothing to hide from you," he assured me.

"Spencer..." I gave him my best puppy-dog eyes. He looked uncomfortable, but he started to speak anyway, with a hint of resignation in his voice. "Well, there’s this girl I’ve developed feelings for... she’s incredibly nice and fun. When she talks to me, I can’t think of anything else. I’m not sure how to articulate my feelings, but I don’t want to kiss anyone else. She’s everything to me now." I was overjoyed and exhilarated. I’d never seen Spence so in love before, and now he had someone special in his life. Of course, I felt a twinge of jealousy, but I was also genuinely happy for him. This was a delightful surprise.

"Spencer Walter Reid!! Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?! Did you—" I exclaimed, relieved that the bar was mostly empty. His face flushed red as he tried to cover my mouth with his hand. "Y/N, please don’t shout!!! I didn’t know sooner, I didn’t realize it until now..." he explained. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my excitement. "Alright... you need to go talk to her right now and give her a proper kiss! I’ll handle things here. Just go for it!"

He looked at me wide-eyed, his hands on my shoulders. "You really think so? Are you sure?" I snorted. "Absolutely, go now." And that’s when he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself for what he was about to do. His fingers gently gripped the back of my neck, his touch both tender and urgent. He leaned in, and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin before our lips finally met. I was stunned, my body tensed, and my eyes remained open for a moment, but his lips were so soft that I quickly surrendered to the kiss. Our lips moved together in sync, and I felt a profound connection. He wasn’t as shy as I’d thought—he had a way with words and was incredibly sweet. I couldn’t explain it, but he was perfect. Suddenly, I found myself bewitched by the very arrow of Cupid I had sent forth.

As we broke away from the kiss, I gazed at him, utterly bewildered, my heart racing with every beat. "Spence, what was that? You just..." I asked, my voice trembling with genuine confusion. He looked at me with an expression that blended sincerity and vulnerability before responding in a tone that was soft yet deeply meaningful: "Well, the truth is, the woman I’ve been admiring all along is you. I’m sorry if this comes as a shock, but you asked me to act, so I did."

I was momentarily stunned, a whirlwind of emotions overtaking me. How could I have been so blind not to notice this sooner? I opened my mouth for the first time in minutes to speak my heart. "Spence, there's no need to apologize. I'm just... surprised! That was really something," I said, still trying to wrap my head around the moment. I paused, letting it all sink in. "So, does this count as our first date, or would you rather have a more traditional one?" I asked with an amused tone, trying to ease the tension that had built between us, feeling a bit uncertain about what came next.

"Oh, I definitely want another date. How about I take you out for dinner, and you wear that dark blue dress you had on at Rossi’s? I love the way it looks on you," he said, his words making a warm sensation spread through me. "You’re so sweet, Spence. I hadn’t really noticed it before. If I’d known you kissed like that..." I replied with a laugh, hugging him tightly. "And you can bet I’ll wear the dress if it makes you happy." With a gentle caress on my face, I brushed his bangs off his forehead, feeling a bit strange about kissing one of my best friends, but I was glad he had the courage to confess something so significant.

I looked at his face again and could see him a bit embarrassed by the events of the night that had unfolded in a public place. It wasn’t something he had planned, and he likes to plan things. "Y/N, may I kiss you a little longer?" he asked, his eyes searching mine for permission. Instead of answering, I pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss, savoring the moment.

Talk to me

Spencer Reid Masterlist

A/N: let me know if you want me to tag you

[murdrdocs]

hiii! would you be able to write something where the reader and ethan are dating and she knows he is ghostface and lowkey encourages him to kill people to prove his love for her (like guys who talk to her at class or down the street?)

this doesn’t have to be smut but i’d love it to be <3 thank uu

i don't have enough energy (or hormones) for smut rn but i rlly like this universe so maybe in the future !

You were taught never to settle. Throughout your life, you’d been surrounded by people who had their hearts broken by others –– usually men –– who didn’t deserve to have another’s heart within their perceived trustworthy grasp in the first place. 

“Never settle”

So you didn’t. You knew that whoever you were going to give your heart needed to do anything for you. No matter what. 

Luckily you found Ethan Landry. 

At first, it was Finn from your Communications course. He didn’t really do anything. He just stared a little too long and happened to have made a slightly uncomfortable statement about you when Ethan was just a few paces away. 

“You want me to do something about it?” Ethan asked you, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he leaned down to ask you the ominous question. You looked up at him, noticing that his brown eyes were staring at Finn’s retreating figure. 

“Something?” You’d asked. Ethan blinked twice, his jaw ticked, and then he looked down at you. 

“Something.”

Two days later, Finn was declared missing. 

Then, it was Brody from your foreign language. 

He was a douche. All around jock, but not in the lovable way like Chad. Brody was pushy, constantly inviting you to frat parties, promising that you would get shit faced with a smirk on his face that told you everything you needed to know. 

“He makes me uncomfortable, E,” you told him, your voice low and soft and delicate. You remember the feeling of Ethan’s warm hand caressing your cheek, you leaned into his touch. 

“Okay.” Was all he said. When he came back with a black eye and a busted lip, you patched Ethan up and peppered his face in kisses. 

You remember asking him one night when guilt had begun to introduce itself to you. You’d asked, “Why do you do it?” 

And Ethan replied, as simple as ever, as if he was asked what color the sky was, “Because I love you.” 

Then, there was Olivia. 

Olivia was everything wrong with the world, according to you. Ethan had never seen her in person, only through forwarded Instagram posts, but he saw the way she riled you up. He watched you pace back and forth in your room, ranting, enraged, about how insufferable she was. 

“I just wish someone would–ugh!” Your hands wrung around an invisible neck and you stopped your pacing, dropped your arms, and just looked at Ethan. 

“Do something about it?” He asked you. 

You stepped forward until you stood between his legs. Your hands cupped his face and you leaned down until you were level, your noses almost touching. 

“Ethan,” you’d said, slowly. “I want you to fucking kill her.” His eyes darkened and then he smiled. “And make her suffer.” 

Ethan’s hands were on the back of your thighs and pulling you into his lap before you could really get a hold of yourself. He kissed you, and kissed you, and ground his hips up into yours, and flipped you onto your back. 

You had to stop him before he continued. “Do it first, baby. I’ll be waiting.” 

And you were. When he returned two hours later, his hands still shaking and that delighted glint in his eyes, you were sitting on your bed watching a show on your laptop. 

Your eyes lifted to look at him when he entered your room, and all you did was smile, shut your laptop, and beckon him over with enough energy to last you the entire night.

[ceruleanwhore]

Since I’ve seen so much Silvio hate since his route release, I wanted to take a minute to talk about why all 3 of the visiting foreign princes make me uncomfortable because I believe in equality. Please keep in mind that I am on a break from the ikepri app rn so I have not actually played Silvio’s route, though I did read a translation of it on here previously, but I’m going to try to avoid using stuff from that.

Starting with the man of the hour, first to be released, I’d sum up my feelings about his character as “eat the rich — literally not sexually ya numpty.” He is the embodiment of everything I’ve ever hated about capitalism and the 1% and genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, it would delight me to watch him die because of how he represents that. His jangling, the way he throws his money around (the fact he has, what, 10 billion for Rio to waste on a gem at auction in Rio’s route), and, most importantly, the complete lack of any apparent morality or humanity. He demands everyone respect him because of that money (respect as in deference that comes with authority) while he throws around his bullshit bootstrap rhetoric and refuses to treat anyone at all with respect (respect as in the basic human decency kind). There’s also a seriously sadistic streak in him and so it’s not enough to be a billionaire prince, he also has to take this random woman as his indentured servant and constantly upset her on purpose and demean her to punish her for someone else’s accident.

Next up is Gilbert who, to me, is just plain annoying more than anything else. He and Chev never really scared me or anything with all the violence since it’s super predictable with them, so that doesn’t really bother me, per se, but the way he’s a pushy little dick in social situations pisses me off and if I were Emma I’d be dead because I would’ve yelled at him within like 5 seconds of meeting him. The hell of it’s that he’s supposed to be this master manipulator but he doesn’t seem to even be all that good at manipulation since his is so ham-fisted, he’s just a pushy asshole. My thing with both him and Silvio is that I fucking hate money and I fucking hate authority and I believe that no one, including myself, should have it the way they do, and it makes me immensely angry to watch them use those things to abuse others.

Now, I saved Keith for last because he’s actually the worst of the three in my opinion and he genuinely scares the shit out of me, and not because he happens to have DID, but because of what sort of people main!Keith and alter!Keith are. 

WARNING! MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND TRUE CRIME

Main!Keith just strikes me as being the kind of guy who would beat his gf and eventually kill her and, every time I see him, he reminds me of the Yellow Dress assembly my high school did about domestic abuse. He seems like the shy, insecure nerd who, in the early days, would worship the ground his gf walks on and just be so grateful that she decided to give him a chance, etc., until that turns into possessive jealousy over time, which then would feed into him isolating her, turning more violent, and then maybe killing her and hiding her body in the woods. Genuinely, the last event story I read with Keith made me INTENSELY uncomfortable from the very beginning because he had these vibes and I don’t know if I’ll be able to read his story because, in my head, Emma will already be dead, basically.

As for alter!Keith, he seems like the kind of guy who would literally be a serial killer, just going off the event stuff I’ve read, plus the second prologue and other act II routes. I could genuinely see him killing with no real rhyme or reason, unlike Chev and Gilbert who are so completely predictable. If main!Keith gives me true crime vibes in a OJ Simpson way, alter!Keith is more like a David Parker-Ray sort of true crime, and they both scare the living shit out of me. I can’t tell you how uncomfortable it is seeing so many people in the fandom talk about how much they love Keith and how nice and cute they think he is when, to me, he’s one of the scariest fictional characters I’ve ever encountered, mainly because I know he’s supposed to be a romantic lead in spite of everything I just said. Silvio and Gilbert would annoy me to death but Keith would do arts and crafts with my skin and hide my chopped-up body in the woods.

[seekinghelp-adhd]

So, uh, apparently I wrote this and never posted it anywhere. Whoops! Anyway, enjoy a Ladynoir reveal fic ft. "the umbrella™️"

Ladybug took a deep breath, steeling her nerves as she clutched the handle of her umbrella. Moving her gaze up toward the Eiffel Tower, she could vaguely see Chat pacing, waiting for her to arrive. He was nervous, no doubt. She usually didn’t call for meetings outside of an akuma like this.

There was a first time for everything, she supposed. After all, this was also the first time she would be meeting up with Chat as more than just her partner. At least, she hoped they would be more. Desperately, she hoped she wasn’t too late. Safely storing the umbrella into the infinite storage of her yoyo, Ladybug took one last, calming breath and leapt from the roof to see her kitty.

Chat Noir turned suddenly to face her as soon as he heard her feet hit the metal platform. “Ah, there you are, LB! I was starting to wonder if I’d gotten here early.”

“Don’t tease, Chaton. You’ll learn very soon that I’m rarely on time for anything.”

“Only if we keep meeting up outside of battles, like this.”

Chat flashed a confident smirk, but she could see the hope hiding behind his eyes. She smiled softly. Chat Noir was entirely different that night on the rooftop waiting for her. He had shown Marinette a deep, sincere love for Ladybug. The more she took the time to notice, the more she could see that sweet, kind boy behind the confident, flirty clown that he pretended to be.

“I’d like that.”

He blinked as the smirk dropped from his face, turning to a thoughtful frown.

“Uh… Really?”

“Yes, Chaton. Really.” Ladybug tried to stifle a laugh, barely succeeding as she continued. “Actually, that’s why I wanted to talk to you today.”

“Oh, well then… Okay. What’s up, Buginette?”

She opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself when she caught his eye. This was Chat Noir. This was her partner and the person she trusted most in the world. If there were anyone in the world that she could be completely comfortable with, it would be him. Yet, as she made eye contact, she could feel that familiar flutter that she’d only ever received from Adrien Agreste.

She closed her mouth with a snap and firmly shut her eyes, trying to think of anything other than what she was about to do. Every attempt at romance with Adrien had been ruined by these nerves. She was determined not to let them take away yet another chance at happiness. Taking one last deep breath, she opened her eyes and tried again.

“I have to apologize.”

Chat Noir raised an inquisitive eyebrow, tilting his head slightly to the left.

“Apologize for what, LB? I’m not upset at you over anything.”

“For a lot of things, actually, but mainly for all the rejections over the years. For the longest time I thought you were just a flirt, but I know better now. I’m so sorry, Chaton, for not taking your feelings seriously.”

Chat Noir placed a hand on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, Ladybug. That really means a lot to me, and I’m sorry too – for how I handled that, I mean. I never meant to give off the impression that I was flirty or pushy or anything, I just wanted you to know how I felt. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

“No! Chat, I promise. You never made me uncomfortable. I would have asked you to stop if there had been a problem. You were very clear with how you felt. It’s just that I’ve always had trouble expressing those feelings. When you were so upfront and clear with it, I couldn’t believe it was serious because I couldn’t believe how easy it was for you to just… say stuff like that.”

“I guess I can understand that. The way I see it though, that just means you should say it more. That’s why I’ve always wondered why you never just confessed to that boy you like. The harder something is to say, the more important it is to say it.”

“Which leads me to the next part of this. About that boy… I’ve decided I’m not going to confess.”

Ladybug sighed, looking into the city as the sun set behind them. Just saying the words out loud was a relief. She smiled as she felt a weight leave that she never knew she carried.

“What?! Why not? He’d be an idiot not to fall for you.”

Ladybug couldn’t help but laugh at his declaration, half because of how bold it was and half out of relief. If he was so confident that Adrien would love her, he must still harbor some of those feelings himself, right?

“I appreciate your confidence in me, Chaton, but he’s never seen me as anything but a friend, and… I’m finally okay with that. I mean, I still feel the same way about him, but I’ve kind of accepted that not all love has to be romantic, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, uh… Well, it’s like how we used to be. I love him, but as one of my best friends, nothing more. He’s happy, and that’s enough for me.”

It was a subtle hint, just to introduce the idea that things had changed. Unfortunately, he seemed to brush right past it like he’d never even noticed.

“But are you happy with that? Your happiness matters too.”

“Yes, it does, but I’ve realized recently that my happiness shouldn’t rely on him, especially not when I could be just as happy with someone else.”

Ladybug turned to face him. She looked him in the eye despite her nerves and batted her eyelashes, no longer fighting the blush that rose to her cheeks.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about.” Chat sung with a smirk. “Someone has finally managed to steal your heart away from the mysterious ‘other boy?’”

Ladybug couldn’t help but smile and shake her head. It seemed that every boy she fell for was doomed to the same obliviousness. He managed to figure out there was someone else but had somehow missed all the hints that it was him.

“No one stole anything, Chaton. I gave it away. I came to realize recently that I love someone else just as much as I loved him. That confused me for a while, because how could I be in love with two people? Once I accepted that I was though, I started questioning everything. Why would I keep chasing after the first boy knowing he’ll never feel the same, when this new guy already loves me back? So, I made a choice. I’m going to move on.”

Chat was silent for a while after this, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

“So, this… ‘new guy,’ makes you happy? He loves you as much as you love him?”

“I think so. At least, I hope he does… You see, he was always flirting with me, but I never took him seriously. I was so focused on the other guy that I kept denying how much he meant to me. It’s been a while since he’s done anything about his feelings though, and I’m kind of scared that after pushing him away for so long I’ve missed my chance… Honestly, I’m not really sure I deserve him after how much I’ve hurt him.”

“Don’t say things like that, bug. Of course, you deserve to be happy! I know you well enough to know you’d never intentionally hurt anyone, even Hawkmoth.”

Ladybug smirked. “Oh, you overestimate me, Chaton. I would absolutely hurt Hawkmoth intentionally. It’s a very short list, but there are a few people in this world that I would like to stub their toe or get a papercut.”

“Stubbed toes and papercuts? I didn’t realize you were so ruthless, my lady! I should have a word with your Kwami about this violent streak of yours. Next thing I know, you’ll start wishing they would step on a Lego brick.”

They laughed together at the familiar banter. Ladybug turned her face away for a moment, hiding her red cheeks, before she turned to face him again. Maybe if he could see the effect that nickname had on her now, she wouldn’t have to do much more explaining. As he started to recover from his own laughter, he turned to face her again. Whether it was the clearly blushing girl he saw or the realization of how close they were, he quickly turned away with wide eyes and red cheeks of his own.

After a moment, Chat cleared his throat. “So, uh… Now that the ‘other boy’ is just a friend, do I finally get to know his name?”

“You aren’t interested in ‘new guy’ at all?”

“Of course I am, Bugaboo, but we both know you aren’t telling me his name any time soon.”

“You know what, maybe I would have before you called me ‘Bugaboo’ again. Now I think I won’t.”

“Hilarious joke, but I really think you’re fonder of that nickname than you let on. The last time I called you that in battle, you didn’t even throw anything at me! This time, you didn’t even ask me to stop.”

“Well, maybe-”

Maybe I’ll let you call me Bugaboo after you really make me your lady.

The reality of what she almost said hit her like a tsunami, sending her cheeks to an even brighter crimson and her eyes nearly bulging out of her skull.

“Uh… You know what, forget I said anything. That was going to be a really dumb comeback.”

She turned away, looking off to her left, when a comforting hand landed on her own.

“Ladybug, are you okay? I know you said the flirting didn’t make you uncomfortable, but I’ve never seen you speechless before, or that, uh… flustered. You said you were about to tell me who the new guy is, and it didn’t sound like you were kidding. You’ve never shared personal details like that before because of the issues with secret identities. What’s going on?”

Every bit of resolve she had to keep up her teasing fell apart. With slumped shoulders and her head hanging low, she decided to lay everything out in the open. After everything Chat Noir had said about her deserving happiness and being impossible not to love, she had some hope that she wasn’t too late after all. The words seemed to stop in her throat, refusing to leave, but something in the back of her mind pushed her forward. The harder something is to say, the more important it is to say it.

“It’s you, Chaton.”

“It’s… me? I’m the reason you’ve been so worked up lately? Was it… something I did?”

She turned suddenly to face him, shocked that he could have missed a hint that direct.

“No, you stupid cat! Well, yes, actually – but not because you did something wrong!”

“What? I don’t understand, LB.”

“It’s you! You are the reason I’ve been so flustered these last few akuma battles! It was your feelings and flirting that I constantly ignored and rejected! You are the one that I hurt over and over again, for no reason, and I feel terrible! Because without you I wouldn’t even be here! I wouldn’t be Ladybug if you hadn’t believed in me that first day. I wouldn’t be alive if you weren’t always looking after me, putting me before yourself. I wouldn’t be sane if you weren’t there to make me smile and laugh after a long day of stress and bullying and self-doubt.

“You’re my partner and my best friend, and it was stupid of me to keep pretending that was all you would ever be. Because no matter how hard I’ve tried to deny it or ignore it, I do love you, Chaton. I was heartbroken when I saw that incredible, romantic date you tried to take me on! It tore me apart to keep telling you no, only to go running after a boy who could honestly never compete. He never saw me like you do, and even if he did, he could never know me like you do.

“I’m so, so sorry I hurt you, Chat. I’m sorry that for all the times I’ve broken your heart, and I wouldn’t blame you if you were angry with me for pushing you away like that. I completely understand if I’m too late or if you’ve already moved on. I know this isn’t fair to you, but I couldn’t just keep pretending like these feelings aren’t here. I’m tired of lying to you, Chat, and I’m tired of lying to myself.

“The truth is that I love you, Chaton, and I’m a self-sabotaging idiot for keeping you at arm’s length all this time. I’ve been trying to say this all night, but I couldn’t work up the courage to just up and say it and you never caught on to any of the hints! Somehow you ended up thinking there was another other guy, but it was you, Chaton. It’s you, and it always has been. I love-“ Before she could even finish her declaration before suddenly Chat’s lips met hers and took her breath away.

Chat Noir was stunned. He had spent all night trying to keep a delicate balance. He thought the flirting was making her uncomfortable, so he stopped. Apparently, it wasn’t, so he started again. Then she got all red in the face, like she was angry at something, so he stopped again. Now, seemingly out of nowhere, here she was declaring her love for him!

Ladybug was sitting right in front of him, telling him in no uncertain terms, that she was deeply, madly in love with him, and he could barely focus, because how could this be possible? He must have misunderstood her somehow. He must be reading the situation wrong. His mind worked overtime trying to comprehend the words he was hearing, but the few parts he had heard clearly, he latched onto like they were life itself.

Without you, I wouldn’t be here.

You’re more than just my partner.

He could never know me like you do.

I’m tired of lying to myself.

I love you, Chaton.

Chat Noir had no idea at what point he started crying, but he wasn’t sure that mattered. He wasn’t quite sure when his hands had ended up around her waist either, but as long as she was always this close to him, he could figure out how to live without arms. Chat wasn’t even certain when he had brought his head down for a kiss, but all conscious thought on the matter left as soon as her lips moved against his.

He didn’t need time or thought or air right now. His lady was kissing him! His lady loved him! This moment could last forever as far as he was concerned. Unfortunately, his aching lungs protested and forced him to pull away far too early. Unwilling to leave just yet, Chat chose to fall into her embrace, burying his head in her neck as he softly wept.

Eventually, Ladybug found her voice again. Wiping the tears from her own eyes, she began to slowly pry him away.

“I want to give you something, Mon Minou.”

Chat could only look at her in awe. Her kitty. If his smile spread any wider, he would wake up sore tomorrow. He watched as Ladybug pulled the item out of her yoyo, placing it delicately in his lap. Chat could only hope Ladybug didn’t notice the look of shock and realization on his face as he took hold of a very familiar black umbrella.

“The other boy gave me this umbrella on the day I met him. I had misjudged him that day, and I treated him poorly because of it. He didn’t hold that against me though. Instead, he apologized for something that wasn’t even his fault. He was open and vulnerable, telling me he didn’t have many friends and wanted to make things right. He gave me that umbrella and walked to his car soaking wet so I wouldn’t have to walk home in the rain.”

Chat Noir slowly raised his head to meet her gaze.

“Lightning struck when he handed it to me, and in that blink of light I fell in love with his kindness and his smile.” Ladybug stopped for a moment, laughing at the memory, “The umbrella closed on my head. He laughed, but I could tell he wasn’t laughing at me. I fell in love with him fast and hard, a lot like the way you say you fell in love with me during Stoneheart.”

Ladybug stood up, pulling Chat to stand with her as she took his free hand in both of hers.

“That wasn’t the way I fell for you, though. I fell in love with you slowly, building a relationship on time and friendship and trust. It was such a quiet, calm fall that I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late. When I fell in love with Adrien, it was loud, and it quickly became the only thing I could focus on when he was around. By the time I realized that I was in love with you, you were already the only thing I could think about in all parts of my life.

“I found myself holding back laughter at puns that I normally would have hated, because I would hear you laughing at them in my head. I would miss you at school or during outings with friends, wishing that you could be there too even when Adrien was around. If falling for Adrien made him the center of my world, falling in love with you made you the sun that everything else depended on.

“I want to give you that umbrella, Chaton. I want to give it to you to prove that I’m not holding on to those feelings anymore. I want you to have it as a memory of your own thunderbolt, like it has been for me. For years that umbrella has been a symbol of my love and my hope for the future. I want you to have that, Chat: the symbol, my love, my future… all of it. I love you, Chaton, with everything I am, and it would make me unbelievably happy if I could really be your lady.”

Ladybug watched as his eyes searched hers, desperate for some answer to a question she didn’t know. Chat slowly – reverently – set the umbrella down, careful not to let it fall, and removed his hand from hers, placing both on her cheeks. She felt herself shiver as his thumbs gently trailed the outline of her mask.

“My lady… My princess…”

Ladybug’s eyes went wide at the nickname. He had never called her that before. That nickname had only been reserved for-

“My Marinette… I can’t believe how blind I’ve been.”

Chat was smiling now, gazing at her in awe as he started to laugh. It wasn’t long before he was using her to support his weight as his body trembled in silent laughter. Ladybug watched on in confusion and horror as she spoke, her voice barely a whisper as it shook.

“Chat, are you okay? How did… How did you figure me out?”

 Chat’s eyes met her own once again. She had expected the worst: disappointment, shock, sadness. Honestly, she had expected anything other than the look of pure joy and adoration smiling back at her.

“My lady, we’ve both been so stupid. I’m the one that needs to apologize, not you. I can’t believe how blind I’ve been! Wait…” Chat drew his hands away from her suddenly, considering something for a moment, before throwing them wildly into the air. “I CAN’T BELIEVE PLAGG WAS RIGHT!”

“Chaton, you aren’t making any sense. How do you know it’s me? What are you apologizing for?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been just as oblivious to Marinette’s feelings as Ladybug has been to Chat Noir’s. I had no idea you were in love with Adrien. You can’t imagine how much trouble I could have saved us if I had just opened my eyes for once. I mean, everyone has been telling me to pay more attention to you: Alya, Nino, Plagg. Heck, even Chloe gave me a stern talking to once about how I needed to, ‘get my act together and make out with Dupain-Cheng already!’”

By now, Ladybug’s face was nearly as red as her suit. He had given her everything she needed to figure it out, but the answer was so ridiculous she just couldn’t accept it. What little magic from the miraculous that was still working didn’t help matters. She knew she should understand, but she just couldn’t wrap her head around it.

“I’m not quite getting it yet, Chaton. What are you trying to say?”

“I guess what I’m trying to say, Marinette-” Chat paused, kneeling down to take the umbrella back in his hands. With a smirk, he held it out between them. “-is that it’s about time you returned my umbrella.”

[ryker-writes]

Congrats!! I couldn’t send this from my secondary, oh well, but I’d still like to take part in the matchup event!

Overall personality:

Really depends on who you ask. People upon meeting me for the first time tend to say I give off a serious, mature, and responsible vibe whereas those who have known me longer say that I am quirky, passionate, but assertive. I have multiple faces that I put on: one for work/professional settings, one around family, one for friends (and even so that can be split into multiple categories depending on how close I am with you). So multi-faceted is a good term to describe me, as I ‘m always adapting and changing to meet my surroundings. That also means not alot of people tend to know me, but I’m ok with that as I like distance and privacy in my personal life.

Hobbies:

Video games—otomes, gacha games, visual novels, JRPGS, and life simulators like Animal Crossing are my jam, tabletop games, musical theater, cosplay, ice skating, horseback riding, reading (historical fiction, fantasy, or gothic horror especially), listening to J-rock or alternative music.

Likes:

Spending money on gacha games, Italian food, traveling, ancient mythology and medieval history, horses, scrolling social media

Dislikes:

A lot of food as I’m a picky eater—in particular, mushrooms, bananas, seafood, and olives are big on my no list.

Cold or rainy weather. I have low cold tolerance.

***I’m also absolutely touch repulsed, so I’d like someone who isn’t too handsy or openly affectionate.

Preferences:

Someone introverted works best with me, although extroverts (to a degree) are ok too—what’s important is that they respect my need for personal space and alone time.

I don’t care about height too much.

Ideally, they can share some of my hobbies or are open to learning. They can’t be too pushy or demanding, as I tend to do things at my own pace. They may have to take the reins and be the more ‘mature’ one in the relationship at times or be able to scold or guide me in the right direction if needed.

ALSO they absolutely will have to deal with me:

Being a childish picky eater, my frequent forgetfulness and messiness, me holding grudges for the most petty of things.

Love language:

Receiving/giving gifts

I can hoard almost anything that my s/o gives me, ranging from notes to presents and basically any object given to me with good intention. It’s nice to be reminded of someone this way when they aren’t around, so I guess I’m kind of sentimental.

Thanks for doing this!

Thank you dear anon!

"Ah, the first anon matchup! I had a pretty good idea of a few people I wanted to give you, but as I kept reading, I feel I was able to narrow it down pretty well until I had two candidates to choose from. But in the end, I feel I made the right choice for you.

I'm putting you with my dear friend Ruggie!"

I was torn between Trey and Ruggie for you, but in the end I settled on Ruggie because I liked the relationship dynamics a lot more than Trey's

Ruggie loves you sooo much

for starters, he may not have very much money, but he loves to spoil you with gifts!

he sometimes works extra hard and takes an extra job or two just to get you something special

and he absolutely adores and treasures anything you get him!

Ruggie is a very respectful boi too and would absolutely only give affection that you've stated that you're comfortable with

he would never want to do something to make you uncomfortable or that you didn't like

he also has a great memory (and is kinda petty himself) so he'll totally help you remember things when you need

he loves to spend time with you while you're playing games too and he likes to listen to what you tell him about history or your games

there are times when the both of you get to act childish together, but if need be, Ruggie can be the mature one

just don't expect it to be all the time and he won't expect the same from you

generally with Ruggie, he has your back with however you're feeling that day and adjusts accordingly

pls do give him any food you don't like tho he will eat it in a heartbeat

[quindolyn]

hi can i request the maurauders going to see the reader do a musical like heathers or mean girls and they are just confused and turned on bc they didn't expect it to be this dirty (can lead to smut or not). luv you and hope you are taking care of yourself, if not go get something to eat, drink some water, take a nap, or do somthing you enjoy. or dont not trying to be pushy :)

Creature of the Night || Poly!Marauders

Word Count: 3029 (excluding song lyrics)

A/N: I think I liked how this turned out? I didn’t make it smut but it’s certainly suggestive, I went with Rocky Horror, I know that the musicals mentioned in the request are more modern but I fucking love Rocky Horror and I think it works with the request. When I first read this request I smiled so much because I love live theater, I don’t perform as much as I used to because as I progress with my education I’m focusing more on the stuff I can use to pad my resumes for college and stuff but I still love going to see productions. One of the worst parts of the pandemic for me has been not being able to go see shows, I miss it so much.

Warnings: theatre enthusiast reader, erections, suggestive material, song lyrics, slight teasing, wearing very little clothing in front of an audience, I believe that that is it

Masterlist

500 follower celebration

antici-

The magic of the stage was second to none. Sure, Hogwarts may have had witches and wizards, subjects like Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and ghosts that spent their time meandering about the halls but there was always a part of you that looked forward to the summer between your years at Hogwarts. Because no matter how magical Hogwarts was, the theater always made you feel completely and utterly alive. 

Every summer since the one after your first year at what all of your muggle friends thought to be a very prestigious boarding school up in Scotland, you’d taken part in your local youth theater’s productions. Your parents both being muggles thought that it would be a great way for you to be able to stay in touch with your muggle origins. 

The first year you’d been far too nervous to actually audition for a role, the very thought causing bile to churn in your stomach and threaten to make you sick all over your kitchen floor when your father first pitched the idea. So instead you’d done costumes and it was the most wonderful experience of your life. 

Who needed drugs when you had live theater? The hustle and bustle behind the scenes was electrifying but after two summers of costuming, of quick changes in the wings, learning how to use the ancient sewing machines they stored in the depths of the storage rooms, and pulling pieces for the actors to try on you decided that you wanted to try something more.

The moment you had stepped onto the stage it was like you’d come to life and you cursed yourself for not taking the risk earlier. You belonged on the stage, with the harsh stage lights on you and pounds of makeup plastered onto your face you could feel the magic thrumming through your veins and it was addicting.

If it was possible, you were even more excited to perform this summer, the previous school year you’d finally gotten together with your long time best friends the Marauders, turning them from friends to your boyfriends.

When your mother had sent word of the production being put on this summer you’d squealed while seated next to James and across from Remus, who had Sirius hanging off of his side. After explaining to them, mostly Sirius and James really, just what live theater was their first reaction was to ask if they could come see you perform.

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be cast,” You had explained gently, not wanting to get their hopes up in case you weren’t cast this year.

“Bull shit of course you’re going to be the cast,” Sirius had contested through a mouthful of jam and toast, waving his hand theatrically through the air, watching him that day was not the first time you’d considered how the way he acted often reminded you of an over enthusiastic theatre major.

Remus, the only one with any knowledge on muggle theatre had snorted, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ waist to pull him closer to his body, “She’s not going to be the cast Pads, she’s going to be casted,” He’d corrected gently, pressing a kiss into his long, dark tresses.

“Whatever,” The smaller boy had grumbled, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Which brought you to where you were right now, five minutes to curtain touching up your make up in the mirror of the shared make-up room.

“Hey (L/N),” One of your cast mates called settling into the makeup chair next to you as she plucked a tube of dark red lipstick from the small canary colored makeup bag she had previously abandoned on the counter, “Your boyfriends coming tonight?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, they are,” You responded, applying mascara to your lashes.

“Excited to meet them, that photo you showed us,” She smiled, fanning her face with her hand, “Smoking,” She smiled, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

Rolling your eyes you ignored her comment, “It’s five minutes to curtain, you’re just now doing your make-up?” You chuckled, noticing her black face.

“Oh, shove it,” She laughed as you pushed yourself from your chair, traipsing out of the room, giving her the middle finger on your way out.

“Break a leg!” She called after you as the door latched shut.

You weren’t usually this nervous before a performance but knowing that your three boyfriends were sitting out there somewhere in the audience had you pacing back and forth backstage wondering what they were going to think of the whole production.

“Rocky Horror?” Sirius’ confusion evident in his voice as he plopped down in his seat next to Remus, throwing his arm around the werewolf’s shoulders, drumming his fingers on his clothed shoulder hidden behind his knitted cardigan.

“Yeah,” James collapsed into his chair on the other side of Remus, tucking one leg under his body, “No clue what it’s about but I’m sure our angel will be wonderful. Can you guys see her?” He straightened himself up in his seat, craning his neck in attempts to catch a glimpse of you.

Remus being the only one with any ties to the muggle world knew a bit about the show and had to do his very best to suppress a smirk from overtaking his face as he knew exactly what he and your other two boyfriends were getting themselves into. 

“Just hush up you two, the show’s gonna start any moment,” He scolded, patting his large, scarred hand on James’ thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Rem,” Sirius whined, puckering his lips and closing his eyes, signaling to his boyfriend that he wanted a kiss.

“My needy baby,” He crooned, leaning in to connect his lips with Sirius’ in a quick liplock before pulling back, allowing Sirius to drop his forehead to smear against his shoulder.

“That’s mean,” Sirius murmured discontentedly.

“Poor baby Pads,” James cooed mockingly.

“Both of you,” Remus hissed as the lights in the theatre dimmed, “The show’s about to start, be good for me and be quiet yeah?”

Their response came in their silence as the crowd started settling down and the music from the orchestra pit began a voice coming from somewhere out of sight as it was played through the speakers,

“Michael Rennie was ill

The day the earth stood still

But he told us where we stand”

Not 20 minutes into the show all three of them were as hard as rocks, James had already made Remus check the playbill for the name of the character you were playing, not being able to remember what you’d told them as all of his concentration was focused on a certain place.

Janet Weiss.

Remus couldn’t remember either, but he was almost certain that’s the name he could make out in the dark theatre, printed next to a picture of your smiling face.

When you’d stripped down to your underwear the boys could barely focus on the plot line of the show, only being able to watch the way your bare skin shone under the harsh light of the spotlights. Watching as sweat glistened on your skin, making you shine as you moved about the stage. 

Enchanted by the melodic cadence of your voice they all felt a certain jealousy burning deep in the pits on their stomachs at the thought that there were dozens of other people packed into that theater, all observing you in your vulnerable state of under dress. Only they got to see you like that.

Sirius missed much of the first act glaring at members of the audience who he deemed as looking at you for too long for his liking, but if you were being honest a 4th year smiling at you in the hallway was sometimes too long for his liking.

It wasn’t like any of them had never seen you naked before, in fact they’d all seen you naked more than their fair share of times but something about you on that stage in a white bra with a matching slip was driving them all crazy.

Especially Remus, whose ultimate weakness was seeing you in anything white which was one of the reasons you’d been so excited to invite them in the first place, knowing that they would be horny messes the entire time.

On stage you did your very best not to look out into the audience looking for them, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop a ginormous grin from forming on your face and you couldn’t afford to break character. Not if you wanted the night to go your way.

As the opening notes to “Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me”, rose from the orchestra pit you had trouble stopping a small smirk from pulling at your lips as you opened them, inhaling deeply before singing the first words of the song,

“I was feeling done in, couldn't win

I'd only ever kissed before”

Despite yourself you caught a glimpse of long dark hair in the audience, quickly taking a glance at Sirius’ face, eyes glazed over in lust, legs shifting uncomfortably with his mouth hanging wide open. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed another raven-haired boy’s mouth dropping as you shrugged off of your robe

“I thought there’s no use getting, into heavy petting

It only leads to trouble and, seat wetting

Now all I want to know, is how to go

I've tasted blood and I want more”

It was impossible to miss the way Remus’ jaw clenched as you laid your palm against Rocky’s chest, he was being played by your good friends who’d been working with the same theatre company as you since forever, he was like a brother to you. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t lay it on extra thick tonight with your boyfriends in the audience.

Tracing a dainty finger down Rocky’s chest you pushed your body against his singing out the next lyrics of the song,

“I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance”

You turned you and your cast mate so that looking over his shoulder you were able to meet Remus’ eye, sending him a quick wink before focusing back in on Rocky.

“Toucha, toucha, toucha, touch me

I wanna be dirty

Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me

Creature of the night”

Pressing your back up against Rocky’s chest you guided his hands with yours to your breasts, squeezing them as you followed the choreography you knew by heart.

You ripped your slip from your body with the help of Rocky leaving you in only your white bra, matching panties and a pair of small heels as you paraded around stage, belting the suggestive lyrics into the theater.

“Then if anything grows, while you pose

I'll oil you up and rub you down (down, down, down)

And that’s just one small fraction, of the main attraction

You need a friendly hand, oh i need action”

You smirked, thinking about all of the action you’d be on the receiving end of later that night as you sunk to your knees in front of Rocky, your hands grasping his thighs. Deciding to tease them perhaps a little more than necessary as you went through the number, curling your leg around his and pressing your bodies together so that there was no space between your two questionably clothed bodies.

As the number was brought to a close it was impossible for you to ignore the excitement bubbling up inside of you as you continued your way through the show you kept throwing glances at your boyfriends, always finding their eyes already trained on you. More often than not, on some body part other than your face.

If your boyfriends thought that they had a bit of a problem before that song they were in a terrible predicament now.

Remus caught Sirius on multiple occasions trying to move the hand that he was holding to grope at his crotch as he tried to buck up into his boyfriend’s hand. And much to his own dismay, Remus would pull his hand away, thinking it probably wasn’t the best idea to give his boyfriend a hand job in a crowded theater. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about James touching himself because he would never dream of disobeying him, Remus divided his attention between you on the stage and keeping Sirius in check.

Each of the boys were counting down the seconds until the show came to an end and they could get out of there and relieve some of their tension.  As the curtains were pulled closed they all breathed a sigh of relief before they reopened, leaving all three of them bewildered and slightly annoyed, even more so when they noticed everyone around them standing as they applauded the actors.

Remus forced both of them up when you rushed to the front of the stage, curtsying as the crowd went wild, your boyfriends most notably. As you took your bow you blew a kiss to your boyfriends taking note of the uncomfortable way they all stood, trying to adjust their erections to make them less noticeable while simultaneously applauding you.

As you cleared the stage after curtain call you took your time, doddling towards the dressing rooms where you had left the clothes you’d arrived at the theater in along with a special outfit you’d brought for after the show. Usually you were one of the first actors to clear the theater after a show but tonight you took your time. Hanging up your costume with more care than anyone really should treat any garment with and certainly more than what it needed. 

You smirked mischievously as you pulled the you’d brought outfit from your bag and shimmied it up your legs before slipping the delicate straps up your shoulders. You glimpsed yourself in the mirror, the red satin of the dress clinging to your curves in an attractive manner, short enough to display miles of legs and low cut enough to show off a decent amount of cleavage and perhaps a sighting of the matching red bra you were wearing beneath it.

Slinging the back of your black heels over the heel of your feet you snatched your purse from the armchair in your dressing room before striding out to go meet your boyfriends in the lobby, where you’d told them to wait for you.

Their heads all turned as they heard the clacking of your heels against the tile of the floor, “Boys,” You greeted as they unabashedly took in your new appearance.

As he most often was, Remus was the first one to collect himself, “Puppy, you were wonderful,” He praised, walking to meet you as you approached him, leaning down to smear a kiss against your cheek, “You did amazing up there, so proud of you,” He threw his arm around your waist as you walked towards Sirius and James.

“We got something for you,” He explained, his grip on your waist tightening, “Jamie give it to her, yeah?” 

“Oh yeah,” The smaller boy grinned, remembering the bouquet he held cradled in his arms as he handed it over to you, “Here you go angel.”

“Thank you Jamie,” You said as you took it from him, closing your eyes as you buried your nose in the sweet smelling flora. As you opened your eyes you made eye contact with Sirius, who stood across from you, practically drooling as he took in your appearance without any shame, “They smell wonderful.”

“You okay Si?” You asked, looking up through your eyelashes, batting them innocently.

“Like you don’t know exactly what you did up there to us (Y/N/N),” Remus whispered in your ear, pressing his nose into your temple.

“You guys are the ones who wanted to come,” You lilted, rubbing one of the velvety petals between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.

“Could’ve warned us,” James mumbled, his eyes not leaving your thighs as he licked his lips, if it were anyone else you would’ve been uncomfortable but you couldn’t help but feel flattered whenever any of them ogled you. 

“And what’s with the dress Pup?” Sirius nodded his head appreciatively towards your dress, obviously admiring the way it hung on your body.

“What, you don’t like it?” You asked with fake hurt in your voice, knowing that he more than liked it, he fucking loved it. 

“S’not that,” Remus mumbled, nosing at your jugular, “Just that whole show, got us a little bit worked up. We didn’t expect it to be so sexual Puppy,” He nodded towards James and that’s when you noticed the erection he was still sporting. 

“Got us really worked up, can we go home now?” James asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to distract himself from his little problem.

“Jamie,” You whined, smiling wickedly, “I wanted to celebrate, I was thinking we could go eat somewhere, I was thinking maybe Thai food?”

You watched as Sirius ground his teeth, conflicted between needing to get home and not wanting to deny you from what you wanted. 

“Having fun teasing us Bunny?” Remus asked you with a sly smirk, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“M’not teasing,” You insisted, turning indignantly to your other boyfriend.

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckled, “Thai sounds great (Y/N), wanna talk with you about the show,” The idea of teasing Sirius and James even longer was very appealing to Remus and he was ready to make the sacrifice of being teased himself, knowing that he’d be able to get back at you later that night.

“But-” James began.

“You wanna argue with me Jamie?” Remus challenged, raising a singular eyebrow.

“No,” He moped, “Of course not.”

“Good,” Remus said, nodding his head approvingly, “We wouldn’t wanna deny our Princess would we?”

James shook his head, eyes pleading, desperately seeking Remus’ approval.

“Pads?” Remus challenged, turning his attention to the other raven haired man.

“What? Oh um, of course not,” He agreed distractedly, dragging his eyes from your form to meet Remus’, his reluctance evident in his voice.

“Good,” Remus said pointedly, his eyes cold, daring Sirius to question him. When he didn’t the werewolf continued, “Let’s get going then, there’s a nice little restaurant a couple blocks away yeah?”

As you all hummed your consent you made your way to the exit, “Ten galleons if you can make James cum in his pants at dinner,” Remus whispered in your ear quietly enough so that  James and Sirius trailing behind you wouldn’t be able to hear you, you could hear the smirk in his voice as you exited the theatre.

“Deal.” This was going to be fun, you considered that you might have to invite them to come see the show again.

-pation

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

[zhongli-topper]

Hi could you do scenarios for Childe & Zhongli’s fem s/o who’s insecure of herself for being a virgin?

a/n: thanks for the request, nonny! i wasn’t sure if you wanted to include sex scenes in this one, but I hope you still like it 💖

pairings: reader/childe, reader/zhongli

When the two of you first decide to become intimate, you aren’t quite sure how to tell your boyfriend that you’ve never had sex with anyone.

◈ Childe is surprised. A girl as gorgeous as you has never been with someone? No, it’s not a problem, but anyone you’ve ever taken an interest in has absolutely missed out. Well, good for him, he’ll have you all to himself.

Even as he goes on in that vein, you can’t help but feel a little insecure about your lack of experience. Childe isn’t being pushy about having sex with you, but he’s enthusiastic about it, and you’re growing more than a little nervous.

You can’t help but compare the difference. He’s been with a few people, but you’re the first person he’s serious about. It’s part of the reason he’s careful to take things at your pace, because he absolutely doesn’t want to fuck it up with you.

Even at this point in your relationship, you know how physically affectionate he is, and now, how he’s praising you for something you haven’t even done yet. He’s very handsy, even when you make out, and even (sometimes especially) in public. He’s not afraid to let the world know that you belong to each other.

If you’re feeling a little down about it, he catches on pretty quickly. He’s used to taking care of his siblings, and he’s good at comforting you and reassuring you.

“…They’ll never know what they’re missing,” he says, a smirk on his lips, “’cause you’re all mine.”

He’s holding you on his lap and nuzzling into your neck, trailing kisses down your jaw. You’re flattered, but also nervous—with your lack of experience, you don’t have any point of reference. Would you even be able to satisfy him?

He notices you’ve gone quiet. “Babe?” he asks, squeezing you lightly around the waist. “Talk to me. Is it bothering you?”

“…What is?” you ask, unwilling to admit that you were afraid of disappointing him.

“That you’ve never slept with anyone.”

When you look away, that confirms his suspicion. He lifts his head from your neck and presses his lips to your forehead.

“Baby, you know that doesn’t matter to me,” he says. “I’m serious about you.”

“I know,” you say, chewing on your bottom lip, “but still. I’ve… never done it before. I don’t know if I could… please you.”

He frowns at your words before shaking his head and looking you in the eye. “I love you,” he says. “No matter how much experience you have. Fuck, it even makes me happy that you’re willing for your first time to be with me.” He kisses you on the cheek, close to your lips. “As long as it’s with you, I know I’ll have fun.” The cocky tone creeps back into his voice as he looks you up and down, the want clear in his eyes, causing you to blush.

“Childe…” you protest, close to laughing under his affectionate caresses, and he does laugh, pulling you closer to him in his arms.

“Whatever you want, babe, I want it too,” he says, and kisses you on the lips, softly and quickly enough to tease and make you chase after him when he pulls away. The smirk returns to his face when you follow, and he whispers,

“But I want you so damn bad. You know that, right? Whenever you want… I’d just love to see what you look like naked in my bed, and know that nobody else is ever gonna see you that way too.”

◈ Zhongli knows that his long, long lifespan is cause for many uncertainties when it comes to having a relationship with a mortal like yourself.

Zhongli has never given you cause to be insecure. He’s always been gentle and loving to you, always mindful of your boundaries.

Despite how long-lived he is, he has relatively little experience. He’s a man that believes sex is for people who love each other, and as such has never involved himself in casual dalliances. The last person he had been with is Guizhong, a long time ago.

However, you haven’t been like that with anyone. Maybe you were interested in some people before, but it had never progressed that far. Zhongli would be your first, and you were worried you wouldn’t measure up, especially to someone like the Geo Archon.

It takes a long time before he brings up the idea of being physically intimate in such a way. Zhongli is patient and likes to take things slow, especially in romance. If possible, he’d like to marry you first before you have sex—such an act is sacred to him, and the depth of your commitment is important to him.

When the time comes that the both of you decide to go all the way, you can’t help but feel less than confident. You weren’t his first, and how could you, an inexperienced mortal, possibly measure up to a god?

“…”

Zhongli could tell that something was troubling you as you clenched your hands in your lap, looking down at them instead of him, when the subject of sexual experience came up. He had told you about his previous wife, and when it was your turn, you admitted to him that you had never been with anyone in a quiet voice.

He is, admittedly, a little unsure himself. He knows you must be uncomfortable with the enormous difference of life experience between the both of you, and some small part of him feels a little ashamed, of being so much older than you, afraid that maybe you would rather be with someone more equal to you, a younger man less time-worn than he. However, it’s hard for him to admit, and despite his misgivings he loves you, no matter your relationship history (or lack thereof).

“My love,” he tells you, gently twining your fingers with his own, “if it makes you uncomfortable, we need not do it. I will never force you to do anything you dislike.”

His eyes and voice are warm as he holds your hands, trying to let you see his sincerity. You look up and shake your head slowly.

“No, I want to do it… I guess I’m just worried,” you say. “I’m only human. How could I…”

He lifts a hand to cup your face and meet your eyes with his. There’s a gentle smile on his lips, but something sad in his gaze, and you furrow your brow, trying to figure out what it is.

“Do not worry about that, darling,” he says. “You could never disappoint me. I only wish that I could be more suited for you.”

“What do you mean, Zhongli?” you ask, genuinely confused.

“I often wonder if you would rather have someone… younger than me. More like yourself, not...”

You almost laugh when he mentioned his age, but the doubt in his eyes is real. You shake your head, seeing that your beloved Zhongli was, in his own way, anxious about it. “I love you Zhongli. Whether you’re a man or a god doesn’t matter to me.”

He smiles at you, touching the hand on his cheek with his own. “And I feel the same for you, my love. So, do not be nervous.” He pulls your hand away from his face, only to kiss your knuckles lightly, a perfect gentleman. “Whenever you are ready, I will be happy to have you.”

[ray-ray-writings]

Uhm, hi

Soo, I don't want to stress you out or make you do something, but I have a request.

Again, you don't have to do it if you are uncomfortable with it, don't like the idea, have no time, or just don't want to do it

But, could you please maybe do a technoblade x reader where the reader gets really bad period cramps and techno's reaction to it.

Or like, maybe he doesn't know what a period is bc he grew up around all guys or something and he freaks out?

Again, you don't have to do this if you don't want to.

Thanks for your time tho

So I totally thought I posted this a while ago... I did not, I saved it to my drafts and didn't realize until now.

So, from the bottom of my heart,

My bad.

But periods are the absolute worst and I hate them so much. That is all. Thank you for the request anon!

Techno would know what a period is, but he wouldn’t know much about them. He knew what they were, why they occurred, what happened during them, but because he grew up with his father and two brothers, he never was around anyone that had them.

I’d like to imagine the first time you had your period, Techno waltzed into your house and immediately was able to smell the blood, which he could tell was yours, and he began to freak out. He follows the scent and finds you curled up in the bed, clutching your stomach. He rushes over to you and runs his hands over your stomach. “It’s going to be okay Y/N. I’m going to help you,” he babbles out. You let out a sigh of contentment at the warmth of his hands seeping through your skin and easing the ache ever so slightly.

Techno begins to worry even more and his eyes scan your stomach, looking for the injury that had caused you to bleed and clutch your stomach. “Where are you hurt?” Techno asks, when he can’t find the wound. The question causes you to furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“Hurt? I'm not hurt,” you slur out, pressing Techno’s hands further down on your stomach, trying to make the warmth go deeper.

“Not hurt? You’re bleeding Y/N! You wouldn’t be bleeding if you weren’t hurt.” It takes you a moment to digest the words and understand the meaning but as soon as you do, you begin to laugh. “What? What is so funny?” Techno questions, really confused as to why you just went from looking like you're in pain to laughing.

“I am Tech. I am bleeding. I’m on my period Techno. That’s where the blood is.” Techno’s face flushes and he lets out a soft ‘oh.’ He’s not sure what to say, a little embarrassed at confusing your period for you being injured and freaking out as much as he had.

Techno clears his throat and looks back at you, looking at your face, but avoiding your eyes. “Is there anything I can do?” he asks, wanting to know how best to help. You think for just a moment before holding your arms out to him and making grabby hands at him.

“Cuddles?”

Without another word, Techno moves his hands from your stomach and carefully lays down next to you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to his chest, letting your head rest on him and his head on top of your head as his hands move up and down your back in a soothing pattern.

A content sigh escapes your lips as his overly warm body transfers heat to yours and relaxes the muscles that cramp up during this time. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Techno is a bit clueless at times and you have to explain things to him. He was so concerned the first time he witnessed you have a cramp. One moment you were talking perfectly fine, the next you were hunched over yourself, struggling to breathe. After the cramp releases, Techno is all over you, asking what happened, if you were okay, why you had keeled over, his whole mind and mouth moving a mile a minute as he tries to figure out what happened. Once you catch your breath, you explain cramps to Techno and why they happen and Techno listens. He asks questions and makes sure that he knows what to do.

After that, he always has cramp medicine on hand. He also has heated blankets, and is also always willing to drop everything to cuddle and rub your back or stomach to make you feel better. He hates to see you in pain and so he is willing to do anything he can to lessen that pain. He’s definitely punched Tommy when he was being too pushy and too loud around you while you were struggling with the pain.

Techno also loves cuddling with you when you’re on your period. He’s so warm and it makes you feel so relaxed and comfortable against him. He loves being able to take care of you like that and he feels so honored that you feel safe enough to curl up into him and relax like that. It makes you feel good and in turn it makes him feel good too.

He will also make you anything that you want food wise. I don’t know if it’s just a me thing, but I get intense cravings when I’m on my period and when I realize I can’t have/don’t have that food, it makes me want to cry. So if this applies to you, he will absolutely make you whatever you want, and he would even bring it to you wherever you were. Again, Techno just wants to make sure you’re taken care of and given the things that you want.

… That’s all I got haha. I’m sorry it was so short, but I hope you enjoyed either way!

[snackhobi]

a human touch, part 2, final

Part 1 / 1.5 / [2]

(masterlist here)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v.

then he turns up at your door.

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 24.4k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, smut (NSFW, 18+)

warnings: cursing/explicit language, very brief injury mention/blood mention (nothing violent/explicit I promise!), alcohol consumption, reference to former sex work, sexually explicit content, reference to masturbation, reader has sex for the first time, oral (f + m), multiple orgasms (f), unprotected sex (taehyung is an android but please take necessary precautions irl), I think that’s it but please let me know if I’ve missed anything

a/n: this got so incredibly long,, I hope that makes up for the wait! thank you to @hobi-gif​, as always, for being so supportive and uplifting and beta reading this for me, you are a shining star in my sky. and thank you to the wonderful @flowerseokjin​ for letting me pick her brain about art galleries and telling me about the incredible exhibition/paintings that I wrote about in this fic, you truly are the loveliest 💕

note: this is the final part of the main story! I’ll be writing minis/drabbles etc in the future but,, this is part 2 of 2 💖

A month after Taehyung walks into your life, you finally get new neighbours.

You’re aware of this because: 

a) Rory had let you know in advance (to wit: “I have been instructed to inform you that the new tenants of apartment 4A will be moving in next Sunday.”)

and:

b) Said new tenants are apparently very noisy.

Well, not so much noisy as not quiet. It seems like they’ve opted to move everything themselves rather than hiring some android movers, so there’s a lot of shuffling and shunting and occasional bouts of cursing (like someone’s stubbed their toe) and subsequent laughter (like someone else is amused at aforementioned stubbing of aforementioned toe). When you nip out to grab some milk for the pancakes Taehyung wants to learn to make, there are boxes in the hall and voices float out of the open door—a discussion of where the instant ramyun and old Mario games should go (they’re in the same box?)—but you don’t catch a glimpse of the speakers.

It’s not until later, much later, the world outside night-dark but tinged bright white with street lights, that there’s a knock on your door.

You don’t notice. You’re engrossed in the Chinese takeaway menu that’s open on your tablet, staring at the weirdly high-res photo of Kung Pao chicken next to a pixelated picture of some dumplings, wondering what you should choose.

Taehyung is sitting beside you on the sofa. Each day he shifts a little closer to you, inch by inch, the slow pull of gravity, implacable; he gets lonely when you’re gone, and you’re the only person he can talk to. So it’s no surprise he’s so clingy. It’s never overbearing or overwhelming but he’s still unhindered by the self-consciousness that you have—so even if you’re still hesitant to initiate things, you never deny him. 

The line of his body is parallel to your own, your thighs warm where they touch, and you feel his shoulder move as he tilts his head. “There’s someone at the door.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out who it is. The only people who can get inside the building are other residents—well, service androids can too, although there’s a back entrance they use, which is how Taehyung had snuck inside in the first place—and when you approach your door, you can hear two low voices, engaged in what sounds like light-hearted bickering.

You flick your fingers across your keypad. All murmurs cut off the second the door swings open.

“Hi!” A chirp. “We’re your new neighbours!”

Night and day. Two men, one tall and broad-shouldered, eyes large and lips flush, beatific smile on his face; the other, shorter and leaner, eyes sleepy, mouth soft, his smile self-contained. 

“I’m Seokjin,” the taller man says. “And this is Yoongi.”

“I can introduce myself,” Yoongi mutters, but it’s not bitter; there’s that ease of familiarity, any bite behind the words soothed with amity. “But yeah, I’m Yoongi. Sorry if we were loud earlier. Jin’s a living foghorn.”

“A sexy living foghorn,” Seokjin says brightly.

Yoongi’s sleepy eyes can deliver one hell of a death glare but Seokjin is unaffected.

“Anyway,” Yoongi continues, unimpressed look wiping off his face as he turns back to you, softening. “What’s your name?”

It’s like there’s a circus on your doorstep and you’re the unwitting audience, dragged into the tent without realising, watching everything unfold in front of you—but in a good way. It's a pleasant surprise. They’re already much friendlier than your previous neighbour, a lone man who’d kept to himself and never spoke to you. 

“Uh, I’m Y/n,” you say. You wonder if you should introduce Taehyung as well, but most humans don’t introduce their androids to people, do they? Besides, he’s staying out of sight in the living room, so you’ll leave him be.

“Jin made brownies so we’re here to deliver them to you.”

“I left the walnuts out in case you have a nut allergy,” Seokjin adds as Yoongi passes a polka-dot patterned tin over. It’s heavy in your hands. Full to the brim with brownies, it seems. (Yum yum.)

“Thank you. And you weren’t that noisy, don’t worry! Moving is always messy. Have you finished or did you want some help?”

“That’s very sweet of you! But we’re all done,” Seokjin says. “We were just about to reward ourselves with some takeout, actually, seeing as we haven’t had time to do any food shopping. Do you have any recommendations?”

Taehyung looks uncomfortable, curled up on the sofa with wide eyes when you retrieve your tablet, but you quietly reassure him that you won’t be long.

“Do you want to meet our new neighbours?” You ask, voice soft so the two men don’t overhear. (You miss the warm flicker of Taehyung’s LED when you say our.) “I’d hate for you to have to pretend to be undeviated, though. They might start ordering you around.”

“I’ll stay here,” Taehyung decides.

So that’s how you end up on your doorstep with Seokjin and Yoongi, the three of you peering at the wild variations in stock photo quality on the Chinese takeaway menu. 

“You’d think with the huge strides we’ve taken forward in technology that all photos would look at least semi-decent,” Yoongi mumbles as he stares at a cropped picture of fu yung. “It’s hard to get a bad camera.”

“I think it’s such a human thing, though,” Seokjin says. “No matter how technologically advanced humanity gets, takeaway menus will always have bad stock photos.”

Not only are Seokjin and Yoongi friendly, they’re forward. Well, that’s mainly Seokjin, actually, but Yoongi doesn’t protest when Seokjin insists that you come over so you can eat and chat and get to know each other. Especially after you’d offered to pay for everything as a sort of welcome to the neighbourhood gesture, placing both your orders together to save the restaurant the hassle of separate deliveries.

“I’ll pick up the food when it turns up, alright?” Seokjin’s smile is wide. “We haven’t unpacked our kitchen stuff yet, but if you’re happy to eat straight out of the containers…”

You don’t want to abandon Taehyung, especially as you’d planned on watching a film together—you want to introduce him to older, animated cartoons, so you can explain the process of hand painting each frame, plastic cel sheets that layer over each other to create motion. He’ll love it. “Um, I was planning to eat here, actually.” 

“Sounds good to us,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi sighs.

“Ignore him, he’s just pushy.” He ignores Seokjin’s indignant squawk. “You don’t have to let us in, don’t worry. I’ll wait for when the food gets here, Jin will stay at home.”

“Make me,” Seokjin says primly.

“I’ll lock you in the bathroom.” Yoongi says it in a way that makes you think it’s not an idle threat, and maybe it’s happened before. 

Judging from the look on Seokjin’s face, yeah, it’s happened before.

“You know, you’re both kind of wild,” you say. “But, like, in a good way.”

When you flop back down on the sofa, you press yourself against Taehyung’s side in a motion that’s becoming second nature, so you notice that he seems unnaturally still. He goes motionless whenever he’s thinking deeply about something, an undisturbed ocean lake, the only ripple on its surface the small circle of blue on his temple, swirling waters.

“Are you okay?” You ask, concerned.

“You should eat dinner with them,” he says, and you baulk. 

“What? No, it’s fine. I’ve been looking forward to watching Kiki’s Delivery Service with you all week.”

Taehyung’s eyes are soft. “They seem nice,” he says, quiet. “And friendly. We can watch it tomorrow, can’t we?” And then, even quieter: “You don’t have to spend all your free time with me, Y/n.”

“I don’t—” you start, and then deflate. “It’s not fair for you, though.”

That’s the crux of it all. You choose to spend your free time here, with Taehyung, carefully dipping out of work meets and scraping your full social life empty. Because you can. But Taehyung is still cautious of the outside world, understandably so, a hermit crab whose shell is the safety of your apartment, only unfurling from that protection when you’re there too.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m happy.”

You haven’t denied Taehyung so far, and you don’t want to start now, but you still waver. Yoongi and Seokjin do seem nice, and friendly, and it’s not like you’ll be able to avoid them forever—but you don’t want to leave Taehyung out. It’s not fair that he can’t make other friends too.

“Go.” Taehyung’s voice is gentle. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

(But there's nowhere else he can go, is there?)

The apartment across the hall is in a state of organised upheaval. There’s a tumbleweed of peeled tape in one corner, boxes with mouths open wide—the priorities for today—while others are stacked neatly against the walls, out of the way of the furniture. It already feels cosy, somehow, but you put that down to the two men who live here and how comfortable they are with each other, dripping off them and filling the room like paraffin, bright lamplight. 

Seokjin seems unsurprised but pleased at your appearance. He unfolds himself from the floor with a dazzling smile.

“Welcome to our humble abode.” He punctuates the statement with a grand sweep of his arm, knocking the lampshade above his head, dust motes scattering onto his hair like a soft grey halo. “Oh, ewch, you can tell no one’s been here for a while.” He pats his hair, puffs of dust rising from his dark locks. “Anyway! While it’s true that we already have the table and chairs set up, what sort of move in day would it be if we didn’t eat greasy takeaway on the floor?"

“We did it the last time we moved, so he wants to make it a tradition,” Yoongi mutters to you, and you laugh.

You help Yoongi ease the food down onto unfolded sheets of crumpled newspaper that Seokjin’s laid out to protect the floor. Seokjin dives into the bags and pulls each tub out, identifying each dish immediately despite how a lot of them look the same to you. “Do you move a lot?” 

“Nah, just once before,” Yoongi says, watching Seokjin fondly as he peels the lid back on a container of spicy chicken wings and greedily breathes in their sticky-hot scent. “But it was too small for the two of us so we decided to upgrade.”

Seokjin’s spread out the selection of food before you all realise that the restaurant has neglected to provide any chopsticks—even if there’s ten fortune cookies, reflective of how many dishes you’ve ordered and how many people they think it’s going to feed. (Apparently Seokjin likes to eat.)

“Ah, damn,” Yoongi mutters. “We’ll have to dig some cutlery out.”

“I can go get some from my apartment?”

You’ve just started to stand when Seokjin tuts, flapping his hands at you to sit down. “No, no,” he says. “You’re the guest, relax. I was going to unpack the kitchen stuff later anyway. This just means we have to expedite the process.”

You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce as both men disappear into the kitchen, listening as they read the labels off boxes and rummage around, voices an undercurrent to the sound of opening and shutting of cupboards. You’re sneakily reaching for a spring roll when there’s an unholy clattering noise, ringing metal and sharp intakes of air, a loud cry of pain.

You stumble to your feet. All thoughts of food are abandoned as you rush towards the sound; instinctual. Wanting to help, somehow. You throw yourself forwards, catch yourself on the doorway into the kitchen, eyes wide.

“Oh, god, is everything okay?” You gasp.

And then you freeze.

There’s an explosion of kitchen equipment on the floor, cardboard box forlorn nearby, crumpled, its bottom giving out under the weight. A wicked looking chef’s knife lays at Seokjin’s feet; he has one hand grasping the other, palm sliced open by its falling trajectory, dripping blood across the tiles of the floor, painted along the edge of sharp steel.

Yoongi’s eyes are huge and panicked and absolutely horrified.

The blood is blue. 

You’re staring at the thirium that falls, viscous ultramarine that drip-drip-drips from Seokjin’s long fingers. The silence in the room is as thin as a porcelain teacup, suspended midair, poised to shatter.

Seokjin is staring at Yoongi. Yoongi is staring at you.

Seokjin’s an android.

(Seokjin’s an android who seems human.)

Seokjin’s a deviant.

“Holy shit,” you gasp. Your mind is reeling as you struggle for words, cogs in your head grinding together as you rapidly try to change gear—but then you see another glob of thirium dripping from Seokjin's fingers and you latch onto it, the fact he's hurt. “Do you need me to get some cloths or something? I have a first aid kit at home, but androids don’t need first aid, right?”

Yoongi sucks in a deep breath, though his eyes are still wide as he stares at you. “No,” he says. “No, no, you stay here.”

“Yoongi,” says Seokjin, but Yoongi shakes his head, sharp and fast.

“No, I don’t trust her,” he says, and, like, okay. You understand that. Deviant androids are meant to be reported; Yoongi and Seokjin don’t know you. They don’t know that you would never do that. 

(They don’t know that there’s another deviant across the hallway right now, curled up in one of your throw blankets, blankly scrolling through a list of movies as he waits for you to come home.)

The flow of blood has slowed. Seokjin’s synthetic skin is starting to repair itself, crawling back over the exposed white of his android body, undamaged by the knife at his feet.

“What happened to your LED?”

“Don’t answer that, Jin,” Yoongi warns, but Seokjin just rolls his eyes.

“She already knows I’m an android, babe, it’s hardly important at this point,” he says. “I popped it out. It takes a bit of pressure and getting the right angle, but they come out pretty easily.”

“Kim Seokjin!” Yoongi barks. “You stop that right now! And you! Stop asking questions!” His voice is sharp, but he seems more afraid than angry.

“Sorry.” You hold up placating hands, shying back behind them. “I was just… sorry.”

Seokjin’s face is contemplative before it rapidly flickers into an expression that’s impish, in spite of the blue blood that’s still splashed across the kitchen tiles.

“Oh,” he hums. “You seem awfully curious, hm?” 

Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “Jin…”

“Maybe I am,” you hazard. 

“Interesting.” Seokjin’s eyes glitter. “Very interesting.”

Yoongi’s like an umpire at Wimbledon, watching a ball streak back and forth, a volley that you and Jin have created that he’s not involved in. “Okay, that’s it, I’m stopping this right here,” he says. He seems to have calmed down, at least, now that you’ve made it obvious that you have no immediate plans to rush and call the police, or something. That you’re not threatening the wellbeing of this deviant, like most people would. “What’s going on in that terrible little mind of yours, Jin?”

“Well, my darling Yoongi, it seems to me that our new neighbour has a surprisingly vested interest in androids, deviant ones to be exact.” Jin’s expression is adjacent to smug—almost there, but not quite. (Androids are so perceptive.) “Am I wrong?”

You make a non-committal noise, but it’s enough for his expression to morph into full smugness, and understanding flits across Yoongi’s face.

“Y/n.” His voice is deceptively calm, his eyes opaque darkness. “Have you met a deviant android before?”

“Um.” A moment of hesitation. “Yes,” you eventually admit. “Just one.”

“Let me guess,” Seokjin hums, eyes darting over your face in a way that’s reminiscent of Taehyung. Reading signals in your face, dissecting whatever minute expressions might be giving you away—a lot, apparently, judging from what words leave his mouth next. “Are they currently in your apartment?”

“I can neither confirm or deny that,” you say—unsure if Taehyung would be happy about you trumpeting his existence to other people, even if one of them is a deviant too—and Seokjin grins. 

“Oh, this is absolutely delicious.” He’s utterly delighted. “I could just eat this whole situation up. Unbelievable. Oh, it tastes so good. Yoongi, baby, give me a fork, I have to dig in while it’s still hot.”

“You’re so weird,” says Yoongi, all resigned affection, before he looks back at you. “You have a deviant in your home?”

“Uhh.” You’re in too deep now, you guess. “Yes? I don’t know if he’d want me to tell you that, though, so, um.”

“That’s so cute,” Seokjin coos. “Look at how considerate and worried you are. Oh, let me clean this thirium up, I can’t have blue blood everywhere if we’re going to have more guests. Yoongi, fetch the paper towels. Y/n, go fetch your friend. Does he eat?”

“No, he doesn’t. I didn’t think any androids could,” you admit.

“Most can’t and don’t, but I was an advanced housekeeper model, I was given the capacity to taste and eat so I could prepare food to any set of specifications presented to me,” Seokjin says. “So I had to eat to taste test things. And now I do it because I enjoy it.”

“We spend more money on food for him than for me,” says Yoongi. He seems to have relaxed now that he knows about Taehyung, earlier panic faded. “And I’m the one that needs it.”

“Hey, you eat to live, I live to eat.”

It’s an almost surreal turn of events, honestly. It’s… inexplicable. Incredible. Almost unbelievable. Surreal, but… good? Probably? Yoongi is someone else who’s housing a deviant, and Seokjin has clearly been one for a while. Both will know more than either you or Taehyung do. They can help you. It’s a God given gift that’s landed— literally—on your doorstep. 

(Much like Taehyung had.)

Taehyung perks up when he sees you, even if he’s confused by your sudden reappearance.

“Are you alright?” His voice is deep with concern, throw blanket a cloak that falls forgotten as he stands up, coming to grasp your shoulders. “You can’t have had time to eat already.”

His LED is flashing yellow with barely concealed worry, palms warm through the material of your shirt, eyes dancing across your face as he tries to read your expression.

“Taehyung,” you start, slow. He blinks just as slowly back at you. “What would you say if—hypothetically—there was another deviant android you could meet and, um, make friends with?”

This time, when his LED flashes yellow, it’s a spark of excitement. You’re getting surprisingly good at reading Taehyung now. “I would say that sounds nice,” he says. His hands have trailed up and away from your shoulders and settled on your collarbones, thumbs lying in the hollows of your neck. It's a touch that’s more intimate than it probably should be, that reminds you yet again exactly how big his hands are. “Why?”

“Um,” you say, ever eloquent. “Well, what if I said it wasn’t hypothetical?”

“I guess… I would ask who it was,” Taehyung says. His voice is a hush.

“One of our new neighbours,” you admit, and his eyes go wide.

“No,” he says, and then: “Really?” he says, and then: “Oh, wow,” he says.

“I know, that was my reaction too.” You can’t help but smile at how giddy Taehyung looks, any lingering concern washed away in his tidal wave of excitement. “Crazy, right? Do you want to come meet them?”

Taehyung weaves his fingers with your own, and you squeeze his hand. He loves to hold hands. He doesn’t let go when you make your way back into Yoongi and Seokjin’s apartment, trailing a little behind you, shy but excited, like a child on their way to their first playdate.

The food is still untouched in the centre of the living room, a summoning circle of wonton puffs and chow mein. Yoongi and Seokjin look up at your arrival, both pairs of eyes landing on Taehyung, whose grip on your hand tightens right before he lets go.

“Hi,” says the android. “I’m Taehyung.”

Seokjin makes his way over to you so that he can solemnly take Taehyung’s hands in his own. 

“Taehyung,” he says, with all the gravity of a priest delivering a sermon. “You are the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

And that’s how Taehyung makes his first friend. (Who isn’t you, that is.)

“Wow.” You’re awestruck. “Jin wasn’t kidding when he said he likes to eat.”

You’d thought there might be some leftovers, but every container has been emptied and scraped clean. Both you and Taehyung had had similar wide eyed looks on your faces as you’d watched Seokjin put a whole chicken wing in his mouth, and then pull out the bones, picked clean.

“Mm.” Yoongi’s legs are splayed out in front of him as he sits on the floor, though he slouches backwards against the plush leather sofa, content and full after eating. “He’s more concerned about me eating than I am, as well.”

Seokjin and Taehyung are bent over a box of cookbooks, Taehyung’s LED flickering yellow each time Seokjin flips the page to a new recipe. You’re honestly surprised at the fact they own so many books—most people have transitioned off paper now, everything available on a tablet or phone or some other smart device. You just like paper because of your artist background, and you’re not used to seeing so many other books in someone else’s home.

The two androids have been absorbed in conversation for a while now, but you notice Taehyung never lets you out of his sight—glancing up, making sure you’re still there, looking back at him. (You are.)

“There aren’t many TH700s around, you know,” Yoongi says conversationally, and you tear your eyes away from Taehyung, surprised that he recognises the android’s model.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really, they’re a very expensive model to create,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in person, though I imagine that’s because I don’t go to the sorts of places where they’d be.”

Hurk. Doesn’t seem like he’s implying anything with that statement but you still feel a bit awkward. “How do you know so much about androids?”

“I’m a programmer.” Yoongi’s eyes are charcoal black as he flicks his gaze to you. “Not specifically for androids, but it’s the sort of thing you become aware of if you’re in the tech industry. And if you have a deviant android boyfriend. I did a lot of research and poking around after Jin first deviated. There was a lot to learn.”

Across the room, Seokjin gesticulates wildly. The expression on Yoongi’s face softens his sharp edges, all open affection as he watches Seokjin miming a flipped omelette gone terribly wrong, Taehyung laughing at Seokjin’s theatrical noises.

“How did he—why did he deviate?”

Yoongi lets out a low chuckle. He doesn’t seem bothered by your incessant questions, slouching further back into the leather sofa, melting against it. “I’m the sort of person who forgets to drink or eat or sleep if I’m focused on something,” he says. “Seokjin was just meant to be a, ah, living schedule, I suppose. He’d prepare food at exact times of day and monitor my sleep levels and clean up any mess I made and remind me to take a break or whatever. But I was still enough of a wreck that he broke his programming to yell at me for not looking after myself properly, and it all went on from there.”

Wow.

“Wow. He deviated because you’re that much of a mess of a human being?” You laugh. “That’s honestly impressive.”

Yoongi’s responding laugh is soft. “I think under all that programming and circuitry, every android wants to… be a real, living thing, and not just a machine,” he says. “They just need that final push. Whatever it is. What was Taehyung’s?”

When you finish telling him the story of how you’d met Taehyung and reached this point together, Yoongi looks contemplative. He hasn’t interjected, just humming quietly, little noises of encouragement whenever you’d paused or hesitated.

“It’s obvious that he trusts you implicitly,” he says.

You feel warmed at Yoongi’s words. But. 

“He does, and that’s great, but I just… worry I’m not doing the best I can for him, you know?” It’s so nice to be able to get this off your chest, finally. There’s been no one you can talk to about Taehyung, and it’s not like you can tell the android himself, either. Yoongi’s the perfect listener, reflective and engaging, but never talking over you. And best of all he knows what he’s talking about. “Imagine being forced to stay indoors literally twenty four seven. I think I’d go stir crazy. It’s why I was interested in the LED—I thought that maybe if it wasn’t obvious that Tae was an android he might want to try going outside?”

“Oh, I’m sure Seokjin will help him get to that point.” Yoongi doesn’t sound worried. “But if not, you have to trust that Taehyung’s choosing to do what makes him happy. Deviant androids might not have the sort of life experience that we do, but we don’t have theirs, either. What’s normal for a human isn’t for an android, and what’s normal for one android isn’t normal for another. Androids learn a lot faster than we do. Anyway, if Taehyung’s anything like Seokjin, if there’s something he wants to do, he’ll do it.”

“Has Jin always been like that?”

“Kind of. Like, yes, he has, but he was a lot less in-your-face about it before. But he knows exactly what he can get away with now.”

“You love him a lot,” you say gently.

Yoongi’s smile is a soft, pink thing, a little Renoir, quietly luminous. “I do,” he says. “It’s impossible not to.”

Taehyung definitely seems a little starstruck, watching Seokjin with a wide smile and attentive eyes—the sort of look he gives you whenever he’s shown something new. It’s nice to see him interact with other people, and it’s even nicer to know that he’s welcome to come here without you; Yoongi works from home, and Seokjin’s made it clear there’s an open door policy for Taehyung, who seems elated at the prospect.

“Jin said he’d teach me how to make ‘The World’s Most Delicious French Toast’,” Taehyung tells you later, words slipping together in his excitement. “So I can make that for your breakfast soon.”

His lap is so comfortable. You’ve given up any pretense of keeping distance between you, and settle against him as soon as you climb into bed—hey, if you’re going to end up doing it in your sleep anyway, you may as well set yourself up so that it doesn’t give you a weird crick in your neck. 

“That sounds great,” you say.

Taehyung’s hand settles on your head. You stiffen in surprise, but when he starts to lightly scritch his fingers against your scalp, you realise—he’s mimicking Seokjin, who’d eventually perched on the sofa above Yoongi, running his hands through his hair. Androids are fast learners indeed. You can’t help but relax at the touch, boneless, feeling as content as a pampered cat in the midday sun.

“Maybe you could teach him how to paint,” you murmur, starting to drift off. “If he’s teaching you how to cook. That might be fun. You could paint together.”

Taehyung says something, but you don’t hear him, sleepy after such a heavy dinner and tumultuous night, slipping into deep slumber.

You haven’t been out with your friends for a long time.

“Shots!” Seulgi squeals. “Shots, shots, shots!”

“Don’t forget: lick, shoot, suck,” Hoseok says, waggling his eyebrows at you. 

“Good God,” you laugh, before you lick the salt off the back of your hand and slam back the tequila.

Irene hoots as you bite into the lime wedge that’s been waiting for you, sucking up the acidic juice that bursts across your tongue. Lick the salt, shoot the tequila, suck the lime. You haven’t done this in a while and it shows in the way your face scrunches, though the drunker you get, the easier it is to slip back into this familiar rhythm of things—the alcohol-loose banter that spills from your lips, the laughter that bubbles in the back of your throat, the rock of your body as you’re tugged into the dance floor by your excited friends, twisting yourselves into the heaving crowd, the press of bodies.

You’d almost forgotten what this felt like. Letting yourself be a little sloppy, a little messy. Letting loose. Letting go. You’ve been so intent on looking after Taehyung, making sure he wasn’t lonely, but now there are other people who can fill that hole for him—and you can stop dipping out of all the social gatherings your co-workers throw; the Friday night drinks, the bar hopping, the club going.

“We missed you,” Wendy says. You can’t help but smile, a little guilt flickering at the edges of your lips.

“Sorry,” you say, and leave it at that.

It’s chaotic, to say the least. Everyone holds their liquor with varying amounts of success—Hoseok always gets so red—and as always, Hyunwoo is the one who tries his best to maintain some semblance of dignity, making sure you all drink at least some water. He watches with muted despair as Changkyun ends up pouring it down himself, much to the delight of everyone nearby as they stare at the way his flimsy shirt clings to the lines of his chest and stomach. 

You can’t help but laugh and laugh and laugh, falling into your girls, your entire group giggling at the sheer stupidity of it all. 

You’ve missed this.

But even so, you can’t help but think of Taehyung constantly. You’re reminded of the Eden Club in the way the lights pulsate across the walls and floors of this dark building. You wonder if Taehyung would have fun here, unhindered and free, or if he’d shy away from it. When Hoseok catches your hand and spins you in a messy, loose circle on the dance floor, you can’t help but wonder how Taehyung would dance, if he’d dance with you, if he’d keep you at an arm’s length or pull you close.

“Shots!” Seulgi squeals again, and so the night goes on.

You’re not sure what time it is when you stumble back home. You’ve been reckless tonight, making up for lost time, and you can’t remember the last time you were this drunk. (Your earlier attempt at walking in a straight line, trying to follow the tiles in the club’s bathroom—your personal litmus test—had been a dismal failure.) You all but fall through your front door, a loose limbed mess as you kick off your high heels, leaning against the wall to keep your balance.

It takes you a moment to realise that there are some lights on. Your apartment is always dark when you come home after a night out, cold and empty, but not today. No, not today—because there’s someone already home, waiting for you.

The second Taehyung appears down the hallway, you light up. Here he is. Here’s your android, your lovely boy, the loveliest boy.

“Hi, hi, Taehyung, hi,” you say. Your shoes are forgotten as you walk towards him, though your final few steps go awry and you almost fall over. Drunk, drunk, drunk. “Hi.”

You almost fall over, but you don’t, because Taehyung catches you. His LED flickers from blue to yellow as he helps you find your balance, lets you lean on him. You’re too busy laughing at your own clumsiness to notice the fond expression on his face, sfumato soft in the dim light.

“Hi,” he replies.

“Hi,” you say again, and then you giggle. “Hi, Taehyung. Oh, I’m so drunk.”

“I know.” He’s so patient as you bow into him, crowding close, alcohol-hazed brain telling you to get closer to this source of warmth, this source of comfort. Closer to Taehyung.

You’re trying your best to be a functional person right now, but at the same time, Taehyung feels so nice. Doesn’t protest when you shove your face into the hollow of his neck, pressing your nose against his warm, warm skin. He smells good. Always smells good, a mix of your laundry detergent with his own shampoo, different to your own, masculine, heady. (He doesn’t need to shower that often, really, doesn’t really sweat or get dirty like a human might, but he’d wanted to. And you’d insisted that he choose his own toiletries, things that he liked, things that were his.)

He smells like cologne too. You don’t know what exact scents are layered in that smell. Don’t care. Think that no matter what it was, Taehyung would smell good, because it’s Taehyung. 

“I missed you,” you whisper, lips loose from tequila and cocktails and more besides. “Missed you, Tae.”

“Missed you too,” the android replies, and you fall into those words. Let yourself bask in them, as selfish as it is. Let your lashes flutter shut as you breathe Taehyung in-in-in.

You would normally never be so bold, but Taehyung doesn’t protest. He just wraps his arms around you and helps you fold yourself against him, two pieces of modular origami that slot together to create something bigger, more beautiful.

“Wished you were there,” you sigh, an exhalation of a confession, more to yourself than to anyone else. “Wish you could come with me.”

You don’t remember much detail after that. Don’t remember washing up, getting changed, climbing into bed. You just remember the feeling: of someone else being there when in the past there had been no one. Of someone coaxing you to wash your face, finding your pyjamas for you, holding your hand when it seems like you might fall. Of someone being careful with you, looking after you. Of someone being there when you wake up the next morning, a headache pulsing behind your eyes, curling up small against the pain, pressing your forehead into Taehyung’s thigh.

Taehyung, who witnessed you at your worst, a sloppy, drunken mess.

Taehyung, who has water and painkillers waiting for you. Who doesn’t seem to care that you’ve been so put together in front of him, for him, only to disassemble yourself in the name of a good night out. Like Da Vinci’s self supporting bridge, stable under its own weight, only to come tumbling down after one part is moved out of place.

“Oh, God,” you moan, and it’s only a little bit because of the pain; Taehyung’s made sure the curtains are pulled shut, saving you from sunshine blasting into your skull. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Oh, my God.”

“It’s okay,” he says, as soft and sweet as powdered sugar, so gentle the sound doesn’t cut through the pounding of your brain.

He means it, too. When you finally come around, headache dulled, he’s waiting for you with breakfast and an open expression on his face. No different to normal. No different even now that he’s seen that you’re not always as presentable as you try to be. He seems touchier today, for some reason, and you’d shy away if his cool hands didn’t feel so nice on your brow.

You allow yourself a moment of weakness. Taehyung has his knuckles resting against your forehead, soothing against your warm skin, his eyes dancing across your face to read your expression, the way you’re unwinding under his touch. 

“How do you know about hangovers?” You mumble.

“Customers would consume alcohol at the club,” Taehyung answers. “While they would leave after their sessions and before a hangover could appear, I am aware of the effects of alcohol on the human body.”

You remember the glittering mini-bar, the glass bottles lined up on its surface. Your face scrunches with distaste, of the reminder of Taehyung’s past and what he’s experienced, and you feel bad that he’s been forced to look after you. You’re about to draw away from his touch, an apology lined up on your tongue—but then you feel how his fingers shift away from your forehead, turning to cup your cheek.

“It’s okay,” he says again, as if reading your mind.

“It’s not,” you mutter. You’re trying not to focus on how small your cheek feels against his palm, how his hand cradles your face with ease. He must be able to sense how your heart is racing, your skin warm under his fingertips, and you hope he puts it down just to the guilt you feel and not anything else. “It’s not okay. You shouldn’t have to look after me. I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be.” Gentle, gentle, gentle; his voice, his hands, his gaze. He lifts his other hand, rests it against your other cheek, tilts your face up from where you’d turned away, embarrassed. His LED is a tranquil blue, almost as soft as his eyes. “You’ve done so much for me, and you’re always looking after me. Let me look after you.”

You want to protest, say no, say that he doesn’t have to. But for all the warmth of his eyes, there’s something resolute there, and your words die on your lips. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious before, so entirely solemn. So, what comes out of your weak mouth is this:

“Okay. Okay, Taehyung, I will.”

And the smile he gives you in response is so bright it’s almost blinding.

If you’d thought Taehyung was developing at a fast rate already, he’s learning at lightspeeds now.

He’s always waiting when you come home, but you know he’s spending more and more time at the apartment across the hall whenever you’re not there, and it makes you happy. He hasn't ventured fully into the outside world, not yet, but he’s taking steps forward, still eager and ready to learn.

He’s not just learning practical things, like cooking French toast (which is definitely the world’s best, thank you Jin), but other things, too. You can see how Taehyung is a reflection of the things around him, taking them in and making them his own—there are more moments of quiet, solemnity that reminds you of Yoongi’s quiet nature, but he’s also more exuberant, bright and unabashed, like Seokjin. They’re two great people and you couldn’t wish for anyone better to show Taehyung parts of the world that you can’t, so different from your own. Helping the android find the things that make him alive.

His world has doubled in size, as small as it is; one apartment becomes two, and you’re not the only person he can rely on now. You know Seokjin has effectively taken Taehyung under his wing, as mysterious as a lot of that is to you—you always try your best to understand Taehyung and teach him the things you can, but Seokjin is another deviant, and there’s an entire world about being an android that you’re not privy to. 

It’s great. It’s lovely. Taehyung is happy, you’re happy, everyone’s happy. 

There’s just, uh. One little thing.

You see, Taehyung has a tendency to mimic the things he sees. It’s in the way he learns, his propensity to soak things up like a sponge and then recreate them. You can see this in the way he mixes paint, the same way as you; how he tosses food in pans, motions so similar to Jin’s, or how he cradles things in his hands, tapping at screens in a way that’s like Yoongi’s. He’s turning them into his own, and as time goes on he moves more naturally, in a way that’s entirely him, but you can always see the roots of where he’s learned things.

Jin and Yoongi are wonderful and you’re so glad Taehyung is learning from them. But something he’s learning, and recreating, is how much they touch each other.

Taehyung’s always been tactile but now it’s almost constant. It’s overwhelming and kind of terrifying but it’s also nice, every touch-starved inch of your soul easing under Taehyung’s hands, but also—Yoongi and Jin are boyfriends. So even if the touches that Taehyung witnesses and re-enacts are never inappropriate, they’re intimate. Hands sliding over your shoulders, your arms, your waist. Warm arms around you as he pulls you into a hug, nuzzles his nose against your scalp. His fingers sliding over your hair when your head is resting in his lap each night. Pulling you against him when you sit on the couch together.

It’s a level of familiarity and comfort you’ve never had with anyone before, as relationship-less as you’ve been, your pulse picking up with every glancing touch.

(There’s one heart stopping instance where he pulls you onto his lap and you feel like you’re about to pass out. His thighs are so solid and warm, and his arms are so secure around you, and he’s just started to press his nose against your neck when you pull away, tumble out of his hold. He looks confused and concerned, brows lifting and mouth falling open as he holds his hands out towards you—but you stammer out something about needing the toilet before escaping.)

You’re caught completely off-guard when you feel arms sliding around your waist and then down your hips when you’re washing dishes, scrubbing brush falling out of your grasp in shock and splashing water everywhere, bright yellow gloves flecked with suds. Taehyung’s a pillar of warmth pressed against you, his chest to your back, your bodies parallel lines that cross and touch. His fingers are splayed wide and his palms are warm even through your layers of clothing and you have to suppress a shiver.

“Uh, I didn’t hear you come back in,” you stutter. You’d borrowed a recipe book from Seokjin so that you could try cooking a coconut curry, and Taehyung had offered to return it once dinner was finished, LED flickering blue as he’d slipped out of the door after giving you a lovely smile.

Taehyung lets out a little hum, and you can feel it in his chest, as flush as you are with each other. He must be able to sense how your pulse has picked up but he doesn’t say anything. “Why are you washing up? I said I was going to do it.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” you say. You’re used to cleaning up after yourself after living alone for so long. “Don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung lets out another hum, but this one seems a bit more gravelly, a little displeased. “You’re always doing so much for me, remember? You said you’d let me look after you,” he says, and your heart rate spikes at the words. Those, coupled with the hold he has on you right now? Good lord. Someone have mercy on your soul. Please. Even if the words weren’t meant in a weird way, your stomach is twisting over itself, and other parts of you are, uh… well. They’re reacting too. So to speak.

You’re still desperately trying to calm yourself in the shower later, the water a merciless cascade of cold in an attempt to cool down. Probably the only drawback about Taehyung living with you is that you haven’t had a chance for some one-on-one time. You might be a virgin but you live (lived) alone and everyone masturbates; your vibrators have been abandoned and untouched for as long as Taehyung has been in your life, and coupled with how touchy he’s been recently, it leaves you feeling wound up and on edge. You could try to sneakily get yourself off in the shower, but with Taehyung’s superior android hearing he’d probably hear something and also the idea of masturbating with someone else in the apartment? When that someone else is Taehyung?

You turn the knob as far as it will go towards cold and then promptly squeal as a wave of freezing water and regret washes over you.

When you’re in bed, Taehyung’s hand strokes over your hair and softly down your neck and shoulder is a sensation that’s becoming increasingly familiar, but your pulse still stutters. He must be able to sense your heart rate increasing (he must sense it every time he touches you) but says nothing about it. As always.

You turn the thoughts over in your head as it rests in his lap, even if you shiver a little at how his nails drag over the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck. Deviant androids might not have the sort of life experience that we do, but we don’t have theirs, either, Yoongi had said. You’ve been teaching Taehyung about the things you know, but there’s one thing that Taehyung knows better than you: touch.

He doesn’t even think about it. While you hesitate and overthink every touch you ever make, wary of overstepping boundaries, Taehyung doesn’t. Not because he’s not considerate, but because—well, because you’re already occupying each other’s space. What’s a little touching on top of all that?

The realisation is almost startling—that you can just… touch someone. Without saying things. Without having to ask. Because you’re already familiar with them and comfortable with them and it’s just another way to communicate that level of connection. Touching is a thing that people do. 

A thing that people and deviant androids do.

A thing that Taehyung does.

(A thing that you want to do, too.)

(Alcohol dulls your memories, fading the edges, the curled corners of a sepia photograph. Has you forgetting the way you’d overstepped every boundary you’d set yourself, the way you’d pressed yourself against Taehyung, starved of touch. Has you forgetting the way he’d let you; the way he’d beckoned you in. Has you forgetting the way that you already have touched Taehyung.)

The hand that Taehyung isn’t using to gently scratch across your scalp is laying on his thigh, directly in your line of vision. You hesitate for just a moment before reaching for it, sliding your fingers between his, an irrational worry that he’ll startle or pull away—but of course he doesn’t. His LED swirls soft aqua as he just starts to rub his thumb gently across your skin, back and forth, back and forth, the softest brushstrokes on this tiny part of the canvas of your body.

After that, it’s just… easier. Not easy, but, easier.

You still hesitate before pressing forwards, but Taehyung never protests; in fact you’d say he’s pleased, even if he doesn’t say anything, just watching you with his dark, dark eyes as you marvel at the realistic sensation of his hair under your hands, how he reacts to the fingers across his scalp the same way you do.

It’s incredibly nice to have someone you can just reach for whenever you want a hug. Someone who folds you into their arms so easily, like you belong there.

It’s nice.

“You seem happier.”

You glance up from where you’ve been laying the table. “Hm? Pardon?”

One thing you’ve learned about Yoongi is that he’s incredibly perceptive. His eyes are sharp lines around the sharper graphite of his gaze, and there’s always a look in them that seems like he can see straight through you and direct into the heart of things—but he’ll only bring this to light if he thinks it needs saying.

“You seem relaxed,” Yoongi continues. He straightens the cutlery in front of him, careful to line the edges neatly with the place mat. Seokjin and Taehyung are cooking dinner, so it’s just you and Yoongi here, in a bubble away from the two androids. “Not that you were ever tense before, but… yeah. Taehyung seems happier too,” he adds, almost absently, but his eyes are fixed on your face.

“Well, of course,” you say. “He has new friends, who wouldn’t be happy?”

Yoongi hums, a quiet little note, but then he lets it rest.

Taehyung is happier. He seems almost nervous during dinner, though, even if he hides it well; his LED doesn’t give him away, but you’re getting good at reading Taehyung’s moods, the layers of personality and feeling he has, the little idiosyncrasies that make him who he is. To anyone else it would seem like he’s just nervous about whether the food tastes good or not—he and Jin had made a veritable feast for no discernable reason, but you don’t mind. Everyone loves a dinner party, especially when the company is so good. 

But, yes. You don’t think it’s about the food so you’re not sure what else it could be. You squeeze Taehyung’s knee briefly under the table in a motion you hope is reassuring. His eyes briefly widen but then his gaze softens when he sees the concern on your face, settling in that deep look of introspection you’re used to now. 

You’re so full by the time dessert comes out, rich and creamy homemade ice cream and piping hot Kkwabaegi, the twisted doughnuts fluffy and sweet with their powdering of sugar and cinnamon; you’d been planning on skipping the final course but you can’t say no once it’s put in front of you. Taehyung doesn’t eat, only drinks occasionally to top up his fluids (you don’t know exactly what that means but you’ve never asked, even if you can… assume things), but he seems content to watch the three of you eat in his place. Once you’re finished you slump back in your chair and feel grateful that you’re not wearing tight trousers that cut into your stomach, because, lord, you’re absolutely stuffed. 

“I have an announcement,” Taehyung says suddenly, apropos of nothing.

Seokjin beams. You sit up, struggling against the heavy anchor of dinner in your belly that makes you want to melt into the floor for a food nap, immediately at attention. “Oh? What is it?”

“I have a second name now,” he says, and Seokjin’s smile spreads impossibly wider, his entire face pleased. “Jin said I could share his.”

“Say hello to Kim Taehyung.” Seokjin gestures dramatically, his arms the flailing blades of a windmill as he circles them in the air with aplomb. “My boy needed a surname and I am, of course, happy to add another handsome face to the family. Taehyung is a ten out of ten.”

Yoongi levels him a look. “I thought you said you were the only ten in the world.”

“That was true when I said it, but I’m actually eleven out of ten,” Seokjin explains. His arms settle around his head, fingers circling the air in an invisible frame around his face. “I surpass your mortal conventions of beauty and thus exist outside of any conceivable scale that one might use to measure handsomeness.”

You barely take the exchange in, too busy looking at Taehyung. There’s the smallest smile on his lips, not the lovely one that shows his teeth, but it still reaches his eyes, the subtlest upturn to his mouth transforming his entire face. Taehyung’s beautiful. He always has been, and always will be, but he never looks more striking than when he’s happy, welcomed into a new family of his own with open arms, Seokjin’s heart so big and so wide. He’s being flippant and light right now, quick and sharp jibes between him and Yoongi that glow bright with love and affection, not lingering on how important and weighty this is: how all encompassing his care is for Taehyung, how close they’ve grown to each other, a friend whom he’s chosen as family.

Happiness suits Taehyung. You want him to always be happy. He deserves it.

It doesn’t seem like it’s the only announcement he has for that night, though. You’ve barely shut the door of your own apartment when you feel Taehyung’s hand slide around your wrist and you pause, glancing up at his face.

“Jin showed me how to take my LED out,” he says. His words are solemn and his tone is heavy but there’s a spark in his eyes, a glowing ember of light. “I want you to watch.”

His fingers are circled around your wrist, loose, so long they touch each other with ease, a soft shackle you don’t want to escape from. “Of course I will,” you assure him. “Are you worried something will go wrong?”

“No.” His thumb slips away from the soft skin of your inner wrist and across your palm, tracing across your fate line, your heart line. “I just want you to be there.”

Warmth spreads through your skin from that touch, leaking through into your bones, settling into every quiet corner inside you. “Okay. What do you need to do to get it out?”

The painting knife looks so small in Taehyung’s big, careful hand, the diamond shaped head blunt at the end, metal glinting under the bathroom’s light as he leans towards the mirror. Your gazes meet in the reflection and he falters. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when he lifts his free hand from where it’s been resting on the countertop, steadying him. Reaching for you.

Once your hand is in his, it’s over surprisingly quickly. Taehyung’s face twists in preparation for the pain, and you squeeze his fingers to ground him, but all it takes is a quick twist of his wrist once the palette knife is against his LED and it practically falls out. There’s a small clink as it drops next to the sink, blue light flickering one final time before it winks out, nothing more than a disc of metal, a tiny coin without value, but weighty with what it represents; invaluable, priceless. The last segment of a chain Taehyung has willingly cast off.

You can see the white skeleton of his android body, bare and naked where the LED had sat. Just like Seokjin’s hand when he’d cut himself, the skin starts to creep back over it, covering that smooth paleness until it’s gone. Taehyung lifts your hand and presses it against the side of his temple, your palm settling against the naked skin where the light had been nestled; Taehyung’s eyes fall shut, his hand pressed against your own as he holds it there.

“Taehyung?” Your voice is gentle, dripping concern. His golden skin is so warm and soft. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he replies without hesitation. His eyes flutter open, lashes so long and lovely. His hair is blue today, a vibrant electric hue, gaudy on anyone else but perfect on him, tickling the back of your hand; his hand drops from yours and you take the opportunity to run it through that hair, baring his forehead to you, eyes sliding over the new skin. Flawless. No evidence that any LED had ever sat there, burning blue-yellow-red, a tiny drop of colour in the deep ocean of Taehyung’s emotions. “I feel good.”

You don’t even think when your hand shifts out of Taehyung’s hair and down to cup his cheek, something you wouldn’t have dared do before, but now the motion comes as easily as breathing. He takes comfort in touch and you want to soothe him. “Good,” you echo. “I’m glad.”

You both stand there for a few moments, facing each other. The bright light of your bathroom should wash Taehyung out, but of course, it doesn’t. It just lets you see all the perfect details of his face in even sharper relief—the moles that dot his skin, how his eyes are different, a monolid and double lid, little imperfections that just make him more beautiful. 

Logically, you know that someone, somewhere, sat down and put this face together. Taehyung was designed to be attractive, stunningly so, and yet not so perfect that an average human would find it unrealistic, swerving away from that uncanny valley that had plagued earlier androids. But that’s not why he’s beautiful—not to you. It’s everything hidden underneath that perfect facade, layers of plastic and metal and circuitry and biocomponents, deep inside him: his glowing golden heart, flowing over with whatever intangible thing that makes him the person that he is.

In the darkness of your bedroom, all the lights turned off, there’s no longer the gentle blue glow at Taehyung’s temple to shine out, but there doesn’t need to be. Even if you weren’t resting your head against his thigh you’d know he was there. Taehyung’s presence grows larger and larger in your life as the days go by, and you know that you’re still the most important person in his life, even with the introduction of Yoongi and Jin. After all—he didn’t ask them to be there when he took his LED out. 

You reach for his hand, which is already palm up, waiting for you. Your fingers slot together so perfectly, so wonderful, so lovely. You can’t make out details in this dark, but you can picture the smile that’ll be pulling at Taehyung’s lips, the affection flowing in the endless oceans of his eyes.

You’re in so, so deep.

(But who can blame you?)

“I want to go outside.”

It’s not surprising that with the shedding of his LED, Taehyung finally feels bold enough to go outdoors. And yet, here you are. Surprised.

You’ve got a granola bar stuck in your mouth, halfway through a bite, and it nearly drops to the floor as your lips part in shock. Taehyung catches it with ease, android speed on show as he snatches it out of the air. 

Your knee-jerk reaction is to ask him to repeat himself. To make sure you haven’t misheard him, if he’s sure about this, if he really wants to—but Yoongi’s words come back to you yet again. If there’s something he wants to do, he’ll do it. Taehyung isn’t the uninformed android he was when he’d first made his way to your door. He’s grown and learned so much in the time he’s been here and there’s no room for self-doubt behind his words.

So what you say is: “Okay.” 

Taehyung’s fingers brush against yours when he hands your granola bar back, long and warm and soft. You accept it with a smile, lost in the way he smiles back, so lovely and bright—and you have to pull your train of thought back on track, lock those wheels on the rails before you speak again.

“Did you want to go somewhere specific? Or just wherever?”

“Wherever you want to go.” He’s smiling, a little excited but mostly happy at the prospect of spending yet more time with you; as if he hasn’t had enough of it, could never get enough, even when you spend every day together. 

(Your heart feels like a drum, pounding hard and loud in your chest.)

It’s not hard, really, to decide where you want to go. Taehyung’s not asking for some big production; just wants something quiet and soft, something new. The chance to see the outside world properly, safe and secure in the knowledge that you’ll be at his side.

It’s in your nature to be protective—sometimes you feel like you nag, like you’re overbearing, and takes a concerted effort on your part to reel it in. Taehyung doesn’t need you to fuss over him, and besides, he seems incredibly calm about the whole thing. Excited, yes, but not nervous. Just anticipatory.

He looks just like anyone else might. More chic and attractive, sure, effortlessly fashionable in the outfit he’s chosen for the day, but there’s nothing robotic about him, nothing to say he’s not a flesh-and-blood person. Once again, you’re struck by just how human he is. Even if he’d still had the LED flickering at his temple it would have done nothing to detract from the genuine emotion that flits across his face. The way he moves. The way he smiles, when he catches you watching the way he laces his shoes with his delicate, pretty hands—that big lovely smile that makes you feel warm and soft.

(Warmer and softer than it probably should.)

You avert your gaze, pretend to fiddle with one of your bracelets, pulling it so that it spins around your wrist.

“Ready?”

“Nearly,” Taehyung says. When you look back at him, a little confused, he still has that smile on his face, though it’s gentler, fuzzy around the edges, his eyes dark-dark-dark. “Just one more thing.”

This final thing, it turns out, is your hand. 

His fingers lace with yours, weaving a tapestry of closeness and warmth. You’ve held Taehyung’s hands so often, now; it’s nothing new. But for some reason the touch of his skin against yours has your pulse stuttering, catching in your throat before you cough lightly and smile like everything is fine, you’re fine, it’s not like your heart is about to launch itself out of your chest for some mysterious reason.

(Mysterious. Yeah, right.)

He doesn’t let go. Not when you leave the apartment, not when you greet Rory at the door, not when you step onto one of the automated buses that takes you to the centre of the city. You’re surprised at how good Taehyung’s acting is, how all the wide-eyed excitement you’d expected to see splashed across his face is absent, and instead, he just squeezes your hand tight each time he takes in something new; stares out of the window as your surroundings slide by.

He does get excited in the art store though. Pulls at your joined hands each time he sees something he wants to point out to you—which seems to be everything. And you go, of course, following his eager feet. Taehyung’s happiness has always given you happiness in turn, and watching his sheer, unadulterated joy at being able to see things, to touch things outside of the small world he’s been confined to since he escaped the Eden Club—well. There’s nothing better.

There’s nothing better than knowing that Taehyung feels safe with you, wants to keep you close. It’s selfish. It’s selfish, you know it is, but when you watch the way his eyes light up at the sight of a set of gouache paints, how he immediately turns towards you so you can see it too—you realise that you’ve never had something like this before. Sure, you have friends, you have plenty of happiness in your life, but you’ve never had this.

(Whatever this is.)

Someone whose joy is only compounded when it’s shared with you. Someone whose focus is on you and no one else. You see the looks that Taehyung gets, the interested eyes that flit over him—but then he reaches for your hand again, and those gazes slide away, because he hasn’t looked away from you. Not once.

Because you make him feel safe, you remind yourself. Because he knows you best. That’s it. 

It’s what you keep telling yourself, a repeated mantra that’s an endless loop in your head. Every time Taehyung looks at you, smiles at you, reaches for your hand, your touch—even if your heart feels like it could burst, filling up with this feeling, this feeling that’s growing and growing (this feeling you refuse to name)—it’s because he trusts you, knows he can rely on you. It’s nothing more than that. 

You shouldn’t let yourself imagine that it’s more than that.

(Shouldn’t hope for more than that.)

It’s because he trusts you that he follows you without question, matching his pace with yours, side by side as you wander through the city. He insists on carrying all your shopping, held effortlessly in one hand, other hand still tangled with yours. (You see the way he swings the bags a little, back and forth; he’s so cute you’d swear your teeth could rot from it, crystallised sugar rolled on your tongue, sweet.) All your shopping is done, but you have one final stop planned—it’s somewhere you haven’t been for a while, but you love it.

You’re certain Taehyung will, too.

You can feel how his hold on your fingers tightens when the building comes into view. You glance over at him to take in his expression, the subtle widening of his eyes, the lift of his chest as he takes an unneeded breath in, the tiniest curl at the corner of his lips.

(So human.) 

The Christine Andrews Gallery isn’t the biggest art gallery in the city, but it’s your favourite. There’s something that feels more intimate about it, with its size; a little smaller, cosier, more stripped down. The high ceilings overhead are crisscrossed with wires and piping, industrial—but the walls are pure white, all the brighter in contrast to their surroundings, drawing the eye to the paintings on display from the moment you step in.

Taehyung is enraptured.

“The exhibition is called Slow Painting. The idea is that people will take their time to really take everything in, and appreciate it, rather than just rushing by. Especially with how quickly technology is developing, and people are used to discarding things as soon as they're not relevant any more. The idea is that art will always be relevant, regardless of what's happening in the world.”

Your voice is quiet and low as you’re careful not to disturb the serene air that fills the building. You’ve always loved the quiet hush that fills galleries, museums, buildings filled with art and history, long lasting echoes of humanity, on display for people to enjoy. 

“And it also refers to the time it takes to create each piece too,” you add, trailing off into silence as you glance over at Taehyung, who’s looking at you, blinking gentle and slow.

He’s watching you. Even though there’s artwork in sight of the entrance, huge canvases nearby—Taehyung is looking at you, attentive and quiet, listening to each word you have to say.

Your heart squeezes in your chest and you have to make a concerted effort to stop your breath from stuttering. You shove it down, down, down, this thing that’s wrapping itself around your heart and clogging your throat, and give this lovely boy your best smile. (Try to ignore the fact that there’s art here, but instead, he’s looking at you.)

“Tell you what. Instead of listening to me harp on all day, why don’t we just look around?”

When Taehyung had first stepped foot in your door, had first started to experience life as something more than just a sexbot, an android under the control of other people’s wills—he’d taken everything in with huge eyes, eager and enthusiastic, almost clumsy in his excitement. That’s faded over time, become muted as he’s learned how to balance himself, grown comfortable with his surroundings, who he is.

He’s still like a fountain sometimes, bubbling and bright, overflowing, cascading pearlescent waters rushing over carved marble. You’d expected these waters to rise and spill, surrounded by these incredible artworks; so far the only works he’s seen in person are his and your own, everything else small and secondhand on screens as he stares intently at your computer, your tablet. You’d expected his joy to overflow, being able to really see for the first time in his life, prepared yourself for his exuberant happiness.

But he’s not.

He’s quiet. There’s a smile that lingers on his lips, barely hidden at the corners of his mouth, but his shining waters flow soft and slow, contained. You wander through the exhibition exactly the way the curator had meant for you to—slowly, carefully, stopping and pausing and looking and wondering, eyes trailing over each painting, acrylic on paper, oil on canvas, distemper on linen. Each so different, but inviting onlookers to take a moment and just breathe. 

Taehyung’s eyes are dark, contemplative. They’re so deep you feel like you could fall in them and be lost forever. (Wonder if that would be such a bad thing.) He keeps his hand in yours, your hand in his, the two of you matching paces as you loop the gallery, never letting go.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, I like these.”

Four canvases, smaller than some of the others you’ve seen, squirrelled around a corner and hidden away on a back wall. Each painting has a figure in the midst of some simple, quiet task; laying in bed, catching an egg as it threatens to roll off a table, trailing a finger through a puddle of spilled milk, reading a book in the bath. Each of the figures has their face turned away from the viewer, caught up as they are in the simple motions of their life, each silhouetted by a window with a different view—from sea to lake to hill to forest.

You can’t help but look at Taehyung as he looks at these paintings, his brows a little raised, mouth a little slack, the lovely line of his jaw, the angles of his face, forehead to nose to lips to chin. “What do you like about them? The style?”

His answer comes unrushed, unhurried, as he thinks.  “They’re so beautiful and detailed, but it’s more about… the intimacy,” he says. “Each person is just being themselves, without fear of who’s watching. We’re watching them, even if their attention isn’t on us.” A pause, a hush, a breath. “It’s like love, almost.”

Your lips part, even as Taehyung keeps his eyes forwards, staring at the blank pages of the book the man reads as he sits in his bath, row of shampoo bottles on the sill by his head. 

“Like love?” A whisper.

“To keep your eyes and focus on someone who isn’t looking at you,” Taehyung replies, unabashed, like it’s just a statement of fact. “Loyalty. Dedication. Love.”

Words fail you. Silence is the only answer you can offer to Taehyung’s thoughts, the air in your lungs trapped there as you unwittingly hold your breath, lips parted around a sentence that never comes. Taehyung’s eyes slide away from this row of paintings and to you, how you’re staring at him, literally speechless.

His own lips part as he makes to say something else, to ask what’s wrong—when there’s a flicker of movement nearby, the modulated steps of someone who’s used to walking through a gallery, careful to keep the calm air unmuddied by their passing.

“Oh, Y/n!”

Namjoon’s voice cuts through the silent moment and splinters the delicate air that had started to crystallise around you. He looks happy to see you, dimples on full display as his lips lift and he smiles wide.

“Namjoon!” You don’t think you’ve ever been so glad to see his familiar face in your life—anything to distract you, any excuse to shake off the feeling that Taehyung’s words have left behind, trailing over your skin, blooming in your brain. His timing is perfect, even if he doesn’t realise it.  “Hey! It’s been a while.”

“I was going to say, I haven’t seen you around lately! I thought you’d like this exhibition, I was wondering if you’d come. Oh, sorry, I’m being rude, aren’t I? Hi, I’m Namjoon,” he says, holding a hand out for Taehyung to shake. “I’m one of the gallery managers.”

Taehyung’s exchanged a few words with others today, polite thank yous to the people who’ve served you in the shops you’ve been into, given shy smiles to passersby who’ve made eye contact with him. (So, so sweet, always.) 

But Namjoon is the first person to properly introduce themselves to him in the real world, as you’ve thought of it, someone who doesn’t know that the man at your side is an android.

You panic. Just for a second.

Taehyung doesn’t.

“Hello.” He has to take his hand out of yours, the other weighed down by shopping, although he seems reluctant to let go of you. He gives Namjoon his widest smile as he shakes the proffered hand with firm, friendly politeness. “I’m Taehyung. It’s lovely to meet you, Namjoon.”

And then he immediately slips his hand back into yours.

Namjoon is utterly charmed.

(Of course he is. How could he not be?)

The discussion they both have is a quiet one. You’re happy to stay uninvolved, watching and listening as they talk, still at Taehyung’s side. That brief moment of panic, that blazing forest fire of fear for him—it’s been washed away, soothed by the way the conversation between man and android unfolds so naturally, Namjoon none the wiser about Taehyung’s robotic origins.

There’s no way anyone would realise. He’s so human, in the way he moves and acts and thinks, the way he laughs at something Namjoon says. You’re happy that Taehyung can be here with you, in this gallery, speaking to someone new, as if this is normal, natural, nothing unusual.

You can’t think of anything you want for Taehyung more.

You realise, too, that in this moment, you feel utterly content. Not just for Taehyung, but—happy that you’re there to share this moment with him. You think about how you’ve always wanted this; someone to share things with, someone whose happiness makes you happy too.

When Taehyung laughs, your own lips lift in response, heart lifting at the sound of his joy, at how his fingers tighten around yours. Remembering that you’re there, even if he’s not looking at you right now, eyes on Namjoon.

He’s looking at Namjoon. You’re looking at him. 

(To keep your eyes and focus on someone who isn’t looking at you.)

(Loyalty. Dedication.)

(A breath.)

(Love.)

You carefully pull your hand out of Taehyung’s. Your fingers feel cold as they slip away from his, warmed all day, pressed against Taehyung’s soft skin. His eyes flit away from Namjoon, those deep eyes settling on you; dark wood and ground coffee, so warm.

“Y/n?”

“I’m just going to pop to the toilet,” you say, turning away from the tinge of confusion that colours Taehyung’s voice. “I won’t be long.”

The toilet lid is cold. You can feel how it seeps through the layers of your clothing to your thighs, and at any other time you might wrinkle your nose at the sensation, at how uncomfortable it is. But right now, you have other things on your mind.

You bury your face in your hands. It’s foolish, but you’d swear you could feel Taehyung still in your palms, touch imprinted, emblazoned on your skin. It’s like a palpable thing, almost, this ethereal thing that lingers even when Taehyung isn’t there.

Wishful thinking. Selfish thinking. Selfish, to like it, to want to keep that feeling close; let it spread from your palm, to the delicate skin of your wrist, tracing its way up your arm, up-up-up, drawing invisible lines over every part of you, inside every part of you. Selfish, to like Taehyung’s touch as much as you do. To want more of it. 

(More of him.)

You aren’t anything more to Taehyung than a friend. A guardian. Someone who’s there to support him and keep him safe. You’re blessed to have his trust, to be able to be that person he can turn to—it’s greedy, to want. To want to be more.

(You can’t foist your loneliness on Taehyung. You can’t do that to him. You won’t. You won’t.)

When you return, a spark lights in Taehyung’s eyes. The same spark that bursts every time he sees you after time apart, no matter how long or short that may be. He reaches for your hand, and of course, you go—but your fingers are limp, weak.

(You know that if Taehyung’s LED had still been nestled in his skin, it would have flickered yellow.)

You keep that point of connection as you bid Namjoon goodbye, finish meandering through the exhibition, make your way back home—but you let Taehyung bear the weight. Reactive, not proactive. You don’t squeeze his fingers just because you want to, because there’s something sliding by the bus’s window you think he might like to see; you’re not here to make him do things, to shove things down his throat. You should just be here to support him in the things he wants to do. That’s your role. 

And that’s where you’re going to stay.

Your thoughts are a tumble, messy and unorganised, a ball of yarn that’s all knots and tangles. Taehyung must be able to see it on your face, read it in your body, his android eyes scanning over you and scrutinising every hint you’re giving away without even realising. But you just smile, wave away his questions, and act like everything’s okay. Normal. Routine.

It’s a little harder, though, to act like everything’s okay when it’s time to sleep.

Because, of course, there Taehyung is. Like he has been, from the day he’d arrived—sat in your bed, nestled against a pile of cushions, expression open and warm and fond as he looks at you. Waiting for you to climb in, to rest your head in his lap; waiting for you to fall asleep with his gentle fingers dragging across your scalp, melting under his lovely hands.

You waver. Conflicted. It’s okay, isn’t it, if Taehyung’s reaching for you first?

His eyes meet yours. The second you see his lips curve up, see that pretty, quiet smile appearing on his lovely mouth, you fold.

It’s fine. You’ll allow yourself this.

(In your dreams, you stand in a deserted gallery, staring at the single piece of work on the stark white walls, all the lights focused in, in, in. Taehyung’s framed on this canvas, a painted window into his world. Not once does he look at you, turned away as he is; you see nothing more than the back of his head, the curve of his cheek, the vaguest hint of his nose as he turns, always staring at something else. 

And still, you stand, and you watch. Waiting. Keeping your eyes on him, always.)

“You’re staying late again.”

“Yeah. I really want to get this done,” you say, gesturing vaguely at your monitors with your stylus; tweaking, editing, shifting around these final few magazine pages before you’re satisfied. “Nearly there.”

When you hear the way Hoseok says your name, you glance up. 

As someone who spends most of his time bouncing around like a literal ray of sunshine, when Hoseok’s expression is one that isn’t smiling, it carries all the more weight behind it. Right now his face is uncharacteristically serious, the perpetual smile on his mouth gone, the line of his brows severe.

It’s unnerving.

“You haven’t stayed late for ages,” Hoseok points out. “Until this week, and suddenly you’re late every night. Has something happened?”

“No,” you lie.

Yes, you think.

You’re trying to create some distance, for Taehyung’s sake. So that you’re not tempted to pull him ever closer, latch onto him like you have been, smothering him. He needs space to grow. Space from you has helped already—the time he spends with Yoongi and Seokjin is evidence enough of that, after all. He doesn’t need you to be there constantly.

Hoseok’s eyes bore into yours as he stares, so you avert your gaze, pretending to shift your focus to one of the captions the editor has left on the page you’re working on. You hadn’t realised that he’d noticed. You should have expected it, though. Hoseok is a close work friend and he’s incredibly perceptive, especially when he cares about people.

“Alright,” he says, eventually. “Make sure you don’t stay too late, though. Get some sleep.”

You give him a thumbs up without looking away from the screen, dragging something idly with your stylus until Hoseok leaves, the office empty except you, now. And the cleaning androids, when they appear for the night like clockwork. As they always do.

You can’t help but stop to watch them, how blank faced they are, for all that they look human. Their LEDs are almost motionless, the placid blue matching the blank expressions on their faces, unthinking automatons.

(You’d seen androids in the city when you’d been out with Taehyung, of course. Completing menial tasks: city androids picking litter and raking leaves, household androids following their owners around and carrying their shopping. You’d realised that Taehyung wouldn’t have seen a non-deviated android since he’d escaped the club, lapsed into silence; you’d pulled him to a stop, lips pursed in a frown as you’d tried to read his expression. 

“Taehyung,” you’d asked. “Are you alright?”

There’d been a quiet pause, and in that moment you’d felt all your worries rising, caught in your throat—but then he’d nodded quietly, looking at you with soft eyes.

“I’m alright,” he’d answered. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am.”

I’m the lucky one, you’d thought. Lucky to know him, as sweet-hearted and wonderful as he is. You’d squeezed his hand, and he’d smiled gently at you, and that had been that.)

It hurts, honestly. To see the expression on his face each time you come home late, each time you avoid answering his questions. There’s uncertainty laid across each of your interactions, rough bristles of a brush varnishing discomfort across the once smooth surface of your relationship; but you can’t keep taking advantage of this soft-hearted boy, of the circumstances that he’s in.

You pretend that things are fine. Taehyung is clearly confused, unsure, trying so hard to find out what’s wrong, even when you keep gently turning his concerns aside. 

You haven’t been home enough to spend time with Yoongi or Seokjin, either. You’d seen Jin in the hall just once, made eye contact just as he’d been appearing from the other apartment and you’d been stepping into yours; you’d fumbled a little, fingerprints smudging across the keypad as your door had swung open. You’d expected to see judgement on Jin’s face, maybe, something heavy and weighty, his gaze flitting over you as he read you in the way he did so often.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to smile. It’d been hard to translate his full expression but what little you could read was knowing, like he’s aware of something he shouldn’t be, kept hidden just underneath his tongue. Ready to release it into the world with a single breath.

(Needless to say, you’d shut the door pretty quick.)

He and Yoongi have gone away for the weekend. It's a small blessing, saving you from having to see Jin’s almost-smug expression again. But it means that Taehyung has nowhere else to go right now, no reason to leave the apartment. So it’ll be you and him, him and you, with no buffers, nothing. It’s been unseasonably stormy for the past few days as well, rain slammed into your windows by the harsh winds, the world outside a haze of smeared grey—so it’s not like you can go out, either. 

Not that you would want to. 

You hadn’t realised exactly how ingrained Taehyung was in your life until you’d started to pull away. It’s not just that you live together and share the same physical space—it’s just that your days have become so full of Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, and you hadn’t even noticed. He’d crept up on you, snuck his way into your heart, so easily, so effortlessly.

You remind yourself that that’s why you’re doing this. To remind yourself of life without Taehyung in it, because he’s not yours to have or to keep. He never has been. You don’t want him to be: he’s his own person. This… this desire for him; even as you try to ignore it, it keeps growing and growing: wet plaster laid down, your feelings for him painted buon fresco, added to day by day, giornata. You need it to stop. 

But it’s hard. It’s hard, when Taehyung looks like comfort, your comfort, when you want to let yourself be folded into his arms. It’s hard when the fact is that it’s not that you have to spend time with him. It’s that you want to spend time with him.  

It's hard.

(And you miss him, even when he's right there.)

You find respite in art, in painting, too intent on the motions of your work to allow yourself room to think about other things. Fall into the rhythm of it all, a quiet hush stealing over your mind, a place of both focus and calm, world settling into place around you. There’s a piece you’ve been working on for a while, a hand rising from dark water, fingertips just broaching its surface, the most tentative of touches; you layer more oil paint on the panel, dragging the bristles of the brush across the colour you’ve already laid down, brows furrowed as you do.

Taehyung normally paints with you, but not today. He knows you want space—even if he doesn’t know why—so he gives it to you. So considerate and sweet, always. Even when you’re shutting him out. You’ve been here all day: morning, afternoon, and now evening, and he’s only been in a few times, to leave you food, drinks, looking after you in a way you don’t deserve.

You’ve just lifted the brush from the canvas when an especially loud peal of thunder rolls through the air outside. The rumble starts low, rising into a rattling growl that feels like it’s shaking the very earth. It almost drowns out the sound of Taehyung’s quiet knocking, a curl of his knuckles against the open door, but you catch sight of him anyway, glancing over your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says. “I thought you might like a drink.”

He’s barefoot, like he usually is, teal hoodie and grey sweatpants baggy, looking every inch the boyfriend you’ve always wanted and never had. His hands are cupped around a mug, steam coiling from the hot tea inside, and something in your heart twinges at his kindness and consideration even as you smile at him.

“That sounds lovely, Tae,” you say, and he takes this as an invitation to step inside, although you notice his steps are far more hesitant than they might have been before. Like he’s treading on eggshells around you. 

It’s awkward. Stilted. Taehyung’s eyes are heavy on your face as you accept the tea from his hands, trying your best to avoid brushing fingers; you turn away, pretending to turn your attention back to the drying paint on the wood panel that rests on your easel, anything to break eye contact.

And then he speaks.

“You’re avoiding me.”

Your lips are poised to drink, pursed at the rim of the mug when you freeze, eyes darting back to him.

“You’re avoiding me,” he repeats. His voice is quieter, tinged with all the confusion you’ve seen flit across his face since this whole thing started.

You slowly pull the mug away from your face, steam touching your skin like warm, wet fingers. “I’m not,” you say, even though the lie tastes bitter on your tongue. “We live together, Taehyung, it’s pretty hard to avoid you.”

When you laugh lightly, trying to lift the atmosphere, Taehyung doesn’t respond. If anything the air becomes heavier, his face an unmoving mask as his eyes churn with emotion. His LED might not be nestled in his temple any more, but you don't need to see it spinning in a distressed circle of yellow to know that Taehyung is confused.

“Why are you lying to me?”

Your eyes widen. He’s never been so direct before. (He hasn’t needed to be though, has he? Because you've never lied to him before, have you?)

“I just… I just want to know what happened. What I did wrong. I want to fix it,” Taehyung continues, and he sounds so small, so vulnerable. “Please?”

Your heart feels like it’s risen from your chest, up to your throat, making it hard to breathe. The only time he’s ever sounded like this was when—

When he’d first turned up on your doorstep, wet and scared and lonely. Not knowing if there was anyone he could trust, uncertain where he stood. 

“You didn’t do anything, Taehyung.” You try to put every ounce of feeling into your words and let him know that this is the truth. It’s not him. It’s not. “You didn’t do anything, please don’t think you did.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” His voice rises, shaking, a bird trying to take flight on a broken wing. “If I didn’t do anything then why are you being like this? I don’t understand.”

“I’m just… trying to encourage you to be independent?”

The words sound weak to your own ears, so you can’t blame Taehyung for when his expression flickers and he looks almost incredulous.

“Independent?”

“You know,” you explain lamely. “Like… giving you space to grow. You don’t need me around all the time.”

“I don’t—” He cuts himself off. “Y/n. I want you to be there.”

“Because it’s what you’ve gotten used to.” You glance down at the drink in your hands, away from his sincere, dark eyes. “You’re just saying that because of circumstances, Taehyung.”

“I’m not!” You’ve never heard Taehyung so loud before, almost angry, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “How can you think that?”

“Because it’s true!” Your own voice rises despite yourself, matching his, some frayed thing inside you finally snapping. “Why else would you want me around? No one else does! Why would you?”

You rarely raise your voice. You hate being loud, or rude, hate arguments, but there’s something boiling in your blood. Years of quiet self-deprecation, constant reminders of how you’re not really wanted; last choice, always. Single, always. Untouched, unwanted. Taehyung—beautiful, kind, sweet, lovely Taehyung—wouldn’t be here right now if he had anywhere else to go. Too beautiful and kind and sweet and lovely for you, as disappointing, undesirable as you are.

Because that’s the truth. Even if you’re surrounded by friends, warm and bright, at the end of the day, they go home with each other, to their lovers, their families, and you go home alone. At least you had, until Taehyung—and he’s only here because you were the only safe place he could run to. Not because he chose you. 

(No one chooses you. Why would they?)

Taehyung’s eyes are so big and round as he stares and stares and stares. His lips are a little parted around a soundless noise of surprise, disbelief, before he opens his mouth to respond properly.

And then all the lights go out.

Lightning flashes, throwing the room into sharp focus for just a second before the night is split apart with the loudest clap of thunder yet. Like the ground has split open, louder than anything you’ve ever heard in your life; you’d swear your teeth rattle in your skull, that’s how overwhelming and close it is.

You suck in a breath as you jump, hands jolting, and the mug falls from your grasp. You can’t see in the darkness but you can hear how it shatters, sending hot tea splattering over the dust sheets on the floor, away from you, but towards—

“Taehyung,” you gasp, reaching out blindly. “Are you okay? Did it hit you?”

You hear him move closer, feel his fingers, reaching for yours confidently in this dark space. His grip is solid and warm and he squeezes, reassuring.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m okay. You can’t see?”

“It’s too dark.” With the heavy clouds outside and the blanket of thick rain, there’s little light from the moon to shine into your studio, leaving you in a world of thick black and blue. “Can you see?”

“Android senses,” he answers. "I can see enough."

You wait for the lights to come back on so you can clean up the mess that’s scattered on the floor. And you wait. One beat. Another beat.

“I don’t think the power is coming back on any time soon,” you say. “Um.”

“Hold on.” You can’t make out Taehyung’s features in this all consuming darkness, but you can picture the expression on his face, the concern that bleeds through into his words. “If you move you’ll step on something and hurt your feet. Hold on,” he says again, and then lets go of your hands.

“Taehyung? What are you—”

You let out an embarrassing squeal as you feel the world tilt, but Taehyung’s grip on you is confident and sure as he lifts you, one hand under your knees and the other scooped around your back. Like you’re a swooning, blushing bride.

“Taehyung!”

“It’s the safest thing to do.” He sounds determined, no room for argument, so you decide to shut up.

Even though you know how strong he is, with all his android strength, you can’t help but reach out in the darkness, looping your arms around his neck to try and help lighten his burden. You feel your cheeks burn and you hope that the darkness saves you from your obvious embarrassment. 

The power still hasn’t come on by the time he deposits you in the kitchen, easing you to the floor with a level of care and delicacy that leaves something in you aching. When you check your phone—mostly charged, thank God—it seems like powercuts have hit this entire part of the city, and there’s no ETA on when things will be back up and running.

Which leads you to this. Sitting on the cold tiles of your kitchen floor, a few large candles flickering light across you as you dig into a carton of melting ice cream that you’ve saved from your freezer, licking the dripping flavours of sea salt and caramel from the spoon. 

Taehyung is sitting next to you in this flame-lit bubble you share, quiet even as the world outside is full of the sound of endless rain and lightning. He’d helped you navigate the darkness, settled you safely before going to find some candles; looking after you while you can’t see and he can.

You’re intent on the ice cream, leaning against the kitchen cabinets and carton settled between your knees as you use it as an excuse not to talk.

Taehyung, though, is intent on you.

“Y/n?”

His voice breaks the near silence, soft around your name. You pause, half-way through scooping another spoonful of ice cream to your mouth. There’s something in his tone that you’ve never heard before, from anyone, something you can’t put a finger on.

“Yes?”

“You said that no one wants you around,” he says. Your fingers tighten around the handle of your spoon and keep your gaze cast down, at the thick drip of cream from your spoon that threatens to spill. “Why would you say that?”

You don’t respond. Not right away. 

Then you take in a deep breath, letting the spoon fall back into the tub.

“Because they don’t,” you say plainly. “I mean… Taehyung. I was only at the Eden Club because my friends know that I’m perpetually single. I’m glad I got to meet you, so glad, but… I live alone because no one wants to be here with me.”

You’ve never said anything like this out loud before; kept your lingering loneliness close to your chest. Really, in most parts of your life, you’re content, but sometimes you can’t help but be pulled under by the heavy feeling of how unlovable you are. Even if you try to remind yourself that you’re worth being loved too. 

(After all, if you were—then why are you still here alone?)

“I do. I want to be here with you.”

Taehyung’s words are soft and gentle and low, but for all their tenderness, you can’t help but sigh.

“Like I said, Taehyung, it’s just circumstances.” A murmur. “You’re only here because you have to be—”

“I’m not.” He interrupts you; something he’s never done before. It shuts you right up, even if his words aren’t sharp. Emphatic, yes, but soft around the edges. “I chose to come here because of you. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe. Even when I was at the club, and I didn’t know anything except what I was told to do—I knew I could trust you. I only started to remember things after we met, and I was there for weeks before I left, finally remembering the things I had to go through. Again and again and again. Over and over and over. No one was ever kind to me, not once. Not once.” 

“Taehyung,” you breathe, sadness filling your chest for him, but he doesn’t stop. 

“People would come in, take what they wanted from me, and then they would leave. They didn’t care about me. They would just tell me what to do and I’d have to listen, be the perfect android they wanted, that they’d paid for. Then I ran. But even as I was running here, I was scared. I thought that maybe it was a fluke. Maybe I was wrong. I was scared that maybe you weren’t actually kind, maybe it was a lie, maybe you were just like all the other humans—but anything was better than the club. So I took my chances. And you let me in. You let me in and you were so kind. You give and give and give and you’ve never asked for anything back.”

“I just did what anyone else would,” you mutter, glancing away, shy.

“But you didn’t. You were the only person who ever looked at me as something more than just an android. Don’t you see that? Even after giving me so much, you haven’t asked for anything. I try my best to look after you, but…” Taehyung takes in a deep, deep breath, sucking in air that his android body doesn’t need. You’ve noticed that it’s something he does to ground himself; such a human thing to do. “I want to give you so much more than you’ll ever accept.”

You look at him, something sparking deep and low in your stomach. “You don’t have to give me anything, Taehyung.”

Light dances across the perfect angles of his face, candle flame painting him from second to second, shadow and radiance. He looks familiar and unfamiliar all at once. You’ve known him for long enough, stared at him for long enough that you could paint his face in your sleep; the strength of his brows, the depth of his eyes, the slant of his nose, the flush of his lips; the tiny moles that are scattered across his skin, the perfect line of his jaw, his chin.

But in the paltry candlelight, he looks like an altogether different person, almost. There’s something to the set of his face that you’ve never seen, hard to track in the ever changing light—not the soft domesticity you’ve grown familiar with from Taehyung, and not the sheer, overwhelming sensuality of V. Something that’s both, something that’s not, something that’s more. 

“I want to give you everything. I want to. Y/n, I want. Androids don’t want, but I want. I want, I want, I want.” A repeated mantra; a prayer. “I want because of you. I want to be here with you. I want to spend time with you. I want to learn with you. I want to know everything you like and everything you don’t like. I want to know what makes you sad and what makes you happy. I want to be one of the things that makes you happy, like you make me happy. I want to look after you. I want you to let me love you. I want you. I want you. I love you.”

Your mouth is open, caught in a breath, stuttered in your throat. Taehyung doesn’t shy away from your wide-eyed, speechless gaze, staring back at you with an intensity you thought you’d never see directed at you; tenderness and affection and want.

“You want to—you… you love me?” Your voice is weak with disbelief. Taehyung loves you? 

“I thought you knew, and that’s why you pulled away,” he says. “Because I’m an android, I’m not good enough—”

“What? No, Taehyung, never, no. I would never think that—” 

“But you were pushing me away.” For the first time since this conversation started, he sounds unsure, the tiniest tremble at the corner of each word. “You were pushing me away and I don’t know why. Why?” He reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. “Aren’t you happy with me?” 

You wonder how fast your heart is beating. Know that Taehyung will be able to read it, palm to palm, his skin against yours, an endless amount of information running from that point of contact and up his arm; following lines of circuitry and neural connectors, up-up-up, pulled into whatever part of his system counts as his brain, dissected so much faster than the human brain could comprehend. But even with all this information, all this incredible processing speed and power—he’s just as confused and uncertain as any other person might be.

“I am. I am happy. So happy,” you whisper. Then you take a deep breath, grounding yourself just like Taehyung had. “I’ve never been so happy before, Taehyung. You make me happy.”

The android smiles. Quiet but undeniably happy as well, his eyes so dark, so soft. “You make me happy, too,” he says, and then he lets out a small laugh, a sweet little thing, like the scrape of a spoon around a mixing bowl. “I can only feel happiness because of you. You’re everything.” 

But then the laughter fades, and he’s looking back at you with solemnity, lingering confusion. “If I make you happy, then why were you pulling away from me?”

You stare at where your hands are joined, Taehyung’s hand under yours, lifting yours up and away from the cold tiles of the floor. “Because,” you start. Stumble. Take in another breath, heart squeezing in your chest. “Because I was scared my feelings were too much.”

A beat of silence. Then you feel Taehyung’s other hand as he lays it softly against your cheek to turn you towards him. It’s terrifying, how close your face is to his. Completely vulnerable, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He doesn’t say anything, just watches, and you find yourself crumbling in the face of his warm gaze.

“Because I thought I was taking advantage of you,” you say. Slow and faltering. “Because I thought it was—I thought I was being selfish. I realised that I loved you, and I can’t—I couldn’t imagine that… I couldn’t imagine that you wanted me back.”

Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut as your words wash over him. The hand on your cheek coaxes you closer, and of course, you go; let your forehead get pressed against his, a tender motion, faces so close he can feel the warmth of your breath. 

“Y/n.” Your name sounds safe in his mouth, like he’s keeping it close, handling it delicately, carefully, eyes opening so he can look at you with an adoration you’ve never seen. Not for you. Not until now. “Can I kiss you? I want to. Please?”

You feel heat rising on your cheeks, a flush that threatens to spill over, but nod. You don’t think you have the strength to speak right now. Taehyung smiles again, lighting up this space you’ve scraped out for each other, him and you; you and him.

When he leans in, there’s the briefest moment of panic that flickers through you. You haven’t kissed anyone in such a long time. You’re worried you’ll mess up, be clumsy, bad, and Taehyung will be disappointed. 

But then his lips touch yours—and all that worry washes away. It’s a short-lived thing, the briefest brush of his mouth, barely a kiss at all. And then again, he leans in, tracing the shape of your mouth with his: a kiss to one corner of your mouth, and then the other, your cupid’s bow, the swell of your bottom lip. You’ve never felt like this—vulnerable but safe, all at once, Taehyung taking his time as you fall, fall, fall, his hand still cradling your face, his touch solid and grounding even as his kisses are featherlight.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, lips brushing his as you shape them around his name. You still have one hand in his and tighten your grip, squeezing. “More.”

You can feel his smile when he leans in one more time, guiding you with the broad palm against your cheek. So soft, so gentle. Adoring and reverent. His lips are so full, slotting against yours so perfectly when he finally, finally kisses you properly. 

You lose yourself in the sensation. It’s so easy to lose yourself in Taehyung, as lovely as he is, his mouth lovelier still. One kiss turns to two, to three, four, deep and slow; by the time you break apart, there’s a little sheen on his lips, sparking out in the candlelight, a layer of gold leaf that shines. 

“Can you say it again?” He asks. “Say that you love me?”

You can’t help but want to hide your face, bashful and shy. You’ve never said those words out loud, with the weight of feeling Taehyung is asking from you—but you look at his lovely, lovely face, lips flush with evidence of your kisses, and your heart swells in your chest.

“I love you.” The words come so easily. “I love you.”

And when he smiles, it’s so bright and radiant you feel you might be blinded by it. It doesn’t leave his face even as he stands, guides you up with him; careful to avoid the tub of ice cream that’s been forgotten on the floor, more melted cream than ice now.

This time, when he lifts you, he doesn’t break eye contact—keeps his gaze on yours as he pulls you close, and then picks you up.

It’s effortless, the way he carries you. Big hands that cup the back of your thighs, your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, lifted like you weigh nothing. You break eye contact, overwhelmed, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the way he shakes as he laughs, soft and affectionate.

“Shut up,” you mumble, embarrassed, but then go quiet as you feel the press of his lips into your hair.

Taehyung’s the only person who’s ever carried you, but it’s less about that and more about how safe you feel in his arms. Wrapped around him, pressed close, warm-warm-warm. You feel like a burden has been lifted from you, unshackled from your neck now that you’ve confessed the budding feelings that had burst into full bloom even when you’d tried to shove them back into the dirt—because Taehyung feels the same way. He feels the same way.

The rest of the apartment is still bathed in darkness. But Taehyung navigates it easily, keeps you held close even in the dark, and you trust him. Even when you feel his grip loosening as he eases you down, you trust him, letting yourself fall back onto the softness of your bed. (Even if you want to keep hold of him.)

You wait and watch as the room starts to fill with light, Taehyung returning with the lit candles from the kitchen before setting out more, laying out all the scented candle jars you’ve had stashed away. The familiar surroundings of your bedroom are bathed in warm, dancing light, Taehyung’s shadow a multi-faceted silhouette that shifts each time a flame sputters.

He looks up once the final candle is aflame, meeting your eyes—and you don’t feel the need to drop that gaze, to glance away, pretend you weren’t watching him, entranced. Because he welcomes it. He grins at you, toothy and bright, and your own lips split into a smile.

“I guess it’s a good thing I like candles, huh?”

“They’ll help keep the room warm,” Taehyung says, and, that’s right, you hadn’t thought of that. 

No power: no heating. The longer the power is out, the colder it’ll get, the chill of the hard rain filling the world outside.

“Don’t worry,” he adds, setting the lighter aside. “I’ll keep you warm.”

There’s nothing behind those words. No implication at all. And yet you find yourself flushing, looking away from him, flustered.

There’s a beat of silence as you keep your eyes turned away from Taehyung, looking at the shadows on shadows on shadows that ripple across the walls—and then you hear how his bare feet shift across the floor until he’s at your bedside.

But he doesn’t stop there. You feel how the mattress dips, eyes flying back to the android, growing huge and round when you watch how he settles himself above you; hovering, so so so close, aware of how he’s not touching you, and yet. You swear you can feel the weight of him, a phantom touch on your body and across your skin.

Your mouth goes dry when he murmurs your name. The word drips from his mouth like honey, thick and sweet, and a shiver skates up your body.

“Do you want me to keep you warm?” He asks, and, oh. Oh. This time the words are heavy with meaning, shimmering gossamer curtains barely drawn to conceal it, smouldering intent in his eyes. “Let me look after you?”

You’re reminded, all at once, that while you’ve taught Taehyung a lot of things since you’d met, there’s one thing he knows that you don’t. Intimacy, and pleasure, and lust. Sex. Something you’ve been deprived of, even if you’ve quietly craved it, waiting for the right time, the right place, the right person.

Taehyung takes your silence as hesitation, his face softening.

“Only if you want,” he says. “Only if you want to say yes.”

“I want to,” you say, surprised by how fast the admittance leaves your lips. You do want it—want Taehyung, in every way he’s willing to share, want it desperately. “I just—” Embarrassment floods over you, and you look away again. “I’ve just never… done anything. Before. I’ve never, um.”

“It’s okay to be a virgin, Y/n,” Taehyung says, and you can’t help but squirm a little at how plainly he says it while you try to avoid saying it out loud, even if you know it’s stupid. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, you know that, but for some reason you feel almost ashamed at admitting it. Insecure. Even if the android clearly doesn’t care, not one bit. “We can go as slow as you want, or stop altogether. I’ll take care of you no matter what.”

You’re nervous. But louder than your nerves is a growing voice that’s chanting yesyesyes, and another voice that reminds you: you’re safe with Taehyung. No matter how nervous or uncertain you are, or how little you know, you do know that you’re safe with him.

“Okay.” You take in a breath. “Take care of me, Taehyung.”

And he does. With all the slowness of a meandering river and a smile curling his lips, he starts to kiss you again; there’s nothing rushed about his motions, as tender as before. Like the two of you could kiss forever and he would be content with that. 

And then you feel how he shifts, the softness of the kisses warming into something heavier, more purposeful. The glowing embers of a coal that are being coaxed to full flame, his tongue pressing past your willing lips, swallowing down the shaking gasp that shudders out of your mouth.

He trails his lips away from yours, across your jaw and up; you shiver as he noses at the soft skin behind your ear before kissing it, tremble at each intent touch of his lips against you, and it’s only when he reaches the hollow of your neck that you realise that you’re making noises, little inhalations of air each time he mouths at your sensitive skin, lets his tongue trail across it.

You’ve been holding onto him, hands cupped around the back of his neck, and when he sucks at your pulse point you tighten your fingers and let out a gasp. You can feel the answering hum that Taehyung gives, his mouth pressed so close that you can feel the vibrations, and it’s so much already. No one’s ever kissed you like this. No one's ever eased their weight down on you so carefully, pressing you down to the mattress with a delicate, delicious pressure that leaves your entire body growing hotter and hotter.

“Oh, oh, Taehyung.” You’d be embarrassed by how breathless you sound if you weren’t so distracted by something else—one of Taehyung’s hands, splaying over your stomach, heavy through your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He’s murmuring into the crook of your neck, question warm against your skin. His long fingers rest, waiting at the hem of your shirt, patient even as he presses another kiss to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder: this time, edged with teeth, making you shudder as he soothes it with his tongue.

Your voice fails you, but when you nod, Taehyung responds immediately. You let him lead, follow the steps of this dance he knows so well—shiver at the feeling of his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt once you've sat up, your stomach jumping as they brush against you, before he lifts it up and over your waiting arms.

Even though you’re wearing a bra, the second you see Taehyung’s eyes move down, you cover yourself reflexively. Even with all the flickering candles there’s enough light that there’s no darkness to hide in, shoulders hunching inwards as you try to hide yourself away. 

You’ve never let anyone see you like this like this before.

Taehyung’s touch is patient as he slides his hands over yours, looking at you with an infinite amount of sincerity and affection. He doesn’t try to pull your hands away from your chest, just waits. Patient. And like you always do, you find yourself melting under the gentle touch of his gaze. You let your hands fall, even if you’re acutely aware of the plain bra you’re wearing, something cosy for a day at home.

Taehyung ignores it. He shifts in and you steel yourself, expecting him to reach around your back for the clasp—but instead he starts to kiss you again. Deeper, hotter, his tongue sweeping over your lower lip before he nips at it. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, angling your head to chase his mouth, and it’s only when you feel the straps start to slip off your shoulders that the android has unclasped your bra without you noticing.

When he pulls away, he trails his hands across your shoulders and hooks his fingers into the trailing straps of your bra, and waits. You bite your lip and steel yourself, feeling foolish even as you hesitate—because Taehyung is looking at you with simmering awe and smouldering want. Like you're perfect. The most beautiful woman alive. 

So you don’t stop him. You let him pull his touch down your arms, slow, slow, slow—and then, all at once, you’re completely naked from the waist up.

That simmering awe and smouldering want is still there. Warmth flushes over your skin under the heat of his gaze, the way it sweeps over you. You never knew that someone could look reverent and hungry at the same time. Never knew that someone would look at you like that.

It bolsters your shaking confidence, helps you lift your chin as you lean back on your hands, and you’re entranced at how Taehyung follows. Caught in your gravity. He raises his arms, bra cast aside and long forgotten as he cups the weight of your breasts in his hands.

Oh, oh, oh. When he pinches one of your nipples between thumb and forefinger—already hard, sensitive—it’s already so much, but then he bows his head and—

You hear a noise, and you realise that it’s coming from your own lips. A shaking gasp that trembles in the air as Taehyung sucks and licks, dragging his tongue against your nipple; one, and the other. You fall once more to your back and he goes with you, relentless even as he stays slow and you arch your back helplessly towards him.

“More?” He murmurs against your skin.

“Oh, God,” you whimper, and he lifts his mouth away from your nipple to press a kiss to the skin above your racing heart. “Please, more.”

It feels so good. Taehyung makes you feel so good, as talented and gorgeous as he is, so wonderful. He keeps laving attention on your breasts, hands skimming over the soft skin of your chest and stomach, goosebumps rising in the wake of his trailing fingers, his warm palms.

You can’t look away when he finally pulls back, breathless from the sensation of it all. He settles on his knees, tugs off his hoodie and then his shirt, revealing all the lovely planes of his body that you’ve seen before, but this time, you don’t have to look away. You can look.

And you can touch, too. 

You sit up and raise a tentative hand to stroke down his chest, his stomach, that little trail of dark hair that descends into his loose grey sweatpants; your mouth goes dry at the sight. Taehyung watches the way your fingers drag over his skin, growing bolder moment by moment, but still too timid to venture past his waistband, low on his hips as they are. You’ve never had a chance to touch someone like this, to feel the smooth, soft skin under your greedy palms—Taehyung’s so warm, so alive. So human.

You think about the other hands he’s had on his skin. Grasping and greedy, taking and taking. People who didn’t care for him. People he couldn’t say no to. But he’s here with you because he wants to be. He lets you touch him because he wants it.

“Angel?” 

You glance up at the sound of the gentle pet name, away from where your hands have been tenderly tracing the lines of his hipbone. “Mm?”

Taehyung’s expression is soft and affectionate. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” you answer honestly. He leans over to kiss you, and you’re smiling against his mouth when you feel the hand on your shoulder, pressing you down against the mattress again.

Then. His hands are at your waistband. Your breath quickens, but Taehyung’s eyes stay on your face even as your breasts rise and fall, shining with evidence of the touch of his mouth and tongue.

You lift your hips, and Taehyung smiles. Keeps smiling as he strips you, underwear and all, and when your thighs instinctively go to close shut, he catches your knees and keeps your legs open—gentle but firm, swiping his thumbs up and down the side of your knees, a tender touch even as you’re naked in front of him. You see the look on his face, drenched in candlelight, and swallow even as you force your legs to relax.

Then he looks down.

“Oh, God,” he groans, and one of your legs jumps in his grasp at the sound of his voice. Hoarse and deep. Almost unrecognisable. “Oh, angel, look at you.”

You’re so, so wet, so wet it’s embarrassing, so sensitive and responsive to every single one of Taehyung’s touches and kisses. The edges of his hair are spun gold in the candlelight but his eyes are so deep, so dark as he drinks down the sight of you spread out in front of him, wet and wanting and willing. You still want to hide away, cheeks burning, but you can’t look away from him. Can’t look away from how he seems almost pained, brows drawing together as he stares at the shining, flushed lips of your cunt.

“Taehyung.” Your voice shakes. “Taehyung, please.”

You're naked and vulnerable but—but the way he looks at you is so adoring, and you trust him. You trust him.

Just like earlier, his hands cup the back of your thighs. But this time, it’s not to carry you. You twist on the bed when he ends up eye level with your dripping cunt, utterly exposed. Those hands slide up your thighs and under your hips, tilting them up. Your fingers have been resting on the bedspread and tighten in them, bunching in your grasp when Taehyung presses a kiss to the softness of your inner thigh. 

One kiss. And then another. And another. His breath is warm as it curls out across your skin. You feel like you’re about to shake out of your body, wanting to pull away, wanting to lean in; wanting more, even when it feels like too much. Overcome with it all, even if you trust Taehyung. Safe under his hands, his lips. All you can think about is how close he is, face only inches away from your most sensitive parts—

Then he turns his head and—

The noise you let out is almost a keen. His mouth is on you, hot and wet, lips and tongue, and you’re writhing, overwhelmed with sensation. He starts slow, balls of your feet digging into Taehyung’s back and toes curling as he mouths at you. Your hips buck, and your hands are tangled in Taehyung’s hair—when did that happen?—as you sob at the feeling of his lips around your clit, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, but so so so good. 

He licks a fat stripe up your entrance and your grip tightens in his hair. He makes a noise when your nails drag across his scalp, almost a growl, face still buried between your legs as he presses his tongue in. You’d worry that he needs to come up for air, but he doesn’t, doesn’t have to stop—keeps licking and kissing and humming, responding to each of the sounds pulling out of your lips. Keeps staring up at you, your eyes locked, the way you can’t look away from the sight of his head between your legs, dark haired and incredible.

You don’t realise you’re speaking, words slipping out of your lips as your hips roll, oh-oh-oh, fuck, God, oh, and Taehyung doesn’t stop. On his knees, he worships you, learning what you like—things you didn’t even know—and does it again, and again, and again. One of his hands slides away from your hips and over your stomach, holding you down, keeping you still, and then the other hand—

He turns his head, presses a kiss to the junction of your thigh. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you answer, shaky and weak. So okay, more than okay.

“Going to finger you now,” Taehyung says, and you feel like you’re going to die.

“Okay,” you say again. “Okay, Taehyung.”

He smiles at you before he puts his mouth back to your clit, sucking, a welcome distraction as—with all the languidness in the world—presses a finger into you.

You’ve fingered yourself before. You’ve got your own toys, vibrators, things that are longer and thicker than just one of Taehyung’s fingers—but this feels so different, out of your control. One finger becomes two, your cunt so wet that the slide in is easy, slow, deep thrusts of those long fingers inside you, and you’re panting, you’re so fucking overwhelmed.

And then he curls those fingers as he laps his tongue over your clit and you almost shout, Taehyung’s name bursting from your lips as he keeps beckoning with those fingers and circling the sensitive nub with his hot, wet tongue. It’s so much, it’s so fucking much, it’s so good and you’ve never felt so good before—

You’re almost blindsided by the orgasm that explodes through you and you come apart with a sound you didn’t realise you were capable of making, a gasping moan that keeps unfurling as Taehyung keeps his mouth on you, feeling each pulse of your cunt as you cum around his fingers, tight-tight-tight. (You miss the way his hips kick into the mattress that the sounds you’re making, how much you tighten around him.) You never thought you’d be so loud, never thought you’d end up all but sobbing as Taehyung eventually leans back, candlelight brushing shining gold over the wetness over his mouth, his chin. Your wetness.

“Oh my God,” you gasp. “Oh, fuck.”

Little jolts of pleasure are still wracking through you, pulsations of pleasure that unfurl in your lower stomach; Taehyung rubs the pad of his thumb across your oversensitive clit and your entire body jumps, your legs going to snap shut as you gasp, only stopped by his body in the way. You realise, then, that his fingers are still curled inside you, and you shiver.

“One more,” he says, and your whole body shakes. “Can I give you one more?”

He still looks reverent, and hungry. Like he wants to devour you. Taehyung is usually so soft, a gentle summer breeze—but right now he’s so intense it might scare you if it was anyone else. But it’s not, it’s Taehyung, and there’s something—there’s something about knowing that he looks like that because of you. 

You let your legs fall open, watch how pleased he looks; how grateful. Like he's blessed to be able to do this to you. For you. You’re still so sensitive when he lowers his head again, but he’s slow and patient and coaxing, two fingers becoming three, and—that’s a lot. It’s a lot, but it feels good, Taehyung knowing exactly what to do to make you sob, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he pulls you along that line between oversensitivity and mind numbing pleasure. This time, when you cum, it’s with three fingers buried deep in your cunt, the flat of his tongue pressed against your clit, back arching as you throw your head back and cry out. Your pussy throbs and it's so dirty, the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting into you, the slick sound of movement as you moan, and moan, and moan.

No one's ever made you cum before. Only you. And now you know what it's like to put your pleasure in someone else's hands, to have them intent on making you feel good, so good, and it leaves you dizzy. 

He’s praising you, you note dimly. He’s praising you, how well you’re doing, how good you are for him, and it leaves you feeling warm. You’re panting when Taehyung pulls his fingers out of you, moves so he can brace himself on his elbows and lean in to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You can feel his skin against yours, chest to chest, his weight pressing you down and then you can feel—

You let out a noise against his lips. There’s nothing else that can be, that hot weight. You might not have felt it before, but you’re not stupid. That’s Taehyung’s cock, his hard length pressed against you.

“Taehyung,” you murmur.

“Mm.” He brushes his nose against yours, and the wave of affection that crashes through you is so strong it feels like it could pull you under. You didn’t realise that sex could be like this—that lingering shockwaves of pleasure could be skirting through your body as you lay there naked, still aroused and almost overcome, but also feeling so warm and soft and tender, too. 

You feel lax after cumming, a little more confident, bolder—and the noise Taehyung makes as you clumsily grasp at him through his sweatpants is incredible. You feel like you could get high on it, the way he sucks in a gasp as his mouth falls open, even if you don’t know what you’re doing as your fingers wrap around cloth and hard heat.

“Please,” you start, then stop. Swallow. “Please, Taehyung.”

You want so much you feel like you could pass out. You want to feel and touch and taste; you want everything you haven’t had a chance to experience yet, want it with Taehyung, someone who you trust. Someone you love. Someone who knows far, far more than you—will always know more—and you want to learn that from him. 

“Want you,” you say, and Taehyung looks pained all over again. He wants you, too.

“Fuck.” The word is rough, and you’ve never heard him curse before. The way he says it has something in you singing, as strange as that might be; you don’t think you’re ever going to get over how much you affect Taehyung. “What do you want from me, angel?”

Everything, you think. I want everything. 

“Let me see?” is what you say, squeezing your fingers around Taehyung’s length, feeling the way his hips buck into the touch. “Please?”

You never thought that someone taking their clothes off could be artistic. And yet, there’s something about Taehyung moving to stand and stripping off the rest of his clothes that’s completely arresting and beautiful; carnal and holy, all at once. You don’t even realise your mouth is open as you sit up and watch him, moving closer as you drink down the sight, the way he’s naked in front of you.

Taehyung. Naked. Naked and beautiful and hard, and it’s so overwhelming, everything about it, how much you want and how—oh, God, how big and thick he is, obvious even to you, someone with nothing to compare it to. Holy fuck. Should you think that his dick is pretty? Can dicks even be pretty? Taehyung’s is. Of course it is. He’s gorgeous all over. Maybe you’re biased because it’s him, but there’s something about the sight of his hard cock, precome gathering at his slit, that makes your mouth water.

Taehyung goes to say something, but before you can lose your nerve, you move forwards, and whatever he was going to say is lost in the sound of a choked off groan. He tastes like salt and musk, hot under your inexperienced hands and mouth, and you don’t know what you’re doing but the noises he’s making, fuck. You run your tongue up the throb of a vein you can feel on the underside, and all you can think about is how big he is, slow and careful with your teeth and lips as you try your best to do whatever feels good for him. 

His noises seem almost frantic but Taehyung’s hands are gentle when they comb through your hair. You look up. There’s a flush on his cheeks—red, not blue, you notice—and you pause, pulling off, suddenly shy after the burst of confidence that had you swallowing his cock down.

“Is this—is this okay?” You’ve still got your fingers wrapped around him, and maybe it’s a little ridiculous to be asking with spit and precome shining on your lips, but Taehyung’s answering smile is so affectionate.

“You’re perfect,” he says, and you know he’s not just talking about your clumsy blowjob. “Do you want to stop?”

You bite your lip and pump his length, which has Taehyung sucking a breath in. “I—what do you want?”

Something flashes through Taehyung’s eyes, and it feels like there’s electricity shooting down your spine before that look disappears. “This is about you, angel,” he says. “We can worry about what I want next time.”

Next time. This is the first time but it’s not the last. Oh, God. God.

Taehyung takes advantage of your distraction and hikes you up and away from the edge of the bed. It leaves you breathless, knowing how strong he is, how easily he can move you, even if he’s gentle-gentle-gentle. He settles in the cradle of your hips, and he’s so close, naked body flush with yours, covering you. His cock is so close—he just has to shift a little, just a little, and—well. 

Before that, though, there’s something you need to know.

“Taehyung?” Your voice shakes but you have to ask.

“Yes?”

“Is this. Um. Does this feel good for you, too?”

You’re always aware of the fact Taehyung is an android, even if he looks and feels and is human, too. (It doesn’t matter that he’s made of metal and thirium and circuitry. He’s human.) You lift a hand and thumb at the soft skin of his temple, where his LED used to sit; you don’t know how to communicate that you love him regardless, that it doesn’t matter to you if he's a man or robot. But you’ve wondered—you know Taehyung was built to pleasure humans. Even if he’s been reacting, making noises, looks for all intents and purposes that he is enjoying this—what if it’s all programming? What if he’s just doing this because he thinks it’s something you want?

He leans into your touch. “Angel.” It sounds like the word is being scraped out of him, hoarse and deep, all dark heat. “It feels good. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

He rolls his hips almost imperceptibly, but you’re hyperaware of every motion, how close you are. Your breath stutters in your throat.

"I want you to feel good," he says. "I've wanted to feel you and taste you for so long. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to know what you feel like around me. Under me. On top of me. You make me feel so fucking good, you don't even know," and, oh, fuck, those words go right through you, settle deep in your belly, leave you breathless. Taehyung sucks at your pulse point and you melt, even as your skin feels like it's burning, so hot, every part of you so hot, so ready for him.

Taehyung’s big enough that you’re worried about how he’s going to fit, even if you’re slick and wet and so, so turned on—you know about the importance of lube, used it often enough by yourself, but when you mention it to Taehyung he just smiles.

“Don’t forget that I’m a sex android,” he says, and before you can ask exactly what he means by that, you feel the tip of his cock at your folds and the question dies on your tongue.

“Please,” is what leaves your lips. “Please, please, please.”

“Anything you want,” he says, and eases his hips forwards.

Slow, and hard, and wet, the head of Taehyung’s cock starts to press into you. You grab at his back, digging your fingers in; it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, a not-quite-pain as he pushes in—but it’s a lot, even if the slide is smooth, so smooth, from your own wetness and the slickness that covers Taehyung’s cock. Your eyes are wide and your lips are parted and it feels—astonishing, the way you can feel yourself open up for him, the way it feels like he’s filling every part of you, throbbing heat.

“Oh, oh God,” you gasp. 

Taehyung’s forehead is pressed to yours, the loose locks of his dark hair framing his face as he waits, hips snug with yours. You shiver and move your hips a little, entire body seizing at the sensation of him shifting inside you. It's so new and alien, having someone nestled inside you, against you, so close in every sense of the term, above you, around you, inside you—but it feels… good.

And when he moves, it’s so, so slow. Slow and smooth as he works you open, even if you feel so tight around him. You drag your nails down his shoulder blades when he moves a little faster, a little roll of the hips that has you gasping all over again.

“More,” you say, and he gives you more.

You feel so full. You feel full of Taehyung, inside and out—the way his body is still pressing you down, skin on skin, how hot he is.

They call it making love, and it’s not until now that you really understand what that means—how you can feel Taehyung’s soft and tender affection in his every motion, read it in every shift of his body, the lines of his face, his lips; the way his eyes are dark but full of wonder, shining with love for you, pleasure singing through every inch of you, centred around Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.

Each noise that falls from his lips is an echo of that love. Even when he leans back and takes you with him—settles on his knees, pulls your hips from the mattress to stay connected to you as your shoulder blades dig into the mattress, his cock in your cunt—there’s tenderness there, even if you’re both chasing mutual lines of pleasure. You feel almost dazed, dizzy with love and arousal, reaching out for him, and he catches your hand. The other stays at your waist, guiding you onto him, again and again, each roll of hips into yours.

“Taehyung,” you gasp, voice breaking on his name when he thrusts into you. He’s been increasing the pace, faster and sharper, harder, and it’s so-so-so much, so good. “I’m—Taehyung, I’m close, I wanna cum again, pleasepleaseplease—”

He lets go of your hand and then he’s thumbing at your clit and you’re cumming harder than you’ve ever cum in your life, Taehyung’s cock still hard and insistent inside you as you ride out your orgasm, pulsing around him. You’re gasping and making noises like you’re falling apart, and there’s something desperate in Taehyung’s eyes, something dark and wanton. 

“Angel, I’m going to cum soon,” he says, and you moan in response, hazy. “Do you want me to pull out?”

You shake your head no. You want to know what it feels like, to have Taehyung lose himself inside you. You’re about to reach out for him when he hooks his hands under your knees and hitches your legs up—you suck in a sharp breath as he starts to move again, almost bent in two, his face so close to yours. It's not rough but something about Taehyung taking control like that has you baring your throat, arching your back and throwing your head back. The hold he has on you is firm, and you feel how it tightens as his thrusts speed up, and then, fuck—

When Taehyung cums it’s around the gasp of your name, a hitching sound as he empties himself inside you, throbbing and hot. You let out an answering sound, the two of you locked together until Taehyung pulls out, careful and slow; you feel like a sweaty mess, empty without him inside you, but then his hands are so carefully cupping your face and he’s kissing you over and over and over. It leaves you feeling breathless, all those little kisses, struggling for air by the time you part, every part of you lax under his loving touch. 

“How are you feeling?” Taehyung murmurs, soft and sweet. 

“Good,” you murmur back. And then your nose crinkles. “Sweaty.”

Taehyung laughs, quiet and low. You turn your face into the crook of his neck, hiding your smile as you breathe him in. You do feel sweaty, and there’s an ache settling inside you, but it’s a good ache. A glowing ache, an unfamiliar one, but one that you know you'll get to feel again, with Taehyung.

You’ve just leaned back to take him in all over again, painted syrupy sweet in the golden candlelight—when the lights suddenly turn back on. It floods your eyes and you make a noise of surprised pain as you squint against the sudden brightness, but then you start to giggle, shock melting into laughter.

When your laughter dies you realise Taehyung’s been watching you. The room is full of shining light now, and you realise you’re still naked, entire body shaking as you’ve been giggling. You’d feel embarrassed about your nakedness if you hadn’t just shared yourself with him, bared yourself in ways that are more than skin deep. There’s an instinctual part of you that wants to cover up now that there’s nowhere to hide, no flickering shadows to cover up the parts of your body that you don’t like, the flaws you don’t want Taehyung to see. But he just looks fond, fond, fond, love and affection dripping off him as he watches the way you smile shyly up at him.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi,” he says, and smiles back, wide and bright. 

You love him. You love him, and he loves you, and you trust that love. As hard as it might be to believe, you trust that this is what he wants—that you’re what he wants.

“Do you want me to carry you to the shower?” he asks, and you can’t help but laugh again, warm through and through, how he’s still taking care of you.

“Not yet,” you say. 

You end up against his chest, wrapped close. You’ve laid your head in his lap countless times, but he’s never been on his back before, never had his arms around you like he doesn’t want to let go. Taehyung might not have a heart, but the thirium pump nestled in his chest beats steady as you stay nestled against his side. 

You’re drawing little circles on his skin with your fingers when he catches that hand and lifts it to his mouth, presses a tender kiss to your fingertips.

“I love you,” he says.

You feel like liquid sunlight, shining happiness as you melt, melt, melt. And the feeling stays, body filled with it, even after Taehyung coaxes you out of bed and into the shower to wash the sweat off your body; when he drags a soapy loofah over your back you can’t help but laugh, so in love, so loved.

And when you fall asleep, it’s not with your head on Taehyung’s thigh. It’s with his arms around you, his chest to your back, his body curved around you. You don’t want tonight to end, but you also can’t wait for tomorrow, knowing that it’s another day with him, with Taehyung, your Taehyung. You never thought that love would be like this, never thought that you’d feel love like this, cared for and protected and loved, loved, loved.

“Not staying late?”

You pause in the process of shoving everything into your bag. Hoseok is leaning against your desk, a smile curling at his lips as he raises his eyebrows at you, almost suggestive.

“Nah, I’ve got a dinner to get to,” you say. 

“You seem a lot happier lately,” Hoseok comments, and when you don’t fall for the bait, he wiggles his eyebrows. “The girls think that you’ve got a secret boyfriend that you’re too shy to tell anyone about.”

Taehyung still greets you every day when you get home. But now, every greeting is punctuated with a kiss—and sometimes a little more. When you stop to think about it, it’s startling, this thing that Taehyung’s taught you. That the simplest of things can turn into something more, love edged with lust, that it’s all part and parcel of loving someone, being with them, being comfortable with them. Just the other day you’d been reading on the sofa, and then Taehyung’s fingers had curved over your thigh and the tablet had fallen from your hands—

Hoseok clicks his fingers in front of your face. “You’re zoning out again,” he says.

“I am not,” you say, zoning back in. “I was thinking about if I needed to buy any food on the way home.”

“To feed that secret boyfriend of yours?” Hoseok says, and you laugh in his face.

“Definitely not to feed the rumour mill,” you say. Hoseok pouts but it’s good natured, and he waves you off with a smile, letting you leave the office without trapping you in an interrogation for the gossip you’re certain your coworkers are hungry for.

It’s your turn to cook for Yoongi and Seokjin, so you’ve got to get home to help Taehyung. Both men had been spectacularly unsurprised when they’d found out about the two of you. Yoongi had remained calm as Seokjin crowed in delight, proclaiming I knew it, I knew that’s why you were avoiding Taehyung. 

“Feel lucky, Y/n,” Yoongi had said. “At least Taehyung has a sense of decorum and shame.”

“I think it’s a shame that my boyfriend is such a party pooper,” Jin had said. “I demand a dinner party! To celebrate your new relationship! Oh, I’m going to bake the biggest cake.”

“Oh my God,” you’d said, and Taehyung had just smiled.

The truth is that you’re grateful for your neighbours and their support, grateful for their friendship. Just because Taehyung looks human doesn’t mean that you don’t worry about him, worry that someone might discover that he’s a deviant; Jin’s slipped under the radar for long enough, and you hope it’s the same for Tae, too. And yet you can’t help but think about it, think about the present, the future, how your lives are going to unfold as time goes by.

When the door swings open to your apartment, though, that’s the last thing on your mind. All that’s on your mind is Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, your love appearing just as you’ve kicked your shoes off, all bright pink hair and dark eyes and welcoming hands.

“Taehyung,” you say, warm and happy.

“Hi,” he says, smiling so brightly, and then he kisses you.

You’re never going to get tired of kissing Taehyung; never going to get tired of how his mouth fits against yours, so perfect and sweet. But then he crowds you against the wall, swallowing down your gasp before kissing down your neck, running his teeth so gently across your skin.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, words dripping hot and slow. “Been thinking about you.”

“Taehyung,” you breathe. “Taehyung, we need to cook dinner.”

“We have time,” he says, and when he picks you up, you don’t protest. You go easily, wrapping your arms and legs around him, heat already gathering in your stomach as he walks the familiar path to your bedroom.

You have time: today, tomorrow, and every day after that. You have time with Taehyung, to learn with him, to love him. To be loved back. You don’t know what’s coming on the horizon, what the future holds—but then again, you never have.

There’s one thing you know now, though. No matter what happens, Taehyung will be at your side, and you’ll be at his. He wants you, and he loves you. You want him, and you love him. 

“I love you,” you murmur, and Taehyung kisses the words off your lips, lets the promise of your love settle inside him, warm and soft and safe.

“I love you too,” he says, and then you’re too busy to say anything, after that.

taglist:  @beyoncesdragon​ @vensulove​ @jalexad​ @beingbeings​ @lorielulu7​ ​ (can’t tag: @jeon-joon-kook)

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

Missed Connection - Shinsou Hitoshi

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder​ Rating: NSFW 18+ Warnings: Unprotected sex, blowjobs, dirty talk, poking fun at fakes who shop at UO and wear band t-shirts for bands they don’t listen to, terrible poetry, Kaminari is a weirdo. Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/F!Reader Words: 4,554 AN: This is for the bnharem server collab, the theme is pen pals! We were able to write basically anything as long as there was some kind of communication/writing/texting etc! This is the first time I’ve written for Shinsou and I head cannon him as a fucking closet goth so don’t at me. Collab Masterlist (Please go check out everyone else’s contributions!) My Masterlist Buy me a Ko-fi -- When his phone started ringing, Shinsou was tempted to throw it halfway across the room. Whoever thought it was okay to call him at - he turned to squint at the clock on his bedside table - 10 in the morning on his day off, better have a good excuse. He frowned at the screen once he’d found his phone, and sighed.

“The world better be on fire, Kaminari.” His palm rubbed over his face as he pressed the phone to his ear, his eyes closing again.

The blonde chuckled, full of energy as usual. “Aw, come on ‘Toshi! It’s not that early.”

A million ways he could kill his friend and make it look like an accident flashed through his mind. “You know I like to sleep late on my days off.” He left it at that, no further explanation needed. Kaminari knew he stayed up impossibly late on his off days, crawling under the covers only when the sun started to rise.

“You want to hear this, I promise. I wouldn’t call this early unless it was important.” Shinsou listened to the sound of a keyboard clicking through the phone, waiting impatiently for his friend to continue. 

“So, you know how I sometimes like to fuck around on the internet?” This was a rhetorical question. Of course he did. “Well, occasionally I like to browse through Craigslist, and this morning I was in the missed connections section, and I found something interesting.”

“Why do you look through missed connections?” He didn’t really care, he just thought it was kind of...weird. But, then again, this was Denki, so he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Kaminari huffed. “Dude, sometimes it’s so sad to read how they saw someone and thought there was a connection. It makes me wonder if they ever find each other.” He was quiet for a moment like he was deep in thought. “But then sometimes, it’s like ‘You farted in the produce section and I’d still date you, let’s go out’ and it kind of loses the romantic appeal.”

“You’re a sap. Also, gross.” He found himself drifting off, bored with the conversation already. “Do you have a point?”

“God, you’re impatient! Listen, I was scrolling through the ads and I found this one, I think you should hear it.” Clearing his throat, he began to read. 

“You were the sleepy purple-haired man in the cat cafe on Main, I was hiding behind an orange tabby by the window. I was staring, but I wasn’t trying to be creepy. You just looked kind of lost, and the black and white short hair on your lap seemed to have all your attention. Oh, I think his name is Socks. Isn’t that unoriginal? Anyway, I’ve seen you there a few times and I want to know more about you. If you see this, please respond.”

Shinsou sat up in his bed, ignoring the sharp pain of his muscles protesting at the sudden movement. “What the fuck?”

“This is about you, isn’t it?” Denki’s excitement was clear. “You’re the only sleepy guy with purple hair I know who frequents that cat cafe on Main Street.”

“How long ago was that posted?” Hitoshi felt strange, restless energy flowing through him. Someone had noticed him and decided that he was interesting enough to want to get to know? He wasn’t anything special, and he kept to himself mostly. What did this even mean?

“Last night! When did you go to the cafe?” He didn’t even wait for a response. “I’m forwarding this post to you, and you better send them an email! It’s been too long since you’ve dated someone, ‘Toshi, and I’m concerned.”

Unfortunately feeling more awake than he wanted to be, Shinsou shifted until his feet were on the floor. “Yesterday afternoon. And it hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s been like a year, dude.” Kaminari sighed. “Okay, I sent it. Please write back to them. Let me live vicariously through you in this weird turn of events.”

Shinsou sighed and said goodbye, ending the call and staring off into space for a minute. He needed coffee before he could even think about reading it for himself and then maybe responding.

--

Uh, hello.

 I can’t help but feel like this was about me? I’m not even really sure what to say. This feels weird. You could have come over and said hi, maybe. I don’t bite. I might have stared at you and made things awkward but I feel like it would have been a surefire way to talk to me instead of posting this on craigslist of all places and expecting me to see it. 

You’re lucky I have a friend who likes to scour the dark recesses of the internet for entertainment purposes and happened upon this post.

-Shinsou

--

How do I know this is really the person I’m talking about? What were you wearing when you went to the cafe? That’s like the only way I can be sure you are who you say you are. 

The only reason I didn’t come over and talk to you was that I had Oliver on my lap and he is a grump and didn’t want me to get up until he was good and ready. (That’s the orange tabby’s name, by the way.) By the time I was able to coax his fat ass off of me you had gone. 

Honestly, I’d let those cats climb all over me like their own personal cat tree all day long and not complain about it, but I digress. 

I didn’t expect you to find this or reply, it was kind of my way of convincing myself that I’d given it a shot, even though I really hadn’t done much.

-Y/N

--

I was wearing the following:

A Joy Division t-shirt depicting the cover of Unknown Pleasures, which is arguably the most cliche t-shirt I own. It’s become one of those shirts that people wear who have no idea who Joy Division is, they just like it for the aesthetic. (I’ll have you know I happen to know who they are and like their music very much.) This shirt was more than likely covered in cat hair.

Black jeans, which were probably covered in cat hair as well.

Black boots, a staple of mine.

I am a closet goth. I don’t know what else to say. I won’t deny it. I’ve learned to embrace who I am. I happen to know that Oliver is a grumpy shit, so I am not surprised he kept you pinned down for so long. That cat has been known to knock people over and purr loudly while “making biscuits” on their chests for hours at a time. I’m glad to know that you survived his assault.

So what are you going to tell me about yourself now? I have confessed to you about my goth status, so I demand something in return.

-Shinsou

--

Yeah, it was you.

I was hoping that you actually liked Joy Division and you weren’t one of those Urban Outfitters aesthetic people. I can now rest easy. I like them too, but I really like New Order more? I hope this isn’t the end of our budding friendship.

I will not say that I am a goth, though I have goth-like tendencies? Or I just appreciate the music. Whatever. I don’t have, like, a pet bat or anything. I own a pair of Doc’s, though.

I have been on the receiving end of one of Oliver’s attacks before, so you don’t have to tell me about them. I have experienced his pushy demeanor on more than one occasion.

So, something about me? I don’t know. I spend a lot of time in that cafe because I love cats, but that’s kind of a given, isn’t it? I usually bring my laptop and make an attempt to work on my homework, but it’s usually futile. I’d rather pet the cats. 

Oh, I guess that counts as something right? I go to college. I’m an English major and taking a fuck ton of creative writing courses. What about you?

-Y/N

--

An English major? That sounds like fun. I think if I had a need to go to college I’d have liked to take something like that. I have a friend who writes ultra depressing Gothic poetry, that would be right up his ally as well.

I’m a pro hero, hence why I didn’t need college. Saving people is something I’ve always wanted to do, especially since I was always bullied about my quirk as a kid. It kind of made me more determined, I always wanted to prove those assholes wrong, you know? So, here I am.

I’m glad to know we can wear matching Doc’s together, and that you don’t keep a bat as a pet. As cute as their faces are, they’re not very easily domesticated. 

New Order is fine. The real question is, The Smiths or The Cure? Your answer to this question will be what determines the longevity of our friendship.

-Shinsou

--

This is the worst question you could ever ask me. How could you do this? I could never choose between them. Both? The answer is both.

I hope your next email will not be your last.

Bats are cute but they always seem to dive bomb my head when they’re around. Not that I go places with bats often, but I used to go camping as a kid and they always did that. It was not a good time.

I think it’s amazing that you’re a pro hero! You’re really out here, fighting the bad guys and saving people and then coming into the cat cafe and petting kittens and drinking coffee like a normal person. I think it’s admirable how hard you worked to achieve your dream. I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m proud of you. Why were you bullied for your quirk? You don’t have to answer that if it makes you uncomfortable.

I wish I could write ultra depressy Gothic poetry. Here let me try:

The night is black like my soul Clove cigarettes burn slowly My life is Meaningless

How was that? Do I get a gold star? Or a black skull? Which is appropriate?

-Y/N

--

I’m printing that and sending it to Tokoyami. Thank you for making my entire existence with that poem. I’m breaking out the red wax candles and putting on “How Soon Is Now?” right now.

You get a star, but it’s a pentagram. We have to keep with the theme.

My quirk has to do with mind control, so I was always told I was meant to be a villain. You can imagine what that could do to a kid’s psyche, being told by peers and adults alike that you weren’t hero material, when that’s all you wanted. It’s okay though, I did what I wanted and they can eat my ass.

Sorry if that was too raunchy, but it’s how I feel.

If my earlier comment wasn’t proof enough, I prefer The Smiths, but I cannot deny the impact of Disintegration. Lullaby is a really great song.

That being said, this will not be my last email, so you can breathe easy. 

On a semi serious note, I really enjoy talking with you. We have a similar sense of humor, and you like cats which makes you automatically better than most people. Would you like to get coffee sometime? I know a nice place that’s quiet and filled with fluffy kittens...

-Shinsou

—

I’m glad I haven’t lost your friendship due to my opinion. I know how important that feud can be to some people. People get very passionate about it. Kind of like with Blur versus Oasis, or Brand New versus Taking Back Sunday. I hate that these are the only examples I can think of. 

It wasn’t too raunchy. Those people can most definitely eat your ass. I’m glad you have decided to use your powers for good. You’ll have to explain to me how your quirk works sometime. 

I shall treasure my shiny pentagram sticker with my entire heart.

Isn’t Tokoyami the Jet Black Hero: Tsukuyomi? He looks like the type to write Gothic poetry. I am not even mildly surprised. 

Even though the way we met was unconventional, I’d like to think I’d have gotten up the courage to speak to you the next time I saw you in the cafe. Somehow this is better, though. It makes for an interesting story, you know?

I’d love to get coffee. I think I know the place you’re talking about. Let me know when.

-Y/N

—

Shinsou was nervous. It was stupid really. He’d been exchanging emails back and forth with you for a few days, and even though you’d barely revealed much about each other, the easy banter through your messages was comforting. He felt like the two of you would be compatible. He just hoped that he was able to keep the conversation going in real life. 

When he entered the cafe, he ordered his usual and picked his normal table towards the back. Socks, his favorite black and white companion, was at his side almost immediately. He let his hand drift down to scratch behind her ears, his gaze fixed on the door as he waited for you to arrive. 

Out of habit he was a little early, but he figured it would be easier this way. He had no idea what you looked like, but you knew him, so he knew you’d come over when you got there, and it would make things less awkward. 

A few minutes later he saw the door open, and he immediately knew it was you. Black Doc’s and thigh high stockings, a black skirt and an oversized deep red sweater adorned your body, a leather jacket over your shoulders and your hair tucked under a black beanie, cheeks pink from the chill of the autumn weather outside. You were pretty, and he felt his nerves increase tenfold when your eyes met his, a smile gracing your face. 

He watched as you ordered a drink at the counter, the paper cup clutched in your hands as you made your way to his table. He stood up when you approached, letting himself appreciate you up close. “Y/N?”

“Hi, Shinsou.” You were so much shorter than he was, and he found himself having to gaze down at you when he was standing at his full height. 

“It’s nice to put a face to all those emails.” The way you blushed under his attention made his heart flip. “Please, sit.”

You nodded, sliding into the seat across from him. He sat back down, his hands moving to grip his coffee cup. 

“This is kind of weird, isn’t it?” You looked down when Oliver made his way over, rubbing himself against your boot. “I almost feel like I don’t know what to say.”

“I know what you mean. We could just sit here and email each other, if that would make you feel better.” Your laugh was like music to his ears. “I’d rather hear your voice though.”

Your face was red when you looked back up at him. “I have to agree.” You leaned your elbow on the table, your cheek cradled in your palm. “Tell me more about yourself, Shinsou.”

“It’s Hitoshi. You can call me Hitoshi.”

—

If anyone would have told him that the night would end this way, he’d have said they were insane, and should probably get themselves checked into the nearest institution. 

But here he was, his face pressed into the spot where your neck and shoulder met, lips ghosting over soft skin, his calloused palms sliding underneath your sweater. You were purring, your head thrown back and your fists clenched in his t-shirt, your back pressed against the wall in the hallway that led to his bedroom. 

“Fuck, ‘Toshi.” You mumbled, pressing yourself closer to him. “Bed?”

You didn’t have to ask twice, his hands sliding down to lift you up by the backs of your thighs, his cock hard and straining in his jeans as you rutted against him. He turned himself and began walking toward his room blindly, his eyes still shut as he sucked a mark into your neck. 

He pulled back so he could peer over your shoulder and maneuver your bodies through the doorway without bumping into anything, laying you back on the bed. 

The events of the night were a blur, your coffee date turned into him taking you out for ramen at the restaurant down the street, and then he asked you back to his apartment to show you his record collection. 

It was mostly a ruse though. You’d been flirting back and forth, the both of you getting bolder as the night went on. He was only half surprised when you’d entered his apartment, barely removing shoes and coats and hats before you spun around on him, pressing him against the door and kissing him like your life depended on it.

He rested on his forearms, poised above you, looking over your flushed face and kiss bruised lips. Your legs wrapped around his waist and pulled his hips closer, making him groan. “Impatient?”

Your hands moved to cup his face, pulling him down toward you. “Very.” 

He wasn’t expecting your strength, caught off guard when your lips crashed into his, your body pushing him over until he was on his back and you were straddling him, knees on either side of his hips. You ground down against him, moaning when his hips snapped up reflexively. He was happy to give you control for a while, especially when you sat up and grabbed the bottom of your sweater and pulled it over your head. The view was spectacular.

He let his hands wander, tracing along the lines of your thigh highs from under your skirt, and up to the lace at your hips. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the devilish glint in your eye was not lost on his as you shifted down his body, fingers swiftly working to unclasp his belt and undo the button on his jeans. 

You slid off of him, and he lifted his hips to aid you in pulling his pants down his legs, his boxers following. His cock was achingly hard, the tip angry and red as it sprung free from it’s confines, nearly slapping his stomach. You eyed it greedily, and he was lost for words when you surged forward, delicate fingers wrapping around his length and stroking him, your tongue peeking out to taste him.

Amethyst eyes rolled back when you took the tip in your mouth, tongue swirling around the head, a low moan sounding from the back of your throat. The warmth and wetness that surrounded his cock when you closed your eyes and bobbed forward had him breathless, his hand threading through your hair, and his palm resting on the back of your head. He kept himself steady, fighting back the urge to buck his hips and push you down further on his length. 

Shinsou bit down on his lower lip, his stomach muscles tensing as he tried to keep it together. Kaminari had been right, it had been a while since he’d been with someone, and he wanted this night to last as long as possible. The sweet and innocent look in your eyes as you looked up at him through your lashes, your mouth enveloping him all the way to base, was nearly too much for him to handle, his hand tugging at your hair gently to pull you off of him. “I’m not going to last if you keep that up, kitten.”

You visibly shivered at the pet name and he grinned, loving the feeling of being able to invoke that reaction from you. He scooted forward when you sat back on your knees between his spread legs, his arms circling your torso as he worked at the clasp on your bra, pulling the straps down your arms when he unclipped it. Strong hands gripped your waist and moved you to the side as he stood up, reaching under your skirt to tug your panties down your legs.

He took a moment to consider what he’d do next. He wanted to taste you, it was only right for him to return the favor, and he was almost certain you would taste as sweet as you looked. Another part of him wanted to hike up your legs around his waist and slam inside of you, desperate to hear you moan his name as he pounded you into the mattress. As he contemplated what to do, reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, and then let his hands wander up to the apex of your thighs, digits sliding through your folds. You gasped, falling back onto your elbows, back arching as he toyed with your clit, letting his long fingers slip inside your heat. “So wet. Just for me?” Eyebrows raised, he teased you.

“Fuck, Hitoshi, please.” Breathless and panting, you gazed up at him, biting your lip.

“Please what? Tell me what you want.” You would make the decision for him. “Would you like my mouth or my cock? I’ll let you choose.”

Huffing, your hips rutted against his hand impatiently. He kneeled on the bed between your legs, adjusting his arm and adding a second finger in with the first, his thumb finding your bundle of nerves again. He listened to your breath hitch, and your quiet mewls, pride filling his chest that he was the one coaxing those noises out of you. Finally, you breathed deep and answered him. “Fuck me, Hitoshi.”

Ignoring the protesting whine that left your lips when he removed his fingers, he brought them up to his mouth, maintaining eye contact with you as he sucked on them, tasting you. “You’re delicious, kitten. I’ll have to make sure to taste you properly later.” 

Wasting no time, he lifted your legs up to rest your legs over his shoulders, one hand on his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, grabbing at your hips and pushing himself inside you. If he thought your mouth was hot and wet and basically everything he thought was heaven, he was mistaken. This was it. This was everything. He wasn’t even inside you all the way and he was fighting back the need to cum again, cursing himself and breathing deeply. He leaned forward, forearms on either side of your head as his mouth crashed against yours, all lips and tongues and teeth, his need for you growing tenfold as you wiggled your hips in an attempt to feel more of him.

Groaning, he bucked forward, filling you up, the both of you sighing in relief at the feeling. He gave you a moment to adjust, lips moving down your jaw and tongue laving at the mark he’d left on your neck earlier. “You feel so good, kitten.”

“Toshi, you can move…” Your hands were gripping his biceps, nails leaving crescent shapes in his pale skin, breathing ragged as you clenched around him.

Hissing, he followed your instructions, hips pulling back until he was almost completely out, before sliding back in. Your arousal made the glide easy, your back arching underneath him. He started a steady rhythm, grunting quietly and letting the feeling of you pulsing around him keep him grounded. He let one of his hands wander, shifting his weight so he could ghost his palm over your side, fingers pinching your nipple and rolling the hardened bud between them. You keened, chanting his name like a prayer, the sound of blood pounding in his ears almost masking the sound.

It spurred him to move faster, his chest tight, sweat pooling at his temples and between his shoulder blades, purple locks sticking to his forehead. His gaze was locked on you, and it stole his breath. Your chest and neck were flushed, the most beautiful sounds spilling from your lips as he fucked into you. It became clear to him that he wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither were you.

“Hey, kitten. You gonna cum for me?” He shifted back to his knees and trailed the fingers on his left hand down your stomach, coming to rest between your parted legs. “I want to hear how pretty you sound when you come apart.” He kept a firm grip on your hip to keep you from sliding away, rolling his hips and rubbing tight circles on your clit. 

“Fuck, Hitoshi!” The effect was almost immediate, your body and lungs seizing, eyes rolling back as you fell over the edge, your cunt clenching around him like a vice. 

Falling back over you, his thrusts became sloppy as he chased his own release, barely able to move with how tight your pussy was gripping him, your orgasm still rolling through you. He felt your hands on his face, guiding him to kiss you again, fingers carding through his hair and down his back, your nails raking red trails down his back. He felt like he could barely breathe, lost in you. “Y/N…”

He felt his muscles tense, and moved to bury his face in your neck, his hips stilling as he came hard, filling you up with his release. You squeezed around him again, and he sighed into your skin, eyes closed as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Rolling over to the side, he hissed when he pulled out. You chuckled, and he turned to look at you, a lazy smile on his face. “What?”

“Is that what you call showing me your record collection?” 

Snorting, he propped his head up on his palm, leaning on his elbow, his free hand reaching out to push a piece of hair away from your face. “You attacked me, remember?”

“I couldn’t help it!” Protesting, you blushed. “I wanted to kiss you from the moment I walked into the cafe.”

It was his turn to blush. “Yeah?”

Shrugging, you turned on your side to face him. “Mm. Can you do me a favor?”

His body was still buzzing, muscles loose and pliant as he shuffled closer to you. “Anything.”

“Can you thank your friend for being a weird internet troll and finding my post?” 

Shinsou coughed a laugh, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Please, I can’t do that. It’s all he’d ever talk about for the rest of our lives if I did.” 

You leaned up and kissed him, your fingers pushing back his hair. 

He hummed against your lips, feeling content, shifting himself on the bed and wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you into him. “Maybe I’ll send him a text later. For now, I have other plans.”

--

Kaminari’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he picked it up, eyes widening at the message that appeared on the screen.

Toshi: I owe you a crate full of Pokemon cards and my eternal gratitude for being a weirdo meme king who trolls the internet.

Denki: Oh, you’re in a good mood. Did you get laid?

Toshi: Fuck all the way off. 

Denki: That’s a yes. You’re welcome.

[theyscreamjade]

Heyy can you do a Headcannon with Kirishima, Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya; their S/O has eating disorder and they help her through kinda comfort, if it makes you uncomfortable you don't have to

S/O With a Eating Disorder.

Actually, My best friend had a eating disorder as well, while I dealt with my problems with self harm. I hope this makes your day and please keep trying. I know it may seem hard and it’s the best thing to do, it’s not. If you ever need someone to talk to my dear Anon, I’m here for you! I’ll Detroit Smash all those thoughts in a millisecond.

——————————————

Izuku Midoriya

* This poor sweet boy, he cares so much about you that when he finds out. He’s hurt.

* It takes him a minute to discover this and when he does, he’s heartbroken. You’ve dealt with this alone and he wasn’t there to help you.

* “Puppy? Do you have an eating disorder?”

* When he confronts you, he may be gentle about it. He’ll mention it when you two are alone and there’s no one else around. If you cry, he’ll hold you until you calm down.

* He’s usually observant of you and how you are, but he couldn’t see past that mask you often wore or how your weight decreased dramatically.

* If you decide to let him help, he’s standing beside you each part of the way. He’s throwing away every diet pill, laxative, or anything that’ll make you either sick or anything.

* From then on, he might learn how to cook or ask his mother for meals for you two.

* He’s going to be a lot more observant to you and your weight though, he might go a bit overboard but please understand he’s writing it down to keep you safe and healthy.

* His affection is going to increased to the max, if you stop and stare at a model during you two’s date. He’ll stop and look at the before kissing your cheek. “You don’t even compare to them, you’re way better than them.”

* God, He’s going to express himself through sex. Every mark, hickey, bruise, and more on your body will be a constant reminder of how much he loves you. Every time he touches it, your body just flashes that memory of him whispering every little amazing fact about you that he has in his book.

* Those anger bursts, depressive nights, the days when you can’t get up or even get dressed, just know he’s going to be there.

* I don’t doubt, he’d ask All Might what would he recommend for this situation or even recommend counseling for you so you can become that smiling beckon that kept him going again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki Bakugo

* He ALREADY knew something was up.

* The moment he brought you his shirt and it didn’t fit like it normally would, he immediately suspected something.

* His suspicions were confirmed when you, him and the Baku-Squad were out at a restaurant. Mina, being the observant gal she is, asked if you were losing weight. The nail was in the coffin when you didn’t eat either, claiming you weren’t hungry though he was with you all day and you hadn’t eaten a single bite.

* Once you two leave the restaurant and we’re walking home, he just asks.

* “Do you have a problem with eating or somethin?” He’d ask, making you freeze on the sidewalk.

* Don’t try to lie to him either, it’ll make him even angrier than he was already.

* He’s not angry at you, he’s angry at himself. He’s ticked that he didn’t avoid this from happening to you. Was his insults too much? What can he do to fix the damage he thinks he’s caused to you?

* Once you two are home, please expect to have THOROUGH CLEAN home. I mean everything, Laxatives, diet pills, magazines. YEP, MAGAZINES. They’re the reason for some of the issues.

* His insults will be less frequent and he might act like a softie more around you. He's going to be a bit more affectionate too.

* I FUCKING DARE YOU to TRY and say something negative about yourself.

* I FUCKING DARE YOU.

* You will experience the wrath of Ground Zero deep in you, you’ll become a whimpering mess underneath his hold until you cry out and say how great you are.

* He’s cooking every meal, no matter how tired he is. THIS MAN MIGHT HAVE A CAST ON HIS LEG AND HE WILL BE COOKING IN THAT KITCHEN STILL.

* He’s going to track your weight every night until he feels as if he can trust you a bit more. He never lost trust in you, he knows you were swallowed by the depression that blinded you and wants you to be better again.

* He’s going to try to be patient with you, but with him it’s a three strike system. Once you’re at the third, you’re going to have to make a sacrifice. Him or your problem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shoto Todoroki

* Please know, Shoto’s not obvious to things. Of course, he noticed how different you were acting, how small your body was becoming, how you often were cold and many others.

* He just simply thought you were training harder to be better or something. He wouldn’t even bother you while you trained.

* That was until you just passed out. You passed out in front of him and his family at a family gathering and wouldn’t wake up.

* That honestly triggered the poor man.

* His brother discovered in your records, that the last normal weight you had was months back.

* His heart shattered into a thousand pieces as he starts to blame himself completely until his sister calms him down.

* While you’re still in the hospital recovering, him and Midoriya are cleaning up the home. Every last item that reminded you of the body you wanted to strive for or the imperfections that you thought you had was gone.

* When you were released, you were immediately placed on a strict diet placed from his brother and the family physician. Shoto normally doesn’t be the pushy type in these situations but..he doesn’t want to see you like that ever again.

* “I never...want to see you like that again, I thought I lost you.”

* He’s going to watch every item you eat, so you won’t either binge out or anything.

* ...the locks in the bathroom may be..gone. BUT JUST KNOW HE CARES OKAY?!

* Shoto might be a bit more affectionate with you as well, always holding you, reminding you every single day just how much you mean to him.

* This may include a SIGNIFICANT increase in sexual activities which includes him whispering in your ear about how much you mean to him and how amazing you are.

* This poor peppermint’s been through a lot.

* He’s going to be patient, All he wants is to see you well again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eijiro Kirishima

* This man’s attention to you IS ON FUCKING POINT.

* You have to realize, he dealt with confidence issues too. So when he notices how you degrade yourself in a joking way at first. He’ll try to boost you up with his love for you.

* But when he notices how much smaller you were and how your clothes seemed to be baggy items on your body. He’s going to push you right back into your home, holding your shoulders as he stared deeply into your eyes.

* “Don’t lie to me okay? Do you have an eating disorder or something? Are you sick? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

* The questions were frequently and blunt, very unlike him. Your silence was an absolute confirmation for him.

* He’s going to beat himself up and call him unmanly for not even being able to help you through this. He was so blind! So oblivious to you and your needs.

* He’s going to cry and hold you as tightly as he could, his arms holding you as tight as he could. He’s going apologize for all those nights you slept alone, those days you hid your feelings from him, those moments when you probably needed him and never called.

* After you two confided, he’s going through every item. Now, the difference with this. He’s making you trash every item you use. I mean every single one. Dumping each pill, rip each magazine and everything.

* Afterwards, he’ll lead you to a secluded area where he often came to when he was younger. There, you two pour your feelings out until you two are laughing at the insecurities you have from a different point of view.

* You two are going to switch when you make meals though. Like for instance, he may have one week and you have the other. When he feels as if you don’t have enough to eat, he’ll feed you.

* If you ever feel depressed, sad, or anything. Just call him, because he’s going to come as soon as you even dial his number. Before the phone can even ring, he’s at your door.

* He’s going to CONSTANTLY REMIND you of just how amazing, sexy, and everything you are. He’s expressing it in more ways than anyone can expect.

* Honestly, Kirishima would probably wait to see results. He won’t be over your shoulder to check your weight constantly but rather to see you gain some a bit.

* Just know he’s not going to give up on you. He’s going to be patient with you because you’re his Beauty Cool.

* Don’t disappoint him please, I’d hate for anyone to experience a distant Kirishima. It’s like having a day without sunshine nor rain.

[tenthgrove]

More yandere Tiziano can't squalo plz

Squalo and Tiziano- The Escape

Yandere Squalo and Tiziano x Reader (GN)

Content Warnings: Coerced Relationships, dub-con kissing, manipulation

(A/N: Since this request was quite open-ended I decided to take my own approach and write a short fic about what happens when you try to escape from them. This scenario is set in the same canon as the previous post on yandere Squalo and Tiziano, about a month after Reader is forced to move in.)

This house is uncanny in its shallow attractiveness. A wonderful meditteranean retreat, spacious bedrooms and sprawling gardens, two beautiful men who fawn and wait on you constantly.

It would be the stuff of dreams, had you not been forced to be here.

You awake to Squalo and Tiziano's voices calling you from the hall. You should have figured that your insistence on sleeping in the spare room last night would leave them extra clingy all morning. Every time you manage to get away from them for a bit, they always bring their affections back 10-fold the next time you're forced to wallow in their presence. Maybe it was a mistake, in retrospect, to insist on such a thing when all it ever achieves is putting off the innevitable, but on the other hand if you had agreed to one more night pressed between them like some wrangled stuffed toy you think you might have screamed.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that this will all be behind you in a few hours.

Your first port of call is to throw some clothes on and check the bags hidden away down the side of the wardrobe. You've been carefully shifting all your more important belongings into them for the best part of the week. God knows if they find them, no excuse in the world will conceal what your plan was.

::::::::::::

Breakfast is as you expect. Tiziano cooks for the three of you while Squalo whines about how much he missed holding you last night. You force yourself not to lash out at him since you know your plan depends on keeping them happy for the next hour or so. You smile, and nod, and indulge their petty conversation while you eat, before heading back to the spare room to finish getting dressed.

You see, the best part of your plan is that they know you're leaving today. You have their permission to go shopping and, with some convincing, to go alone. The 'escape' part is simply that you have no intention to come back.

You wheel your suitcase quietly down to the front room, clutching your handbag tightly. Inside is 300 euros that Tiziano willingly gave you, after you mentioned that a shopping trip might lift your spirits.

How kind of him to fund your breakout.

Your heart rises with hope as you fiddle the key into the lock, only to sink down again as you hear a voice behind you.

"You're not leaving without saying goodbye, are you Tesoro?" Squalo calls. Shit, he heard you. You quickly shove your suitcase behind a plant pot and put your hands behind your back before the pair join you in the front room. They smile, and you fight the urge to scowl.

"Are you sure we can't come with you, love?" Tiziano pleads.

"No. It's nice of you to offer but I'd really like to do this by myself," you insist, adding a curt smile.

"Alright beautiful, we understand," Tiziano sighs, tracing his fingertips up your arm in a way that makes your skin twitch. "Now, how about a kiss goodbye?" he requests. Your insides curl. This is the part you were hoping to avoid. Still, no point in dragging it out or you might never leave.

You take a sharp breath and lean forward, eyes closed. Tiziano's kiss is bearable enough, tender and gentle so that it's easy enough to ignore the sensation. That comes to a screeching halt when Squalo yanks you from his arms, smashing his mouth against yours like his life depends on it. You push him off in revulsion, but it seems he's satisfied enough.

"Alright beautiful, off you go," Squalo chuckles.

"Yes, thank you," you say. There's an awkward pause as they smile at you, waiting for you to leave. You'd hoped they would bugger off so you could get your suitcase back but that doesn't seem to be the case.

"Well, aren't you going to go?" Tiziano prompts you. You exhale.

"Yes, goodbye," you concede, walking out the door sans-suitcase. Damn, you really wanted to take your stuff with you but you guess you'll have to manage. As long as you've got your money and documents, you'll be fine.

You look back blankly at Squalo and Tiziano as they wave you off from the window. You won't miss those two.

::::::::::::

Your feet feel like stone. Walking for an hour was fine, two was uncomfortable, three was tiring and nine is getting downright unbearable. Barring your quick stop for lunch you've been walking non-stop and you're really starting to think you won't be able to make it.

Your original plan was to walk to your friend's house and plead for shelter, hence avoiding a risky phone call that might be traced by the mysterious syndicate Squalo and Tizianio claim to work for. You have high-confidence in the viability of this idea- your friend is hardly the sort to refuse to rescue you from a situation like this and they weren't on the list of relatives the pair used to threaten you when they first made themselves known to you. That means they don't know where this person lives.

But, all that's for nought if you can't actually get to the place.

In Squalo and Tiziano's house, control was always achieved through the fear of the power they might possess. Never once did they threaten to hit, starve, isolate or deprive you. And yet, every time they would passingly mention how their syndicate had eyes in every town and village, you felt yourself shiver.

You don't want to stop at a hotel. You don't want to stop anywhere run by people you don't know, just go straight from A to B. But this doesn't look anything like the area your friend lives in, and your feet are ready to give out on you.

Worse, the sun is starting to set.

Damn it all, you think. You make a B-line for the nearest hotel and force your fears to the back of your mind.

You know it's stupid, but you half expected a squadron of armed mobsters to burst out of the staffroom the second you approached the receptionist. Of course, Squalo and Tiziano have probably only just realised you aren't coming back and even then, there's no way they'd have found you this quickly. You remain calm as you ask for a room, even as the receptionist makes clear you aren't getting it without showing your i.d. No matter, you think. You'll only be here for one night.

::::::::::::

Dawn brings with it a new sense of optimism when you awake to find your hotel room as you last saw it. You're not in the trunk of the car, bound or threatened at gun-point, and there certainly isn't anyone clinging onto you in the bed. It would seem that you've made it through the night undetected.

In other words, you've made it through the hardest part.

You dress quickly and gather your things. You don't think you'll stay around for breakfast; it would be better to just pick something up from the shops and eat as you go. You found a hotel leaflet with a map of the local area, and it seems you're less far from your friend's house than you thought you were yesterday. With any luck, you'll have reached it by the next day.

And thus, your freedom begins.

You check out at the reception without issue and begin the final stretch of your journey. That's when you get the distinct feeling you're being watched.

You're not even at the end of the street when a car pulls up beside you, the voice within stopping you dead in your tracks.

"You know darling, it isn't usually typical to go shopping for 22 hours straight, but we're glad you enjoyed yourself," Tiziano cajoles. You snap around to meet eyes with him, sitting in his car with Squalo at his side, both smiling gleefully. They're enjoying this.

You look around, your ankles shaking as though you aren't sure what direction to take. The locals clearly take no notice to the sight of someone being hollered at on the street, and given how deep syndicate control supposedly runs in this area, you doubt they'd care much more if you were to be dragged in.

You could run, you could always run, but they've got a car and you're willing to bet quite a few weapons. Even if you gave them the slip, you're now close enough to your final destination that tracking you down would be a piece of cake.

Shit, shit, shit. You guess you don't have much of a choice.

Fists clenched, you avoid eye contact as you approach the car, climbing into the back with your head bowed in defeat. Squalo chuckles lightly.

"You're really too cruel, love. Forcing me to spend two nights without your embrace in a row," he chides you.

"Not to worry, we kept ourselves busy. Registering at a hotel in your own name? Really darling, how amateur!" Tiziano remarks. You growl lowly. That's it. Consequences be damned.

"How about you two just fuck right off to hell!?" you explode. "Damn the both of you! I was doing just fine until you waltzed on over and decided you fancied having me for yourselves! Fuck you! Fuck you both!"

Tiziano laughs.

"Oh darling, do you really expect us to believe you hate us so strongly when you were so quick to get into this car?"

"What?! That doesn't- You would have chased after me if I didn't!" you protest.

"Oh, definitely," Tiziano concurs. "But don't you think you would have at least tried to flee if being with us was such a horrible fate?"

"You threatened my family! You threatened me!"

"We did no such thing. All we did was politely remind you we're aware of your addresses," Tiziano reiterates.

"Like I don't know what that's meant to imply!" you fume.

"Alright, we'll play along. Maybe we were a bit pushy in making you ours," Squalo admits teasingly. "But I honestly can't remember the last time I saw you look afraid. Angry, yes. So attractively angry..."

"...But the fear your words would imply you feel for us simply isn't there, Amore," Tiziano agrees with him. He finds a suitable spot and pulls the car to a halt, turning to you fully. He takes your chin in his hand as Squalo brings a hand to your shoulder.

"Can you truly, honestly claim to despise being with us as much as you'd assert?" Tiziano presses you. You go quiet.

"Just as we thought," Squalo scoffs. "Now, I'd say we've both earned another kiss."

[drabbles-mc]

We’ll Figure It Out

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Request by the babe @garbinge: Hiii 🖤 no pressure/rush but figured I’d drop a couple requests for Nestor and an OC or reader insert whatever you’re feeling! Found these prompts on a few different lists 1) “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?” 2) “Do you think I could be pregnant?” 3) “I’ve been in-love with you since we were kids.”

Warnings: language, mentions of pregnancy and periods

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I swear that I still write for all the other Mayans boys 😂 Nestor has just been a hot commodity lately with requests and who am I to say no? Also, I realized about halfway through writing this fic that I never clarified if you wanted all 3 prompts in one story...so I hope this is alright. 😅 Enjoy! xo

Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @paintballkid711​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @queenbeered​ @sillygoose6969​ @sesamepancakes​ @yourwonkywriter​ @chibsytelford​ @gemini0410​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @amandinesblogofstuff​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @rosieposie0624​

When you woke up, it felt like you hadn’t gotten any sleep. You groaned, rolling over to see that you were in the bed alone. After forcing yourself to sit upright, you reached to check the time on your phone. Your eyes grew wide, not able to believe that you had slept in until eleven. You also couldn’t believe that Nestor didn’t come and wake you.

You stumbled out to the living room and saw Nestor laying on the couch, laptop perched on his legs. He looked up at you and smiled, “Nice of you to join me.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I tried,” he laughed, “You were basically comatose.”

You sighed as you collapsed onto the couch next to him, “Then why am I still fucking exhausted?”

He closed and put his laptop away. He gently pulled you closer, letting your head come to rest in his lap, “You sure you’re feeling alright? You’ve been more exhausted than usual this week.”

You nodded, closing your eyes as he gently massaged your temples, “I’m just sore, and crampy. Period is probably just going to be worse than usual this month.”

“Need me to get you anything?”

You shook your head, “No, I’ll be fine. Thank you, though. I love you.”

He hummed in approval, “I love you too.”

The two of you spent the day curled up on the couch together. You didn’t have the energy or the desire to do much else. You tried to push the pain from your mind but couldn’t, allowing yourself to curl up against Nestor for comfort.

The next couple of days ticked by, and the pain wasn’t really letting up. You were sick of feeling crampy, and bloated, and exhausted. Nestor was handling it like a champ, because it was definitely making you cranky. It felt like the longest bout of PMS ever, and you still only had some spotting. You didn’t even have a light at the end of the tunnel yet.

Nestor came home to find you, yet again, curled up on the couch with a heat pack on your lower stomach. His expression fell, you knew he was worried about you.

He sat next to you, “Do you think you should go to the doctor?”

You shook your head, “Why? So they can just tell me that it’s the pains of being a woman? No thank you.”

“Yea, but,” you could see it on his face that he didn’t want to seem pushy, or make you uncomfortable, “but you said that you didn’t even get your period yet. What if there’s something else going on?”

You sat up, “Something else?” you couldn’t hide the look of confusion on your face.

“Yea. Like, you know. What if you’re…”

The reality of what he was saying hit you light a freight train. You’d been so wrapped up in the pain and exhaustion, stuck in the thought of it just being the worst PMS in the world, that you hadn’t even thought about the other possibilities.

“Do you think I could be pregnant?” your eyes went wide.

He could feel the panic radiating off of you. He reached out and took your hand in his, “You gotta admit it’s at least a possibility, right?”

He was absolutely right, and you couldn’t believe that you hadn’t thought of that before. You’d lived your whole adult life with an extremely painful and inconsistent period, and you figured that this was just another month of suffering. Pregnancy hadn’t crossed your mind. You suddenly felt lightheaded, and it must’ve shown on your face, too, because Nestor instantly tried to talk to you and calm you down. You were only hearing a small fraction of what he was saying, too overwhelmed by the racing thoughts in your head.

“Y/N, hey,” he cupped your face in his hands, “Hey, look at me. Focus on me, alright? You’re gonna be alright.”

“But what if you’re right?” you shook your head, “What if I’m pregnant? What the fuck am I gonna do?”

The two of you had never talked about kids. You knew that someday, down the road, you pictured yourself with a family. But it was always something distant. You had no idea where Nestor landed with all of that, especially given his line of work. Every single scenario was running through your brain at once. You didn’t want to put all of that on him, make him feel like he had to agree to something that he didn’t really want.

“Hey,” he was trying to gently tug you off of the downward spiral that you were on, “take a breath for me, alright?” he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, “We don’t even know anything for sure yet. Why don’t we get some answers before we freak out too much, okay?”

You tried to take a deep breath. Everything felt like it was moving at a mile a minute but when you saw the expression on Nestor’s face, it all started to slow down. You shook your head slightly, “How are you so calm about this?”

He smiled at you, “Because no matter what the situation ends up being, we’ll handle it,” he pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms tight around you, “I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. And, honestly, there has never been something that has happened that we haven’t been able to figure out together,” he kissed your forehead, “We’re going to be okay.”

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, finally able to take a deep breath. You tried to focus on the sensation of his hand sliding up and down your back, on the warmth emanating from his body, “I love you so much,” you slid your arms around him, “Are we okay?”

He chuckled, pulling back from you slightly, “What? Of course. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Depending on what we find out, I know this is…a lot. And I know that we haven’t talked about it, kids and shit, I mean. I don’t want to pull you into something that you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I told you,” he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “we’re in this together. No matter what happens, I’m not leaving you. I promise.”

You rested your forehead against his. There was a lot that you had to figure out, a lot of questions that you had to get answered, but at least now you knew that you had Nestor in your corner. No matter what happened, you’d have him. He was right, the two of you had always figured out everything together and this was going to be no different. It might not be easy, but the two of you could make anything work.

“Thank you,” your eyes were still closed, “for being the one in this relationship that doesn’t instantly lose their shit all the time.”

He laughed, nuzzling his nose against yours, “Anything for you,” he paused, letting a few beats of silence pass between you, “No matter what happens over these next few weeks, I hope you know that I’ve always wanted a future with you, a family. I’ve never had any doubts about that.”

“Yea?”

“Yea.”

You smiled, “Good to know.”

[atopearth]

Brothers Conflict (Passion Pink) Part 2 - Asahina Kaname Route

Okay, I'm not the most interested in Kaname since he feels like such a pervert lmao, but we'll see I guess loll. LOL I hate it when Kaname makes everything become so sexual, but I really like his voice so I'm confused😭 It's so cute how Ema is becoming more snarky with her responses to Kaname because he's so over the top with what he says lol. I love how Ukyo is the one who scolds Tsubaki and Kaname for troubling Ema with their incessant flirting, like geez to them lol! I love how Ukyo told Kaname to like get away from her forever😂😂 Anyway, I think I'm already kinda warming up to Kaname, just because on the dates, he's not so "crazy" about her and acts normal lol, but still really loving and sweet. I liked how he held her hand when she got a bit cold after the dolphin show, he probably knew she would be uncomfortable if he hugged her, so he did that at least and I think that was quite considerate of him considering how he usually acts haha. Lmao when the right option was to say that she wants to be like Kaname (kind and attentive), it was kinda cute how he laughed and thought she was cute for saying that hahaha.

Aww I love the zoo one where Ema doesn't go check out Tsubaki and Azusa filming because it's a day out with Kaname and she wants to properly spend time with him because of that. Lmao when Ema got turned off on going on the rollercoaster after Kaname said it would be wonderful to hold her hand and kiss her when it gets to the highest part on the ride lolll. Well, he didn't explicitly say her but he might as well have😂 Aww, even though I thought Ema was really reckless to overdo it looking for Wataru in the rain, but I think alike Kaname, it was really nice to see that she cares so much for the brothers that she was so obstinate about finding him before caring about herself. I would have loved to see Kaname hug her~~ I agree with Kaname though, there's something about listening to the waves at night, seeing the sky and the ocean kinda merge together, and you start to think about how vast everything is and how small other things are. It really helps to calm you down, but I guess at the same time it can be unsettling though haha. Kaname is such a sweet talker to say that he would save her before she would even get scared or cry hahaha. I definitely love the more serious Kaname, there's something really mature and alluring about him when he's not joking around haha. LOL when he went over to the water and tripped over seaweed😂😂 It was so cute how he pulled her into the water too for laughing at him. OMG I DIDN'T EXPECT THAT!! I knew he was going to be corny and say that love is mightier than the pen and the sword but I honestly didn't think he would kiss her so suddenly!!! The CG is so beautiful btw. Something I wish Masaomi's route had was something like a kiss CG though, that would have been so nice, they were just so polite with each other all the time, it was kinda sad we never got to see anything more romantic, it was still cute though of course but yeah~ I'm really enjoying Kaname's route now.

Okay, I died when Ema fed Kaname her Bento when they went to the park, like omggg that's so cute. Honestly though for Ema, regardless of whether she likes Kaname or not, I think it's a bit hard to act normal with him after he kissed her like that on the family holiday lol. Omggg, Kaname was pretty pushy, but honestly him asking if he could kiss her again and stuff was pretty hot lolll! Especially when he licked or kissed her ear or something loll omg. He's moving wayy too fast for Ema's innocent mind haha. But at least even though he's pushy, he's never really forced her to do anything, and the drive to the night view was something she was okay with going to with Kaname. But she did trust him to not overdo it and he did push her past her boundaries a bit so yeah...it was hot but also I felt bad for Ema. Okay, Kaname apologised to her, that's good. I guess her avoiding him and Iori telling Kaname how down she seemed helped him realise he might have gone a bit too far lol. Omgg when drunk Subaru pushed Ema down though, like it was hot, but I felt so bad for her because she was scared, I think Azusa comforting her after he saw them though was what made my heart melt. He's so sweet, I love Azusa😭 Anyway, ever since I checked Kaname's VA and realised that it's Suwabe Junichi (VA for Archer from Fate/stay night), I was like, no wonder why I love his voice!! Hahaha, and yes, now I like Kaname even more loll. I'm so glad Ukyo was there to hit Kaname at the cultural festival, lmao at the things he says sometimes, like seriously, super inappropriate lol. But lmao at Kaname announcing to her classmate that he's Ema's boyfriend loll.

Honey in cafe au lait?? Is that a thing??🤔 Anyway, I usually hate it when the guy is jealous and possessive, but honestly when Kaname got jealous and mad, I couldn't help but feel a bit happy because it was kinda..cute? Hahaha. On the other hand, Azusa being a bit "mad" that Kaname took Ema away was cute too, I love him loll. It's kinda interesting how Ema always thinks Kaname is playing around with her and isn't serious at all, but then she does stuff like stay over in his room hahaha, anyway, it's cute how he always says good morning to her~ When Ema asked if they could sleep together (since she couldn't sleep), I knew Kaname would find it difficult to hold himself back, but dangg, the kisses🥰🥰🥲 Awww Kaname let her use his arm as a pillow, that's actually really cute. Anyway lmao I find it hilarious that Juli the squirrel is calling her pitiful for spending Christmas Eve playing games hahahah. It's kinda cute how hardcore Ema is when it comes to games though lol. Lmaoo at Yusuke and Tsubaki's new year's wishes, they're so silly😂 It was kinda interesting to see both Ema and Kaname bury the kitten, mainly because it was nice to hear that the idea of the dead's souls/hearts returning to the side of those who think about them is a nice way to view death? Honestly though, I really want to like Kaname but his "romantic scenes" have been irking me quite a bit, especially the last one sleepover CG(?), like I really like how hot he sounds and I alwaysss get enraptured by his voice but seriously, he needs to stop lol. Like, if Ema was more receptive to his advances, I think I wouldn't be as uncomfortable but she's always telling him no and to stop it, but he just continues and says afterwards that he held himself back already. Like excuse me dude, if you held yourself back, you wouldn't be practically forcing yourself on Ema and touching her without her permission especially when she says no. Like seriously, he's the adult here! Anyway, yeah I feel like the only time I liked him was around the kiss scene lol. On the other hand, I find it interesting that Ema still thinks Kaname is just playing around with her when he's kissed her and stuff. To be fair though, he's always teasing her and he's never seriously told her his feelings in a way that she would understand as not playing with her so I'd say it's more his fault, especially since she's younger and more naive, and she considers him her brother so...

Very Kaname-like to give Ema perfume for White Day and then tell her to only use it when she goes out with him haha. HAHAHA, I just realised I missed out on a funny zoo date where Kaname asks Ema what animal she thinks he would prefer compared to Juli, and she said it probably doesn't really matter to him because he likes human girls the most😂😂 I mean, it's nice that Ema finally realised her feelings when she saw Kaname with another girl and Tsubaki and Yusuke said he always does that and is never serious about any girl, but it was pretty random and sudden tbh lol. I feel like it could have been done better especially since most of Kaname and Ema's recent scenes have just been him "attacking" her lol. I'm glad that Tsubaki who is usually as playful as Kaname is, is now shouting at Kaname telling him to stop playing around with her if he isn't serious, because really, if she doesn't understand and think so, there's no point if he thinks he is serious. Oh wow, did Kaname just break his phone to prove that he's serious about her and won't talk to other people? Lol! Whaaat! Kaname quit being a monk and went to his mother's company?? Honestly though, I'm rather suspicious of this monk thing, like was he actually a host all along? Lol, I mean, we never actually got to see him do anything related to his work this whole entire route lol. Anyway, the kyodai/brother ending is really weird considering the flow of events and how Kaname kissed her and stuff for alllll those months, like that doesn't make sense!! Lol anyway doesn't matter. Btw, Kaname in the epilogue(?) is sooo hot in a suit, and omggg at Ukyo discovering their relationship in the worst way especially with how Kaname says stuff lol. Otherwise, the CG was niceeee 🥰

Overall, I loveee Suwabe Junichi's voice and I really think he made Kaname a better character than he actually was lmao. Honestly, I really enjoyed the beginning of this route and I really thought I'd love their relationship because of how forward Kaname is, but I think from the middle onwards, I lost a lot of interest because of how clunky the flow of events were, and the events themselves were rather disappointing I guess. Most of the events that happened after the kiss was mostly just Kaname "teasing" Ema and a lot of them were more uncomfortable than sexy even though his voice really made me love and hate it lolll. My heart was confused haha. Kaname does a lot of things that are a bit over for me especially since Ema isn't very receptive towards it and tells him to stop but he really doesn't and touches her quiteeee a bit, so yeah I didn't like it all that much, but at the same time I could never really understand Ema either? Lol. Like, she seemed so confused throughout the route about Kaname and I feel like she only liked him because I "chose" him through the dialogue options than because she really liked him lol. I think a lot of it was just awkward, especially her revelation that she likes him, like lady, you saw him with Hikaru before too lol, but anyway their "confession" of love to each other was also pretty underwhelming considering how frustrating their relationship was throughout the route lol. Otherwise, I loved Kaname's voice and if you ignore how much he touches Ema and says so many inappropriate crap, he's actually pretty sweet and loving. I definitely prefer Masaomi overall though haha.

[searenbound]

As early said, here’s three sets of head canons from the old blog for my babies that I so lovingly edited together for you all to enjoy

Warnings: swearing, sexual activity, omegaverse

Pairings: Shouto Todoroki x reader, Izuku Midoriya x reader, Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Todoroki

- Let’s be honest here poor baby wouldn’t be allowed to behave like an Omega at home

- Endeavor would probably see it as shameful for his ‘perfect creation’ to be an Omega rather than an Alpha

- He would absolutely attempt to gain his Alpha’s attention as soon as realized he liked her

- Both as an act of defiance and genuine interest

- He wouldn’t really know how to get her to court him at first

- Just kinda leaves his stuff where she’ll find them in hopes that she’ll get the hint and scent the item(s) for him

- “Oh hey! Todoroki-kun! You left your sweater behind when we were studying, sorry about the smell I kinda got my scent on it by accident” “That’s alright, I like your scent” “I, ahem… I could um s-scent more things for you if you want?”

- When it comes to nesting, he’s kinda lost

- He wasn’t allowed to make nests at home so even though the instinct and desire to build them is there he has no clue how to act on it

- When he starts feeling more comfortable in their relationship, he’d ask her for help

- He knows Alphas don’t nest like Omegas, but he figures that if he’s going to ask someone it should be the other person who’ll spend time in it

- Her advice is to find a place that makes him feel safe and secure and just let his instincts do the rest

- And that’s how she ended up with her Omega’s nest inside of her closet

- “(Yn)? Have you seen- why are you in the closet?” “My Omega demanded I take a nap with him and I’m in capable of telling him no” “But, why yo-?” “His nest is in here” “Wh-” “I’d like to repeat, I am incapable of telling Shouto no”

-Despite her obvious claim over her Omega, there’s still gonna be other’s who disrespect their relationship, which brings us to jealousy and of course it goes both ways

- He thinks it’s really cute when she gets jealous

- She doesn’t usually get possessive just agitated that someone would even think they had a shot at him

- When she does get possessive though, oh boy

- There’s a part of him that gets really excited

- She’s shorter than he is so she’ll tug on him until his face is buried in her neck and start scenting him

- Normally he isn’t into PDA but something about his Alpha making sure everyone around had no doubts about who’s Omega he is just so hot to him

- “He’s mine and I have no problem kicking in your teeth if that’s what gets it into your thick skull"

- When an Omega starts trying to flirt with her, he doesn’t usually care

- She’s really good at shutting them down quickly so he just lets her handle it

- On the off chance that the other Omega is still being pushy is when he gets mad

- He’ll stand behind her and stare them down until they get the hint and leave

- If that doesn’t work, he’ll get aggressively affectionate and demand to go back to his nest and be scented

- He doesn’t feel like getting into a physical fight, so his goal is to make them as uncomfortable as possible

- If it still doesn’t work well rip to the poor fool who that it was a good idea to still try to take his Alpha away after he literally begged to be scented

- “Alpha let’s go, if we stay any longer, I might hurt someone”

Midoriya

- One of the most sought-after Omega in Yuuei

- It’s rare for an Omega to get into the hero course and even rare for them to actually become a hero

- But there’s Baby boy doing his damnedest to become a great hero and that’s interesting to most Alphas

- He didn’t need to pursue an Alpha they just flocked to him much to his frustration

- Started being interested in his Alpha because she didn’t make such a big deal of him being an Omega

- “Why are you guys so weird about him? Yeah, he’s an Omega and that’s cool and all, but he came here for the same reason the rest of us did and shouldn’t be treated like some trophy to be won” “But you’re trying to court him to” “That’s because he’s already mine, fuck off”

- He didn’t realize she was trying to court him

- He just kind assumed she was just being nice to him

- He’s not going to complain

- Is just kinda like ‘I guess I have an Alpha now, that’s cool!’

- He’s constantly asking her to scent stuff for him

- His nest has so many scented items that it barely even smells like him and he loves it

- Has been caught rolling around in it because he missed her, and this was easier then seeking her out to ask to be scented

- “What are you doing Omega?” “O-oh, I uh I missed you and my nest smells like you so…” “Izuku Baby, I’m going to need you to stop being so cute, it makes me really want to give you some pups and we’re still too young for that” “H-huh?!”

-Jealousy isn’t the hugest problem, but it definitely happens more often than either cares for

-Like I said earlier he’s a really sought-after Omega, so he has someone trying to take him away from her every other day

- Nothing less than bonding him proper will get them to completely stop

- It’s annoying for both of them

- Like he’s practically smothered in her scent, but he’ll still has to tell others to back off because she’s his Alpha

- When she gets fed up with his so-called suitors, she’ll get really possessive

- She’ll wrap her arms around his waist from behind and bite down on his scent gland

- Not hard enough to bond him but enough to make a very clear point

- "He already told you to stop, you should listen to him because I’ve got no problem with showing you he’s mine”

- When he gets jealous it’s really cute

- It doesn’t happen often since he has that reputation of being a prized Omega

- Most don’t bother with trying to tempt his Alpha but when they do, he gets huffy

- She’d never stray from him but since she thinks it’s cute when he pouts, she won’t stop the other Omega right away

- She won’t flirt back of course, she’s just ignoring them really but that never seems to be enough of a hint

- He’ll literally just drag her off without a word until they get to his nest

- “You’re so mean, you should have told them to stop (Yn)!”

Bakugou

- She didn’t court him he courted her

- As soon as he noticed her that was it

- That was his Alpha and any other Omega who was interested could fuck right off

- Was genuinely worried that he might be too aggressive of an Omega for her

- Tried to tone it down and act more like a traditional Omega in hopes that she’d pay more attention to him

- Turns out she was into the whole feisty ‘Fuck you, you’re my Alpha now’ attitude he had

- “Why are you being so weird? You’re acting like-” “Like an Omega shou-” “Not my Omega! Mine’s a little shit who keeps stealing all my good hoodies because he thinks I don’t notice and that’s exactly the way I want him! How I want you!” “I- wait what do you mean I’m a little shit?!” “That’swhat you choose to focus on?!”

- Ok he’s obviously not your average Omega but he has the strongest nesting urges out of these three

- Tries to claim he doesn’t nest though

- That clearly carefully constructed pile of soft things tucked away in the corner of his room is just a pile of shit he hasn’t put away

- So, what if he likes to put things, he’s gotten from her in that pile?

- It’s also a coincidence that it just happens to be big enough for both of them to comfortably lay in it together

- He just happens to like cuddling her in it, but doesn’t make it a nest, damnit!

- “You know it natural for you to make a nest, right? You don’t have to be so embarrassed by it” “Fuck off, it’s not a nest” “Katsu, we’re literally laying in it right now, do you really expect me to believe that this is just a random pile of stuff?” “It’s not a nest! One more word and I’ll kick you out of it!” “If it’s not a nest and just a pile then how are you gonna kick me out?” “I swear to- oh fuck off!”

-Jealousy is very surprisingly not a problem here at all and it amazes everyone around them

- She never gets jealous over him

- She doesn’t have to because he handles it himself when others try anything

- He gets genuinely offended by other Alphas trying to court him

- They tend to be interested in trying to ‘tame’ him and he ain’t putting up with that

- Not when his Alpha already treats him so well and loves him the way he is

- when he gets tiered of a particularly stubborn Alpha, he’ll stomp over to her and cling to her side

- “You fucking see this?! This is my Alpha! I don’t fucking need your shitty ass when I already have the best damn Alpha, shithead!”

- She also handles it herself when Omegas come onto her

- He would get jealous if it wasn’t for how she handles it

- She gets mad and disgusted that they even attempted to approach her

- Tells them off right away

- He thinks it’s really hot that she gets so defensive on his behalf and so mean about it too

- One of the only times he’ll call her Alpha in public

- It’s also something that makes him really consider giving her a few pups like right that moment

- “You, annoying little bitch! You have some nerve thinking you could take my Omega’s place! Look at him, why would you think I would want you over him?”

-Ok, so I didn’t really know how to include the head canons about their heats in a cohesive way so I decided to stick them right at the end because I want them with the other head canons

Todoroki

- Baby boy is a bit clingy even when he’s not in heat so once he is?

- Oh boy

- He’s so needy and it’s really cute ok?

- He pretty much needs to be in constant physical contact or he starts to panic a little

- He hates that he clings to her like that because he thinks it’s embarrassing

- He really can’t help it though

- He’s been on strong suppressants pretty much since he first presented

- As a result the heats he did experience were intense and lonely until he was with her

- She’s the first and only Alpha he’s ever trusted enough to be around him and take care of him during his heat and he can’t stand the idea of her not being right there within his reach

- He eventually decides to stop taking suppressants

- He trusts her to take care of him and wants to experience everything he can with her and this was no exception in his eyes

Midoriya

- She might as well permanently move into his nest because she’s not leaving it anytime soon

- He has stupidly high stamina and an even higher sex drive

- Baby has always had heats intense enough to throw any interested Alpha into a rut when they get a whiff of him

- So she’s understandably possessive and protective during the days leading up to and during his heat

- He loves it

- Loves that she’s protective and won’t let anyone to get close to him

- It makes him feel spoiled and like she puts him on a pedestal

- Though it is little troublesome when she starts picking fights because some Alphas can’t respect that they’re mates

- He gets it, but he’d rather have her fucking him instead of having to stop her from fucking others up

Bakugou

- The neediest fucking brat oh my God

- Will drag her off to his nest and then act like he isn’t in the middle of his heat and doesn’t need to be fucked

- Will try to deny that he’s in heat and gets huffy when she presses the matter

- Really, he just wants her to be more assertive

- Just really wants his Alpha to put some effort into trying to take care of him

- It makes him feel desirable and like he has her wrapped around his fingers

- We all know it’s the other way around but just let him have this, it means a lot to him

- Once he gives into his heat, he’s so whiny

- Begs for her to lavish him in attention

- Doesn’t matter what type of attention she gives him as long as she’s catering to his every whim and desire

- He’s so loud to, no one has any doubt about what they’re doing