#touch sampling rate

[fytko-mobile-specs]

OnePlus Launches its First 5G Flagship: The OnePlus 11

OnePlus, a leading smartphone brand has launched its first 5G flagship smartphone in India, the OnePlus 11 5G. The device boasts impressive specifications and features, including a Qualcomm Snapdragon 8 Gen 2 chipset with up to 16GB of RAM and 256GB of storage. The phone runs on the latest Android 13 operating system, with the OxygenOS 13 interface for a smooth and seamless user experience.

One of the key features of the OnePlus 11 5G is its 6.7-inch LTPO 3.0 AMOLED screen with a dynamic refresh rate of 0-120Hz and Corning Gorilla Glass Victus protection. The phone also packs a powerful 5,000mAh battery with 100W SuperVOOC fast charging.

In terms of pricing and availability, the OnePlus 11 5G will be available in two storage variants, starting at Rs. 56,999 for 8GB + 128GB and going up to Rs. 61,999 for 12GB + 256GB. The device will be sold in Eternal Green and Titan Black color options, with preorders starting today and sales set to begin on February 14th.

 Additionally, users who purchase the phone will receive a Google One subscription with 100GB of storage for six months.

Overall, the OnePlus 11 5G offers an impressive array of features and specifications, making it a strong competitor in the 5G smartphone market. With preorders now available, consumers can look forward to experiencing the latest and greatest from OnePlus.

[roboticchibitan]

I used to work at JoAnn's and let me give you a tip. Don't buy fabric there if you can help it. It's overpriced low quality crap. You can absolutely find fabric for just as cheap online and if you're a "have to touch it before I know if I'll hate it or not" person lots of online places sell samples.

Case in point: Robert Kaufman Kona solids. I've seen claims online that the Kona solid quilting cotton, which is the highest quality quilting cotton solids JoAnn's sells, is different and lower quality than the Kona cotton you can get at a quilt shop. I can't speak to the validity of those claims but I 100% would not be surprised if it were true. But let's set that aside and just see how JoAnn's prices measure up.

As you can see, the regular price at JoAnn's is $9.99. The regular price at this random quilting online store I spent 20 seconds on duckduckgo to find is $7.95. Sure, the sale price is 15¢ cheaper at JoAnn's. But JoAnn's is constantly playing this "our fabrics are cheap because they're on sale! Don't look at how much they regularly cost anywhere else" psychological warfare game which I do NOT appreciate.

I'm sure if you looked harder than the 20 seconds I spent on duckduckgo you could find Kona cotton for cheaper than JoAnn's has it and you wouldn't have to wonder about the quality claims. And all their fabric is like this. Maybe a decade ago it was a good deal but now? There's a reason they've gone bankrupt.

Just because I could, I compared fabric wholesale direct's price for solid color polyester Jersey knit fabric, which is regularly priced at $5.99 and is currently on sale for $5.09. JoAnn's comparable fabric starts again at $9.99/yard and that fabric is currently on sale for $6.99. There are 10 colors of the JoAnn's $6.99 fabric and 45 colors of the FWD $5.09 fabric FWD does free shipping over $99 and flat rate shipping at $7.95 for anything below that. Depending on how much you buy, you'll potentially be paying the same or less for the FWD fabric and 1. It's probably higher quality and 2. There's 4 times as many color options.

JoAnn's is good for if you need less than a yard and have the time and ability to go to the store in person. And yeah, if you're shopping in person, you don't have to pay shipping. But the quality of all their fabric is low and the "sale" prices are around the same as a place with higher quality fabric.

I buy embroidery floss and thread at JoAnn's cuz embroidery floss is cheaper in person than on DMC's website and you can't trust product photos of thread to be color accurate. And I buy sewing notions there sometimes cuz it's convenient. But even the scissors I spent $30 on there a decade ago (who knows how much they are now) were $17 at Walmart when I lost the first pair and had to replace them 4 years later.

Also they treat their employees like shit and currently no one besides store managers gets health insurance through them because the only full time position in their stores is the store manager. And even before the bankruptcy they shortstaffed and did everything in their power to avoid paying for benefits and overtime. It was the worst job I ever had and that's saying something because I worked at Walmart and had a "this creepy guy went to JAIL over what he did to me" experience there.

[guildofscribes]

Humans are Weird: Indomitable Spirit Addition.

Okay, so I've been following these sort of posts on the internet for a while now, but now I have a Tumblr and the ability to add my two cents! Humans are stubborn. They're obnoxious and juvenile and too curious for their own good. And they break. So. Much. Stuff! "I just wanted to see how it worked, I'll put it back together, promise!" Humans are incorrigible. There is no changing them into something slightly more sane, on the galactic scale.

Humans don't ever know when to quit. Ahn-skletch (well, that's as close as galactic standard characters could get to the approximation of his name) had been assigned to an away party, to go take samples and verify the habitability bracket on some Nowhere moon close enough to the human's Sol system that they picked up one of those capricious creatures for "diversity within the crew". Convenient. Humans were only ever trouble, but oh well. Maybe it would be funny to watch them. Ahn-skletch had the misfortune to be partnered with the gee-awl-uh-gyst human they'd picked up... the kind that studied rocks. Close enough to Ahn-skletch's field of ecology that they got paired up because those two fields of study were the same thing, right? Beings of the Vlistant species were not known for strict logic alongside their high intelligence rating, and the waves of mild irritation that swept over when that erroneous point had been made were truly immense. Rocks and eco systems.

Perhaps the human had been annoyed as well, but they did not show it. The human stepped over and introduced itself as "Gene, nice to meet ya'."

The human Gene did not stick out its hand, as Ahn-skletch had heard humans greet each other with touching of hands or wrapping appendages around each other, but the aborted movement was there. Which was a relief, for the reason that Vlistants did not generally greatly enjoy unnecessary contact. Humans called the phenomenon "electric shock", but that seemed to be the closest description to the sensation they received upon physical contact with other living creatures, having a slightly greater dormant charge to their organic systems. Contact = discomfort. Why bother? But that did nothing for him on the surface of the moon, where the air was breathable, though not for extended periods. That could be treated for specific species easily enough for colonizing. The ground seemed rich enough, though soft and somewhat crumbly, which likely meant the soil would be easy to work and cultivate the native edible flora. Little pools dotted the landscape with regularity, the liquid inside tested positive for consumption for 73.25% of the galaxy's sentient inhabitants, and recent signs of fauna signaled it to be a thriving system. Very encouraging signs. Until the human Gene insisted on getting a closer look at a large cliff face nearby, one with a convenient shelf to look out over the land below. Ahn-skletch followed. Humans shouldn't be left alone, after all. Too many stories circulated the galaxy for that. While the human Gene touched, tapped, made little scrapings into bottles... did they just lick the cliff wall? Well, humans were weird, after all. Ahn-skletch stepped along toward the edge of the shelf, carefully examining the organic life that stretched out and up towards the atmosphere, taking note of the smaller life forms crawling along the ground and in the flora, glancing back to human Gene now and then, taking peace from the calm and quiet. The oddest sensation came up through Ahn-skletch's pods, and then the ground seemed to rise up before their eyes!

Survival reflexes honed by many training courses were all that allowed Ahn-skeltch to close their hands around a large root exposed in the ground as they began to fell with the collapsed shelf. A singular root, sticking out of the same crumbly soil that had just fallen out from underfoot. Almost immediately, as soon as Ahn-skletch looked from the root upward to gauge how far they had fallen, Human Gene's face appeared over the edge, along with an arm that just barely reached far enough to possibly reach. "Sleechh! Grab my hand!" Human Gene, "The electric transfer will shock your system! You must find something to lower down to me!" What terrible fortune to be paired with a human! So delicate a body system, the energy transfer would surely cause the muscles to spasm and drop Ahn-skletch! What terrible odds! "There's nothing in my pack! We didn't get the climbing cord! Grab my hand! I won't drop you! Hurry!" Human Gene scooted further forward on his belly. "The ground might crumble more, and you don't want to go down with that plant, do you?" By all the low gods of the Vlistants... "There is no way! You cannot abide the electric transfer long enough to pull me up!" Desperation for survival won out. Ahn-skletch let the root go with one per and reached up, grabbed that pale human hand, expected to feel the spasm and release and the short fallback to the root... ...but it never came. That human hand clamped like a vice around it, and with a great shout, human Gene pulled upward. Ahn-skletch could not look away from the human's face as they moved up, slowly inching up the face of the outcrop that seemed to be threatening to crumble again with every particle that bounced downward over an eternity that stretched forever. Then the moment came where Ahn-skletch had to let go of the root.

It took much effort to let go, to move that grip to human Gene's arm, which brought another loud, strained noise. But human Gene's grip did not waver, and only ever kept pulling upward. Human Gene groaned, little drops appeared on their skin in the effort to keep pulling upward. Further, further, a little more... Human Gene still did not let go. Particles came loose and tumbled by Ahn-skletch, down into the great distance to the ground far, far below. The energy currant cycling through their bodies became uncomfortable for even Ahn-skletch, who was better developed to handle it. Still, human Gene did not falter, pulled a little further, and a little more...

...Then the top! And they scrambled backward to more sturdy ground. Human Gene had to pry their fingers away from Ahn-skletch's appendage, they had so tightly clenched to keep their grip as their body had spasmed with the extra electric energy.

Human Gene just flexed and rolled the joints and panted, "I guess we'll pack a rope next time, yeah?" in a most underwhelming tone. Ahn-skletch could only stare in shock. But they agreed. Always pack a rope. And privately, Ahn-skletch noted to go with a human whenever possible. Humans would not give up. To their own detriment, they would not give up. Human Gene ("For goodness' sake, call me Gene! I don't call you 'Vlistant Sleechh, do I?") suffered muscular strain and subluxation of four joints through the ordeal to pull up Ahn-scletch. Even when it brought them harm to do so, Humans did not quit. Over many cycle, Ahn-skletch would collect many more stories of humans doing similar things to save crew-mates. So many stories ended telling of much damage to the humans for their determination to keep going. Humans are strange. They are illogical, silly, crass, and troublesome. They cannot control their curiosity or their strangeness. They will adopt tiny, dangerous creatures as "pets", and will spend many hours training harmful behaviors out of their wild creatures. Humans do not know when to quit. Perhaps that is why they have spread so fast through the galaxy. They are delicate, but they are not afraid to be wounded. Either they will heal, or they will not, but the risk is worth it. It is their spirit that makes them so. Humans are not the strongest in the universe, nor will they ever be, but they are indomitable.

[redsaurrce]

LOVE SHOT - TEASER

synopsis 💉 Where jk becomes the part of an experiment where he wasn't supposed to take the love shot but ends up taking it in high dose and gets obsessed with yn by mistake

pairing 💉 YANDERE Scientist!jeon jungkook x Scientist!fem reader

genre 💉 scientist!au , main fic contains HEAVY smut (minors DNI)

teaser word count 💉 1,580

warnings 💉 -- of the main fic-- kissing, profanity, jungkook is horny AF, cumming, overstimulation, fingering, cock warming, bathroom sex, BDSM, unhealthy obsession, hella possesive, jungkook whines like a fucking loser, he's in need of too much touch, boobplay, nippleplay, neck biting, manipulative man in da household y'all- like is it his fault?? huh??

💞Doses to be prescribed everyday

Dose 1 💉

Dose 2 💉

Dose 3 💉

Dose 4 💉

Dose 5

taglist 💉 @aajjks @effielumiere @dearsullix @canarystwin @yourslut16 @imwithurmother @perfectlyfangirling @pnibts @bloodline1632 @hopeonysus @roundedreluv12 @jub-jub @maqsxi @kooscameras @jungkooksleftbigtoe13 @thatblena @yawnyanii @viridiphile @milkxgukk @outro-kook @puppiliciouslove @mata0-0mata @pk-jimin @jungchanie @ziraspells @twisted-loved @lunaofsun @inlovewithallmusic @sassyfoxunknown @teugiie @hsaranghoe @jjhmk @mryuyux @xxoverthinkerxx @fandems @hollyverday @ohmygodddsblog @fly-on-the-wall @lookformyvoice @slutforwwh @shakashakaa @meikoo @emochicksasukeee @dearly-somber

@mymomsaid-no @madnesstaking0ver @miyoung23 @outofst1le @jiminstreble @kanvis @k3lynn @imagine-this-motherfucker @dontcallmeelle @jkbabiey @1-in-abillion @bangmechanpls @uarmyhore @devils-blackrose @hrndez2008 @azur3s @erennjim @cherryunie @vynmin @fragmentof-indifference (dm/ comment/ send an ask to be tagged)

"Divorce cases are increasing at an alarming rate among Koreans, young adults are facing heartbreak more than often. Love is no more in the air, it's the gloomy winds that are gushing past us." You stopped reading the newspaper and sighed, "See? Even my woman is feeling wary about our relationship." The man sitting on the couch in front of you commented.

"Chief, I told you that we are almost done with the formula, we are in the testing mode now." You said while folding the newspaper and keeping it aside.

"Yeah of course, you have been saying that since a month now." Your chief said with dissatisfaction. You pursed your lips, "Please don't worry, we know the project is getting delayed but chief, you know better than us how important testing before marketing is. As soon as we are ready to launch the product, you and your wife will be the very first couple to receive our sample." You said and stood up to leave after bowing. "Yeah whatever, but be quick." He waved his hand as he dismissed you from his office.

As soon as you got out from the office, you received a notification from Instagram. Ye Jun, your high school classmate had posted a pic.

When you opened it, it was a class reunion photo with your ex and his current girlfriend in the frame, you hurriedly liked it and shut close your phone. The breakup with your ex was bitter and you spent days pondering over why he would breakup with you. "It was awful dating you. Why don't you date your career instead?" Were his words.

All the times when he was busy preparing for his Civil service examinations, you stayed by his side even though he couldn't afford to give you much time, it was understandable. But when it came to your career building, why did he become a jerk then?

Even thinking about him makes your blood boil, what is the use of making artificial love doses if one's heart wants something else? You leaned against the wall, your breakup wasn't based on fading hormones due to the increase of pollution of all sorts. Then those like you, would they be able to keep their love intact with the love shots?

Maybe not. But those who are desperate to stay in love, maybe for them the love shot can grant them their wishes. You smiled slightly at the thought.

Ah! You almost forgot to check the testing that was going on in the lab so you thought of going back to the headquarters.

--

Meanwhile in the lab, scientist Jeon Jungkook and his assistant, Gi Shin-won were running the test.

The test include providing the subject a dose of love shot and made them look at the opposite gender or same if necessary. The shot only works under two conditions,

The first person they look at after taking the love shot will be the one they'll feel the feelings of love unravel.

Normally works better if they have feelings of infatuation or affection even in the slightest towards the person they're looking at.

for the shot to stay affective, they need to take it every fourteen days and once the relationship has been mended, they can stop taking it and their relationship will continue on the virtue of their true feelings.

As Jungkook and his assistant noted the observation, one of the female subjects raised her hand. "Yes how may I help you?" Jungkook asked.

"Uhm.. as you can see that we've already signed the contract where it says that the experiment we are taking part in, is entirely under our willingness and if anything goes wrong then you guys won't be held responsible. I know I shouldn't question this as I willfully signed the consent papers but .. still I'm kind of worried, you see?"

He nodded, "I completely understand your concern mam, the thing is the moment we are done taking the observations, we're also providing everyone with antidotes of this shot, so if you're worried about falling in love with a stranger, it will only last a few hours and then the symptoms will wear off with our antidote." He reassured.

"Uh.. I know that. Well, yesterday one of my friends took it and said that she felt hot and all, I'm actually worried because I have a child to take care of so..." She trailed off in doubt.

"Ah? So that is what was concerning you? You thought this might be fatal?" He asked with curiosity. "No no no.. I mean.." "it's okay, I get it. Wait let me then try it on, when we said that we have put our blood, sweat and tears in it, we weren't kidding." He chuckled as he sat down on the chair where the subjects for experiment were supposed to sit on.

He opened his lab coat and folded up the sleeves of his shirt exposing his forearm to take the injection, "Shin-won please inject the shot." He requested.

His assistant gulped, "But you were supposed to observe?"

"It's alright, I can just take the antidote and Y/N will be here soon so she will continue the observation along with you." He said with a confident smile as he closed his eyes.

Shin-won slowly nodded as he thought of giving in to his pleas, he connected the wires to Jungkook's scalp and then picked up a syringe and injected 5ml of the love shot in his arm. Then an attractive lady walked in front of him and Shin-won told him to open his eyes, when Jungkook looked at the said lady, he felt nothing, the brain waves also saw no change as Shin-won looked at the monitor.

Which was normal, usually when the subject shows no change in his hormones, another person is shown to them. If no real life person catches their attention then they are shown the photos of celebrities.

Because who doesnt have celebrity crushes?

So another lady appeared in front of him, still no change. This kept going until the sixth person he saw. Shin-won sighed, "Do you by-chance have any celebrity crushes or someone you have as a girlfriend slash boyfriend slash crush?" He asked.

"I don't." He gulped as he lied, he had his biggest and fattest crush on you.

But how could he take your name as his crush and practically reveal it to everyone thus blowing his chance off even before he could do anything? Shin-won was a loud mouth afterall.

He continued, "How about you increase the dose by 5 ml? It worked at 10ml in case of subject 067 right?" He asked. Shin-won raised his eyebrows, "nice memory huh? Wait then let me inject another 5ml. Close your eyes." And Jungkook closed his eyes as his assistant prepared a fresh syringe.

"There! Now open your eyes." He instructed.

In much disappointment, he still showed no hormonal changes, Shin-won clicked his tongue in frustration, "Are scientists supposed to be extra immune or what?" He gritted his teeth but just then he got an idea.

He unlocked his phone and searched for racy pics of Hollywood celebrities, "What about this?" Shin-won suddenly flashed the pic in front of Jungkook and Jungkook immediately gasped while closing his eyes in reflex, "remove that from my face you brat!"

Shin-won removed his phone with a defeated face, "at least this should have worked for you."

Jungkook opened his eyes and looked at him in disbelief, "Do you take me for a horny teenager or something? Nudes of white women? Seriously?" He raised his eyebrows, only if the wires weren't still connected he would've smacked his assistant.

Jungkook bit his lower lip, "Give me another 5ml." He commanded.

Shin-won's eyes became wide, "What? No way! No subject has ever taken this dose above 10 ml!" Jungkook shook his head, "Then let me be that subject alright? Hurry up now." He said as he shifted in his seat comfortably and closed his eyes.

"I'll be getting killed tonight by Y/N." He said while arranging a new syringe. "I'm sure she'll understand me, afterall we need to distribute to all sorts of people, who knows how much is a lot? Maybe through me, you all will find out?" He said with his eyes still closed.

"We are already 3 times above the safe limit, are you sure?" He asked Jungkook for the last time while pointing the injection towards his arm.

"Yes ofcourse, we need to also know how much antidote should be taken to counteract the effects of such a large portion of this dose." He answered.

"Fine." His assistant said and finally injected the shot.

Just then you entered the lab and got surprised as you saw Jungkook on the subject's seat, "What the hell?" You looked at them in shock. Jungkook involuntarily opened his eyes to look at you and Shin-won looked at you as well. But just when he was about to explain to you, a beep sound shifted all three of yours attention towards the screen.

The hormonal change graph was steepingly rising and Shin-won started to panic and started searching for the antidote while Jungkook started feeling hotter with each passing second. You quickly ran over towards him and disconnected all the wires. Just as you went near the monitor, you heard a large thud from behind.

Your eyes went wide as you saw Jungkook's collapsed body on the ground.

The last words he heard before going blank were his name being called repeatedly in your muffled voice slowly fading out.

--x

To be continued...

DOSE 1

[lbxbx]

Cockpit | knj

Pair: Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon goes through a rough time while getting a divorce, meeting you at the club two weeks in a row when attraction becomes unreal.

Rating: +18 mature content, Smut, divorce, fatherhood,

Previous | Next

It’s early in the summer, about the end of June you are finally able to take a weekend off of work, the hospital you work at never gave up on you through the weekends, especially during summer weekends where most accidents occur, which is specifically the season you regret taking your medical degree.

Standing in your apartment around 8 in the evening, struggling to correct your eyeliner in front of the long full body mirror in your bedroom, you curse under your breath for fucking up your eyeliner again before putting down the pencil and smudging the stupid line you already put on your lash lines.

You applaud yourself, even though you sucked to begin with, it didn’t turn out half bad. Or at least that’s what you convince yourself.

Your phone buzzes on  your nightstand which makes the music you’re already playing on your phone go quieter, you turn while singing the missed part of the song you’re playing, you look at the screen, it’s Hoseok, your high school best friend who ended up being your really close friend even after all these years of studying abroad and being busy with work, your parents became close with his since they already love him.

You slide down the notification.

“you better be ready when im there”

“u know I hate waiting in the car”

“and you always take so long so pls be ready”

You were going to the club to celebrate the last weekend of your friend Yoongi being single, you had already chose a short flattering, but very revealing dress, barely covers your lower ass, silver that fully exposes the tattoo on your spine of a long flower that ends on the nape of your neck, your dress barely covers your lower back, with silver high heels.

You rarely get a chance to dress up because of your time consuming work that robbed all the fun out of your life, not long ago you started balancing work and having an actual life, you and Hoseok visited different clubs and went on so many hiking trip together through the past year which resulted in you making a new friend to add to your group, Hoseok is such a social butterfly and a comfortable person to be around.

Your lips curve in a soft smile, well he’s right, no matter how hard you try to manage your time, you’re always late, your fingers automatically hover over the screen to reply.

“yes sir.” With a salute emoji.

You get up and take off your pajama set and get into the small dress you chose, you loosen your big curls and make the final touches, you’re looking perfect and you knew it, tonight will be solely about having fun, Yoongi is actually getting married!

Your phone rings after a few minutes and you know it’s Hoseok, you answer and inform him that you’ll be down in seconds, you take your purse and put in your sample size perfume, phone and lipstick, before getting in your not comfortable very high heels, you turn off the lights and make your way out of the building.

You spot his fancy Porsche parked right in front of the entrance, you roll your eyes when you see him walk out the car and make his way towards you.

“Look at you.” He holds his hands out to hold yours. “You look like a disco ball.” He spins you and whistles, which makes click your tongue and look at him with your free hand on your hip.

“A beautiful disco ball.” He elaborates, he looks good too, wearing a gray suit with the first 4 buttons of his off-white shirt unbuttoned. You hug him and give him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Let’s get going we’re already late.”

Flaws and all, I love ‘em all, to me you’re perfect

The moment you walk into the club, Hoseok walking behind you with his hand on your back, slowly guiding you to the table you’re friends booked, place already packed with people. And once Taehyung spots you he gets up with his drink in his hand. “Finally.” He starts dancing, slowly making his way towards you, which makes you sway your shoulders, dancing with him and laugh at him, clearly he’s already drunk.

He hugs you in his big arms and kisses your temple softly. “There you are, I hope you enjoyed the hike you didn’t invite me to.” He says in a sarcastic note making you nudge him in the chest.

You, Hoseok, Yoongi and his fiancé Mia had went on a hike a couple weeks ago which Mia suggested and you couldn’t decline her offer, you could’ve told the boys but it all happened so quick, you didn’t get a chance to invite any of them.

“Come on, it wasn’t that fun any way.” You say subtly into his ear which he smirks and takes another sip of his drink, he hugs Hoseok before both of you approach your table, you hug Yoongi and he hugs you back. “It’s really happening huh?” You rub his back.

“I’m really putting my dick in jail.” He laughs, handing you his drink, which you don’t think twice before sipping it.

“Come on, we’re getting a round of shots!” Seokjin moves a seat away to give you space to sit, his hair grew longer than you could ever remember, he pushed it back but a few strands manage to slip on his forehead.

“You guys are already drunk?” You exclaim before taking a shot glass from him, you all stand up and clink your shots together.

“To putting Yoongi’s dick in jail!” Jungkook says loud which makes you all repeat after him. “To putting Yoongi’s dick in jail!” You swallow the shot and cringe immediately at the bitter taste, which makes you chase it with the nearest glass of juice you find on the table.

“Hey. Y/N, let’s dance.” Jimin puts his hand on your back, you shake your head immediately in refusal. “I need more alcohol.”

Jimin ends up pulling Taehyung to the dance floor, you take your seat between Yoongi and Seokjin, Hoseok already headed to the bar to grab you both drinks.

“They finally let you off work?” Seokjin asks out loud for you to hear him, you nod and straighten your back. “I didn’t take a weekend off since October.” You pout, he nods and take a sip of his drink. “You’ll figure it out soon, it’s always difficult in the beginning.”

You and Seokjin met at the bar near the hospital you work out, he’s a pediatrician resident in his 4th year, you never knew he worked at the same hospital until you met him at the bar, it was only Hi’s and Hello’s at the beginning of your friendship, but he made his way into the group when he actually showed up when you needed him, he’s a bully sometimes, which makes you laugh even when you force it out, but he’s the sweetest.

“And you?” You turn to Yoongi. “How are you not panicking?”

He rolls his eyes at you and puts his drink down, “Typical Y/N”

Studying abroad has definitely made you a bit more open minded than usual, it’s not that you refuse relationships, you’re totally not against them, but it’s just not your thing. You’ve never been through a full experience to love and be loved, but you never craved it. Back while you were studying, your week nights were devoted just for studying and focusing on your career, but on the weekends, you had to spend them out, partying, clubbing, having flings with a couple of people, you liked your lifestyle and you still enjoy it being like this.

You nudge Yoongi in his arm and add. “You’re so brave for doing this, I’m happy for you.”

“I would totally agree with Y/N, I would panic.” Jungkook shrugs, which makes you high five him.

“Come on.” Seokjin scoffs. “Jungkook wants to pound every pussy in Seoul before getting married.”

“Word.” Hoseok agrees without even getting the context while putting your drinks down, Jungkook’s mouth falls as if he was offended. “He’s not wrong.” Hoseok shrugged.

Not long after, you’re not completely drunk, but drunk enough to get on the dance floor with Taehyung and Yoongi, you’re sandwiched between them, the three of you dancing to the loud beat of music, the dance floor is crowded as hell, people making out and kissing in the corner of the club, some even grinding against each other, the place smells like a mix of perfume, cologne, and hormones.

Seokjin joins you eventually and starts dancing with you, you laugh at how stupidly drunk he is, his cheeks flushed red and his eyes barely kept open. You lean closer to his ear. “I’m gonna go grab a drink.”

You go over to the crowded bar, you hardly find a place to stand next to man waiting for his drink, you stumble on the small step you didn’t see, which you curse under your breath for not paying attention, you barely bump into the man’s elbow, you out of habit apologize while panicking. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He said, you could feel him looking down at you while you’re checking if your heels are okay, you shrug it off once it looks okay, you walk closer to the bar while leaning your elbows on it, waiting for the bartender to notice you.

“Are you okay?” The gentleman asks, right until now you realized you don’t know who this deep voice belongs to, you turn to look at him, sharp nose, a charming smile with a soft dimple on his cheek, small orbs that stare right into yours.

You visibly gulp and nod, studying his face and features more, he even dares to shoot a sweet smile at you. He knows he has a beautiful smile and he uses it as move to make.

And at this moment you realize you’ve been quite for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“Yeah. I’m alright.” You nod, you know it’s not that hot in June, but you’re sweating. He turned his face to the bartender and you notice his soft jaw and long neck, his long fingers wrap around the glass, you’re pretty sure he said something, but you were busy staring at his buff arms making their way to his back pocket to locate his wallet, your eyes chase every single movement he makes, and with his hands locating his wallet in his front pocket, your eyes fall on his thick thighs, where did this man come from?

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks, immediately making you snap out of your thoughts, you look up and clear your throat. “I’ll have a martini.”

An awkward silence and tension builds between you and the man right next to you, you want to say something but you don’t want to sound stupid, you choose to ignore your thoughts and just take your phone out of your purse and act occupied, you look very stupid when you’re deleting old pictures on your phone.

“Y/N?” He says, which makes your eyes widen and you almost choke in your own breath, you look at him again, Do you know him?

“I’m sorry?” You answer surprisingly fast, which makes him take a sip from his drink and laugh. “Your phone case is a pass card.”

You’re confused for a second, still trying to process what he’s saying, you’re drunk, but not drunk enough to be this stupid and slow and thick?

He can easily read your face and he shoots you another one of his smiles, he knows what he’s doing.

He gives you a look, which clearly means ‘Can I?’, And you shrug telling him to elaborate. He grabs your phone and flips it over still remaining in your hands, which reveals your see through phone case, that you have your hospital pass card inside it, showing your full name in a large font.

“Ah this.” You immediately turn your phone back, you hope he didn’t see too much, like where you work or what’s your job. You look back at him to see him staring right into your face, studying your features too.

“I’m Namjoon.” He reaches his hand out to shake yours, and you don’t hesitate at all to shake his hand back and feel his long fingers squeezing your hand ever so softly, both of you shaking hands and not letting go for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry for catching you off guard.” He grins, which makes you feel like something is pinching you in your stomach. “But you have your pass card on full display, which if it  makes you feel better, I just saw your first name, nothing else.”  He adds, like he knew what you were concerned about.

“Y/N!” Jungkook calls from behind, which makes you pull your hand away from Namjoon’s in the speed of light, your weird attitude doesn’t go unnoticed by him, he looks back at Jungkook and turns back to face the bar and take a sip of his drink.

“Come on, we’re popping the champagne.” Jungkook’s hand sits respectfully on your upper back, you nod and look back at him. “I’m waiting for my drink, I’ll follow you in a second.” although your drink has been sitting in front of you for the past few seconds, Jungkook is too drunk to notice and he heads back to your table, Namjoon turns to look at the sight of Jungkook joining the rest of the boys around the table.

“Your boyfriend?” He asks, which you think is a little bit over the line.

“Him?” You cringe. No offense to Jungkook, but you and him are just friends, you almost ended up sleeping with him long time ago and thankfully it didn’t happen, you’re just friends, and you’re smart enough to know it’s wrong if you did it. “Absolutely not.” You enunciate it.

Your fingers wrap around your drink and you know it’s your turn to make him look. “Nice to meet you Namjoon.” You clink your glass with his that’s resting on the table, and you turn and move your hair to the side to expose your tatted back to him, you walk towards the table and join the boys for the rest of the night.

Your night has come to an end, you’re leaning against the wall outside the club with Jimin waiting for Hoseok to bring his car, your heels in your hands and Jimin’s jacket  on your shoulders, muffled music from inside still in your ears, you’re done for the night, you’re not completely drunk, but you started having a strong headache minutes ago, you need to rest, shower and go to sleep.

You laugh at Taehyung teasing Jungkook and you join Taehyung, Jungkook ends up flipping Taehyung off and sending you a fly kiss which is way over you when you see behind him Namjoon, walking out of the club with what seems like his friends.

Ironically, you can hear the song ‘Satisfaction’ played from the inside.

Push me, and then just touch me.

Till I can get my satisfaction.

He had his suit jacket in his hands, he was rolling his shirt sleeves slowly up with his long fingers.

Are you drooling?

He sits on a near bench and just man spreads his legs, his hand taking out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket, he takes one out and puts it in between his plump lips, clicking the lighter a couple of times while shielding the flame with his other hand before it goes to his hair and runs his fingers through it, he looks around and notices you staring at him, you’re not even blinking. He hallows his cheeks while taking a drag and blows out a huge cloud of smoke.

This man walked out of a fucking book!

He doesn’t hesitate to show you his dimple one last time before winking at you, your breath hitches and your hand goes to your stomach, there’s a knot that you feel only he can make it feel better, you’re sweating more than usual, and you can feel the heat between your legs getting uncomfortable.

“Drive safe Hoseok.” Jin opens the passenger seat and looks at you, you snap out of your thoughts and turn towards the car, “Don’t forget our dinner tomorrow.” He adds.

You had already planned on a celebration dinner for Yoongi too, this time a little more formal considering some of the boys are bringing along their girlfriends. You nod and look one last time at Namjoon. You secretly wish you took his number or had a drink with him, but you’re not a girl who makes a first move, for your pride’s sake, it’s always guys making a move on you.

“Text me when you get there safe.” Yoongi leans his palms on the roof of the car, you get into the car and buckle your seat belts.

You and Yoongi didn’t meet long ago, about a year and a half ago, you were with Hoseok and Jungkook playing bowling, when Jungkook got a little too competitive and decided to challenge the table next to you, which had Yoongi, his girlfriend, now fiancé. And other friends. Yoongi won of course, which you and Hoseok admired that finally someone humbled this man, you met him again at the bowling place and you just clicked with him. He’s also offered his help since he works at a bank, he makes everything easier for you. He’s a true friend.

“Good night.” You smile at him. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You wave to the rest of the boys and they wave back, you turn to look at that bench again, Namjoon must’ve left because you can’t locate him, you lean your head back into the car seat and your hands move to the air conditioning, you’re on fire!

Hoseok didn’t drink throughout the night since he’s driving, he did take a couple sips of whine, but he’s not drunk at all.

Doesn’t take that long to get back to your place, you undress and get into the shower and clean off your makeup, you take a bottle of water out from the fridge and sit in your living room.

The images of this man is haunting you, you only know his name and his face, you don’t know what he does, where he lives, how old is he?

You look at your phone and open up your social media, shuffling between the apps and searching ‘Namjoon’. You don’t even know his last name, he could use a picture that’s not his.

Your friends admired that you were talented in finding people’s accounts, especially when one of the men had a secret crush on a girl, you would help them find her social accounts by trying to search in different ways.

And you did manage to find an instagram account, the username matching his real name, the picture was taken on a beach, a figure of a tall man with his back turned to the camera, it could be him after all

You open the account but it’s clearly not active, following 120 accounts and followed by 70, and only 1 photo uploaded. But the account is private.

You put down your phone in frustration and sigh, you end up gulping your water and going to bed. It’s just a one time thing, you won’t see him again.

Or at least that’s what you think.

It’s the moment he walks back to his house when he feels the heavy weight of the world on his shoulders, he stands in front of his apartment door, debating whether he should go inside or just go crash at his parents.

No, no. They don’t have to know.

Kim Namjoon, the successful man who went out of the box and did the extraordinary, chose an out of the box job, with a high degree. Quickly managed to pull his life together and marry—well not the love of his life, it’s the woman he got used to being around.

Married for 3 years and not once did he feel that this marriage is about them, it was about her and only her.

First year was low key not that bad but not that good either, every married couple have fallouts, but he assumes that they both have to compromise, but only he had to compromise. She wants everything done her way, she wants him to eat what she eats, go where she goes, not out of love, but out of habit of controlling people around her.

Yet he was sweet and considerate, she travelled to a different province to live with him away from her parents, maybe that’s why she’s acting like this, she’s probably homesick, he did everything he could to make it up to her, he bathed her with love and gifts and money. He wanted to show her the world quite literally, but she just refuses every act of love, even denies his touch in front of their family, never did she ever like a photo he posted of both of them, she never left a comment which he really craves. He wants to show people he loves her.

Even when he once tried to surprise her on their one year anniversary, booked her first class seats to New York on new years eve, she completely rejected and never even said thank you. Goodness, she never even gifted him on his birthday.

Second year things went significantly downhill, when they found out she’s pregnant. Planning for kids was never on the table, not that they don’t want kids, but this kid is totally unplanned for. He so desperately wants to be a dad, but he’s not sure how she feels about him, or most importantly how he feels about her. They’re married just by name.

She made up an excuse for being a tough sleeper and she wanted her own bed, he gave up the master bedroom to give her her own space, and moved out to the couch at first when he thought it was temporarily or short termed.

3 Months, 4 months..

9 Months passed, she gave birth and came up with another excuse of the baby crying at night, he had flights to catch in the morning, she doesn’t want to mess up his sleep. As if she cares.

A man has his own desires, he tried different ways, kissing her, touching, even suggesting movie nights to show her something that might make her aroused, none.

He adores his son, that’s what’s keeping him sane at the moment, although when he comes back late from work, baby Jay mostly gets ready for bed by that time. Play time with daddy is not allowed, he can’t even love his son the way he should.

His son turned 2 in their third year of marriage, he can now talk , walk, even run. And baby Jay doesn’t seem to like mommy as much as he likes daddy, although he spends most of the weekends in Ilsan with her parents, but he’s still attached to his daddy.

It was 2 in the morning, standing in front of his apartment door, the debate tonight is taking longer than usual, especially when he saw you, the astonishing lady who fucking screams his type, outgoing, gorgeous, attractive, social hence your large group of friends.

He searches his pockets before fishing out his ring, puts it back on his left ring finger, before pressing the pass code on the door, the lights are.. On?

He makes his way inside his flat and locks the door behind him, “Where have you been?” She storms out from the guests room, a huge ugly frown on her once he thought was a pretty face.

“I’m sorry, I went out with guys from work.” Namjoon’s job kind of restrained him when it came to having friends, he did have some, but they ended up getting busy with their regular jobs and life, it became easier to hang out with his co workers because they got off work together, plus they click and get along really well.

“Do you know what time it is?”

When he looks at her, he swims in a deep pond of thoughts in his head, he can’t even remember the last time she showed him skin, he did excuse her when she gave birth when she wanted to be in comforting clothes, but their soon is at her parents house, she could at least try and show some skin.

In a pair of sweat pants and an oversized stained shirt, who is he to judge, at least she’s comfortable, and those stains show her effort of being a lousy housewife.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes for the second time in a span of 4 minutes, walks closer to her, a few inches away from grabbing her hips, she immediately hovers her hand on his chest, not even touching him, signaling him to get away.  “Ew, did you smoke?” She covers her nose with the back of her hand, before turning and walking towards the bedroom while shutting off the living room lights. “Clean yourself up and go to bed, and turn of the rest of the lights, we’re paying too much for the bills.”

A small breath of frustration leaves his nose, she slams the door shut which he doesn’t even flinch, he’s so used to her being the worst human being he’s ever met.

He puts his jacket down on the couch and throws himself down on it, his head falls back and his eyes just close for a split second.

Music from the club still playing in his head when he remembers your breath taking figure walking away from him, your back explicitly making a show for him, he wished he could touch your tattoo with his fingertips at least. And what you didn’t see was his eyes roaming around your body, as if he’s not believing his eyes actually seeing someone that looks exactly like the woman he imagined having in his teenage years.

His eyes so passionately with high concentration focus on your calves and thighs, up to your ass that he wants to dive in so desperately, he admires your skin color, the small birthmark on the back of your thigh, your chest rising when your breathing quickens, up to your long neck begging for his fingers to just wrap around and for his lips to suck on, up to your lips pursing with each word and your tongue moving to your lower lip when you look at him, then finally his eyes met yours, and he finds the way you look at him insanely hot, he was never looked at like this, and he’s so positive that you both are on the same page.

His eyebrows scrunch in a frown when he rewinds the night.

Did you just flirt with someone when you’re married?  He thinks before scoffing, totally forgetting the tought that he started filing for divorce a couple weeks ago, without even letting his wife know, it’s the last thing he wanted for his son to experience his parents getting a divorce, but his marriage went down the pooper and it’s just a lost cause.

The lawyer said it’s going to take some time, especially when there’s a baby between them, but still, is he allowed to flirt with someone while still being involved in a marriage?

But fuck, what you actually do to him? He finds himself palming his jeans, slowly but surely unzipping it to make himself more comfortable, the bulge in his pants is way too tight for his liking.

He gets up and makes his way to the bathroom, undressing in seconds and getting under the running warm water, his hands move to his body lotion before he puts some into his palm and rubs it all over his sculpted big body, his hands going slowly to his already erect cock, he grabs the head tightly in between his thumb and index finger, stroking it slowly, making sure to take his time to feel the pleasure, his eyes even close and all he can see is you

Namjoon was a man with a fucking wild brain and an even wilder imagination, sudden scenarios go through his brain, you dancing, even him touching you, his eyes close tighter, not totally satisfied with his vanilla imagination, it needs to be harder.

And in a snap of a finger he can see himself fucking your tight pussy from behind, ruining you and using you to release all his frustration, he imagines kissing your spine and running his tongue on it. His messed up thoughts show him your mouth around his monstrously large dick, choking on it, and that’s when he totally gives in and grows weaker, his muscles relaxing when he shoots continuous white ribbons of cum on the shower floor, his breath going quicker when he releases, he tenses again and a small groan escapes his plump lips when he looks down at his cock still shooting cum, this has never happened with him before and it makes him wonder on the spot, fuck what are you doing to him.

His palm automatically leans on the wall for support, he starts breathing slowly to control his breath. He came hard imagining you in his hands, which if you knew you would be flattered.

He cleans himself up and gets out of the shower, gets dressed and rushes to bed, he has to pick up Jay from Ilsan tomorrow.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Beautiful Boys

Prompt Day 23: Wayne Adopts Steve | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Lingering Injuries/Trauma | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Wayne & Steve, Wayne POV

Wayne is in Hawkins Hardware, looking at the fence pickets. He definitely didn't expect them to have this many choices. He figured he'd come in and buy what he needed, from the only option available. In and out. Wallet a little lighter, but no choices to be made. 

But, no. There are options. Decisions. And he isn't sure which style Eddie would prefer. He just wants Eddie to have a place he feels safe outdoors, again.

Wayne reaches out to touch the samples, again, when he hears clattering and an "oh my god, I'm so sorry" that sounds an awful lot like Steve Harrington.

Wayne pokes his head around the corner of the aisle, and Steve is gathering up a bunch of swag hooks off the floor, swiping them back into his handbasket.

"What're you doin' with those, kid?" Wayne asks, crouching down to help him.

"Eddie's plants," Steve says, standing back up, pushing his hair back and up, out of his eyes. These boys and their hair they can't keep contained. Wayne smiles. He remembers how his (now long-gone) hair was in the sixties. Different styles, sure, but just as impractical, at times.

"Eddie's plants," Wayne repeats with a smile, then asks, "You're gonna hang them from the ceiling?" 

Steve nods, and Wayne grins, "That's a good idea, kid. He'll love that."

Eddie has gathered up a lot of houseplants recently, tending to them, taking care of them, babying them. The first ones were sent to the hospital by his friends, and Eddie latched onto them. And now, Steve drags a new one home every week or two as a gift. Eddie is still recovering, might always be recovering, but his plants make him smile and give him something to do.

Wayne doesn't quite understand it, not with the black thumb he has, but it's like everything else about Eddie. Wayne doesn't have to understand it, to support him. If Eddie wants plants, they can have a whole houseful of them.

Eddie survived something he still hasn't fully explained to Wayne, might never, so if he wants to fill the house with greenery, so be it. 

If he wants to fill the house with Steve Harrington, too, that's also just fine by Wayne.

Steve smiles shyly, "If you don't care that I put holes in the ceiling, that is."

Wayne doesn't care. "I'll help. I've got a stud finder, so we won't have them falling and cracking us on the noggin."

Steve laughs, and nods, "Thanks. What are you doing here?"

Wayne waves him over, getting Steve to follow him.

"Trying to pick fencing for the backyard. If Eddie's gonna keep dragging home strays, we'll need a place to put them," Wayne says, and Steve blushes, just a little. 

"I could make a tent work," Steve teases, and Wayne squeezes his shoulder. Steve is always, and will always, be welcome in the house.

"Good to know, but I was thinking more along the lines of dogs, cats, raccoons. You know how he is," Wayne drawls, and Steve smiles. It's wishful thinking, because they both know the real reason for the fence. Eddie doesn't want to leave the house these days.

"I just assumed I'd get dog-ears," Wayne says, pointing at the slightly-rounded piece of wood on display. "But there are choices."

Steve studies them all, finally saying "I think Eddie would like the pointed ones the most. Looks dangerous," Steve says.

Wayne nods. He was thinking the same thing.

"They're narrower, be more work to set," Wayne mutters.

Steve turns to look at him, "I'll help you, you know that."

Wayne nods. He knows Steve will. He's a good kid, who spends most of his time hanging out in their new little house, doting on Eddie in one way or another. Wayne isn't blind. He knows what this is, what these boys feel for each other, even if Eddie hasn't told him yet.

He will. Wayne just has to be patient.

"Sounds good, kid," Wayne says, and Steve grins, big and bright. Like he wasn't sure his help would be accepted. 

"I don't know much about building a fence, but I can learn. I can follow instructions," Steve assures, and Wayne pats him on the back.

"Let's double-check my math here," Wayne says, pulling a small notepad out of his pocket, rerunning his figures. 

Once he's got a good number, Wayne directs them towards the stain options. Steve picks one with a red tint, and Wayne nods. Looks good to him.

When they get to the counter, he takes Steve's basket and adds it to his.

"You don't have to do that," Steve says.

Wayne knows he doesn't, but it's for Eddie and it's just a few dollars worth of hooks and bolts. He's definitely gonna get his money back in fence-building help.

"I know, I want to," Wayne says, opening his wallet.

Outside, Steve helps the guys from the lumber department load up the trailer full of the pickets. 

"See you at home?" Wayne questions, and Steve nods and smiles.

"Yeah, at home," he answers, walking towards his car, with his small sack of hardware.

And they spend days hanging the over-abundance of plants in front of every window in the house, so many that it seems like they're living in a greenhouse, and then they work on the fence. Putting it up, picket by picket, together.

Sometimes, Eddie comes and sits on the patio and watches, but it still takes a lot out of him, even now, months later. Wayne's worried he might never fully recover. 

But, Steve works hard to entertain Eddie. Steve's funny, and he treats Eddie real good. That's all that will ever matter to Wayne. Eddie's his boy, and by extension, Steve's his boy now, too.

Eddie and Steve fight over the radio, a welcome sound, and Steve's won. 

So, John Lennon's singing about a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy. 

Wayne knows that feeling well.

He's got two of those beautiful boys, now. 

close your eyes, have no fear, the monster's gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy John Lennon, Beautiful Boy

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[steviewashere]

Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By

Rating: General CW: None!! Tags: Post-Canon, Set in the '90s, Future Fic, Comfort No Hurt, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Sappy, No Angst, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Boys in Love, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Kissing, Steve Harrington Loves Kissing, Soft Steve Harrington, Soft Eddie Munson, Marriage Proposal Song referenced in the piece is "Teo Torriatte (Let Us Cling Together)" by Queen. It's also used for the title. <3

💕——————💕 Eddie breaks away from him with a gasp. Even putting just a few centimeters of distance between them has Steve pouting, trying to come back in. “Hold on,” Eddie pants, “hold on, hold on, sweetheart. Lemme catch my breath.”

With a deep flush to his cheeks—(which is terribly fond)—Steve finally relents. One of his hands is rested on the side of Eddie’s neck, and the other on his hip. Thumbs tracing over skin, over the curled hem of Eddie’s Hellfire Club t-shirt. Even with space, Steve can’t keep himself away. Can’t help but keep himself attached, no matter how little, no matter how far away he needs to be.

“Sorry,” Steve whispers sheepishly, “I just”—

“Can’t get enough?” Eddie quietly teases. The smile on his face is small and soft, lightly amused. His eyes are half-lidded and glossy, the richness of his irises like the smell of aged paperbacks in a cafe-bookstore; they’re the heavy cups of coffee—completely black—that Steve drinks early in the morning to wake himself up. Just one look at Eddie makes him incapable of closing his eyes, he wants to take this in forever, wants to know every subtle thing that Eddie does. Like the way his tongue traces the inside of his lower lip, slow and thoughtful when he’s ravenous for something.

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that hunger directed at him. But he makes himself move, as if he could think to ever stop completely moving. Pulls back into Eddie’s magnetized orbit, rubs the tip of his nose alongside Eddie’s, and sighs contently. “Yeah,” Steve murmurs, “I can’t get enough of you.”

His lips are aching, spit slick, and warm. And yet, even with exhaustion heavy on his mind and deep in his bones, he lets Eddie devour first. Lets him sample the plushness of the lower lip, lets him lick and savor the inside of his wet mouth—even as it tastes like everything he’s had that day, even as it tastes like held back retorts that were kept away from dangerously stupid customers, even as it tastes like the long drive back to their apartment in which he sat in the driver’s seat wishing and hoping for Eddie to be next to him with that rasp in his own voice to sing the final track of Queen’s A Day at The Races. Even as his mouth tastes like the words “Be not gone,” sang with a mumble and the deepest sigh Steve could conjure from within him. He lets Eddie slobber, lets Eddie touch him softly on the insides of his wrists and in the warm creases of his elbows, lets Eddie love him the way he has always loved others. With deep infatuation, extreme curiosity, and head-first trust that could concuss either of them without a moment’s notice.

He doesn’t care, though.

They’ve been together for going on two years now. And they’ve only had sex a handful of times in all those months. Steve’s not sure what changed for him—whether it be that Eddie’s a little inexperienced, or whether it be that Steve’s just tired of giving his body and not getting anything long term out of it. But he finds that he doesn’t mind this. The saccharine slowness that ends his every waking day. The way Eddie is so eager to see him, even after all this time. The way he can expect to be treated as if nothing will ever separate them from the moment they met and onward. He knows, deeply and truthfully, that nothing will separate them—this is it.

It’s coming home. It’s being held on the sofa while watching a movie. It’s kisses to the back of his neck as he’s brushing his teeth. It’s getting his hair pinned back while he’s making spaghetti for dinner. Pulling down two mugs from the cabinet, Garfield and Boba Fett, and knowing what will fill Garfield’s smug face every morning. Writing out a month long calendar with their initials—E at Hellfire 8pm, S at Work 5pm. Tense knots being massaged by careful thumbs and a forever question, “Do you want chamomile or green tea?” Splaying palms on backs, scrutinizing for new moles, counting summer freckles, drawing ballpoint masterpieces for one another to admire in the mirror later. Putting on a Metallica t-shirt in the dark, putting on a red sweater in the dark; saying one another looks better that way, meaning it. Herbal Essence next to Suave strawberry—sometimes smelling themself on the other.

It’s coming home.

Steve pulls back after a moment, needing to catch his own breath. That same fond expression on Eddie’s face, half amused and completely in love. He’s still not sure what to do when Eddie looks at him that way. It makes him want to scream. Makes him want to run a lap through their narrow hallway, wake up the neighbors below them and shout about how loved he is—crazy eyed and foolishly grinning, knowing he’ll never have to wonder if there’s somebody out there who could love a person like him. Because there is a person out there and he’s syrup-sappy, soft in a way that his beaten up battle vest wouldn’t say.

When Eddie tries to dive back in that time, Steve stops him. Holding him in place with palms on either side of his face, handsome and doe-like all at the same time. Finds himself caressing his thumb on the edge of the silvery, aged scar that swamps the lower left of Eddie’s cheek, pinching the corner of his mouth—effectively making each one of his smiles endearingly crooked. He catches himself just admiring Eddie, but doesn’t make himself stop. Who in their right mind would stop?

“Eds, will you marry me?” Steve asks softly, murmured and measured, careful. He’s not afraid of the answer, whatever it’ll be. Even if it’s a solid ‘no’. Because they’ll have time, he assured that when they saved the world six years ago—when he watched Eddie recover, when he held his hand, when he soothed him through terrible physical therapy appointments, when he suggested they get away from Hawkins and move-in together, and when they tentatively started dating a short time after it all. When he let his heart beat out of his chest and lay in the center of Eddie’s palms, whispering for it to be loved, to be kissed, and to be cherished with Eddie’s touch alone—met instead with everything and words, too.

“It won’t be legal,” Eddie whispers in turn.

Steve shrugs. “Who cares?”

Eddie chuckles. Not nervous. Not tepid. Not denying. Fond. So terribly fond.

“Yes, baby,” is the answer. Eddie’s hands splay on the backs of Steve’s. Fingers curling to trace gently on Steve’s veins, reverent in ways Steve didn’t know a person could be. “You beat me to the question.”

“Good,” Steve murmurs. He leans in, pecks Eddie on the tip of his nose, the center of his lips. “Lasagna tonight?”

Eddie hums. He’s not thinking about it, Steve knows. Because the answer is always, “Fuck yeah, sweetheart. You want my help?”

“In a minute,” Steve says, “I’ve got something to do really quick.”

And they know this song and dance. Steve’s hands fall away from Eddie’s face, instead resting on the sides of his neck. He tastes Eddie, too. Because dessert before dinner is always the way to go. Besides, they’ve got time. He’s not worried. Not with Eddie.

💕——————💕

[thegeminisage]

ok let's revive some 1960s discourse

(clearer text in image IDs & below cut reblog for sample size etc etc etc)

VULCAN GAMBIT by Shirley Meech

Most authorities agree that the main traits of a winning chess player are power of visualization, memory, alertness, calmness, psychological shrewdness, and will to win. Let us consider the series of games between Captain Kirk and Mr, Spock, of the U.S.S. Enterprise, Several times, we have observed them using that beautiful, unique, and -unhappily- unavailable version of the 3-D chessboard, and we are reliably informed that Captain Kirk generally wins. (1) Comparison of the two men in respect to these six attributes is therefore quite interesting.

Power of visualization: Mr, Spock is clearly superior in this category; he does complicated mathematical computations in his head, and carries on casual conversation at the same time. (2)

Memory: Mr, Spock again has the edge. He has many times demonstrated a memory capacity superior to any other on the Enterprise, with the possible exception of the ship's computer. (3)

Alertness: Spock again probably has the edge here.

Calmness: Spock, easily.

Psychological shrewdness: Again, Spock has the edge. He has been known to trick Kirk into doing things he did not intend to do, (4) and even to talk his way out of following Kirk's orders, (5)

Will to win: The edge here belongs to the Captain. (6)

Of course, it is understood that neither Spock nor Kirk is at all deficient in any of these qualities. However, with Kirk leading in only one of the six categories, how can he possibly win so frequently?

The answer is simple, Spock's psychological shrewdness takes into account Kirk's relentless will to win. (7) His memory and power of visualization paint a vivid picture of Kirk when his will is frustrated, (8) a condition which bodes ill for anyone in range. With alertness and calmness in this crisis, Spock maneuvers the games so that Kirk wins. With a final touch of the psychological shrewdness, he allows Kirk to believe that his "illogical" style of play has triumphed over Spock's logic. This puts the Captain into a frame of mind which is beneficial to his self-image, his efficiency rating, and the well-being of the crew in general. (9)

The Vulcan, of course, would be the last to admit this; but it would not be the first time he has deceived his friend for what he considered a valid logical reason. (10)

How, if we could only ascertain whether he has accepted Doctor McCoy's offer to teach him the game of poker….or is that why McCoy was seen grumbling along the corridor today, without his shirt?

(1) "Charlie X," "Where Ho Man Has Gone Before," "Court Martial" (2) "Tomorrow is Yesterday" (3) "Miri," "Arena," "The Naked Time," others (4) "Shore Leave" (5) "Devil in the Dark," "Operation .'Annihilate" (6) "Errand of Mercy," "The Corbomite Maneuver," "The Squire of Gothos," others (7) "Menagerie" (8) "The Naked Time," "Charlie X," others (9) The opinions expressed herein are not necessarily those of yeds. (10) "Menagerie"

[A drawing by "DEA" of Spock smiling at a small bird-like alien in his palm. The caption reads, "Don't laugh. You are fascinating too.]

[luxenvulpies]

[Missing-Link] CBT2 Info

The second closed beta test has begun! This post will be updated as I spot info worth sharing (and when I'm available). Apologies for any weird formatting.

[CBT1 info] for reference. I don't expect any huge changes, however.

Character customization

Voice options

Voice samples (From what I know, it's JP voices in both JP and EN versions. No idea if we'll get EN or other languages.)

New default outfit

Hair colour, heterochromia

UI

Most elements can be moved to your liking (Was in CBT1 but I forgot to include it in that post...)

A bunch of Pieces and their ability icons

Gameplay

Environmental walking sfx

Moogle Shop (Purchase with jewels, free daily item)

Emotes (For your profile at least)

> Animated

Activity log with rewards

Fortune's Gear evolution stages (+1, +2)

Gacha

Standard banners have no pity, 10-draws guarantee a rate-up Piece

This Dark Riku Piece is only available from clearing Behemoth raids with a low drop rate; it cannot be pulled via gacha

Story (Spoilers)

Chapter names (Shipwrecked, Tracker, Society, Astral Plane, The World of Distortions)

All cutscenes (JP voice, EN sub) - lots to unpack

Some translations of the Scala text seen in one of the cutscenes

Other Stuff

Stickers (that will be very familiar to the KHUx players)

Stop playing and go touch some gra-- wait.

Bugs and other Issues

Black screen after character creation

[fytko-mobile-specs]

New Sony Xperia 1 V: A High-End Smartphone to Look Forward To

Sony, the Japanese smartphone manufacturer, is rumored to launch its new smartphone, the Sony Xperia 1 V. Although the company has not officially announced the phone, leaks, and rumors have been circulating online. The Sony Xperia 1 V is expected to succeed the Sony Xperia 10 IV, which was launched last year in May.

Design and Features:

The leaked images of the Sony Xperia 1 V suggest that the phone will have a sleek design, featuring a triple camera setup on the rear panel with an LED flash placed inside the camera island, different from the Sony Xperia 10 IV. In addition, the image also reveals an NFC logo on the right of the camera island.

Display and Performance:

The Sony Xperia 1 V is expected to come with a 6.5-inch 4K HDR OLED display with bezels and a 120Hz refresh rate, making it ideal for gaming. The display has an aspect ratio of 21:9 and a touch sampling rate of 240 Hz. The phone will be powered by a Snapdragon 8 Gen 1 SoC and will have 12GB of RAM and 512GB of storage. It will run on Android 12.

Camera and Price:

The Sony Xperia 1 V is rumored to come with a triple rear camera setup, equipped with three 12-megapixel Exmor RS image sensors. As for the price, the Sony Xperia 10 IV was priced at $1,599 (approximately Rs. 1,23,500) in the US, and it is expected that the Sony Xperia 1 V will also be priced similarly.

Unveiling Event:

According to a report by Sumaho Digest, Sony may unveil the Sony Xperia 1 V at MWC 2023, which is set to begin on February 27 in Barcelona.

In conclusion, the Sony Xperia 1 V is a high-end smartphone to look forward to, with its sleek design, powerful performance, and advanced camera capabilities. With MWC 2023 just around the corner, we can expect to hear more about the phone soon.

[sloanedestler]

what adam lute fics would u reccomend? preferably like one shot/two shots lollolol thanks! Also i really liked ur recent adam lute fic

First of all, thank you for the ask, anon, and second of all, sorry this took a while. Getting things done in a timely fashion isn't always my strong suit (heh), but anyway, some Adam and Lute one shots? Heck yeah!

Also, I should add that I'm still pretty new to this ship, so I'm sure there's a LOT of Guitarspear fics out there that I haven't come across, but for a sampling of some fun ones I've read so far, with the author's description, rating, and a few general thoughts of my own

Lifeline by @nutal - Adam has issues properly telling Lute how much he loves her, but she comforts him and reassures him the whole way. Rated M. Some really good emotional hurt/comfort here, and really in character dialog

Worship by @deadgirlwalking91 - Adam had never truly appreciated the gym, nor the necessity of stretching post-workout...until now. Not rated. Adam gets a little, uh, worked up when he accidentally sees Lute working out, and she doesn't seem to mind :)

Whiplash by @a-dose-of-comatose - Lute gets injured during training, and in an attempt to avoid the wrath of Sera’s paperwork, Adam decides to personally take care of his Lieutenant. Rated G. Adam insists on taking care of Lute, she's reluctant to let him, and some really emotional softness ensues

Diligent Hands by SitaraDawn - Lute has a sexual fixation with Adam's exceptionally large hands. Rated E. Yes, it's every bit as good as the description implies, really excellent smut that's in-character and very emotional

A Little Touch of Heaven by jaded_heart - Lute ruminates on how the birth of their daughter has changed both her and Adam. Rated T. This fic covers a topic I didn't even know I needed until very recently, Adam being a soft and protective dad, and it really delivers on the family sweetness

So, hopefully there's some in here you haven't read! And if anyone has any more Guitarspear fics they want to rec, please feel free to add on. I've got at least four longer fics queued up and ready to go, but I'd love to see more of what's out there myself!

And again, thanks for the ask! It really made my day to get this, and more are welcome anytime!

[avocado-writing]

i never see any crowley x reader fics where he’s a bottom 🥲🥲

could i request a crowley x reader fic where top!reader pegs crowley ?? it’s what he deserves

notes: sub!crowley like he deserves in this

pairing: crowley x reader

rating: E

“Colour?”

“Unffff— green…!”

“Good boy.”

Crowley likes to be fucked, this much you know to be true. If there were a dictionary definition of “pillow princess” his picture would be in the footnotes for it. He likes to be spread out on his back, slim thighs akimbo; bent over the nearest available surface; folded at the waist over your lap. Any way where he gets your full and undivided attention.

He will take any sample from the smorgasbord of pleasure you offer. His arse or his cock or his cunt, no matter what you touch he’ll get off. Right now he’s splayed out on the bed, practically coquettish in the way he moans and thrusts upwards into your touch, flushed such a deep red you think he might pop a blood vessel. You’re inching the silicone cock between your legs into him very slowly. It’s thick, you’ve had to work up to it over the evening: using bigger and bigger sizes to both prepare and tease him. His hole flowers open under your ministrations and you watch as his body swallows you.

“Fu-uu-ck,” you growl, thrusting forward a little so that your hips fit snugly against his. His mouth opens in a silent orgasmic scream and his cock floods out precome. He’s so hard that he’s bobbing against his own stomach, leaving pearly trails between his slit and the fine hair beneath his navel. 

“Look at that, Crowley. You open up so beautifully for me…”

“Aaah. Please. Please…” he doesn’t seem to know what he’s begging for but does so anyway. His hand reaches up for you and you clasp it in midair, threading your fingers through his and squeezing. Yes. You’re here. You’ll keep him anchored in the moment.

Slowly you begin to undulate your hips. The dildo makes a filthy noise where you’ve made sure it was suitably prepared to slide into him and Crowley chokes. After two thrusts he’s begging. After five he’s a whimpering mess, and after ten he’s totally lost the power of speech. All he can do is lie there and let you fuck him. But the whole time you talk him through it, your voice honeyed and thick, reassuring him you’ll give him exactly what he needs.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Relax. You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you? So fucking good for me, such a pretty little demon… so obedient…”

Crowley paws desperately at your chest, simply unable to vocalise what he wants from you. But you know him well enough now to sense it. You slow down your fucking to a more leisurely pace so that you can reach over, practically bending him in half, and press a kiss to him. His face is sweaty but his lips are needy and searching. He presses his tongue to yours submissively. He wants you to take whatever you want from him - and right now, that’s his third orgasm of the night.

You take his cock in your hand and it only takes a couple of pumps until he’s done, spilling all over himself with such force he splatters onto his chest. He collapses utterly boneless and thoroughly sated, you pull out of him with as much care as you did entering him. He moans and a little more cum dribbles from his softening cock. You unbuckle the strap as you head to the ensuite, grabbing a wet flannel and a glass of water for your lover.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

He manages to nod with enthusiasm, still not quite able to form words. He gulps down the water that you offer him though.

“There we go, handsome,” you mutter. He nuzzles into you affectionately, his breathing slowly stabilising as you clean up the mess.

“Fuck. Needed that,” he eventually croaks out. You chuckle and drop a kiss into his fiery hair.

“Any time you need it, gorgeous.”

“Love you,” as he says that he blushes brighter than when you were several inches inside him.  You hide your grin.

“I love you too.”

Taglist: Taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@specter-soltare@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@willbedecided@cool-iguana@this--is--music@ilyatan@lxsm2@clarina04@wtfhasmy-lifecometo@mrgatotortuga@wereallbrokenangels@night-affiliate@kimqueenofhell@chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t@am-i-obsessed---maybe@bakerstreethound@darktealrat@chaospossum@belilwen@rex-ray @hunterispunk

[lightyaoigami]

hi, monica. i trust your taste because i love your writing. what are your favorite niche lawlight fics? (that is, stuff you've read that not many people in the fandom would know.)

hope that you're having a good break and come back to fic refreshed (of course, if you want to). <3 your readers won't go anywhere.

hi wow what a sweet and touching message to receive ;_;

i don't know what counts as niche tbh i will just recommend some here that i don't necessarily see as often as like idk tithe to hell or those. this is in no particular order. i actually forgot to add the ratings to the list below so just be mindful of that if that's something important to you!

the primrose path by tsukinousagi: 1.5k, a beautifully done elizabethan au inspired by hamlet. as you guys probably know i am a hamlet freak and this is laser-targeted to me, the guy who has had the username theprinceofdenmark for 15 years.

summa cum laude by whydoeseverythinghappensomuch: 13k, an incredibly atmospheric college au. reminds me so much of the secret history that it makes me want to chew my own fingers off.

tear you open live inside you by anonymous: 3k, mind the tags. excellent, super in-character blood and gore. consensual but not safe or sane. you get it.

unkissed for a million days by anivhee: 1.7k, this is after L dies but it's still lawlight. it's unhappy but i liked it even as a lawlight freak and fix-it enjoyer.

what i meant to say by booklovertwilight: 6.6k, a paratext collection of light's letters to L after his death.

twenty-three by haydonjames17: 4.7k, an utterly devastating birthday for light after L's death. i'm sensing a theme in my favorites here clearly i need help of some kind.

fifteen stories down by the-night-gods-moon: 7k, this is the closest i'll get to enjoying whump. the boys get stuck in rubble after a building explosion. this fic is profoundly underrated.

our little secret by avoidfilledwithcelluloid: 3k, i actually cannot describe this one it's so good and quite unique! it's a fresh way of writing their antagonism.

hear no evil by sharptoothed: 4.5k, so few people understand how to write misa in a lawlight context but isa nails it. it's also hot so sue me.

i know the way it ends before it's even begun by halfpromise: 15k, a side story to THE death note fic of all time, those. i am deeply biased because i got a shout-out in the dedication but this fic absolutely never fails to make me tear up. it's beautifully written, moving without being trite, and is as close to a happy ending as those!lawlight will ever get.

anyway. this is but a small sample of lawlight fics that make me insane and unwell. this was a very very nice ask to receive i am genuinely moved and i literally didn't know that anyone even noticed i was on hiatus. <3

[adventuringblind]

Poison Needles

George Russell x Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Request: yes! I hope this gives you the comfort you need :)

Summary: reader had OCD and it presents in mostly extreme paranoia. When the intrusive thoughts take over at the Doctor, George is there to help.

Warnings: OCD, Doctors, intrusive thoughts, needles,

Notes: so I don’t have OCD but I hope I was able to do it justice. Also, George seems like the kind of guy to be very sweet in these scenarios.

Italics are for thoughts

Masterlist

Doctors.

Evils creatures who’s entire purpose is to get in your personal space and tell you your problems.

Who’s to say it’s not them anyways.

Absolutely not.

Doctors are their to help.

Their job is to save not hurt.

But without humans getting sick then they have no job. No purpose.

You internally scream at the unwanted thoughts in your head, fighting the voice that is telling you lies. It’s exhausting. You can’t help but jump out of the car just to get it to go away.

The car that is taking you closer to the doctors.

It’s never going to end at this rate.

“What’s going on in the pretty head of yours?” Asks the tall Brit in the drivers seat.

“Nothing.”

Maybe he’s also trying to poison you.

It’s for my own good.

If it’s good why does it hurt so much?

“I’ve been with you long enough to know when your struggling.”

“What if they try to kill me?” You look at him. Your hands shaking with anxiety now. The urge to escape getting worse.

“I’ll hurt anyone who tries.” He glances at you for a brief moment and send you a charming smile. “Want me to hold your hand?”

His hand in yours stops you from trying to jump out of that car.

Not that it would matter because then you’d just end up at the hospital anyways.

~

The waiting is going to kill you.

That’s the doctors job.

Your foot is tapping a hole into the floor and your mind is telling you to run out the door and never look back. But George is still holding your hand. He’s sitting right next to you using his thumb to rub circles on it.

The tears start as soon as the doctor comes in with the IV kit. Your body tries to lurch from the seat but George was prepared. As always.

The needle is sealed is can’t be poisoned.

Maybe it’s not the needle. Maybe it’s in the disinfectant.

“Hey, look at me, I won’t let anyone hurt you.” George’s calming voice sounds like it’s being drowned out, but it’s there.

“It’s the disinfectant, it’s going to poison me and the needle will push it in my skin.” Your whole body is squirming now. You can see the doctors mouth moving but there is no sound.

The doctor locks the front of the chair in place. Another evil tool. It’s supposed to make sure you don’t fall out of it if you pass out, it really it’s to prevent your escape.

George sets himself in front of you, making it so you can only focus on him. “I promise when your done I will take you out for whatever comfort food you want, but you have to give the doctor your arm first.”

You rapidly shake your head no. Silently pleading with him to not let the doctor touch you.

“Is there anyway I can do this first?” George turns his attention to the doctor.

You watch as George lets the doctor get everything ready. Not a blood draw, just some fluids. To show you that he won’t let anything happen.

He’s going to die.

Your going to let him die.

Your sobbing now. He’s still holding your hand and reassuring you as the needle slide into his skin and hits his vain. The fluids leaving the tube and push into his skin.

Then it’s over. Your thoughts are screaming as the doctor finishes and leaves to get a new kit.

“See, I’m okay. I promised to always protect you, and that applies to the doctors also."

The doctor cones back in, and you take a deep breath. Your free hand clings to George while the doctor sets things up.

It feels like forever in your head when, in reality, it was less than a minute.

The doctor gets the blood samples and the leaves to give you and George a minute to calm down.

"How are you feeling?"

"Alive."

"That good." He smiles, running his fingers through your hair as you slump in exhaustion. "Do you want comfort food?"

You nod your head, yes. Words are too difficult, and your mind still feels like it's reeling.

It's not until you get out of the doctor's that you can finally breathe. And you only let yourself relax when the building is out of eyesight.

"Thank you, for getting me through that."

"You're stronger than you think, love. Fighting your own mind must be so difficult."

"It gets harder sometimes and today was one of those days."

"Well, I promised I'd help you through it, and I always will."

[outtoshatter]

Author spotlight for this week is: All-or-nothing-baby / @teencopandthesourwolf! They have lots of great fics to choose from. Here's a little sample of their most recent stories!

Rated T:

Love Yew | T | 2k tags: magic, established relationship, angst with happy ending, slice of life Summary: “It's an Apology Leaf. Obviously.” Obviously.

OR Navigating the established relationship, with some emotional hurt/comfort, a maybe magic tree (that isn't the blasted Nemeton) and puns. So, just an average day in the lives of Derek and Stiles, really.

Dude | T | 1k tags: angst with happy ending, grief/mourning, falling in love Summary: That was the last time somebody put their arms around Derek—and the last time he saw his sister alive. It was two years ago. Derek doesn’t think he has taken a full breath, since.

OR Stiles hugs Derek. Derek consequently freaks out a little (shocker).

Haystack Charm Around Your Neck | T | 13k some tags: canon divergence, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, scent marking, mates Summary: “Maybe you could just, like, couch surf for a while? Just till you get fixed up. Or maybe even… chair surf?" Stiles suggests, now nodding at the armchair in the corner of his bedroom and chewing on that rosebud lip of his again. Derek looks at the armchair like it's the most confusing thing he has ever seen, and then back at Stiles as if he's changed his mind about that and it is actually the sixteen-year-old in front of him who is the true mystery. "Offer's there, dude," Stiles shrugs. "Don't—“ “Call you dude? Yeah, probably never gonna happen. Sorry, dude. I'd just try and get used to it if I were you." And then Stiles is once again spinning around to face his computer and is seemingly slipping straight back into Hyper-Research Mode. Derek is a little horrified when he finds himself now considering this kid as not just Stiles: Scott's Idiot Best Friend, but as Stiles: Maybe-Friend of Derek. When an image of Stiles's mouth pops up in his mind's eye, Derek also wonders exactly when it was that he started looking at Stiles in that way.

OR Oblivious!Derek and the epitome of the tags: #Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things and #Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing

Like a Little Prayer | T | 1k tags: slice of life, friends to flirts, Hale pack 2.0, everybody lives-nobody dies Summary: “I asked because I wanted to know if you were okay, man," Stiles divulges, as if that's nothing at all. As if it's something Derek hears often. He tilts his head to catch Derek's eye—which works, of course. Because it always works, no matter the nature of the moment they're caught up in. "Like, I was concerned, y`know?” Derek feels guilty just for looking. And not only because he wants to touch but because he wants to let Stiles care.

OR Derek doesn't understand why Stiles gives a shit. So, Stiles tells him.

Spicy (Rated M or E):

The Cross he Bears | M | 734 tags: established relationship, Dom/sub undertones, Stiles takes care of Derek Summary: Stiles knows exactly how to take care of his wolf.

Love Like Ghosts | E | 744 tags: choking, under-negotiated kink, breathplay, established relationship Summary: They both know not talking about this isn't okay, isn't healthy, but—and God knows why—Derek loves Stiles. So, the big guy, he gets it: that the best thing isn't always the right thing.

Tastes Like Home | E | 379 some tags: plot-what-plot, porn with feelings, Derek takes care of Stiles, 1st POV Summary: It’s never quite enough... What does he need? Maybe, he just needs more. OR Derek takes care of Stiles and finds exactly what Stiles is looking for: an anchor.

Remember to mind the tags, leave a kudos, and maybe even drop a comment! Go check out their AO3 page for their entire collection of works!

[envysnest]

Snakeskin (Sephiroth/Reader) (ch. 14/?)

AO3 / Pillowfort

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14

Tags: First Time, Reader-Insert, Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Frank Discussions of Past Rape/Abuse, Everyone is Queer, Canon-Compliant (if you squint), Pre-Crisis-Core Seph, Slow Burn, i continue to disappoint my friends and family, sephiroth is a virgin and in this essay i will, Reader is a Cis Woman, fluffy sex, Praise Kink, Gratuitous Biochemistry

Summary:

You are a young biologist, fresh out of graduate school, working in Shinra's R&D Division under Professor Hojo. You had long since given up on finding a partner and starting a family, preferring instead the company of your cell samples and your scientific instruments.

As the conflict in Wutai worsens, you strike up an unexpected friendship with a First Class SOLDIER.

(Sephiroth/Reader Slow Burn)

TW's for this chapter: A graphic nightmare in the first part, literally the first sentence. Beyond that, this chapter is explicit again! Very light, consensual dom/sub dynamics (if you squint).

—

“Doesn’t that,” said Sephiroth, blood spilling onto your chest, “simply,” he drove Masamune in deeper, “delight you?”

—

You screamed. Everything around you was pitch-black. You thrashed; something was tying you down. You had to get out. 

You had to get out. 

You had to—

Someone said your name sharply. A hand touched your shoulder. “Hey.”

You gasped for air. You sat up and stared out into the darkness.

Something moved next to you. “What’s wrong?” the voice whispered. “Everything alright?”

Though you still couldn’t see, the room smelled familiar. The hand squeezed your upper arm. The ground— no, you weren’t on the ground. You were in a bed. The covers were twisted around your legs; they pressed upwards on the balls of your feet, straining them, as if you had been running in place. The hand released your arm and touched its knuckles to your heated forehead.

“Where am I?” you choked out.

“You’re home,” Sephiroth whispered. “With me. You’re safe.”

Home. 

You tried to roll over, but the sheets caught on your limbs. Slowly, you extracted one arm, then another. You fumbled blindly until you found where the covers had curled around your ankles. Sephiroth’s hands bumped against yours as he helped you.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Hogging the covers.”

“Bad dream?” His voice was bleary from sleep.

You weren’t able to answer before he pulled you into a tight embrace. You went limp in his arms, burrowing against his warm chest.

“I’m here,” he murmured. You heard his voice from far away; it lilted and faded around the edges of your consciousness, all soft little promises against your hair. You closed your eyes and breathed him in.

"You’re okay,” he whispered. “I’ll protect you.”

—

The morning sunlight beamed directly into your face. You groaned, turning towards the pillow and burying your face into it.

It took a moment to realize you weren’t alone. Warm breath tickled the top of your head. You put a hand over your brow, shielding your eyes from the blazing sun.

Sephiroth dozed next to you. He had tucked himself under the covers; only his plain gray shirt was visible. You weren’t sure when he had put it on. There was a paperback lying, face-down, on his stomach. One hand pinned it in place, squishing the spine flat: The Vampire of Misty Moor. The vampire in question- with his hair slicked back and mouth open in mid-bite— held a swooning, scantily-clad woman in his arms. Sephiroth’s other hand lay just next to your thigh, as if he had tried to reach for you and fallen asleep on the way there. One of his long sleeves rode up; the sunlight caught the fine silver hair dusting his forearm.

You reached out and, as tenderly as you could, brushed your fingertips against his chest; it rose and fell steadily, lifting your fingers with every inhale. His eyes moved slightly behind his eyelids: he was dreaming. What of, you wondered? He looked so peaceful.

You thought about Sephiroth as a small boy, holding that woman’s photo tightly to himself. It had been folded carefully into quarters, over and over again, in so many different places: he must’ve taken her everywhere. Wish You Were Here; postcards; photos; unfolding and re-folding her so many times that the film started lifting at the creases. How young was he when Shinra forced him in front of a camera? Was it before or after they placed a sword in his hand?

What was it like, being in the business of violence? When did he decide he wanted to kill? When had this gentle creature become something so frightening?

Sephiroth inhaled sharply. He turned his head away from you, brow furrowing. You snatched your hand away— did you wake him, he needed his rest, you’ve done nothing but bother him— and he groaned. He turned to look up at the ceiling. Even in profile, his confusion was visible. He frowned and pawed at his eyes. 

When he finally looked down at you, where you were lodged firmly against him, he raised both eyebrows, a silent question: Where am I?

“Morning,” you said up at him.

He blinked owlishly at you. Slowly, his expression went from bewildered, to wary, to—

Pleased.

He rolled towards you. The book slid off of him and thunked in the valley between your bodies.

Sephiroth made a surprised little oh. “Sorry,” he whispered. He picked up The Vampire of Misty Moor and set it aside on his nightstand.

You rolled onto your back. “Light reading?” you asked.

Sephiroth rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment as he turned back to you. “Now you know,” he murmured. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Guilty pleasure.”

You placed your hand on his chest, rubbing gentle circles above his heartbeat. Sephiroth reached to your right side, pulling himself on top of you and trapping your hand between your bodies. You smiled up at him. “You’re allowed to have those. You’re only human.”

He smiled back. “Only just,” he replied.

“Did you train this morning?” You winced. “Sorry about waking you up last night.”

“Well…” His mouth twisted, and for a moment, you worried he was about to tell you off. “One, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Maybe not, then. You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Two,” he said, “Yes, I went in.” Sephiroth tilted his head. His bangs whispered against your cheek. “Didn’t I wake you?”

You drummed your fingers on his chest. “Not this time,” you said. “Must’ve slept through the alarm.” How strange, that his life was already becoming so intertwined with yours: the morning alarm situating itself, without fanfare, into your weekend mornings.

Sephiroth settled his weight on his forearms. “You made a little noise in your sleep. It was very endearing.”

You hazily remembered your dreams: something terrifying. Something involving him. You stopped drumming your fingers. “Do I…” You hesitated. “Talk in my sleep?”

“Nothing so coherent.”

Part of you wanted to ask what he had said to you in the middle of the night. Hadn’t you woken up screaming? Every time you tried to reach for the dream, it slipped further and further away. All you remembered was him gathering you to his chest afterwards: his heartbeat, his voice, his smell. Home.

With your free hand, you traced his bottom lip. His lips parted; his eyes flashed with obvious excitement. You smiled.

“I didn’t kiss you yesterday,” you said softly, breath hitching as he kissed your thumb.  “Should probably fix that, right?”

“Hm.” He looked up at the ceiling, mouth twisting, like he was deep in thought. After a moment, he shrugged, smirking down at you. “Probably.”

You slid your hand along his jaw, moving to grasp the back of his neck, and Sephiroth’s lips met yours halfway. He was far more gentle than you remembered: a whisper of skin-against-skin, a tender response to an invitation, a soft breath against your tongue. It made you fall open to him all over again. You couldn’t believe this was the same man had you cowering from him just the night before— in your apartment, in his bed— when he already seemed so familiar to you.  His thumbs dipped behind your earlobes, pushing gently into that soft, secret flesh, and you sighed with pleasure. He smiled against your mouth. You slipped your thumb underneath his sleeve and rubbed his wrist, making him sigh.

You wanted to see what he’d do, now that you understood what he was capable of. Perhaps he’d do away with the gentle words and longing looks and tentative hands, all that romantic tenderness a disarming guise. But all Sephiroth seemed to want to do was kiss, lazily, in the morning sunlight. 

You slid your trapped hand out from under him, hooking your arms under his to embrace him properly, and he broke the kiss long enough to watch you. His eyes were already closed when he leaned in to your lips again: a given thing, that you would kiss him back. It had always been a given thing. 

Trailing your foot up his leg opened your body to his, inadvertently pressing yourself against his hipbone: not enough to tease, not even enough to stimulate, but an inviting motion nonetheless. Sephiroth sighed into your mouth. It would be easy enough to push him away, to kiss down the column of his neck and suck bruises into his collarbone until he was a flustered mess, to let him take you however he liked.

Sephiroth broke away, but it wasn’t to undress you. Instead, he leaned away to catch your eye again, smiling when he did. He stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“Look at that face,” he said. “So cute.”

You turned your head, just enough to nuzzle into his palm. He chuckled above you. 

“You’re being sweet,” you said. “I…” You swallowed. “I missed you. A lot.”

He scrunched his nose. “Aww. How adorable.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so mean.”

“Oh, come now. Don’t be that way.” Sephiroth leaned to one side and, effortlessly, rolled you on top of him. The switch was disorienting; you wobbled, and he pressed one wide palm into the small of your back to steady you. “For your information,” he said, “I missed you, too.”

You rested your cheek against his chest. “You’re forgiven,” you mumbled.

“Don’t forgive me just yet.” He tilted his head and smirked. “I wanted to tell you how good it is to see you up there again.”

You smiled, lifting your head. Ah. Maybe he did understand how to initiate. You brushed his hair out of his face.“Go on.”

The smirk faded. His eyes shifted from yours— just the tiniest bit, a hint of nervousness that he quickly smothered. “About?”

“About…what you want with me? On top of you.”

Sephiroth raised his eyebrows. He opened his mouth, shut it. He looked away; his eyes darted back and forth, like he was thinking. He shrugged, or braced: the mechanical action of pulling his shoulders up to his ears. He sighed. He looked back to you, swallowed hard. He smiled nervously. “What should I do here?” he asked.

You shrugged back at him. “Whatever you want.”

“But what do you want?” he asked. He drummed his fingers against your back. 

You reached towards his face. “I want you to…” You ran your thumb over his mouth again. When you chewed on your bottom lip, his eyes snapped down to your mouth to watch. “Just…do whatever feels natural.”

He turned his head to leer at you. “Yeah? In what way?”

You laughed and folded your hands under your chin. “No! No no no.” You shook your head slowly. “Mm-mm. I asked you first.”

“I…” Sephiroth grinned at the ceiling. “I’ve dug myself a hole, haven’t I?” he muttered.

You leaned in for a brief peck, hoping he would take it as encouraging. “I want to hear you say it.” You wanted to hear it: what he thought of you, why he was being so affectionate and generous towards you, why he came right home and waited for you to wake up. Why he was already hard underneath you. Why he was being shy.

Sephiroth’s cheeks were a healthy shade of pink; even his mako-bright eyes seemed greener than usual. “I was hoping…” He cleared his throat and looked away. “That maybe you’d like to make love with me again.”

Sweetheart, you thought, unbidden. Nothing to be afraid of. “I’d want that too. Wait,” you added, when Sephiroth was just starting to lean up for another kiss, “Do you want my outfit from Friday? The one I meant as a surprise?”

He leaned back against his pillow, returning your smile. “Sure. Let’s see it.”

You slid off of him and onto your feet. “One second,” you said over your shoulder. “Let me get dressed.” 

Sephiroth sighed as you left his bedroom. “I wish I didn’t say yes,” he groaned. “Come back here.”

You rushed to your bag on the couch. “I said give me a second!” you laughed.

“I don’t want to!” he yelled back; you could hear the smile in his voice. “I changed my mind!”

You yanked back the zipper. “Just be patient!”

Sephiroth made a disgruntled aaaagh sound. 

At the top of your bag, placed on top of your neatly-folded clothing, was a small postcard: Gongaga, said the script, floating over a tropical beach. You flipped it over: no address, no name, but packed with Sephiroth’s handwriting all the same. Just as you started to read it, you heard aaaagh again: louder, this time, and calibrated to draw your attention.

“There’s a postcard in here,” you called.

“Read it when you get home,” was the reply from the bedroom.

You tucked the postcard further into your bag, right next to your folded clothes. Everything was as crisp and as neatly-categorized as his clothes drawers; he had even folded the tights for you. “So impatient!”

Sephiroth laughed. “I am impatient,” he said. “Of course I’m impatient.” His voice briefly strained as he, presumably, sat up in bed: “I want to see what was worth missing for fifty troopers locked at the bottom of a reactor.”

“Fifty?” You stripped off your sleep shirt and tossed it aside. You picked up your bra and hesitated. Best for him to get the whole picture, surely? You put it on. “Did no one have a key?”

“Power failure,” said Sephiroth. “The doors lock automatically. Roving monsters, mako sickness— you get the idea.”

You pulled on your blouse first. “Why were they all the way down there?”

“That’s classified. Are you done yet?”

You had just taken off your sleep shorts. “Can you wait?” you laughed. You sat on the grey carpet to tug on the tights. 

When Sephiroth spoke again, he was near his bedroom door, as if he was seconds away from poking his head out. “Would you like help? I’m very good at helping others.”

“Don’t look!” You wrestled the tights onto your legs. 

“I’m not,” he said, but his voice was so clear, you looked over your shoulder to make sure. 

“I’m serious!” you laughed. “Go wait in bed!”

Sephiroth huffed. “Yes, Professor.” You saw a flick of silver hair before you heard his footsteps within the bedroom. So he was waiting in the doorway. Cheat. The mattress creaked as Sephiroth settled onto it again.

You stood slowly, fiddling with the waistband, making sure the embroidered hearts sat evenly on your belly. They clashed, ever-so-slightly, with your tattooed roses, but there was nothing you could do about it now. Seeing your legs enveloped in nylon again made your heart race. You thought of his expression last night— the slow realization, that longing in his eyes— and tried to take deep breaths. Safe, you thought. Home.

Sephiroth called out again: “Ready?”

“Almost,” you called back. Your voice was unsteady. “Stay there?”

He grumbled something that sounded like the death of me as you pulled on your skirt. With the fireplace off, you could see yourself in the glass. Your hands shook as you fastened your earrings: tiny, gold-plated hoops, with small rose charms dangling off of them. Store-bought: a guilt-ridden indulgence with your graduate school stipend. 

“Now?” Sephiroth asked.

“Almost!” You put the matching necklace on: a small, gold-plated rose that sat just in the divot of your collarbone. Watching your reflection, you fussed with your hair, made sure you looked put together. “Okay,” you sighed, more to yourself than to him. You were sure he’d be able to hear you from the bedroom. 

You took a deep breath.

Tightening your fists at your side, you marched yourself over to the bedroom again. Sephiroth was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his hands. 

You stopped some distance from the bed. “Here I am,” you said.

Sephiroth looked up. He started when he saw you, as if you had surprised him. Couldn’t he hear you come in the room? 

Which meant…

His eyes traveled down your neck, across your blouse, over your skirt, until, finally, they landed on the tights. He sucked in a small breath.

“No makeup, but…” You felt strange standing in place, so you did a slow turn for him. “You get the idea.”

Sephiroth whistled and shook his head. “Fifty troopers were not worth missing this.”

“What would—” You cleared your throat. “What would be the…um. Ideal number of missing troopers?”

“Fifty-one,” said Sephiroth immediately. His eyes were fixed on your legs, constantly moving up and down, like he was trying to process what he was seeing. You watched his fist tighten around the comforter.

“Don’t say that,” you sighed, slouching. “I feel bad for them.”

“Don’t feel bad. It was a full recovery.” He stood up from the bed. “Maybe next time they’ll position men at the generators.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you waited. Sephiroth put his hands in his sweatpant pockets as he admired you. When the attention became too much, you looked away, at the mirror: at yourself.

Steeling yourself, you said, “I bought them for you.”

“For me?” His eyes were wide as he looked up at you. “Why?”

You were done lying to yourself. You turned back to him. “Because I wanted you to like them.” You hesitated. “Wanted you to…like how I looked in them.”

His lips parted. You were reminded, not for the first time, of his expression at the holiday party, with the honeybee charm in-hand: plain disbelief. Wonder.

“I…” You backed up and held out your arms. It took all your resolve to keep your voice steady. “I want you to touch me. Like you wanted to last night.”

“Are you sure?”

You bit your lip and looked down at the carpet. “Maybe just… go slow. And don’t stand behind me,” you added. “It makes me nervous.”

“I’ll stay in front of you,” he said. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded at the floor, for lack of something else to do. “Okay,” you whispered to yourself.

His bare feet stepped into your periphery. You stood there, staring at them, until you felt his fingers brush against the sides of your neck. You sighed and closed your eyes.

His fingers drifted up your neck until he had cupped your jaw in both hands, gently tilting it back. He traced two fingers down the center of your throat, all the way down to the divot of your collarbone. You listened to his breathing: in, out. In, out. You found yourself lulled by it, like you were listening to the ocean waves, and you swayed towards him a little. It was so easy to lose yourself in him, and wasn’t that what you came here for? In, out. He traced up your neck again— and then his other hand dipped just past your blouse collar, stroked your bare shoulder under the hem, and you made a soft noise of pleasure. In, out.

Sephiroth leaned down and, ever-so-gently, kissed your neck. You startled. He mouthed at your pulse for a moment, and you melted into it, sagging against that warm hand under your blouse collar.

He pulled away and hesitated. “You can touch me too, you know.” He sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“Oh.” You opened your eyes. You could see the top of his bedroom window over his hunched shoulder: that faint sliver of white light over an expanse of grey shirt and laundry detergent and warmth. “Sorry.” 

Sephiroth smiled against your pulse. You cupped your hand around his bicep. A shame about the shirt: you wanted, with violent desire, to feel his skin on yours again. You watched your own hand with wonder, trailed your fingers up and down his arm. It felt like a small miracle, the way you liked him. Your other hand squeezed the small of his waist; he sighed sweetly against your skin and squeezed your waist in return.

And then you heard a familiar voice at your neck: your own.

“‘Sorry,’” he said in your voice. “You’re so cute.” He did it again: “‘Sorry.’”

You wrinkled your nose. “Ugh!” you said at the ceiling. “Seph! Don’t do that here.”

“And why not?” He pulled you closer, resumed kissing your neck. “It’s adorable.”

You threaded your fingers through his soft hair. “Glad my guilt is adorable,” you huffed against his shoulder.

“Didn’t mean it that way,” he said. “Just teasing.”

“I know.” You rubbed the small of his back, closing your eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t have taught you. How to do it, I mean.”

“Mm. Too late.” He nipped your throat. You tilted your head back, giving him room to kiss down your neck and to the collar of your blouse. You drifted your fingers to his sweatpants. When you pulled, inquisitively, at his waistband, he startled. Was he still shy of you? You slid your hands up and under his shirt instead.

Sephiroth hummed with pleasure. “Cold hands.”

You smiled and nuzzled into his shoulder. “I think you just run warm,” you replied.

He let go of your waist. His hands wrapped around yours, guiding them to the bottom of his shirt, and he leaned back just enough to give you a long look. 

You took a deep breath, and— with his help— you pulled his shirt up and over his head. He had to let go of your hands to pull his hair through, scrunching his nose and shaking his head, like a dog, to free himself from the collar. He tossed his shirt onto the bed behind him.

You began to remove your blouse by yourself, but he pushed your hands away. “Arms,” he said, and you obediently held your arms straight over your head. It felt good to let him undress you: he did it with the utmost tenderness, rolling your blouse up as it traveled up your body, past your shoulders, up and over your head. He let it drop at your feet.

You were just about to undo your bra when he made a noise and reached for—

The necklace. He was looking at the necklace, fiddling with the chain at your breastbone. Hadn’t he seen it before, when you were clothed? Why was he slowing down?

“Pretty,” he said. He had used that word in the elevator, so long ago. “Did you make this?”

“Not this set.” You touched the backs of your earrings. “Bought it a couple years ago. On sale,” you added, with not a small amount of guilt. “With gil I didn’t have.”

He brushed his thumb against your earlobe. “Why don’t you wear your handmade jewelry here more often?”

“Because it—” Because it looks childish. It looks unfinished. It looks unsophisticated. “It doesn’t match?”

Sephiroth tilted his head. “I don’t—” He let go of your earring, but not before gently nudging the flower charm, causing it to swing back and forth. “I’m not about to tell you what to wear, but it would—” 

He cleared his throat; discomfort flitted across his face.

You raised your eyebrows. “It would…?”

“—look—” Sephiroth cleared his throat again and looked away. “—fetching on you, with nothing else on.”

You grinned. You took his hand in both of yours. “I’ll wear some next time.” 

He barely acknowledged you. His bangs hid his expression from view, but he coughed quietly, and when you brushed past him, you felt him trembling. Be gentle, you reminded yourself. Remember to be gentle.

You sat down at the edge of the bed. He looked behind himself, at your hands clasped tightly over his, and you gave him a little tug. You tried to sound encouraging: “C’mere, Seph. It’s okay. Keep touching me.”

Sephiroth turned, fully, to face you. You released his hand and spread your legs just the tiniest bit, just enough to make him look down at your skirt. He put both hands on your knees. His sweatpants were thin; you could see his erection straining underneath. You sighed, feeling warm and affectionate, and you rested your hands over his. When he didn’t say anything— when he continued to stare at your skirt with wide eyes and parted lips— you leaned up and kissed his cheek. He sighed and leaned into it. “You okay?” you asked.

“I am—” He raised his eyebrows at your skirt and nodded. “—very okay.”

“Not too fast, right?”

Sephiroth chuckled and shook his head. “You can’t see how excited I am?”

“I can,” you said, “but I wanna make sure.”

You reached behind you and unhooked your bra. At the sound of the clasp, he looked up at your chest. The sunlight had made his pupils into thin little slits, barely visible against the mako-green. When you tossed your bra aside, the pupils grew wide. 

Touch me, strange boy, you thought. You guided his warm palms to your breasts. Touch me.

The feeling seemed to snap Sephiroth out of whatever torpor he was in. His eyes traveled up to your face, looking up into your own eyes with wonder, and he brushed his thumbs against your nipples. It was just enough pressure to tease, and you arched your back into his touch. 

You braced your palms against the comforter behind you. “More?” you asked.

“I can do more,” Sephiroth breathed, and he leaned down to kiss you again. His hands opened, kneading and caressing your breasts. You squeaked into his mouth, and he squeezed harder—

You grabbed his hands. “Gentle,” you gasped, and he relaxed his hands again, kissing you chastely on the lips.

“Sorry,” he said. “I forget myself.”

“Yeah? Distracted by something?”

He growled under his breath. “My little tease.”

“No teasing now,” you whispered back, and you reached for the zipper of your skirt. “I’m all yours.”

His hands met yours at the zipper, and the two of you worked your skirt off and to the floor. Sephiroth fell to his knees at your feet. You parted your legs invitingly, and he shuffled forward—

Only to lift one of your legs to his face instead. He kissed the inside of your knee with an open mouth, eyes sliding shut. He let out a satisfied hum, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric at your calf. 

Oh, you thought, dizzy with pleasure and disbelief. He did like them. 

He loved them.

Suddenly, all that gil seemed decidedly worth it, especially when he turned his head and kissed your clothed thigh. You leaned back on your hands, watched his hands trail over the fabric to where they opened up, halfway up your inner thighs. Sephiroth ran a thumb over the hem there, and then, sighing, he slid his fingers between your skin and the fabric. You saw the outline of his fingers underneath the cloth. 

You stroked his hair. “How’d I do?” you asked quietly.

He removed his fingers; you missed them until he leaned in and mouthed at the hem instead, just at the intersection of fabric and flesh. “It’s like you read my mind,” he whispered.

Relief flooded through you. You couldn’t do much right, but this? This, you could do for him: letting him discover what it was like to be wanted by someone else, without expecting anything in return. As you stroked his hair, he worried the hem between his teeth, his eyes closed in bliss.

“What do you like about them?” you asked.

“How they feel,” he said, without hesitation. He opened his eyes. His pupils were fully dilated now, all full and wanting. You bit your lip, and he chuckled, leaning back on his heels to look up at you. 

“I like how you look in them,” he continued, his fingers drifting tenderly up and down your thighs, “But something about how they feel…mm.” He shook his head slowly, closing his eyes. “Perfect,” he said to himself, and you didn’t know what, precisely, he was referring to.

You cleared your throat. “I…tried to get nice ones—”

“For me?”

“—yeah, for you, like...I felt like the ones I had last time weren’t nice enough—”

“Oh.” Sephiroth’s face fell. He reached out a hand. “Hey—”

“No,” you said firmly, “Let me finish.” 

He closed his mouth, and you pushed forward: “You seemed to— to really like them, and I…wanted to treat you to the good stuff, I guess. I— I know what it feels like to be— feel like, left out of things. Like I got…” Your voice became small. “Left behind. By everyone else. So I wanted... you know. To— to give you some, um.” You gestured helplessly. “I want you to…feel wanted. Because you are, and you deserve it.”

Sephiroth blinked owlishly up at you. He parted his lips, and for a moment, you thought he was going to reply. He looked down and leaned back on his heels instead, his hands trailing absentmindedly down your thighs, towards your knees. 

“That’s very sweet of you,” he said to the floor.

“It’s not sweet,” you said insistently. “It’s true.” You stumbled over your words when he looked up again. “I— you should—” You returned your hands to the comforter behind you, squeezing the fabric hard, like you were trying to hold on. “I know you haven’t tried any of this before, and it’s…I want to give you everything you missed out on, because you—” You couldn’t meet his eyes; you focused on his left ear instead, the shell of it just visible beyond his silver hair. “It’s like you taught me I could— feel beautiful again, doing all this. I want…you to feel the same, because—I—I just…do.”

He stared at you. There was more you wanted to say— the stories pressed against your tongue, crowding there, I was raped, I don’t know how many times, I lost count, sometimes I don’t think it ever happened, maybe that’s just what sex is, I get the feeling I’m not human, I only feel human with you, it feels like I’m almost me again— but you squeezed the comforter and looked at his ear and said nothing.

Sephiroth shifted backwards. His hands trailed down your calves, where they lingered around your ankle. You thought he might be pulling away from you— too much, always too much— until he cupped one of your feet in both hands. 

He bowed his head and kissed the top of your foot, right up against the nylon. Your breath caught. 

He drifted to your other foot and kissed that one, too.

You watched, helpless, as he trailed kisses up your shin. He kissed all the way up your knees, all the way up to your thighs, and when the tights ended— when they opened to reveal you to him— he switched sides, kissing from your ankle all the way up to your thigh again. You wrung your hands in your lap.

“You are really special.” He said it so softly, pressed up against your leg. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I—I hope that made sense.”

“I understood what you were getting at, yes.” He closed his eyes, mouth still against the nylon. “I feel the same,” he whispered, with a fondness that felt like glass around the edges, and it made your chest ache.

“God, I…” You laughed again, leaning back on your hands. “I was— so nervous—”

“Why?” He kissed up your thigh again.

“Just— didn’t think you’d— wanna see me again.”

He opened his eyes and smirked up at you. “What gave you that idea?”

“Just, like—” You brushed his bangs out of his face so you could see him properly. “—the leading me on thing—on Wednesday. I thought you were making fun of me.”

Sephiroth hummed. “Maybe I just wanted to save you for this weekend.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have visited me,” you fired back. “You’re so— distracting.”

He held your eyes as he leaned his cheek against your thigh. With one finger, he stroked your wet cunt, top to bottom. You gasped and canted your hips— only for him to withdraw his finger and hold it just out of reach.

“Ah,” he said, “So you do want me.”

“So bad.” You tried to spread your legs further, but you couldn’t stretch that far. What did he say last weekend— don’t ask, just tell me what you want? You licked your lips nervously. “Thought about your mouth on me,” you said quietly. 

Sephiroth’s eyes flashed with excitement. “I thought of that all week,” he breathed. “Thought about it yesterday.” 

“Want you to do it again,” you whispered. The admission felt good.

“You were my favorite daydream.” He kissed up your inner thighs: first one, then the other. You marveled at the sensation of his lips through the nylon, the thrill of that warm flesh meeting yours where the fabric gave way near your hip joints. Warm kisses, too: sweet, fluttering, worshipping, nervous things. “Every second brought me closer to you.”

“I wanted you with me,” you whispered. “I put your postcards by my bed.”

“Mm.” He swiped his tongue along the gap in the tights, making you shiver. “Did you?”

“I want to think about you when I go to sleep.” Perhaps you shouldn’t have told him this— perhaps you ought to have played it cool, be like the women in the romance novels. “You make me feel—” 

You gasped when he leaned in and nuzzled your pussy. He mouthed at the wetness by your entrance. 

“Go on,” he whispered, and you felt the words rumble against you.

“You make me feel beautiful.” Your voice cracked on the word beautiful. “I— you—”

“You are beautiful.” He traced his tongue up and down your vulva. With every pass, the tip of his tongue just whispered over your clit, before it was over too soon, and he licked his way back down. “Can’t get enough of you,” he sighed.

You groaned with frustration and looked up at the ceiling when he did it again. “You’re teasing me,” you whispered.

“Should I make you wait?” He looked up at you, eyes bright and focused and alive under his heavy lids. “Tease you like you tease me?”

“Seph—”

Sephiroth brushed his lips against your clit: the tenderest of kisses, a whisper of tongue. You shivered. He nuzzled your folds again, breath ghosting over your skin, like he was holding himself back. You didn’t want him to hold back. 

“Keep talking to me,” you whispered down to him. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You taste so good,” he breathed. You felt his middle finger prod gently at your entrance. You canted your hips towards him, savored his satisfied groan as his finger sank in to the knuckle. “You feel even better. Better than I could’ve imagined.”

You rocked your hips, undulating them with the rhythm of his thrusting finger. “Did you?” you asked. “Imagine this?”

He kissed your clit again with a soft, wet smack. “You have no idea.” He opened his eyes and looked up at you, eyes wide and wondering. “Did you?” he asked, and the question was soft. Shy.

You let out a nervous laugh. “Yes,” you gasped. “I didn’t— I didn’t think you’d—”

Sephiroth crooked his finger. “Deeper,” you grit out, and he went deeper still, down to the knuckle again. The next thrust left you breathless. You arched your back to chase after the dizzying pleasure his hands offered.

“Didn’t think I’d what?” His voice was rough, and his face was so sweet, so open, that it made you feel shy of him.

You closed your eyes. “Feel the same,” you whispered. “Didn’t think you liked me.”

“You have no clue how much I like you.” When you opened your eyes, he was lining up another finger. His other hand lifted your trembling leg and planted your foot against his shoulder. “I thought, someone like that must be taken,” he said. Both of you watched as he sunk in two fingers this time. “Intelligent. Kind.” He worked you open slowly, gently. “Aren’t I lucky?” He touched you like you— mattered. Like he wanted you to take your time and savor everything.

“Not fair, Seph.” You carded your fingers through his hair. He leaned into your palm. “You’re being so nice, and I— I can’t even compliment back?”

“Go rough,” Sephiroth said against your inner thigh. “I can take it.”

“Don’t wanna be rough.” You watched, hypnotized, as he traced the tender divot between leg and thigh with his tongue. You tilted your head back, rolling your hips, riding his fingers. “Wanna be good to you. Wanna be yours.”

He sighed your name in frustration. “You still don’t get it.” Sephiroth looked back up at you,  still thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “I’m selfish,” he breathed. “You will always be mine.”

A little much, maybe, but you were too far gone to correct him. You couldn’t stop smiling at how eager you both were. “Kiss me again.” You shook your head when Sephiroth withdrew his fingers and made to stand. “Ah-ah. No.” You pressed your heel against his shoulder, coaxing him back down. “Bad boy. I didn’t mean my mouth.”

He shook his head, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “Where did you come from?” he asked, sounding dreamy and far-away.

You grinned and looked away. “Too much?” you asked.

“Not enough,” he said, and then he leaned forward and took you into his mouth again, and everything became warm and soft and tender and more and too much. Your other foot was in reach of his dick, where it stood proudly against his sweatpants. Inquisitively, you nudged it with your toes. He moaned against your clit; his hips thrust upwards, trying to rub his cock against your foot, only to miss. You pressed the ball of your foot into him, rubbing gently. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. It was surprising that he liked being on his knees for you— for you.

“Seph,” you sighed. “So sweet.”

His lips quirked upwards into a smile. “Mm-hmmm.” 

You pressed down on his cock again. Sephiroth made a quiet noise against you— ahh, open-mouthed, brows furrowed— and you drew your foot over his length. His fingers stuttered. When you curled your toes against the head of his dick, he thrust again, and this time, his cock bent against the arch of your foot. He made that sound again— ahh-haaah— and rolled his hips, his entire body leaning into your touch. His tongue curled in that way you liked, and you arched your back and said his name, and he curled his tongue again, laughing gently as he did.

Oh, you definitely had it bad for him. You wanted to stay here, forever, just teasing him like this. Sephiroth opened his eyes and looked up at you, all wide eyes and a smug smile and a clever tongue, and you smiled back at him. What would it feel like for him to have you on top? You were hesitant to push him too far: to shred the edges of his boundaries, like peeling film from its paper backing.

You said, “I have a suggestion.”

Sephiroth looked up from between your legs. “Shoot.”

“So…” You shifted. “About the, um— ‘being on top of you’ part.”

“I’m listening.” He rested his cheek on your thigh, looked up at you from under his lashes. His fingers slowed inside of you.

“Do you…” You took your foot off of his erection. How to ask this? Suddenly, you felt self-conscious all over again, and you looked away from him, at the nightstand to his right. Your nightstand. “Do you maybe want to— uh. Lie down, while— while I—?”

The second half of the sentence came out as one garbled phrase: “Whileisitonyourface?”

Sephiroth blinked at you, his face falling. For a second, you weren’t even sure if he had heard you at all. When he removed his fingers from you, you felt shame, burning hot, creep up the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

That… was not the answer you expected. “Sorry,” you said, and you waved your hands. “It’s—” You giggled nervously. “Sorry—”

“No,” he said, holding up his free hand. “Don’t apologize, I misheard you. Can you repeat that?”

You covered your face and groaned. “Please don’t make me ask again.”

He reached for your face, but you stubbornly shook your head and turned away. “How am I going to know what you want if you don’t tell me?” he laughed—

No, not laughed. Giggled. The bastard. You groaned into your hands: “Mmnh.”

“Go on,” he wheedled. 

You yelled into your hands: “I want to sit on your face!”

“That’s…” He laughed again. “What I thought you said.” His voice dipped into something tender, soft: “Really? You’d like that?”

“I…” You looked at him through your fingers, at his raised eyebrows and hopeful smile. “Yes?”

He planted a wet kiss on your inner thigh. “Nothing I’d like better.”

That was…easier than you thought it would be. He stood up between your legs. 

“Wait,” you said up at him, “Don’t you want to…are you sure?”

Sephiroth was already climbing onto the bed beside you. “It seems self-explanatory.”

“But—” 

“But what?” He moved his gray shirt and lied back against the mattress. Your stomach turned. What if you hurt him by sitting on him? You could see the headlines now: FIRST-CLASS SOLDIER’S NOSE BROKEN— IS IT AN EPIDEMIC?

“I’m sorry,” you gasped.

“Why?” he laughed. He folded his hands in his lap, smiling innocently up at you. “Go on. Sit. I’m waiting.”

“At least…” You swallowed and gestured to the pillows. “At least put something behind your— behind your head— are you sure?”  you added, voice cracking on sure.

Sephiroth rolled his eyes. He mimicked your voice:  “Are you sure?” And, when you glared at him: “Couldn’t resist. Yes, I’m sure.”

You inched over to him. “Move your hair, I don’t want to— yank it, or— hurt you.”

He huffed with impatience, but he sat up to sweep his hair to the side, out of your way. “You can’t hurt me,” he said. 

Yes, you thought, with terrible clarity. I can.

You helped him put a pillow underneath his head. When you swung your knees over his neck— resisting the horrible thought of your knee pressing into his windpipe, at that gentle face becoming angry and those broad arms hurling you across the room— he smiled up at you. In the next instant, he was under you, and you couldn’t quite see his expression anymore.

You stared at the plain wall in front of you. Sephiroth’s hands steadied you at your waist.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, voice rough.

“I don’t— don’t let me hurt you—” You braced your hands on the headboard. “Should we have a hand signal, for if you— or—” You yelped when Sephiroth’s hands dug into your hips.

“Get down here,” he growled, and he pulled you down onto his waiting mouth. You gasped, sinking gratefully onto his lips, his tongue.

You tried, weakly, to protest: “But—”

He hooked his index finger under your waistband and snapped it against your skin. You yelped. Something rumbled against you: something low and lilting, a familiar sound.

“Are you laughing at me down there?” you asked.

“Mm-hmm.” Sephiroth flicked his tongue deftly against your clit. You started. His hands became gentle across your lower back. He did it again, and you rolled your hips into it, despite yourself. He rested his elbows against your thighs.

You traced your fingers down his arms. Some of the track marks you had seen last week were gone, but new marks had sprouted up in their place, like weeds. A track mark, looking angry and fresh, sat in the middle of a purplish-yellow bruise. Possessiveness flared in you again. What phlebotomist had been rough with him? You touched the bruise as tenderly as you could. Was it Sully? Was it some other nameless cog in the machine, one you didn’t even have the security clearance to meet? They had no clue how lucky they were to touch this man.

How dare they?

“Mine,” you growled.

Sephiroth gasped against you in response. This was not the time to ask about the bruises— not the time to think rationally about anything— and you let your hands drift away. He was so strong; you didn’t think you’d ever get over the size of his arms, his shoulders. You wanted to tell him this, but then you remembered how shy and closed-off he became last night (“I’m not much of a compliments person,”), so you settled for carding your fingers slowly through his hair.

Both of his hands slid to your front. They traveled up the Lifestream tattoo, up towards your breasts. He squeezed them again, gently this time; you sighed. His thumbs rubbed your nipples in slow, reverent circles. You loved the feeling of his hands exploring your skin. Not for the first time, you wanted to shake yourself: his touch had brought you nothing but pleasure. Why had you ever been afraid of him?

I’m afraid of this, said a voice in the back of your mind. Maybe you’d always be afraid of this; afraid of him. Maybe that was meant to be the fun part: the thrill, like sinking into a pool full of sharks, like running barefoot through the woods. Danger, when he was so near you; trust, when he was under you. The way the danger and the trust sank into each other, slow and sweet and undeniably human, like blood cells drifting to the bottom of a tube.

You leaned back and balanced your weight on your hands, presenting more of your body to him. You pushed his head up, listening to his desperate growl below you as he chased you with his mouth. The new angle forced him to lap at your clit instead. His arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you in place. Your arms trembled. 

When he circled the point of his tongue around your clit, just teasing you, you gripped the sheets on either side of his body and made an involuntary moan: a real one, a sound of pleasure you didn’t even know was hiding somewhere inside of you. Sephiroth laughed, the sound a huff of air against your skin.

“Just like that,” you sighed. “So good.”

He leaned up and kissed your clit with slow, aching tenderness. “Good,” he murmured, barely able to move his lips from your wet heat. 

You rolled your hips forward, forcing his head back onto the pillow, and he laughed again. "Keep going," you breathed. His tongue flicked against your clit; he groped at your thighs, weighing them in his hands, bringing you impossibly closer.

You looked over your shoulder, where his erection was flagging inside his sweatpants. He must want to be touched, you thought, wincing. He’s been so good. You reached behind you and tenderly brushed your fingers against his cock. He moaned under you. It was a good thing that he couldn’t see your face: how you loved seeing him fall apart for you, how you wanted to hold him this close forever.

“I know,” you whispered. “Good boy.”

Sephiroth gently took your wrist. You froze; did you do something wrong? But no, he merely guided your hand to his hair, set your palm firmly against his head, and left it there. You ran your fingers through his hair, rocking your hips gently against his mouth. His left hand disappeared from your thigh, and you were left to wonder where it had gone until Sephiroth sighed with relief, and you heard the wet sounds of him stroking himself. 

Your breath caught. You turned your head to watch. Sephiroth had shoved the waistband just enough to free his cock, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on himself. (Or as if he couldn’t bear to let go of you.) He pumped his dick into his fist: how torturously slow he went with himself. You rested your chin on your shoulder. “That feel good?” you asked.

“Mm-hmm.” The satisfied rumble of his voice against you made you shudder. It was hard to see his expression from this angle, but he sounded…happy. As if he wanted nothing more than to be under you. 

“My fast learner,” you whispered down to him.

His right arm tightened around your thigh. You could feel where his nose pressed against your skin. “Mm-hmm.”

You crossed your arms against the headboard and leaned against them. You rocked your hips against Sephiroth’s mouth in time with his fist, listening to the cadence of his breaths as you did. In, out— shaky now, and against your cunt. When you focused on his breathing— in, out, in-in-in, outttt, innn— pleasure and arousal crept through your belly, your chest: their warm, broad hands touching you all over. You thought about riding Sephiroth's cock, and how good that had felt inside of you; you thought of his laugh, his smile— and somewhere in all of these beautiful, pleasant, tender thoughts, you felt— good. Safe.

“Keep going,” you said. 

“Mm.” His hand sped up on his dick. You turned your head to watch him again. His fist was looser than you expected, looser than how you had touched him. He twisted his wrist near the head: a deft flick that had precome dripping generously from him. You heard him moan, and he lifted his hips into his fist, just as he flicked his tongue against you in a way that had you seeing stars. You pressed your forehead to your crossed arms, rocking hard into his mouth.

“There!” you gasped. “Don’t stop— fuck— Seph, please--”

He moaned desperately against your cunt, his whole body shuddering. You thought you might be hurting him until you felt his come hit your back. His nails dug into your waist, his hips canting behind you, making soft, pleading little noises through his orgasm. His release trickled down your fevered spine, and— you shivered with pleasure— directly onto the tights, marking them— you— permanently as his.

“Seph, you’re—” Your nails scrabbled against the wall as you gripped his hair in your other hand. “You’re so good, I—”

His left hand, still covered in come, returned to your thigh. Wetness smeared over the nylon as he groped your legs in earnest. His come was still warm. There was no disgust this time, only a desperate, aching need to have it inside of you, instead. 

You fucked his mouth with desperate thrusts— certain, now, that you were being rough with him, but his hands squeezed your ass, pinning you in place on his tongue, he wanted you to be rough—  

And there, as obvious as the ocean drawing back from the shore: you were going to come, too, and every curl of his tongue brought you closer. “Seph,” you slurred against your forearms. “Almost—”

He hummed, sounding satisfied. You bucked against his mouth— too much too much too much, time splitting open and stretching, filthy and full of pleasure— and you lost his name to a sigh when, finally, your orgasm crashed into you, your muscles tensed, and warmth flooded through your body. Your thrusts became uneven. You shivered with relief.

Sephiroth’s tongue slowed, becoming lazy, until finally, he withdrew it. When you came back to yourself, he was kissing your clit, over and over, humming with satisfaction.

“Ssph—” Your voice was high and whiny. You cleared your throat and tried again: “Seph, let me get off of you—”

You braced against the headboard. You leaned forward, lifting your cunt from his mouth.

“Wait,” he gasped, and you did. Your thighs trembled from holding yourself above his head, but he insistently pushed you down to sit on his collarbone. You could see his eyes again, the determined furrow of his brow. Something batted against your back: it was his gray shirt, he was trying to clean you with his shirt. 

You pushed it away. “No! Seph— you’ll ruin your shirt—”

“I have a washing machine.” Sephiroth’s voice was hoarse. He returned the shirt to your back, wiping his come off of you. “It’s the least I could do.”

The orgasm hadn’t even waned; you still felt little aftershocks shuddering through your muscles. “What are you talking about?” you panted. “You just got me off.”

Sephiroth tensed. His eyes flicked over your thigh. You followed his gaze; he was looking at where his wet hand had pawed against you. “I finished too quickly,” he replied, voice all cold and strange. “I’ve been working on it.”

His using the shirt filled you with a wave of sadness. He had been teased as a trainee at least once: freak, at least, was the word Samuel had used. Freak. You thought about his meager sexual experience, whether the boys he kissed had made fun of him, too. 

You reached back and took his wrist. Underneath you, Sephiroth winced, shoulders going up a little.

“Don’t, Seph,” you said to him, as tenderly as you could manage. “I’m so glad it felt that good. Nothing to feel embarrassed about.”

He wouldn’t look you in the eye. “I didn’t—” He huffed.

“I promise. We’ll put a towel down next time. How’s that?” Slowly, you released his wrist. Sephiroth didn’t do anything at first, holding the shirt up to your back with that frightened expression, so you rose to your knees and dismounted from him. With you gone, he dropped the shirt and looked out of the window, clearing his throat. His face was bright red. His sweatpants and underwear had been hastily shoved down at some point; he tucked himself back into his clothes. 

You stepped off the bed to peel off the tights. “How did it feel?”

“Amazing,” he breathed, and his body melted a little into the mattress. He turned to look up at you when you climbed back onto the bed with him. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You laid down beside him, but his arm went up automatically to pull you closer. He coaxed your head onto his chest. 

You closed your eyes and snuggled into him. “Thanks for being with me,” you murmured.

He lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed your fingertips. “My pleasure,” he said, and his voice was full of relief. You let the hand fall onto his chest, where he held it tightly against his skin.

Sweetheart, you thought again. Mine.

“Nylon’s your thing, huh?” You whispered the words into his ribs. “How’d you figure that out?”

“I’m not sure,” he whispered back. “I always thought it would feel nice.” He moved his hand to your hair, stroked it fondly. “I’m glad I was right.”

“Did you—?” You shook your head. “Never mind.”

“Go ahead.”

You looked down and traced little circles on his chest. “I was wondering if it was— like, a reciprocal thing. Like if you wanted to wear them.” 

“Huh.” His eyes scanned the ceiling. He shrugged. “I’ve never really thought of that.” His eyes flicked down to yours, and he, finally, smiled. “You’re a tough act to follow.”

You giggled. “Thanks.” You added, quietly: “I’d like you in anything. Just— for the record.”

Sephiroth chuckled. “If I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

A helicopter circled lazily over Midgar. You watched it crawl across the sky for several minutes. Finally, somewhere over Sector Three, it turned to the side, and you caught its logo: it was a news helicopter, potentially a drone. They were filming the plate from above. You imagined it was for a weather segment, potentially a pleasant bumper for a commercial break. 

You furrowed your brow and looked up at Sephiroth. He had closed his eyes and looked to be drifting off again. You took a deep breath, then asked, “Does this feel good to you, still? Are we going too fast?”

He opened his eyes and looked down at you. “Feels fine to me. Why?” He tilted his head, studying your face with such tenderness that you felt yourself blush. “Does something feel wrong?”

“No!” you blurted. Sephiroth’s lips twitched up. You cleared your throat. “I mean— I don’t— don’t want to push you, or— make you uncomfortable. You know?”

His smile widened. “Mm.” He stroked your hair again. “I know how to say no.”

“I know you know—” You waved your hand. “I just mean— you can. And I don’t just want you to say no,” you added. “I want you to say yes. You’re not—”  

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “I’m not...?”

“I mean. I like you.” You looked away from him. “I really like you. I care about you. And I— I don’t want you to feel like you have to, you know…have to say all those nice things and do stuff just to—just to make me—” You sighed. “—feel better, I don’t know.”

“Hey. Look at me.”

You did. Sephiroth held up one hand, palm out towards you.

“Touch,” he said.

You brushed your fingertips against his palm. Sword callouses marked the skin under each finger. You hesitated and looked up at him, at those mako-green eyes that watched you with nothing but gentleness. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Take it.”

You laced your fingers with his. He squeezed your hand.

“This,” he said to your joined hands, “is real. This is not going anywhere.”

To be continued!