#what does he deserve with his melancholic little face?

[pralinesims]

Heartbreak hotel

[rinhaler]

I Finally Decided On You

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ rin itoshi x f!reader

Genre: smut & angst Notes: in my feelings abt a friendship break up so have some angst heheheee Warnings: 18+, mutual pining, angst, pet names, cheating, dacryphilia, tit sucking ♡, vaginal sex, choking ♡, love bites, breeding kink, creampie ♡ Words: 5.8k

“You’re lonely, aren’t you?”

Your breath hitches as the words make their way into your brain. His eyes have been fixed on you for what seems like a lifetime, but it’s only after you hear him ask something so personal, so intimate, that you can bring yourself to look at him. His glimmering, jade eyes are so striking, so captivating, you can’t help but want to bare your soul to him.

“You shouldn’t ask me something like that.” you whisper, unable to hide your smile as you are both all too aware of the irony of your sentence. There are so many things neither of you should be doing right now.

And yet, here you are, allowing the 4am sky to encase your bodies in a melancholic blanket. You’re waiting for one more sentence to spill from his lips that will have your deepest secrets tumbling from yours.

You know him.

He knows you.

And it’s so comforting.

You’ve never felt like this with anyone before. He’s so easy to talk to, and even easier to be around. It’s almost like a punishment. The worlds cruellest joke that you’re being subjected to.

“You shouldn’t be in my bed, but you’re here. So, talk to me.” he smiles, effortlessly. A smile that he’d only ever show you. An expression that only you are worthy of and the only person he’d ever trust to experience it. It’s so loving. It’s like being home.

You’re quiet, your own smile fading slightly as you think about his question. What had you done to make him even ask it? You’re lonely. Is that true? You have friends, family, a lover. Realistically, you can’t be lonely.

“I am.” you tell him, honestly, finally finding his gaze once more. Allowing him to scan your trusting eyes so he can see there isn’t a trace of a lie. And he does, stare, until he looks at your lips briefly, and then back to your eyes.

“You’re lonely?”

“Yes.”

He hums, thinking about it for a moment. You don’t deserve to feel that way. Though it may be his heart talking. It might be the fact that he’s head over heels in love with you.

Every moment with you is so saccharine, so disgustingly dizzying that it could make him vomit from excess. He can’t get enough of you. He’s ravenous for you.

Your taste.

Each kiss you allow him to take is so seraphic, your candied lips cloying his insides. It hurts to be with you sometimes, he knows what this is and what it will be. He knows what he is to you and what he will never be. He hates himself, and honestly, he hates you a little bit in that same breath. Though he locks that feeling of loathing deep down inside, he doesn’t want to feel it. He doesn’t want to care that much.

Whatever you are to each other now, in this moment, is enough.

His face nears yours, and you observe him as his eyes close. Yours close too, gently, and you feel his lips on yours. His hand cups your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he deepens the kiss only slightly. He pulls away, eyes glittering as he observes you. He’s making sure you’re okay, that what he just did was okay.

And it is.

He pulls you closer to him, enveloping your body in his before carefully planting his lips on your cheek. He sighs, a little. The heavy, disheartened breath rushing through your ear canal. It makes you shudder, so he holds you tighter.

“You aren’t alone, you know.” he tells you, quietly. You feel tears pricking at your eyes as he starts speaking. He cares, so much, you can almost feel his passion vibrating from his skin and passing through you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” you sniffle. “It’s just hard.”

“I know.” he agrees, kissing atop your head as a show of comfort. He just can’t get enough of you. He can’t stop himself from being with you like this, even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t. These moments with you are his main source of happiness. Getting to know you so viscerally is everything to him. Whenever you’re together, like this, he gets to peel back another layer of who you are.

“I’m so—” you stop, your eyes catching his again before you brush away the thought. You’re playing with fire, with him. You’re letting him scrutinize your body as you bare your self-inflicted gaping wounds. Allowing him to decide whether to pour alcohol and salt into your ruined flesh. “I’m just sick of feeling like shit all of the time.” you sigh a little before laughing.

“Don’t.” he huffs, his thumb stroking your face again. It’s a bid to make your body submit to his. “I don’t like it when you perform for me.”

You smile, again, nodding in acceptance as you take his word as truth. It makes sense why he isn’t fond of you acting for him, though for some reason you can’t seem to help yourself. Wrapping your body in an invisible gauze as you do all that you can to prevent your lacerated skin from becoming infected by him.

“Rin?” you whisper again, almost hoping he won’t have heard you say his name. “Do you love me?”

The question almost wounds him. You see his eyes begin to tremor as he wonders if you want him to answer that. And answer it genuinely. He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Your bodies are mirrored up above, and he can’t help but stare at his own reflection as he contemplates how to answer. His heart skips a beat when you inch closer to him, wrapping an arm around his torso as you caress him and await his response.

He hates how little effort you need to make to force him to smile.

“Yeah.” he tells you. But he doesn’t look at you, still staring at himself in the mirror above. It’s a confession for him as well as you. “I’m in love with you. Is that okay?”

Of course he’s asking for permission to love you. Though even if you were to say no, it’s not like he could just stop his feelings. It isn’t okay, of course it isn’t. Nothing about what you’re doing is okay. Whatever you’re not meant to do always makes you feel most alive. It makes you feel excited. And right now, you feel wanted. You feel loved.

You don’t feel lonely.

You’re quiet for a moment, but you hope the smile you’re donning will show that you’re appreciative of his honesty. It takes you a while to think about how to respond. You could say it back, but what good will it do? If you don’t say anything, you’re sure he’ll be upset, but he won’t tell you that. You don’t want to hurt him, that’s the last thing you want.

“Thank you.” you tell him.

He doesn’t say anything to that. He closes his eyes, a soft chuckle emanating from him as he processes the rejection. In his mind, that smart, logical mind of his, he knew you wouldn’t say it back. Why would you? Even if it was true, it’s too messy. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, you both know it, so why would you say it back? But then again, why would you ask his feelings in the first place? His heart is screaming at him with every aggressive beat against his ribcage. It’s telling him, despite the logic working overtime in his brain, that you love him too.

“Do you love me?” he wonders, finally allowing his head to roll to the side again so that you’re making eye contact once more.

And you’re silent. You can see in his eyes that he’s pleading with you to reciprocate his feelings. To verbalise them. He wants you to mean it, though. He’d rather you not say a word than lie to him.

But, he knows you.

He knows your mind body and soul and he truly believes that you feel the same way about him. So tell him, won’t you? Lay your heart bare and just tell him the truth. No matter what the world throws at you, he’s certain you can handle it, together. Whatever concerns you have, he’ll protect you. Any repercussions you think will follow you from following your heart, he won’t allow. He’ll do anything for you. Anything to be with you. So look into his emerald eyes and be honest with him.

Be honest with yourself.

“Please,” you start, “please never ask me that again.”

The words cut like a knife. Or rather, he feels like he stopped existing the moment you finish your sentence. It’s like being in a car accident and dying on impact. He looks up at the ceiling again, closing his eyes, knowing the tears are soon to pour from them if he doesn’t get a grip.

Why would you say that?

You still haven’t given a clear answer. And really, he knows why you said what you did. It’s self-preservation. Maybe you think you’re protecting him, too. But you aren’t. You’re the reason his heart beats and this is the reason that it will stop. Every moment from now will be agony. Without an answer, you’ve given him one. And he despises you, now. He thinks you’re selfish.

He thinks you’re a fucking coward.

“Then… what is this?” he wonders, still not daring to widen his eyes and give you the satisfaction of seeing him cry. You can barely stand to look at him now though. Not when he’s being like this. You don’t want to hurt him, truly. But there’s no use in giving him hope that isn’t there. This is for the best, you’re sure. “Have you just been using me for the last two years? When you’re… fucking lonely.” his own breath hitches and he wants to disappear. From your line of sight, from the room, from the fucking planet.

“It’s not like that, Rin.” you sigh, and it’s almost breathless as you try and conjure the right words to alleviate his pain. There’s nothing you can say that won’t hurt. The damage is done. You’ve broken him. “You know the first time was a mistake… and then it just kept happening… and then—”

“And then you—” he balls up his fists until his arms begin to tremble. But he takes a breath, anger leaving him as he exhales. He’s always been good at that. He always knows when he’s getting too worked up and knows how to take it down a notch and compose himself. He’s calculated with everything he does. But he supposes you’re the exception. There was nothing calculated in regard to you. He fell into this fucking mess with you, because it’s you. “… Don’t you think the fact we’ve been making the same ‘mistake’ for so long means it might not be a mistake.” he talks, quietly. You can’t tell if he’s asking you a question or simply speaking words for you to hear.

You don’t answer. What can you say? You can’t contradict yourself now. It’s a valid point, of course. Is a repeated mistake truly a mistake? Maybe you and he are made for each other. Being with him could be easy, if you wanted. Being honest with yourselves and those around you might be easier than you think. Being able to hold his hand and go out on dates like a normal couple. Could it really be so simple?

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” you respond, bluntly. It’s harsh. The words make your mouth swell with discomfort and a horrendous desire to burst into tears. Nothing else will get through to him, you think. Being nice is getting neither of you anywhere. You gulp, and it’s like swallowing razor blades as you see how fucking shattered his face becomes.

He scoffs, a little, and sits upright in bed. You chase him, somewhat, sitting upright beside him and placing your hand on his shoulder. And you gasp, quietly, as he shrugs away from your touch. Your defeated hands fall into your lap as you continue to sit beside him, your eyes alternate from looking at his side profile to your twiddling thumbs.

Rejection was always bound to come eventually. He wishes he never opened his mouth, though. The delusion could have carried on a little while longer. Why did you have to ask if he loved you? You surely knew already. His mind roars at him to run. He’s staring at his sneakers placed meticulously by his wardrobe as he thinks about where he could go. Anywhere away from here.

Away from you.

But the child in him… is resilient. He’s never been one to accept true defeat. He’s never been the type to give up on his dreams or quit when he truly believes there is a chance at happiness for him. You see his hand move to his obscured cheek, and you’re sure he’s wiping away a tear.

It’s all but confirmed when he looks at you. Teal eyes almost illuminate the room as they look at you. Crystalline droplets reside in his lashline, and his eyes keep shimmering as they take in every solitary detail of your beguiling face. He can’t lose you. You’re perfect for him.

And he loves you.

He leans towards you, and you don’t fight it. Your lips slotting beautifully against one another as you melt into his kiss. It’s prolonged and it’s deep. You feel as though he’s giving you everything he has. Everything he is as a final farewell. The thought of never seeing him again makes you break away, panting desperately before you comb his hair out of his face.

“What are you doing, Rin?” you whisper.

This time you’re left without an answer. He grips his fingers into your soft hips and helps you move above him, straddling him so that he can look up into the eyes of the woman he loves more than he ever has or will love anyone.

“Play with my hair, please.” he whispers back against your bare skin as he lifts your tank top to expose your breasts. You do as he asks, combing your fingers through his hair again as he sweetly kisses your erect nipples. The only sound filling the room is his puckered kisses and your laboured breaths.

You hum, intoxicated, as kisses turn to suckles. They’re soft and careful, your skin breaks out in bumps as your flesh tries to huddle together to keep in the warmth. Your heart skips a beat when he looks up at you, briefly, before focusing on your tits again. He wraps his arms tightly around your torso in a bid to pull you closer. Your cotton-clad mound humping against his straining cock in the process.

He grunts against your skin when he feels the wetness pooling on your panties transferring to his boxers. One of his hand roams to squeeze the fat of your ass, a squeaking yelp escapes you as you feel thick bruising fingers dig into your supple flesh. He gentle nibbles your swollen tits, eliciting a mewl from you that speaks to your infatuation with him. Whether you care to admit it or not, he knows your body enough to understand the truth.

“Rin,” you shudder, throwing your head back in an attempt to gain some distance from what is happening and retrieve your thoughts. He doesn’t stop, though. But his eyes meet yours again when you return. He’s listening. He’s clinging to your every thought. “I-Is this really what you want?” you ask him. And he nods, slowly, relinquishing one nipple from his mouth with a pop and licking his cherry bitten lips.

 “’m not a mistake, baby…” he tells you in hushed tones before sucking your neglected nipple momentarily. He means it, too. You don’t think he’s a mistake. In truth, you think the world of Rin Itoshi. You wish you met at a different time. Things could be how you both want them to be. But this is how things are. You feel tears you hadn’t given permission begin to roll down your cheeks as you think about how lowly he views himself because of you. You are a fucking coward, you always have been. “I can be right for you, princess. I can.”

You hear him sniff a little before he continues making out with your aching tits. And you push his hair out of his face again, getting a perfect view of his lusciously long eyelashes. You can’t see his pretty green eyes from this angle, they’re focused intently on your chest. But his eyes snap to your when he hears you sniffling too.

“Rin… I-Is this—?”

“Do you want to do that thing you like?” he asks, breath fanning over your spit soaked tits as he snaps you from your thoughts. He encourages you to move a little as he hooks his fingers into your panties and tries to pull them down your legs. It’s clumsy, and it makes you laugh as you shuffle around awkwardly until they’re off. And he throws them across the room before your lips crash together again.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you kiss him. He swallows your moans like they’re holy and he’s fucking greedy. He manages to snake his hand between your bodies to free his length. And your vision strays to see it. His gorgeous, pretty cock. It’s beautiful and pink, though the darkness of the room hides it well. You know it from memory by now. But you can’t mistake the drooling precum leaking from his slit and down his shaft as he strokes his length at a steady pace while he kisses you again.

But you break it once more.

“You like it… you like it, too.” you smile, thinking back to what he’d asked you moments ago. He smirks against your lips, kissing you again before looking down at his length as he attempts to guide it into your heat.

“That’s right.” he nods, licking his lips. “’n it feels the best when you ride me… so sit on it.” he commands. He clenches his teeth as his tip sits comfortably in your sticky interior. You’re so tight and wrap around him so heavenly. As though you’re made solely for him. In his mind, though, that’s exactly what you are. He hisses, eagerly, as he feels the conflicting constrict of your cunt tightening and releasing repeatedly as he remains there. It’s like you aren’t sure if you’re trying to suck him in further or push him out completely.

His fingers curl around your dainty wrist, guiding your hand to his neck and encouraging you to squeeze. You do, softly, and you can’t help but smile when he laughs breathily.

“Sit on it, princess. S’all yours.”

The squeeze becomes tighter as you slowly sink on his length. Your jaw drops willingly as you moan through the stretch. And Rin, God, he’s fucking beautiful. His eyes roll over white as your pussy envelops him until you feel his pretty tip nudge your g-spot. You kiss his cheek. Again, and again and again until his vision returns to you.

He likes it. No, he loves it. But only because it’s you. He’s been with plenty of women, but he’s never been in love. He’s had feelings for partners, but never love. He can’t imagine letting any of them choke him the way you do. It makes him heady, but only because it’s you. The first time you did it he wanted to protest, to tell you in no uncertain terms that he isn’t interested in that kind of thing. But the word no could barely escape his lips before he came inside you after you squeezed the sides of his neck oh so deliciously.

“F-uck, Rinnie…” you moan as you start to rock your hips against him. His hands gently hold your waist and help you in your efforts, your breath catching in your throat as your clit catches against his pubis and trimmed hairs. “You’re s-so deep. Feel you h-here…” you point to your lower abdomen as you carry on rocking against him, your grip on his neck easing as you feel pleasure begin to surge through your nervous system.

He's speechless, though. He knows he’s big and doesn’t feel a need to reiterate it. Instead, he pushes his palm flat against your tummy as you continue to get yourself off. You moan, louder. Drool forming in the corner of your mouth as you keep going and going until your legs begin to give. And he pities you, he does. So much so that he holds your hips tightly and helps you rise and fall on the full length of his cock again and again.

Each impale is rapturous. The pleasure is fucking blinding as his heavy tip slams repeatedly against your sensitive soft insides and you mewl blaringly, no care or consideration for neighbours that might be trying to get a full eight hours before that dreaded sunrise approaches any minute now. You can’t possibly care, not when a cock so perfectly made to mould the shape and ridges of your pussy to suit it’s domineering size is ruining you so divinely.

“Don’t stop.” he reminds you, his hand covering and squeezing your own around his willing neck, encouraging you to persevere. The way your clutching fingers hug the column of his throat is beauty personified. Like a scene from a renaissance painting before your very eyes. And his eyes are blown to hell, full of lust, “harder.” he smirks, greedily. And you always do as you’re told. You want to be good for him after being so cruel. You want to please him after being so cold. You want to love him after being so harsh.

“I—” you start, your words becoming trapped in your throat as your cowardice springs to the forefront of your mind. Though, is it really cowardice? Or is it just the right decision for both of you? For peace of mind and an easy life, it is.

“Yeah?” his eyes practically glitter in expectation as he awaits your sentence to be brought to completion. You are cruel, cold and harsh. Because you’ve gotten his hopes up yet again. And you can’t have that, you just can’t.

“I’m, c-close…” you alert him. His eyes widen in surprise. It hasn’t been so long since you started. Are you lying? He can usually tell. He studies your face and feels the way your cunt constricts around his length as you draw near your demise. You’re honest, only sometimes.

“N-N.. uh… can you hold it? F-For me, princess?” he asks, pleads, really, if his watery eyes are anything to go by. You aren’t sure you can, but you nod anyway. You’ll try your damndest, for him, anything for him.

He manoeuvres you carefully onto your back so you’re lying beneath him. You remain wrapped around him the entire time, like he can’t bear to be apart from you for even a second. You can’t blame him, either, you don’t want to remember what life feels like without him snug inside of your welcoming cunt.

His eyes roam your body as he cages you in below him. Emerald jewels taking in each and every inch of your perfectly bare skin. Every detail, every crevice and pore. It’s all so beautiful to him, and hasn’t become a boring sight to behold in the entire two years you’ve been doing this.

Both of your hands cradle his head, fingers interlocking through the back of his hair. He looks into your eyes and you can’t help but smile. This is how your life should be. When you see how much love pours from his eyes as he looks at you, you know this is how things are meant to be. But it’s a shame, they aren’t. You feel your heart break in two as reality crashes around you once again. But he leans down to kiss you, silently asking your permission to keep going.

“Please, Rin.” you nod.

“Okay, I’ve got you.” he kisses your neck as he begins to shallowly thrust into you again. You mewl softly as you feel him suckle the skin covering your clavicle, and it’s sure to bruise, but you don’t care. You’re sick of caring, now. You just want to feel this. Enjoy this moment. You want to enjoy Rin.

He pushes your thighs gently, spurring you to wrap your legs around his hips in a bid for you to hug him tightly. You hook your feet against one another, and you feel like a koala clinging onto a tree. You don’t mind though. You feel safe, like this. A safety you’ve never felt from anyone at any time. He’ll keep you safe, always, because he loves you. All he wants in this moment is for you to feel good and for him to be the reason. You cock your head, curiously. And he wastes no time satiating your lust with a kiss.

Your moans feel suffocating as your throat swells with the desperate need to share them with him. But you can’t. Not when he’s pressing his lips to yours and trying to inhale your every breath and any other offering you can muster for him. He can’t let you go for even a second, he thinks. This is all he has. He needs to remember.

He looks upset when you turn your head to break the kiss, but his thrusting doesn’t cease. They slow, however. Opting to fuck you deeper. He wants to explore depths in your cute cunt that neither of you know even existed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice quiet but laced with concern. It’s hard to even think as his thrusts seem to be whisking your brain into a pink mushy paste.

“I can’t—” you pant, “hold it… m-much longer!” you warn him.

“Oh.” he chuckles, and burrows his head into the crook of your neck. He kisses. Sucks. Makes it known that you’ve been with him. A final bid to make you his, though it will surely amount to nothing. “That’s okay, let go, baby…” he tells you.

You bite your lip. A momentary gesture before you find your pleasure crescendo from his faithful pace. He kisses sweetly along your jawline, humping into you hard enough that there is a steady slapping resounding through the bedroom. You note how the sun seems to rise and birds begin to chirp as you topple over the edge of your orgasm.

He could bathe in your sweet moans for the rest of his life, he thinks. They seem to harmonise with the birds singing outside. Your fingers dig and claw into his shoulder blades as you don’t let up. It’s all so tantalizing, a song he’d happily play on repeat for the rest of his miserable life if he could.

You clamp around him and feel a swell of pride in your chest as you hear him moan for you, too. Your cunt floods with warmth and you’ve never felt so wanted. Part of him wishes you weren’t on birth control. Part of him wishes that it would fail so that there’s a reason he can truly make you his. But he knows he isn’t that lucky. And he knows it’s wrong to want those things, too. He doesn’t even want a kid, really.

He just wants a reason to keep you.

Your chest heaves as he collapses on top of you, hugging you closely. You fear that your sweaty bodies may meld together permanently, until the breeze from the open window rolls in. Cooling your dampened skin slowly but surely. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, though. Being stuck to him. There’s always fantastical ideas conjured from absurd imaginations that give you cause to be together. It’s the only way, you think.

It can’t be as simple as you want to be together.

You can’t just love each other so much you can be together.

You need a reason.

A very good fucking reason.

“Are we going to be okay, Rinnie? Things haven’t changed, right?” you ask him, almost scared to speak but not enough to stop the flow of your words. You feel his body tense up, and at that point you know things have indeed changed. But change can be good… you might just be delusional, though.

“I’m going to shower.” he says, coldly, peeling his body from yours. And it stings. He couldn’t give you an answer, and you know that translates to him only having an answer you won’t like. He’s cruel, mostly, but never with you. With other people he can be rude and mean. But he’d rather be silent than do that to you. And it hurts. Fuck, it hurts. It’s all such a mess and everything is fucking ruined. “… are you coming?” he asks, looking back at you as he heads towards the bathroom.

And there it is.

The flame of hope he can never truly let die when it comes to you.

Your eyes flicker open, the room fully bathed in the light of the mid-morning sun. Rin is sitting at the edge of his bed. Legs covered by grey joggers and his torso bare. The shadows and light contrasting each other and painting an alluring portrait of toned musculature across his back. He shields it from you, though, as he pulls a t-shirt over his head.

He stands up, collecting the towel he dropped on the floor as he got changed. And that’s when he sees you’re finally awake again. He curses himself when he smiles at you, still unable to believe how easily you can make him do so.

“How was your nap?” he asks, calmly, tossing the towel expertly into his laundry bin.

“I don’t even remember falling asleep…” you admit.

Though you do remember cuddling into his side after your shower. Your towel is loose around your body, the one wrapped around your hair is crumpled up atop your pillows. He didn’t sleep a wink, he savoured the feeling of you clinging onto him like you might actually love him. But his mind was also plagued by the future. About what happens next. He doesn’t get nervous, usually. But now, as he looks at you in your most natural form, he’s legitimately scared. Scared of everything crashing down around him.

“I… your clothes.” he tilts his head, gesturing to the folded clothes on your bedside cabinet. You thank him, quickly, dropping your towel and hurriedly getting into your jeans and tank top you wore over here in the middle of the night. “I want to be with you, properly.” Rin confesses, focusing intently on his hands before daring to look up to you. Your expression is sullen, unsure of how to respond. You hadn’t expected to hear him say something so bold, not after what you said to him earlier. But you suppose he’s had time to think.

“I just don’t know what you want me to say, Rin.” you sigh, shaking your fingers through your still damp hair. Little droplets flying to the wood floor below.

“I want you to tell the truth… I know you love me. I know you’re just scared. I know you want to be with me, too. I don’t get why you’re doing this. I don’t know why you’re punishing yourself… or me.” he approaches you, walking around the bottom of the bed and grabbing your shoulders with fervour as he wills you to be honest for the first time in your life.

“No.” you shake your head and move away from him. “It isn’t right, you know it isn’t.”

“It’s not right? I’ve loved you for two years and you’re telling me that’s wrong? And I know you feel the fucking same, so please, please baby—”

“I have to go, I can’t do this.” you feel fresh tears roll down your face as you begin to search for your purse. You feel like your fucking heart is going to explode. And he doesn’t bother hiding his upset, either. Because he’s made up his mind.

“This was goodbye, then.” he informs you, and your movements halt as you look at him.

“What?”

“I’m not being this… joke. I’m not going to be your shoulder to cry on when you’re lonely. I’m not going to fuck you, you can’t just come here when you feel like it. I’m done, I can’t do it.” he takes a deep breath as he finishes, knowing that this is really over. It’s killing him. “I love you, and it hurts. This really hurts. But you’re not the girl I thought you were. I thought you were kind and I know you love me too and that’s why it’s fucking— I feel like I’m dying. I don’t get why you’re denying yourself of this.”

You sigh, slipping your feet into your white slides and trying to fight back tears. He thinks everything is so simple. He thinks you can both just live a fairy tale life and be happy, but that isn’t realistic. He isn’t being realistic and maybe that’s your fault. You thought you’d been clear about what this is between you. You hadn’t intended to make him feel used. You didn’t want to hurt him and you didn’t want things to end like this.

“Okay.” you shrug, fingers grasping the door handle as you prepare to leave.

“What’s so fucking special about Sae?” he sobs, quietly. You can’t bear to look at him. Your heart is already breaking and you know looking at his defeated face will give your vital organ cause to split into quarters. “As kids, he was always better at football. He’s older, he’s the favourite. But he doesn’t even treat you right, he doesn’t love you. I do, I love you so what’s so special about him, princess?” he drops his weight onto the bed below, sitting on the edge again as he wills you to face him. His stomach ravaged by butterflies as he waits for an answer. Any kind of answer that will give him some clarity.

“Nothing’s special about him, Rin…” you sigh, again, giving into his desire and offering him the eye contact he craved. “I just met him two years and a few days before I met you.” you sniffle loudly before hurrying out of the door, slamming it behind you unintentionally as you run to the elevator.

He lets his head fall into his hands as he begins to bawl. The knowledge finally setting in that this is really the end of this chapter of his life. The story of you and him is complete and the ending is fucking devastating. He rests his head against the wet pillows you’d left in such a hurry. The scent of your lotions and perfume still clinging to them. And he cries more, covering his face entirely with his hands.

He’ll always lose to Sae, that much is clear.

If only he’d met you first.

© 2023 rinitxshi

[munson-mjstan]

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem Reader

Synopsis: Not much time has passed since the funeral of your dear friend Eddie Munson. To say you were miserable as a result would be an understatement, you felt as though the grief was killing you. Luckily another friend is there for you, offering you hope in this time of despair.

Warnings: Angst with comfort (Steve being readers super hero), swearing, use of y/n, mentions of the Upside Down, mentions of Vecna, God makes an appearance-ish

Wc: 4.3k

An: My first Steve Harrington fic! Ohhh! I'm so excited! I hope I wrote him well! Thank you to my beta readers @lokis-army-77, @xxhellfirebunnyxx

Comments and reblogs are everything!! 💗

"Edward Munson, as we lay you to rest, those of us left behind bid you farewell.” That was the closing statement as the casket carrying the body of your beloved friend descends into the ground. The final resting place for Eddie Munson.

That was two weeks ago.

You're brought back to the present by Steve snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“Oi! Hun!”

Blinking your focus is back at your shift at Family Video. You're at the front counter with Robin while Steve resumes putting away rented videos.

“You okay?” Robin asks you softly.

Turning to face her you notice her beautiful blue eyes hold sadness, fear, and a little bit of anger swimming behind them. Anger not directed at you but at someone else.

You heave out a sigh, hoping to exhale the edge of your grief, “No, I'm not, Robin… I miss Eddie so much.” Your voice is low and melancholic, one that if a demon heard you, they'd start crying.

Robin doesn't hesitate to hug you to which you hug her back. “I miss him too,” Robin says “he was a cool guy.”

Cool was definitely an understatement to describe Eddie, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. “He was incredible, Robin.”

Steve makes his rounds, putting away rented videos in their proper places. He is pretending he didn't hear most of your brief conversation with Robin. He felt terrible.

Even when you're present you're gone.

As he put the last rented video back in its place he heard sniffles.

“Robin…he was supposed to graduate and finally make something of himself! He was supposed to find a girl, get married, have a family! Or hell! Make it big with Corroded Coffin! He deserved so much better than the hand he got!” You didn't mean to raise your voice, your emotions were once again threatening to choke you.

Your eyes are burning, your body is trembling, and you feel your chest tightening.

Thankfully, Robin being the great friend she is, let you vent, “I know,” She sadly replied, “I didn't know Eddie that well, but from the time I spent with him, he did deserve better.”

“Yeah,” Your breathing is starting to become even, you're calming down, “I think I need to wash my face and try to calm further down.” You chuckle sheepishly, the emotional outburst has embarrassed you.

“Want me to come with you?” Robin asks, kindness dripping from her voice like honey dripping from a comb.

Shaking your head you smile at Robin; the appreciation is there though the smile does not reach your eyes.

“I'll be okay, Robin. Thanks anyway.” And with that you depart to the ladies restroom, opening and closing the door with a semi-loud squeak.

Once you were out of sight, Robin called out to Steve, “Hey, dingus!”

Jumping slightly from being startled, Steve maneuvers to where Robin is at the front desk.

“What’s up?”

“Don't ‘What’s up?’ me, Steve!” Robin impersonates Steve with immaculate precision, “You gotta help our girl out. I've never seen her so miserable...” Robin's voice drops, her eyes are glossed with unshed tears, it's like her skin is acting as a conduit for your grief.

“I want to help, I do, I have no idea where to start.” Steve leans against the counter, his shoulders slump as he lets out a sigh of rumination.

“We need to think carefully about this. This is not a simple matter.” Robin adds, wanting to brainstorm with Steve on how best to aid you. “She's getting her emotions out, that's a start.”

“Maybe I could take her to Eddie's grave? I know it hasn't been long but maybe if she sees him…” Steve trails off not finishing his sentence, “then again, maybe it's too soon for her.”

“A good idea! Do you think Mike and the others would be willing to help?”

“Possibly,” Steve considers Robin's idea, commiting said thought to memory, “but I think we should wait to ask them, at least for a bit while I take the brunt of it.”

Robin nods in agreement,”I wish I could help her too, ya know?” Robin bangs her head against the store counter “Dammit Eddie! You weren't supposed to die!”

“Robin, if there is an afterlife, I hope Eddie can see how much he matters…or mattered.” Steve dismally corrected himself, he's not used to talking about someone past tense.

“I hope so too.” Robin agrees, sharing the same sentiment exactly.

“She needs to know that we are here for her.”

“Well, yes, we are,” Robin concurred, making deliberate emphasis on ‘we’ “but I think maybe you should be the one to help her, at least with the brunt of her grief.” She gives Steve a knowing look.

“Huh? W-what do you mean?” Steve's eyes look anywhere but Robins piercing blue ones.

“You like her, dingus.” Robin's lips curve up into a smirk.

Steve blinks at her as a blush creeps up his face, “Uh..”

“You can bear the brunt of it because she's precious to you.” Robin says matter-of-factly.

“S-she's just–” Steve stammers, trying to find the right words.

“A girl you want to kiss,” Robin finishes his sentence even though it most likely wasn't what he wanted to say.

Steve sighs, “It's true, I do like her a lot but..”

“But?” Robin questions, raising a brow, resting her elbows on the counter and her chin on her open palms.

“She's going through enormous grief and I wouldn't dream of taking advantage of that,” Steve declares candidly, he'd never under any circumstances try anything with you until you were one hundred percent better, “I'll do what I can to help her no matter what!”

Robin whistles, “Wow, Steve, I'm impressed.” she'd never imagine King Steve of all people would become so considerate of others, not just to her but you.

“Thanks,” he smiles. “I should probably get ready to ask her to come with me after work.”

“Why do you need to get ready?” Robin questions, wondering what in the world could he have to prepare himself for.

Steve takes several deep breaths, “Oh!” He exclaims, he'd just got an idea.

-

Washing your face in one of the bathroom sinks you gaze at your face in the soiled mirror, eyes swollen and absent of life.

“I miss you.” You say quietly, deadpanned.

Who were you talking about? Eddie?

The girl you were before his death?

Both?

You felt as though some part of you was laid to rest alongside Eddie.

It's only been two weeks but you still can't help but wonder how long you'll be this way.

A few years?

Decades?

You can't fathom that much time grieving.

The thought alone brought more tears to your eyes but you squeezed your eyes shut, you will yourself not to shed them.

Exhaling out a breath you didn't know you were holding you give yourself a small pat on the back; stopping yourself from crying certainly was not easy.

“Brace yourself, y/n. Gotta get back out there and face Robin and Steve.” Hopping up and down in an attempt to hype yourself up you lightly smack your face with both your hands.

“Come on! You got this!” This time you shouted at your reflection, hoping she would listen to you.

Turning brisk on your heel you make your way out of the bathroom, your Nikes make a slight squeaking noise on the linoleum flooring. Opening the door you're greeted by the grinning face of Steve Harrington.

“Hey!”

“H-hi?” You're taken aback by his unusual cheerful attitude.

“I was thinking, something I'm bad at I know,” his comment had earned a chuckle from you; butterflies erupted in his stomach, “I want to take you out after work.”

“So,” you tilt your head, “like a date?”

“Uh..” Steve blushes, clearing his throat, “no, nothing like that. I want to go see someone with you.”

“Sure? Why not?” As perplexed as you are, going out with a friend is something you need to do for yourself.

“Great!” Steve's smile gets impossibly bigger.

His grin made you smile automatically back.

Steve could see that your grin didn't reach your eyes, it was something automatic; a mask to let others know you were okay.

“Alright, meet me outside my BMW after our shifts are done!”

“Okay.”

“Great!” Steve glanced at Robin who gestured at the clock ticking above them, “Shit! It's almost time for our last break! Let's go!” Steve turns and heads to the break room, you and Robin follow suit.

Entering the break room you sit down, out a folded sheet of paper and pen you pull out from the breast pocket of your Family Video vest and begin writing.

All your emotions, pain, tears, things you've experienced in the Upside Down you pour into the letter. You don't care that you're making grammatical errors, it is imperative that these feelings come out. You miss Eddie, you miss him terribly. You keep expecting he'll pop out somewhere and say “Surprise, sweetheart. I'm alive!” But you know that's impossible.

Meanwhile, Steve and Robin from the other side of the break room are formulating a plan to help you further.

“Steve, you did great! She's not quite a shell of her former self anymore!” Robin's eyes shine in delight, happy to see her friend slowly but surely getting better.

“But I haven't done anything yet.” Steve dismisses his actions as though they were nothing, but Robin noticed an immediate change in your countenance.

“Take it from me, I've been around her longer than you at the front desk. After Eddie's death she's been something like a zombie, not even living just existing.” Robin explains, this is how she's seen you recently.

You don't listen to much music, read, go to the arcade, swim or any of the things you used to be so excited about doing. Until now, you've picked up another hobby you used to do: write.

“So, she's making progress?” Steve tentatively asks.

Robin playfully scoffs, “Yes, dingus!”

Once you've finished writing down your thoughts as thoroughly as you could at this time, you heave out a sigh, deflating like a balloon. You fold up your letter and stuff it into your jeans.

A large hand made contact with your shoulder, you looked up to see its owner, it's Steve grinning down at you, “You okay?” he asks, still smiling but his brown eyes hold concern and compassion for you.

Smiling back at him you say, “As good as I can be, I guess.”

“Better than nothing!” Steve bellows, his hand moves to your back, “I'm here for you, no matter the time of day or night for that matter. If you need to talk, call me and I'll come pick you up! I want to help get you through this.” Steve removes his hand from your back and crouches down so he is eye level with you so, “Will you let me?” His voice brims with kindness.

Surprised by Steve's actions, you can only look at his face as the answer falls from your lips, “Yes, of course Steve.” You needed the support right now, “Thank you, Steve and I'm sorry.” You didn't want to be a burden to him, or to anyone that's why you were taking your grief on alone.

“Don't ever apologize for needing help every now and then. We'll get through this together.” Steves’ eyes shine brightly with sincerity.

“Thank you.” You thank him once again for his offer to help you.

Glancing down at his watch Steve comments, “We have to get back out there! We only have two hours left of our shift!” Steve looks at you once again, “Can you make it? It's just two more hours. You know, you'd better stick with me, I don't want you to be alone.” A smile as bright as the sun graces his handsome features.

“But Robin–” you glance at Robin who had been watching the entire exchange, she is grinning and giving you a thumbs up with her freshly manicured nails. “Alright, I'll stick with you.”

You'd never know it but Steve's insides are dancing the conga. “Okay!” Steve stands upright, “Time to get back to work, Robby!” You chuckle softly at the nickname Steve calls Robin. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, Robin then smiles at the both of us, “Y/n, we are here for you, and I'm positive the kids are too.”

Another smile that doesn't reach your eyes pulls at your face when you think of the kids, especially Dustin, “I know, thank you, Robin.”

Exiting the break room you tug gently on Robin's work vest, she turns to face you,“If you need me, please call me up to the front.”

Robin chuckles, “Y/n, this has been one of the slowest days, the earthquake really messed with everyday life in Hawkins. I mean, Steve removed and re-stocked the videos out of sheer boredom…I'm surprised he didn't alphabetized them.”

Wait, Steve did what?

Robin must've seen the face you're making, “Don’t look so shocked. It's been a long time coming he does some actual work rather than fail at flirting with the girls that come by.” Robin snorts out a laugh.

“Really? Wow.” You were shocked, you had no idea what was happening around you. The shock manifested itself as a wake-up call.

The world hadn't ended because Eddie Munson had died.

“Yeah, well you better tail Steve the rest of our shift. I don't want to keep you all to myself.” Robin playfully slapped your shoulder.

“I will, I mean,” you look around the store, there are no customers, “it's not like we're busy.”

“There ya go!” Robin beams, walking away from you back to her post at the front counter.

Walking around Family Video you find a familiar head of chestnut hair standing up to the heavens and standing next to a pile of tapes. Upon closer inspection he seems to be concentrating on a particular video in his hands, it's a title you recognize.

“Carrie, huh?”

Your voice broke Steve out of his trance, he blinked before turning his head to face you he smiled instantly, “Yeah, I'm curious about it.”

Having watched the movie several times during your horror nights with Eddie, you knew your stuff about this film, “About what?”

“Well, this Carrie girl, what's her deal? Is she a monster of some sort?”

You couldn't help but chuckle at Steve's genuine cluelessness, “No, she's not, she's just a normal girl, well fundamentally speaking.”

Your words make Steve furrow his brows in thought, “What does that mean?”

“It means she's a girl that has telekinesis, she moves objects using her mind.” Explaining her powers to Steve you notice his eyebrows relax, that's one answer he's gotten.

“Oh? Wow! El is like her!” Steve grins, his white teeth shine brightly.

Curious as to who El is, you question Steve, “Um, who?”

Steve facepalms, “I'm sorry! I completely forgot you haven't met her yet.” Steve puts away the copy of Carrie in its proper place and gestures to the pile of tapes next to him, “Help me put those away and I'll explain it.”

Nodding your head you maneuver to the tape pile and take the first one on top Friday the 13th. Furrowing your brows you glance around the aisle, you're in the horror/suspense section. Placing the movie where it belongs Steve starts his explanation.

“She is a friend of the kids, a rather extraordinary one at that. She has telekinesis too, but it takes a lot out of her. You have to meet her!” Steve excitedly expressed.

Pacing back and forth putting videos away you let Steve's words penetrante your mind.

A girl with supernatural powers?

This you gotta see!

“Yeah, I'd like that.”

“Good! It's settled then!” Steve puts more tapes away.

Two Hours Later…

Finally your monotonous shift has ended, you, Robin, and Steve head out the door together.

“What an eventful shift.” Robin comments, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Steve held in a laugh while you looked at the sky. It was still bright out, the sun hadn't reached the horizon. The sky had taken an orange glow making cumulus clouds above you appear pink. Several birds fly over the three of you, headed toward a destination you didn't know, you want to guess away from Hawkins.

Fly little birds, get away from here. You think to yourself.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, “Ready to go?” Steve beams, holding up the keys to his BMW.

“Yeah, I am.” You smile back.

“Great! See you next week Robin!” Steve hugs Robin who over his shoulder made a look of disgust that made you laugh.

Robin decided to make it her mission to make you laugh until the grief passed you. She noticed it was a genuine laugh but not quite like the ones she heard before Eddie's death.

That's a start. Robin thought to herself.

Steve pulled away and Robin had a smile plastered on her face, “What did you do?”

“Nothing, dingus!” Robin feigns ignorance, holding her hands up in mock surrender.

“See you next week, Robin. Take some time to chill out this weekend.” Hugging your friend, you impart these words to her, they're sincere.

“You too, Y/n.” Robin hugs you back, you feel her support and care for you in her embrace. She's such a great friend.

“Are you sure you'll be okay going home by yourself? I'm sure Steve won't mind dropping you off at home first.” You gently nudge Steve with your elbow.

“-W-wha–huh? Oh, yes of course.” He agrees albeit a little disappointed.

“Great! Thanks guys!”

-

Steve pulls into Robin's driveway. Being the gentleman he is, Steve opened Robin's side door after putting his car in ‘park’ and escorted her to her porch, he even waited until she was fully inside her home.

After bidding their final goodbyes Steve walks back to his car and through his windshield tells you to move to the passenger side.

Unbuckling your seatbelt you open the rear door, exit out of the car only to find the passenger door open, Steve gave you a radiant smile that made your face heat up, “For you, ma'am.”

“Thank you, sir.” Smiling at his playful gesture you enter the passenger side of his car, take your seat, and patiently wait for Steve to drive you to your unknown destination.

Steve enters the drivers side, checks his mirrors and looks behind him making sure things are clear, safe for him to drive. Once he saw that it was safe he backed out of Robin's driveway, put his BMW in ‘drive’ and made his way out of the neighborhood.

Once you’d made it onto one of the main roads you turn to face Steve, “Um, Steve? Who are we going to see?”

Steve, keeping his eyes on the road chuckled a little bit, “Sorry, it's a secret. Though I'm sure if you thought about it, you'd figure it out.”

Figure what out?

The answer hits you like a freight train going full force.

“Eddie…” you breathe out like the answer has stolen most of your air.

“Yeah, the man himself.” Steve makes a left turn, “Do you know what you wanna say?”

Pulling out the letter you'd written earlier, you wave it slightly, “I have some things written here.”

“Perfect!” Steve happily exclaims. He's honestly happy just spending time with you.

Making another left turn you spot a sign.

Stone Mountain Cemetery

You hadn't been here in two weeks and when you were here last Eddie– even your thoughts couldn't finish as you felt warm streaks of tears fall from your irises.

Steve took a quick glance at you and his face fell. Maybe this was too soon for you, “Do you need me to turn around? We don't have to do this.” Steve calmly reassures you, ready and willing to turn around and take you home.

Steve's words bring comfort to your distressed state. Suddenly you feel a surge of courage travel up your body.

“I have t-to do this. I-I n-need to see him.” Through your broken sobs and sniffles you say what's on your mind with determination.

You will see Eddie and tell him what you'd been feeling since he's been gone.

Steve pulls into a parking spot and sits for a minute, putting a supportive arm around your shoulders he promises, "I'm here for you. Today, tomorrow and every day after.”

Taking some deep needed breathes, you feel your rapid heartbeat beginning to steady, your tears less frequent, and your mind more focused on what you need to do.

“Thank you so much, Steve.” Leaning your head onto his shoulder you voice your gratitude for his patience and care.

He kisses your head, he feels your hair against his lips, “You're welcome, I'm happy to do this for you.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind holding me while I read what I have to say to Eddie?”

“Not at all, hun.” He didn't hesitate in answering you.

  “Alright then,” unbuckling your seatbelt, you lean out of Steve's embrace, “let's go.”

  Steve follows suit unbuckling his seatbelt.

  Exiting his car you look up at the sky once again, the sun is about thirty minutes to the horizon and that works perfectly for you.

  Steve appears beside you, sporting a smile, “Ready?” His large hand is held out for you to take.

  Which you take right away.

  “I am, lead on, Steve.” smiling back, it still doesn't reach your eyes from Steve's perspective but he's happy to be helping you in your time of need.

  If you could guess how long you had been walking until you reached Eddie's grave you'd say about 5 minutes, so not long at all.

  “We made it,” Steve says with a somber tone.

  “Yeah…” the familiar placing of each headstone leading up to Eddie's you remember, as if you could forget such an unhappy event.

“So,” Steve scratches the back his head and gazes out into the sunset, “you know what you're gonna say.”

  “I do, I mean– I did, ahh fuck it!” Taking the letter you wrote during your break you crumble it up.

 “Isn’t that important?”

  “Yeah, but I'm just gonna say what's on my mind rather than this,” you hold up the crumbled note, “please hold me, Steve.”

  “You got it.” Steve smiles with sadness in his eyes but puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you as close as he can.

 “Thank you.” You voice your gratitude, feeling something blossom in your chest you don't quite recognize; you'll think on that when you're not grieving.

  Clearing your throat you begin, “Dear Eddie,” you pause taking a deep breath “the two weeks that past since you were laid to rest have been hell, or to be more precise, empty.” Your voice dropped an octive, feeling the sadness creep it's way up your body. “While I didn't see you die, Dustin told me how it happened, how brave you were in not running away. I always knew you were courageous.”

  Chuckling softly you continue, “You said to Dustin to take care of the sheep because you– were going to graduate.” Tears pour from your eyes as Steve holds you impossibly closer.

  “Honey, you're doing great.” He plants a kiss on your temple.

  “You didn't deserve this fate. You deserved to have your name cleared with all of our help. Then, once you graduated, you'd get the hell out of Hawkins– or whatever you wanted to do as long as you were alive!”

  Anger rose to the surface of your emotions, “Fuck the demobats. Fuck the upsidedown. Fuck Vecna. And Fuck Hawkins lab! All of them are culprits in taking those we care about away!”

  Unbidden faces pop into your mind: Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney, and Max Mayfield, the last miraculously survived the attack with severe injuries but you still couldn't help but think of the others that have perished that had some sort of a connection with Hawkins Lab.

  From the very first peculiar thing to occur with Will Byers all the way up to Eddie Munson. Those different faces, some good, some bad all had their lives taken from them.

  A large flame has been lit within your body, you clench your fists, “He’ll pay for this…” 

  “Hun?” Steve questions with concern in his voice.

  “Eddie Munson, I promise you, your death will NOT be in vain. Vecna will be defeated, the gates WILL close and Hawkins will go back to the way it was before all this fucked up shit happened. I don't yet know how it'll happen but I will not stop until all of this hell ends.” Anger infused with determination to end the hell that's been happening has come to life within you.

  Wiping away the remaining tears that made their escape from your eyes with your forearm you close, “Love your Sweetheart, Y/n.” Shoving the crumbled note back in your pants pocket your knees buckle and you begin to sob heavily.

  Steve embraces you fully, letting you cry in his strong arms, “That's it, let it all out hun.” Steve gently rubs your back, he feels your body tremble, “I've got you.”

  Unbeknownst to the both of you an unseen friend of you both was watching the scene unfold in its entirety, “Well, damn, sweetheart. If I didn't know better I might think you were in love with a dead guy!” Eddie lets out a hearty laugh at the very idea. 

  “But I hope you'll be okay…” doubt plages Eddie's mind.

  “She will be fine” a voice simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar to Eddie spoke gently.

  “Yeah,” Eddie had no doubt in his mind now, you will be okay. “Harringtons got her.” Placing a translucent hand on Steve's shoulder, he says.

“Don't cha, big boy?”

-

Tag list

@andvys @melodymunson

[avocado-writing]

hi!! ive.. gone and read so much of ur work in one sitting. its all so much to take in, IN A GOOD WAY, and i absolutely adore every single word

would u be so kind.. to bless my angst durge needs..

Durge Resist tav, was strong for all until the brain was finally defeated but now, with what she believed her only purpose/chance at redemption (brain), they can't help but feel utterly empty and,, unredeemed. They mourn all those they have robbed from this world, nameless, and countless numbers of people they robbed of the life that they were now being given the chance at living. Surely they don't deserve it(Is what they think..)

They are pathetically in love, and if they deserve anything, its to tell their special one just how much they are adored before casting themselves out of society (or taking their own life, if ur comfortable writing such things-)

Rolan, Dammon, Zevlor, maybe even Rugan if u write for that loser LMAO. just.. whoever u write for, its the tieflings i adore most ahegege

if this didnt make sense IM SORRY i havent slept in so long and sleep is not choosing me. i just crave angst, perhaps with a happy ending if u would indulge me so..!! thank u if u read this, so much!!

hi, I don't write fics about suicide, but here's the tiefling bachelors with a durge who's planning to disappear after the absolute is gone and giving them one final confession:

Dammon

senses something is wrong when you take him aside for a heart-to-heart.

it isn't that you avoid these sorts of moments per se, he just knows you only affirm your affections when something big is going to happen (you did it before you went off to fight the elder brain)

he holds your hand tightly, gets you to look him in the eye.

"I love you, no matter what, and I never want to be without you. tell me you'll be there when I wake up tomorrow. in our bed. swear it to me."

you can see the utter adoration he looks at you with, and you think: maybe you aren't so bad if a man like this can truly love you.

the next morning Dammon wakes up. you're not in bed next to him. he panics, getting to his feet - only to find you in the kitchen making breakfast.

he's never been so relieved. walks up behind you and wraps you in his arms. he loves you so dearly, and will keep on loving you until you believe yourself worthy of it.

Rolan

Rolan doesn't quite understand why you're having this great outburst, but chalks it down to emotions running high after the final battle.

says goodnight, kisses you, and heads off to his tower - he has a lot of admin to do after all.

the next morning he comes to meet you at the elfsong, only to be met with the realisation that you aren't there. he curses himself for not understanding why you were so melancholic last night.

he tracks you down. uses all of his resources to scry on you, grease palms with the money the tower has. he's up all night for weeks. Cal and Lia worry about him but he is determined.

and find you he does. manages to locate where you're hiding out, a little hamlet in the middle of nowhere. you burst into tears when you see him, and he just pulls you into his arms.

"come home with me."

you do, moving into his tower. and you never leave him again.

Zevlor

immediately knows something is wrong. takes you to a quiet place where the two of you can be alone and talk things out.

discusses how he feels like being a failure for breaking his oath -- but you always saw past that. saw the goodness in his soul. he wishes you would treat yourself with that kindness.

you begin to cry, softly at first, and then with sobs which wrack your whole body. he holds you ever so tightly.

"I love you. you are not who you were. you have strived to be better every day, fought against your own family, and always chosen a righteous path. you deserve to be happy. I'd want to make you happy, if you'd let me."

eventually your tears run dry and you look up into his face. his eyes are so sincere. he means every word.

when you kiss him, it's a promise: that you're with him for good. that whatever comes next, it will be faced together.

[goldberrg]

your face

summery : When you tell your best friend Eddie that you haven't been kissed since seventh grade, he offers to kiss you. There's only one catch : you don't know when he'll do it.

part one, 2 , 3 , 4

Eddie couldn't help but notice your expression as you watched Andy unknowingly pull little Mikey into the cave. You looked too melancholic for someone who was actively watching "Stooges". Bella sighed as the characters shared a sweet, childish kiss, resting their heads on their shoulders.

— Does Brant wear braces?

Eddie kicked you. — Can you stop thinking so loudly? I'm trying to watch a movie.

You snorted, teasing him. — Not all of us have blissfully empty brains, Munson.

— Not all of us look longingly at the TV when they watch children's films.

You rolled your eyes, blushing. — you interrupted a memory, asshole.

— Ah. — he nodded as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

— I see. Have you often kissed your unsuspecting peers in caves? — this time he deserved a kick, an evil giggle escaped from his hands.

—I just… — you trailed off, watching Andy rush to his girlfriend, his eyes flashing in the light of the lantern.

"Steph, that was great."

You pulled your knees up to your chest, looking at Eddie. — I have to tell you something awkward.

His dark eyebrows arched in interest, and he tossed his sneakers onto the coffee table. — Please tell me, my lady.

The movie was moving in the background as you looked into those big brown eyes. — You'll laugh at me.

He shrugged his shoulders. — Probably. — he grinned when you hit him on the shoulder — What if I promise not to do it?.

— You studied his expression suspiciously. — I don't believe you, but I'll tell you anyway, because you have the privilege of a best friend.

— Damn it. He shook his fist triumphantly. — Come on, splash it out! I have a privilege.

You hesitated, cheeks flushed as Eddie stared at you. You are prepared for the coming ridicule. — I haven't been kissed since seventh grade.

He frowned, pausing to count on his fingers. — Oh, my God. — his voice wasn't teasing. It was half sad, which is even worse. You'd rather take a good-natured poke than be pitied.

— Are you serious? It's like seven years.

— Trust me, I know. — you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie looked confused. He bit his thumbnail. — What, you haven't found anyone you'd like to kiss? Not a single "worthy soul" has appeared since you turned thirteen?

— No, it's not even that. — your ears are warm with embarrassment. — I was interested in a lot of people. I think I'm just.. impossible to kiss.

There was a long silence. Eddie frowned. — Kissing isn't that good anyway, you know? Saliva, teeth and too much tongue… It's disgusting.

— Don't make me laugh. — you narrowed your eyes, and he sighed.

— Yes, you're right. It's unbelievable. — he should have known better than to try to deny the pleasure of one of his most favorite activities.— But you can't be kissed! You can really be kissed! Look at you!

His heart ached. He couldn't let that happen. His best friend, the girl he'd been fixating on for as long as he could remember, thinking it was impossible to kiss her? It's just ridiculous.

— I'll kiss you. — he said it before he even realized it. Your eyes widened, but he kept his cool. — What?

— You heard me. — he kept his voice even. — I'll kiss you.

[trigunsbbygirl]

I read both your Vash and Knives reverse isekais and loved them. I wad just sad that the brothers were split up again, so what if you wrote both brothers appearing in our world? That way they can be together and be happy?

ofc!! they deserve to be happy and just be silly little brothers together again hhbmmn

anyways sorry in advance I think I was possessed by like Miku or smth bc I do not shut up about music for the first like 600 words idek why

also kinda bring up potential v relationship for a bullet point or two, but yeah, many thoughts on the two of them..

•do not split them up! (I say after having split them up lol)

•but what I mean is, congratulations! you now have two(2) roommates!🎉 (rip if you live in a v small apartment lol)

•like I said in my Knives isekai hcs, he gets into composing music, but! this time Vash learns along with him and they make music together often. when they collaborate the songs usually end up being longer than 5 minutes and they always have intense emotions put into them. there'll be a soothing piano/violin/flute part before it crescendos into chaos.

•this is kinda their way of dealing with their past with eachother. they haven't talked about it all yet, (they will eventually, it's just a very big can of worms to open that will probably take years to go through and neither one is quite ready) but for now, making music together like this is how they deal with it,,

•over time, especially after Vash and Nai have started deailing with everything,, their songs together do get less anguished, pained and sad, and overall feel much more light. they took a bit of a break during that time, but after the two got past the hardest parts, they wanted to make a new song together and it was rather peaceful. a bit melancholic at times but the song ended happy.

•Vash gets into writing lyrics more than Nai does, although Nai does read over Vash's work and gives suggestions when asked. but when Nai does write lyrics, damn does he do an amazing job.

•Vash does the singing too! unfortunately, I don't think Nai would be too into singing, maybe just being a low harmony just barely audible against Vash's voice and the music. it's a shame, he probably has an insanely good singing voice;(

•if you're into singing Vash begs you to sing the songs he writes, even if you're not great at it. if you agree, he's got the biggest grin on his face, his eyes sparkling. Vash listens very intently, taking in the way you sing every note and syllable. he's committing it to memory and when you're done, Vash bombards you with compliments, saying you should sing more.

•Nai is a little more subtle with asking you to sing any songs he writes, but the way he stares at you a day after you sang for Vash is not. Nai won't ask for you to sing for him, rather, waiting for you to come to him and ask. (it's something Vash is trying to work on with Nai, that it's okay to ask for stuff and that you won't appear weak or next or whatever. idk how to explain it but I hc Nai trying to twist his wants/emotions to appear that you want it rather than him bc of pride and stubbornness? if that makes sense)

•anyways, you tell Vash about Nai staring at you a lot lately, and Vash thinks for a moment before saying he thinks Nai just wants you to sing for him, but he's just stubborn. Vash suggests that you ask if you could sing one of Nai's songs since he doesn't think Nai will actually ask.

•when Nai is listening to you sing, he switches between listening with his eyes closed and watching you carefully. it's honestly a little nerve-racking, but when you're done singing he opens his eyes with a small smile barely showing on his face and says, "you have a nice voice."

so sorry I went crazy with music for a second anyways

•Vash forces Nai to join in on movie night every weekend. Nai doesn't really care about movies but Vash loves them and there's so many he wants to see!

•Nai will watch them but he's got a scowl on his face the whole time, especially if it's a romance or comedy. or both.. he does like mystery and horror movies if they're done well. (I think he'd really like 1982 The Thing (much to Vash's dismay.) Nai really likes the practical effects and mood of it.)

•Nai is also lowkey really happy that he can watch cowboy movies again. unless a movie has really caught his eye, he usually picks westerns. they both really like Rango!

•Vash on the other hand, hates horror movies, especially if they're gorey. but, it was Nai's turn to choose so he'll try to endure it. he stays glued to your side, hugging your arm, and if he's too scared by the end, Vash will ask to sleep with you.

•Vash loves animated movies and comedies! he rewatches a lot of movies like Into the Spiderverse, Puss in Boots. he loves signing along to songs in movies, it's really cute.

•stupid thought that just came up but, if somehow Vash hadn't learned about rabbits and he watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail, he'd sit there wondering if that's what rabbits are actually like.

•there's a song called SEKAI-chan and KAFU-chan's Errand Ensemble and I can envision Vash and Nai having moments like the song.

like Vash wants a certain food, but they don't have ingredients and Nai is like just wait, we're going to the store tomorrow we'll have this instead. but Vash refuses and forces Nai to do rock-paper-scissors, and when Vash wins he's forcing Nai out the door.

•Vash usually forces Nai to go shopping with him. the times that he doesn't, Nai notices that Vash buys a lot of donuts and so Nai brings himself with everytime now so it doesn't happen again. Vash whines saying that they're cheap, but Nai argues that they've got so much dessert at home thanks to Vash already, they don't need more. Vash has a donut restriction now;( 3 a week and he can only bring a box home once a month. the only exception is when Vash makes the donuts himself. you guys always have so many donuts.

•Vash and Nai get insanely good at Mario Kart and they're both brutal too. they get really good at sniping with green shells and bananas it's a little scary. so, good luck getting first. Vash may be nicer and cheer you on if you get into first, but Nai is ruthless and competitive;; (okay there may be a few times where he let's you win but he'll never admit it, even if it's obvious.)

•they aren't afraid to play dirty either lol. they'll punch and push eachother and Nai will use his blade tentacles(?) to try and obscure Vash's vision. Vash will try to just grab Nai's controller and keep it away from him.

•you know it's just silly sibling rivalry, but sometimes you worry it'll just turn into a fist fight. it never actually does and when they're done playing Vash turns to Nai and says "haha good games, I had fun:)" and Nai replies, "likewise."

•it's the same with other games like that too.

•while Nai is more into cooking, Vash loves baking! you always come home to see Vash decorating a dessert or pulling a loaf of bread out of the oven. he's really excited and wants to try as many foods as he can. there's so many different types!

•Vash tends to make a lot of deserts and bread, especially donuts, so when that happens, he's offering them to the neighborhood or apartment complex.

•Vash also shows Nai recipes he wants to try eating and begs Nai to make them. Vash helps by cutting any vegetables or shredding food, but Nai does the mixing and cooking. you've asked if they needed any help but Vash just smiles and says that 'they've got it and that you don't to worry about anything. you just sit back and rest until the food is ready!'

•it's the least they could do they think, since they most likely can't get a job, you know, with no ssn, birth certificate and identity cards..

•you still do the dishes though and Vash always tries to help. if you refuse he kinda sulks before just wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head. it makes it a bit difficult to move around but you don't mind. he just wants to hang out with you<3

•getting into romance hcs a little, neither of them would make a move on you until after they've started talking and working on their past. not only are tensions high between them, but it would also be too many emotions to deal with. especially Nai. he hardly even acknowledges you in the beginning.

•Vash on the other hand jokingly flirts with you, and if you're comfortable with touch, pats your shoulder, puts an arm around it, hugs you and so on. but it never passes from friendly gestures, even if he does like you.

•if they find out they both like you, it kinda gets tense in an awkward way. they just started learning how to live with eachother, now they have to navigate having feelings for you?

•Nai is actually the first one to bring it up to Vash, stating bluntly that they both like you and it's getting annoying skirting around it. there really isn't too much to talk about, they decide to let things play out. if you end up having feelings for either twin, the other would be happy and supportive. if you like both Nai and Vash, it takes another little talk between all three of you before they're nodding along and saying that they could definitely try for you. it's a little bumpy at first, but you guys make it work<3

•also they don't try to fight over you or try to win you over in any way. Vash may be a little more touchy and Nai more expressive with you, but it's just to try and show you that they like you.

•Vash loves painting everyone's nails. Nai grumbles a little, but he always indulges Vash as long as it isn't a neon color.

•Nai dresses formally in a comfortable way, a (usually white or light blue) button up with the sleeves rolled up and dress pants. it's always either black or white socks and they go past his ankle too so you can't see his skin when he sits down</3 he also always irons his clothes after they've been washed.

•Vash on the other hand dresses a lot more casual, maybe picks up on streetwear? lots of hoodies though, he loves them! his wardrobe is colorful, but there's still more red than any other color

•after 120+ years, they finally get to celebrate a birthday together:(!!! and really, I think it's the first time they'd actually celebrate their birthday in general, Nai seeing no point in it really and Vash thinking he doesn't deserve to celebrate it.

•but! it's their first birthday together again after they've made up so Vash wants to go all out and celebrate eachother and the fact that they have made up.

•lets ignore that money exists for a bit but, Vash goes ALL out. he's decorating the whole living room and kitchen with streamers, balloons, flowers, anything he can get his hands on. Vash buys his and Nai's and favorite drinks and snacks, he's setting the snacks up in fancy looking plates, and even if it were just juice, he's pouring it into wine glasses.

•he gets a fancy two teir white cake with the edges frosted a light blue, with those pearl candies evenly placed on them. there's also frosted flowers placed in certain areas too. the top has happy birthday! written in cursive. (I can't describe it for shit but trust me it's a really pretty cake.)

•a week before, Vash is begging you to take Nai grocery shopping on the day of their birthday so Vash can set everything up.

•Nai knows something is up when Vash refuses to go shopping, trying to keep a straight face, but he decides not to question Vash. he supposed it had something to do with their birthday, so the two of you go shopping.

•Nai can't lie, he's actually really happy to be spending birthdays with his twin again after so many years. he may not have celebrated his birthday, but it was a bit of a lonely and upsetting day. he's thankful that he can be with Vash in peace now, that their presence with eachother is no longer filled with exasperation and violence.

•when you two get home and Nai opens the door, Vash is there, pulling on the string of a confetti popper, yelling out happy birthday before throwing himself at Nai for a hug. Nai only grunts a little, taking in the decorated house as he wraps an arm around Vash. "you know we're going to have to clean this all up?"

Vash only laughs, pulling away with the biggest grin, "it's our first birthday together in forever! of course I had to go all out!"

•even though it's just the three of you, it's a lot of fun. Vash completely spoiled Nai with presents (some heartfelt, others practical, and a few that were just gag gifts. Nai scowls at those much to Vash's joy.) Nai had gotten him a lot more useful/practical gifts, but he did buy Vash a geranium earring and when Vash opens the box, Nai explains that he has the second earring. Vash tears up, immediately putting it on and forcing Nai to put on the other one. he takes a lot of selfies with Nai after that.

•towards the end of the day Vash is asking to make a pillow fort so that you all can have a movie marathon of everyone's favorite movies. it's a little crowded at first with how tall they are, but you all get comfy and they end up cuddled against you.

•you and Vash fall asleep first and Nai notices that, he turns off the movie and device before quietly getting out of the fort to put away leftover food and drinks. once he's done, Nai gets back in and gets back into the position he was in earlier, cuddled up to you, deciding to sleep as well.

[yuwumeniji]

Eyy Yuwu!!!!🍌 Thanks for your great writings! Could I request headcanons about Luxiem when they're drunk? Such as, who would be the affectionate, melancholic, can handle the drink(s) well, or the confesser of truths? Thanks <3

Luxiem as Drunkards

WARNING: Please remember that I am writing about Luxiem based on their characters online and not of the people behind their vtuber avatars, thank you!

EXTRA NOTES: i am not counting the drunk streams each boy did LMAO

GENERAL

Again, not counting their drunk streams (ok kinda, but i didn't watch them fully)

maybe kinda nsfw in the sense that there is h*nd h*ld*ng (flushge)

in my 19 years of living i never drank alcohol so......... soooo.......................... lmao

proofreader? hardly even know 'er!

MORE BELOW THE CUT

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

IKE EVELAND

a talkative and somewhat flirty drunk ; a lightweight(?)

he drinks often, especially after submitting the final draft of his manuscript as a celebration of "boy-did-i-procrastinate-on-this-thing-but-it-turned-out-great!"

he usually drinks with caution but tonight's manuscript was a big one - he deserves it

THE GAP MOE????

like he's flying off tables, he's dancing like a madman and oh my god get down from there PLEASE

he also goes around flirting with everything that breathes

like "hey baby do you want to get a drink together ;)"

but then he starts talking about how much he hates his shitty editors and how his next manuscript is

he then goes on rants about nonsensical things to how there's a rock in his left heel, how lukewarm the glass is and how come you have such a pretty face???

please take him home before he talks you ear off

LUCA KANESHIRO

the man of sex ; somewhat heavyweight(?)

for a mafia boss, drinking is second nature, especially with the people he's been meeting - however, he's in such a good mood tonight that he got a little reckless

picture; a secluded bar with just you, him and the bar staff - it's the perfect noire setting

if you think ike is flirty when drunk, wait til you meet drunk!luca

he's slinging out pickup lines left and right

but they're not like "aha are you a photographer? because i could picture you and i together ;)"

THEYRE THE ADULT ONES (eyes emoji)

he's also quite handsy, grabbing at others left and right and resting his face in the crook of your neck as you guys sit on a couch or something

actually he's the kind to rub his face in your shoulder like a big cat, it's kinda cute (?)

he does whine a little and gets a bit pouty if you try to push away

if anyone from the mafia family saw this, i wonder what the outcome would be?

MYSTA RIAS

a big baby drunkard who cries over the tiniest things ; the lightest lightweight out of the boys

he goes out drinking whenever cases don't go his way - the trial was a bummer, the criminal got loose and did he have to redo the case from square one because a variable was missing??

so pretty often

lets face it, despite his silliness, he tends to keep up a stoic face in front of everyone so the minute he winds down and has a swig of beer, he's already bawling his eyes out

"BUT WHAT IF THAT CASE I SOLVED WAS WRONG??" "WHY ME??" "WHY IS THE PANEL ON THE WALL A SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT SHADE OF BROWN IN COMPARISION TO THE REST UEUEUE"

actually, please never give him alcohol because he'll start crying to the point you wonder if he's got enough water in his body for that

SHU YAMINO

a very sleepy drunk ; world time heavyweight champion (it is difficult to get him drunk, also he's the most responsible out of them - he's actually a lightweight too)

shu doesn't drink. well, doesn't drink often BUT he does if he's out for social circumstances, so he was always cautious of his alcohol intake.

tonight was a little different! just a celebration between the two of you and it's at home anyways, so what's the issue here? well, many things

for starters, you would never have thought that he would start babbling nonsensical things - usually, he approaches every situation with logic, so the fact he starts talking about unicorns and whatnot is a big sign that "oh boy, he's drunk"

secondly, he could barely keep a conversation - he starts dozing off in between words and only hiccuping or accidentally banging his head on the table (because his head slipped from his hand) would wake him up

oh yeah did i mention he has a bad case of the hiccups

VOX AKUMA

also another baby ; a ...h...heavyweight??

vox is another social drinker who usually watches what he drinks - i mean, you wouldn't want to slip up to others that you were actually alive for 500+ years or whatever, right?

tonight, he decided to let loose a little y'know, feelin a little vulnerable rn

ok when i say baby, i meant like literally a baby

he's crying, he's whining and "y/nnnn~~~ uppies!!!"

but he also drinks whenever he gets down in the dumps... like REALLY down in the dumps

he's the kind of baby drunkard who would sob as he tells everything and everyone who would listen his whole life story

i dont expect you to lift a grown demon, but i'll give you props if you do i guess??

[madwomansapologist]

Queen Maeve: fake dating

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Queen Maeve | AO3

synopsis: When the new member of The Seven and Queen Maeve made fans hearts go crazy, Vought decide that is was the perfect moment to a little fake relashionship. A saphicc couple would grant then so many points with the youngs and queers! They only didn't know that Queen Maeve had feelings for you. You also didn't know that.

notes: I did something different this time, hope y'all like it

warnings: female!reader. Vought deserve its own warning.

• You pinched yourself all the way to your first public appearance as a member of The Seven. That must be a dream! It happened before. While trying to sleep, at the shower, going to your mundane work: you imagine yourself on that position. But your pinches didn't wake you up. Fucking god, you are part of The Seven!

• Ashley helped you on the entrance surrounded by journalists and civillians. They were there... for you? They screamed your name, asked for pictures, thank you for all you did for them. You dreamed about a moment like this, but now it is true. It seens like you will need time to understand that.

• When you finally made it into the building, Ashley accompanied you while talking about how high your numbers with young women were and how your "new girl in town" energy made you popular with both men and women. What does that even mean? She grumbled that your name could have been better, Ice Princess was so basic, but at least it worked with kids. Your mind wasn't capable of holding all the information she told you, but you knew that when the lights went on you need enter the stage with Madelyn fucking Stillwell.

• It was different then the day Starlight was announced. Many women were on the stage talking about how the world need more women on important positions. Girl power! No one pronounced the name, but they were talking about The Deep. He was replaced after the horrible things he did to Starlight. Replace by you. Thats the reason why no other member of The Seven were there: Vought didn't want to appear like that story would happen again.

• Your first meeting with the team was... like being on heaven. Your heroes were right in front of you. Noir was just like you imagined: a mistery that would never be solved. A-Train sounded so mature, so knowing of the weight on his shoulders. Translucent weren't there, he was in a important secret mission. Homelander was some kind of Jesus. But not everything was perfect.

• Starlight seem... kinda sad. Almost melancholic. Maybe she wasn't on a great day. Maybe she didn't like you. That scared you, but you could be wrong. But there were her. Queen Maeve. They all were heroes, but she was your hero. The women you look up to. Your inspiration. And if Starlight seem uncomfortable, she seem enraged.

• Your tried to lie to yourself. To pretend that it was just your mind tricking you into thinking that everyone hates you. It would've worked if all the other heroes didn't seem to like you. And the possibility of you being just confused was ruined when you had to use the bathroom.

You faced Starlight when you walked out of the bathroom cabin. She was in front of the mirror arranging her gold hair, that wasn't even messy, and made eye contact with you. A odd taste rule your mouth, but you tried to mask your discomfort with a smile. She didn't smiled back.

Washing your hands, you felt her gaze. You dried them, trying not to look like you were about to run out of there (because you were), but her words stopped you. "Its your first day here", pointed Starlight. She sighed, now facing you. "I won't be able to sleep without telling you what I wish someone had told me when I was on your position."

Your smile was so big it hurt your cheeks. You were wrong. Starlight don't hate you. She was just worried. "You wanna give me advice?"

"Yes. I do", Starlight stopped herself. It was like she wasn't sure how to proceed. "You know that image you have about The Seven? Forget it. It was all made by the marketing team. Don't trust them. Don't you ever make the mistake of trust them."

And as quickly as it came, your smile faded away. "W-What are talking about?" You didn't notice your hands shaking. "Is it a hoax?"

"You seem like a good person." Starlight passed by you, walking towards the door. "I hope you don't make the same mistakes I did. But, if you do, I'm here."

And she left you alone with your thoughts. You gazed the door, waiting for her to come back and joke about how scary you look. But the only thing that you saw was the last bathroom cabin door opening.

Queen Maeve walked toward the sink, glaring at you with a look that you couldn't understand. It was like a parody of an affectionate look. Something that should be seem as friendly. She licked her rosy lips, washing her hands beside you.

"I wouldn't have warned you. But now that she did, guess its my turn to give you some advice." Queen Maeve stopped right in front of you. You looked up to be able to see her face. "Do not disturb me, princess."

• You quickly understood what Annie meant. It was all about money. They sold themselfs. Their bodies, their morals. It made you feel deceived. At least Annie was nice. She helped you. Annie said she was only doing what she wish someone had done for her, but a friendship between you both grown. If you only could said the same about Queen Maeve.

• Part of you feel betrayed. She was your hero. The reason for you to fight. All those times you felt like giving up you think to yourself that Queen Maeve would never gave up. But then all she does is discuss about copyright. The other part feel wronged. She is a woman after all. Shouldn't her be with you both? You can't stop to think about when Annie vented about what that asshole did to her. Maeve knew who he really was. Apparently everyone knew. She could've have done something. She could've have warned her. She could've have protect her. She could at least have supported her.

• Its like everyone say: never meet your heroes.

Ashley said that being on a pair with Queen Maeve would bring you both so many audience points. You didn't want to be around Maeve, but you learned with Starlight mistakes: you accept what Vought give to you. You just didn't imagine that a ambush would last so longer.

Hidden inside a car, all you had to distract yourself was your powers. You made your fingertips freeze against the window, forming little drawings. You form some flowers, then cleaned with your arm so you could drawn more.

"Can't you just focous?" grumbled Maeve. Being around her wasn't comfortable, but at least you both seem to agree that silence was the better option. But when Maeve have a mean coment to make, she will.

"Am I disturbing you?" Your fingers were frozing, and yet your eyes burned her skin. You took down the binoculars on your lap.

"Someone is sensitive today", Maeve rolled her eyes. She checked the license plate she was looking for, just to make sure. "I'm just saying you should pay attention. You need those audience points."

"I'm paying attention. You can't do two things at the same time?"

Maeve didn't answer you. She smiled, what was as difficult to understand as her eyes. "You really do hate me, huh? C'mon, princess, show me your claws."

"I don't hate you." You really were sincere about it. "I just don't respect you. You are a empty doll the markenting create. Eveything you are is a meaningless product. I definitely don't hate you."

"That was supossed to hurt me?" Thats it. Now you get. The problem was on Maeve's eyes. Don't matter how sincere or careful the rest of her face look, those blue eyes always seem to be making fun of whoever she is looking at. They always seem to be mocking you. "You look at me like you hate me. Stop that. Or we won't be able to sell that we are good friends."

"Don't worry, I discovered that I am a great actress." You smiled back. You spend more time recording for Vought than fighting. Even that ambosh can't be considering saving someone. The car you both are using is from a sponsor. Your knew uniform will be anounced today during the recordings the hidden cameras are making. Your tights are almost completely visible. You aren't a hero anymore. "And I don't look at you with hate. It is fear."

"Fear?" Maeve's eyes seem to glow. "Of all people, I am the one that you are affraid of? I thought you were clever."

"I'm affraid of ending up like you."

For the rest of the night Maeve didn't opened her mouth again.

• It seem to be the year Maeve would have to deal with hopeful freshers. Starlight was already a problem, but now she have a partner in crime. Great. All she need was you to show how higher and nicer you were compared to her. She hated you. Maeve hated how you make all her flaws more apparent. At least you are more subtle about your goodness than Starlight.

• At the beginning she thought you were manipulative. Maeve notice how you pretend to still be living the dream, unknowing to the their flaws. That won Homelander's compassion. He treat you like an apprentice. Like someone he can shape. Maeve thought you were using his necessity of praises and doe eyes against him, but she don't think that way anymore.

It happenned when Homelander killed in front of you for the first time. You couldn't help but to stare at all those bodies. All that blood. It was... you never saw anything like that. Not even in movies. You couldn't have imagine that someone could have so much blood.

"Dont look at me that way", Homelander held you by your arms. He wasn't agressively, but he stained you with blood. While your face was apathetic, frozen because of the grotesque, your eyes were enough to show what you were feeling. "Stop that. I told you to stop."

"He was", your mouth remained open, but no words came out of it. Homelander hold you tighter, your eyes flew away from the body and landed into his ocean blue eyes. So blue. So unnatural. "Unarmed."

"Oh." He smiled. Starlight's smile is so bright, Maeve is satirical, but his... His smile was sterelized. It was like something trying to look human. Trying to hard to look human. "Princess, my sweet princess, what do you think would happenned if he let him go away? He would tell everyone how he were unable to protect those stupid people. We don't want that, do we?"

"But we..."

"But?" Homelander asked. His smile was gone. "There is no 'but' here."

"She is in shock." Starlight were shaking, and yet was more capable than you. "Not everyone is used to killing people."

He didn't move. You could see something conquering his face. It was a cold rage, agressive yet silent. You knew he didn't trust Starlight. He was always looking for a reason to make her life harder. And she was trying to protect you, even tho she could be putting herself in danger. "So we did the right thing?" Your voice was nothing but a weak whisper. You hold his hands, stroking the bloody glove. You learned to read him. He is just fine with being hated, but he would prefer to be loved. "Didn't we?"

The change was instantaneous. He was smiling again, but this time it seem more real. Homelander eyes glared at you with kindness. "Yes. Yes, we did." He look at the rest of the team. "Finally someone with a working brain here."

• Since then her opinion about you change. You were kind to choose to take Homelander's attention away from Starlight, while being clever enough to do it in a way that work, while also being strong to put yourself together after seeing a massacre. If you were manipulating him, you wouldn't be shaking with big tears sliding across your face. You were... something.

• After that she keep an eye on you.

• Maeve notice that you tend to agree to whatever Ashley and Madelyn say. No questions, no hesitation, just obedience. It wasn't fear. It was just caution. Beside Starlight, you found a way to have a good relationship with every member of The Seven. For Homelander you were a smart girl that need to be guided. With A-Train you were more snarky, but respectful. Not friends, but not a threat. Maeve is not so sure, but she thinks that you and Noir are friends. One time you entered the elevator with a coloring book on your hands, and a few days later Maeve saw Noir drawing on it during the lunch. She also saw him buying chocolate with nuts, something that you tend to eat during meetings.

• It was a smart move. To be close to everyone. You aren't dumb, you know that the best your relationship with the team is the safer you are. She understand your true friendship with Starlight, your pretend facet to Homelander, your respect toward Madelyn. She don't understand your friendship with Noir, thats for sure. She seem to be the only person you absolutely hate. And it kinda sucks.

• Specially when it is just you two. People really enjoy when you both work together, and Vought give them what they want. And it actually really works. Maeve is the sword, you are the shield. Her experience and your energy go well together. So is commom for Maeve to be around you. To be stuck in a ambush. Or to be together all the way since the Vought's parking lot til the hallway were your rooms are. It sucks to be around you because she can feel your hate. No. Not hate. Your fear of becoming her.

Money flew because of the wind. The rain washed the blood from your skin. Your hands hold the gun pointed to your head. The thief pulled the trigger, but the layer of ice you created stopped the bullet. The pressure has you knocked to your knees.

Maeve had just finished a man when she heard the shot. Without thinking twice, she punched him in the face. It was enough for him to faint. "You fine?" She crused the gun with her feet, making it impossible to use again."

"Yeah." Your fingers were bruised. With the back of your hands you brush the hair away from your face. Some of the blood on your skin was yours, but you never get really hurt. "Kinda."

Maeve reached out to you. You hesitated, but accepted the help. She put you on your feets and scanned your body, searching for any wounds. You felt shy under her gaze. "What happenned to your knees?"

"I felt yesterday." The knees are so important during a fight, but you will soon get used to the pain and it won't disturb you anymore. You stir your head, uncomfortable because the rain keep putting your hair in front of your eyes. "I'm fine."

Maeve bit her own tongue. "Come here." When you didn't move she sighed. "Just come here." You did as she asked. Right in front of Maeve, a thunder echoed. She walked around you, stopping behind you.

You shuddered when you felt her fingers on your hair. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you." She gattered your hair, using her fingers as a comb. So she tied up your hair on a ponytail. Maeve rested her hands on your shoulders, your skin was so cold. You were always so cold.

"Thank you, Maeve." You whispered, unable to move. Her hands were so warm. It was great to feel them on your skin.

"Is just Maggie." You turned to face her. She was so closed. Her armour touched your body, her metal colliding with your woof. "You can call me Maggie."

"Maggie", you tried the word. "Its a beautiful name."

You never disagreed with whatever Madelyn Stillwell said to you, but there are a first time for everything. "A fake relashionship?".

"Just for the cameras. Your audience points will... "

"Are you kidding me?" You interrupted Madelyn. "Is that a fucking joke?"

"So you can swear", Maggie laughed. "I didn't knew you were capable of that."

"This is crazy." You ignored her. "I won't do that. I've already sold enough of my body. I put on this stupidly short outfit, run with those uncomfortable heals, take all those pictures. I was on your movies. And I never said no to anything you wanted me to do. I won't sell the last bit of dignity that remains here."

And for that your obedience was useful. If you were like A-Train or Starlight, Madelyn would've said the most hurtful things without thinking twice. But you did everything right since the beginning, so that means she could use some of her patience with you. "Vought is not asking you to be naked. Your body will be just fine."

"Don't fucking lie to me." Maggie never saw you so mad. "I don't want that."

"What do you think will happen when some vulture discover your sexuality?"

"What the hell?" said Maggie. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"I wasn't talking to you, Maeve." Stillwell glared at you. "We spend a lot of money to pay those that come after us with photos of you. One day they will come to the journals instead. Then what will happen? The conservatives that once loved you... Your appeal with men gonna fall so bad. Depending of the photos even who isn't homophobe will call you a slut."

You cheeks were burning. Now you were almost punching her face. Maeve notice how you clenched your fists.

"But this is the perfect moment to put you both out of the closet." All you family and friends knew about your sexuality, but it didn't matter for the rest of world. "Your couple even have a hashtag. 'Royalty.' Oh, I only wish I have tought of that name. It fits your narrative so well."

"Stop that." Maggie grabbed your hand and made you stand up. "Don't embarrassed her. We gonna do it."

Madelyn smile was so bright. So fake. "Perfect. I knew you would help me."

She pulled you out of the room, but your shaky legs didn't let you move any longer. Your hands were freezing. Your whole body seen to be almost turning into ice. Your rage was so... you couldn't even hear your own thoughts.

Maggie opened the bathroom door, you don't even remember entering there. "Hey", Maggie tried to calm you. "You will be just fine."

"I hate that place", your voice was embargoed. You failed to stop a hiccup. "I hate everything here. I am not a person anymore. I am a thing. Not even my body is mine. When I die all that will remain will be pretty lies."

"It will be just fine. I promissed." Maggie lied, but that was what you need to hear. Just another pretty lie. "Everything will be just fine."

• It wasn't the most horrible thing. It wasn't comfortable, but at least it wasn't horrible. You both had to spend way more time together. It started with public signs of affection. She would help you with your hair, the public tend to love it, and you would clean Maggie's face after a fight. You go to events together, always found a time to bring eachothers name to any interview, hold hands while walking.

• It was all to foment a online discussion. It need to seem natural. People should be talking about how it was abviously that you're dating Maggie before the public announcement. Your instagram was filled with photos that showed someone with red hair behind you. Even the couch you took those pictures was a marketing decision.

• Maggie was... not what you imagined she would be like. She was sweet. Sarcastic and annoying and punchable, but sweet. Thats been a time since when you started to think different about her. You realized that maybe your reaction to her was because you felt like looking at a mirror. Starlight was everything you wish you could be, but Maeve was all you think you are. No, not Maeve, just Maggie. But being around her, having to actually interact with her, changed your mind.

• Maggie look carefree, but its just a appearance. She told you what was real about her history. Helped with your fear of what would happen to you in the future. Maggie told you that it gets easier. And she funny to. In a cinnical way, but she is. Its nice being around her.

• And you were glad you were doing this with her. She had done that before, the fake relashionship, so she helped you. You both have limits, places you don't want to be touched and things you don't want to be said to others. Its still embarrasing to feel her arms around you, her fingers caressing your hair, her lips kissing your forehead. It is weird because, sometimes, it don't feel like and act. But that was you being dumb. All that pretending thing just messed with your head. Sure that was the reason.

• Sometimes Maggie felt guilt. When you sit beside her on a interview and she hold your thigh. Or when you are walking somewhere and her hands are touching the bottom of your back. Or when she hug you after a mission. When her fingers caress your face. When the fake smile you put to the cameras make her heart skip a beat. Or when she sees you with someone else, someone from your personal life, and find herself in a spiral about who that person could be. Or when you ask her if your makeup is too dark. When she fight with you and suddenly start to think about how strong and powerful you are. When she heard a Taylor Swift's song on the radio and remind of you. When you make jokes about how Ashley never stop walking. When she says goodnight to you before entering her room.

• Maggie felt... everything. You make her feel everything. And you don't even seem to notice. If you only knew all the things she keep to herself so she can tell them to you. All the dirtiest jokes she only say to you because you will laugh. Do you notice that she always save you a seat? Or that she started to act nice around Starlight?

• Maggie isn't pretending and this is killing her.

You entered the bar thinking that you would have some time alone. You were wrong. "Guess we had the same idea."

Maggie was on her second Martini. "Rough day?"

"The worst." You go to the collection of bottles and got the best wine you could find. You didn't even use a glass, you drink it from the bottleneck. Maggie licked her bottom lip. You were right in front of her, on the other side of the balcony. "A-Train decided it was a great idea to irritate Homelander. Ashley screamed with me because I cut me hair without asking first. And yours?"

She brused her red hair from her face. She wasn't drunk, but her body was already warm. "Just boring." She analized your hair, noticing the change. Maggie reached out to touch it, brushing the back of her hand on your face. "You look gorgeous."

Your belly turned warm with her words. "Thank you."

Maggie released the lock. "You are welcome, princess." You took a big sip from the bottle. "Easy tiger. This is not your last day alive. You can drink more tomorrow."

"You don't know that", you arched your eyebrows. "It could be."

"And you would like to spend your last bit of time drinking?"

"Maybe." Her laugh made you smile. "I would die happy at least. And I would be drinking with you. If you were A-Train I would kill myself just to not look at him again."

"What a boring way to spend it."

"I don't have any regrets", you told her. "I think I deserve to spend my last day drinking and dancing."

"You don't have any regrets?" Maggie sound so grave. She drink the rest of her Martini without looking away. "Not even a single one?"

You hesitated. You could've just walked away. Go to your room and drink the rest of the bottle. Called someone to make you company. Sleep. You could've done no many other things. But you pulled Maggie into a kiss.

Your tongue danced with her, the bitter of her Martini blending in with your sweet wine. She hold your face, her fingers stroking your skin. It was calm, and intimate, and yearning. It was like finally find an oasis in the middle of the desert. It was meant to be.

"Not anymore." You whispered against her lips.

You could felt her smile.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr

[geraltyen-of-corvobianco]

𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 🥀

You could see the shadows of the branches of the linden tree swaying side to side on the ground, as if dancing uncertainly to the melancholic choir of the howling wind. The image was almost haunting, or morose, like the foreshadowing to the dreary end of a tragedy. The way the shadows danced before his eyes felt like it was a reminder of his life - no, their relationship - uncertain, tumultuous; as if doomed from the very beginning when he uttered his last wish.

Was the wish a blessing? Or was it a curse? Is he, a mutant, even capable of loving her? He is afraid. Afraid of proclaiming her as his. Afraid he did not have that right. Afraid that his love would only cause her pain. Afraid that he does not deserve her.

Because he is a mutant. Emotionless. Incapable of love. At least that was what he was supposed or taught to be.

And yet. He feels drawn to her every time. Yearning for her heart, her scent, her love, her everything. He resents the apprehensiveness brewing underneath the surface every time they got back together, an unconscious dread of the next parting of ways.

And now, they stood below a linden tree, their hearts seeking the other fervently, as if the strings of fate are pulling them back together once again.

He embraced her tightly, drinking in her presence, forcing himself to push past the dark thoughts and treasure the moment. He thought of a bright future ahead. An image of them debating over something silly, smiles on their faces. A picture of them staring blankly, albeit blissfully, alongside a warm fireplace on a cold winter night. Another one where they lay together under the stars, their hands intertwined. He felt her smile.

'I love you, Yen.' He thought, knowing she could hear his thoughts. Enjoying the little jump of his heart when she smiled a little wider, evidence that she heard it.

But yet that fear whispers menacingly in his heart, a constant reminder of the impending storms waiting to tear them apart once more. He buried his face into her hair, and started kissing her, expressing his love passionately again and again, in hopes of drowning away the uneasiness in his soul.

Their relationship is like the shadows of the branches of the linden tree, swaying uncertainly in the night.

Haunting and morose, as if foreshadowing a tragedy.

[abysskeeper]

Shoving my nonsense in my tag. If by chance someone does read it, please disregard the pretentiousness and like...7 stylistic changes. I'm working on something.

***

"I am not loved as something treasured."

He looked at her, both startled and confused by her statement and how readily, how easily she made it. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"I mean exactly as I said." She stared back at him and gave a weak shrug. "I am not loved as something treasured, I am loved as a giver. A protector. A beacon of Light and hope. And I...I am not ungrateful for that. I am not unhappy, it is exactly what I wanted, to be able to stand for something more. To be able to stand and shield those who need it most, who can't do it for themselves..."

She smiled as she stared down at her hands in her lap, watching as she flexed her fingers a few times. She let out a soft chuckle, "It is, perhaps, more literal now than I anticipated, but it is everything I wanted when I wished to become a Jedi." The amusement in her smile fell, slipping into something sadder, more nostalgic and beautifully melancholic. "It is more than I could have ever hoped for while growing up, and I hope it ensures several like me now have more than I ever did while growing up."

She fell silent after that statement though, her smile slipping away entirely. He watched her quietly as she folded in on herself a little, her shoulders slumping while she wrung her hands. A shadow of doubt flickered across her eyes, and she glanced away with a sigh. "It is enough," she whispered.

"And yet you do not seem content," he noted softly. He slowly walked over and eased himself down until he was sitting next to her, silently awaiting her response.

"I am content," she insisted, quickly whipping back to face him. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, the longer he watched her, the more her earnestness wilted under his gentle scrutiny. She was not lying, but there was much she was not admitting to that rested in the sad stillness of her eyes, until the guilt finally took over and she turned away from him again.

"And yet...I am a greedy creature. A selfish creature, desiring more than I ever deserved." She sighed and leaned back on her arms, tilting her head up to gaze at the clear night sky. "Sometimes I yearn for more...to be loved as something treasured..." she paused and motioned towards the sky, "To be loved as the darkness of night loves the light of stars. It's been a pleasant dream of mine for a long time, but a far-off one. One I knew was unachievable, but I enjoyed indulging regardless. Only now has it begun to leave me aching, and I hate that it has."

There was much he could reply to, much he could say in response to this asinine notion she wasn't lovable, but he found himself drawn to the last part of her statement. "Only now?" he echoed in question, unabashedly curious over what had changed.

He had his suspicions, but what made a dream such as that change from being a comfort to being a pain?

She didn't answer. Instead, he saw the corners of her lips twitch up in the ghost of a smile and the faintest hint of brown dusting over her cheeks. "Only now," she agreed faintly, her eyes drawn to roving over the very stars she spoke of.

When it was apparent she was not going to further elucidate what she meant, he chose to switch tactics, focusing instead on everything else she said. She often accused him of hiding behind pretty words and vague meanings--an accusation he hardly denied--but she also always understood him regardless of how well he tried to veil his intentions. In large part, he had come to accept that was due to her having an understanding of him that few others in the galaxy could claim--she had earned that right with the time she spent insisting on learning about him. But it was also, in part, due to her propensity towards the exact same disposition.

"Alright, then how is it, do you suppose, that the night loves the stars?" he asked.

She shifted her weight on her arms as she contemplated for a moment. Finally, her attention returned to him, her head tilting his way as her gaze languidly traveled over him, cataloging every detail she could see in the dark. "As the stars love the night, of course," she answered, her eyes snapping up to meet his, "Wholly, and without request."

A beat passed, and then another as she held his gaze. The seconds were stretching, spreading into uncharted territory, he was distinctly aware of it with every heartbeat in his chest, but he refused to be the one to break the budding moment. Finally, her green eyes dipped from his and looked at the ground. After another moment, she fell back, sprawling out on the grass and settling to stare up at the vast, dark sky and all its stars.

"As you know, stars are always present, but only shine at night," she continued. He sat back, watching her as she pointedly kept her stare fixated on the heavens above them. "A show just for the darkness, the one and only light the night needs from its one, constant companion--for even the moons go through phases. But the stars...the stars always accompany their beloved night."

Her hand rose, finger pointed towards the sky and tracing invisible lines connecting the pinpoints of light. "As for the night, well..." she trailed off with a chuckle. "We always see the starlight at night. We are the ones who give it meaning, both practical and metaphorical, and yet we can only ever glimpse the front of a star. The night sees all of the star, every aspect of it. It cradles and caresses the light in its inky dark hand and asks for nothing in return."

She sighed, her hand dropping back down over her chest. "The night gives them a space to shine, and asks nothing but for the stars to just be."

She fell silent, and he turned his attention from looking up at the sky over towards her face. A wry smile hung on her lips, and some of the nostalgic sadness still twinkled in her eyes as she gazed ever upwards. He was at a loss for words, uncertain of where her thoughts were or what he could say to ease the bittersweetness that seemed to loom over her. He was uncertain if he should even say anything at all.

"It's a foolish notion, I know," she said after a moment. A quiet, self-depreciating chuckle escaped past her lips. "It's the sentimentality of a girl staring up in wonder at the night sky with her mother. But then..."

Her voice trailed off to nothing, the wry smile pulling into a frown. Her hand rose again, though instead of connecting the stars, it twisted and turned as she examined it against the backdrop of the night. "But then...her mother was gone...and then the stars themselves were gone when the girl went to Nar Shaddaa...and the only way she could think to ease the sadness around her was to retell the story of love between the night sky and the stars, perhaps the oldest love story there is, and the only one repeated over and over."

"I hardly believe that to be a foolish notion," he refuted. She had spoken enough of her history for him to understand what she meant between the spaces of what she said. "If anything, it is one full of hope as much as it is one full of love."

Her hand stilled in the air, fingers outstretched as she stared at them. Or, more likely, as she stared silently between them. He was more than content to wait for her to gather her thoughts. "As I said, the story has been with me for a long time," she said at last, "It is a sentiment full of hope, as much as it is full of love."

Slowly, her fingers relaxed and her hand descended back down until it rested flat against her chest, over her heart. Her eyes fell shut as well and she grimaced in something that was almost like pain. Almost. "I never intended it to be a sentiment full of longing," she admitted on a near silent breath.

She drew a breath through her nose and she turned her head to face him again. Her eyes opened, and her small, wry smile returned. "I suppose that's the tragedy of growing older, I began to understand the complexity of finding such a complimentary love. I began to understand just how special a love like that could be." Her eyes flickered back towards the sky, and she let out a heavy breath. "And I had to accept just how out of reach both the stars and the night truly were."

He blinked, and his attention flickered back to the sky. "Just how out of reach do you believe them to be?"

She let out a soft sigh, as if frustrated. "I'm no fool, I know there's light-years between what we see and where they actually are."

Silence fell between them, and it left him feeling unsettled. He shifted his weight and glanced back over to where she laid, her eyes glittering up at the stars. It was only when she blinked several times and the effect disappeared that he understood he was seeing the reflection of a few, unshed tears. That only left him more unsettled.

"Trick?" The sound of her name coming from his lips was the only thing to cut through the silence churning between them.

"Hm?" she mumbled, obviously distracted.

"May I ask you something?"

She stilled, so much so that even the quiet sounds of her breathing ceased. Her wariness was palpable, and he could not find fault with that. There were a number of things he could ask, there were a number of things he wished to ask that would cross the carefully constructed boundary they danced around. It was a boundary he yearned to break, if only because he knew it was already bending dangerously far with the increasing weight of all the words, all the glances and touches...all the moments they shared with one another.

Now more than ever it would be so simple to let it snap, to tell her those stars were in reach and incredibly close at that, and he knew it because of her. She was the one who made him believe in the closeness of those stars, and he would pluck them all and press them into the palms of her hands if she so desired. He would grant her every last one and then hold her as the night sky cradled its own stars.

"Sure?"

Her voice was breathy and a note too high, though he was surprised her stutter did not make an appearance. Still, he granted her a reprieve and chose the easier option. Other chances would come for him. "Is this why you enjoy stargazing as much as you do?" he asked.

There was a short pause before her surprised laughter rang out around them. Despite the lingering ache he felt in letting that opportunity slip through his fingers, he could not regret the decision. Instead, he smiled at her, fully aware her laughter was its own reward. For tonight, that was more than enough.

"Sure. We'll go with that," she agreed.

Another couple of giggles bubbled up past her lips before she settled and the silence returned between them. It was far more companionable this time, and he was content to let it linger between them when he saw her earlier tears were replaced now by the small smile she wore. If that was the only thing he was capable of changing tonight, then it was worth it, and he settled into the silence with ease, intent to remain for as long as she needed out here.

It was a while before another, small sigh escaped her. "Tavon?"

"Hm?"

He looked over to find her sitting up and then getting to her feet. Once she brushed some dirt off the skirt of her robe, she proffered a hand towards him. He gladly slipped his hand into hers and let her assist him--albeit unnecessarily--up on his own two feet. Yet, once standing, he did not release his grip on her hand.

"Thank you for indulging me tonight." The smile she flashed him was one of the sweetest things he had ever received. "I needed this, I think," she added, "W-with...with you, especially."

A blush swept across her cheeks, darker than before, and her gaze pulled towards the side. "Talking with you always clears my head," she admitted quietly, "And...m-most nights it makes those st-stars feel a little closer."

A warm sensation flared in his chest, and he didn't bother to even attempt to smother the smile it caused. His hand itched to move, to thread his fingers through hers and tug until he pulled her into himself and held her as close as she desired. Instead, he simply gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"The pleasure is mine, Trick." His voice was soft, but he hoped it conveyed just how fully he meant it. "Anytime."

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Prompt 7: you can take it

Maybe Frankie x chubby reader? Pretty please and thank you 🥰

Thank you for this delicious prompt, and for making me revisit Frankie and chubby!reader. It's been far too long.

Title: Move

Forever Starts With You (Frankie x chubby!Reader) masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales/chubby!Reader aka “Bonnie” (you, cishet female)

Warnings: Some reminiscing, non-graphic cunnilingus, PiV sex, Frankie's big dick.

Summary: You and Frankie are finally moving together and say goodbye to your old apartment in a befitting way.

Words: 922

A/N: This was so much fun! I've missed these two but apparently I can't write them without a prompt. And I clearly can't write porn without plot when it comes to them because Bonnie deserves all the plots!

Frankie and you finally find a new place in late spring, and move in when May turns to June. Weeks of sorting through your possessions, deciding on what furniture to keep and what to buy new, packing, and taking things to goodwill culminated on a Saturday when Frankie's buddies show up to carry couches, bedframes, and boxes. Frankie, who doesn't have the best of backs, coordinates the move, and you're in your new place, arranging and unpacking boxes by room as they arrive. Your new home with Frankie smells of fresh paint and the new AC unit cools it down wonderfully, providing your movers with a nice respite from the warm weather outside.

The day ends with beers and pizzas as is customary, before your helpers leave, and you and Frankie stumble into the shower and then into bed. On Sunday, you go first to his old apartment to clean, and after that to yours.

When you’ve cleaned the entire apartment from top to bottom, you look around the empty rooms and can't help but feel a little melancholic. You lived here for a decade, made it yours, built your adulthood in this apartment. This is where you truly became who you are. This apartment has seen a lot of joy, tears, happiness, and hopes. You loved men here, men who didn't know how to love you back for who you are, all of you, every single pound that according to society are excess and wrong. You took Frankie here after your third date, undressed on the couch that has now found a new home with a couple of students who picked it up last week, and with Frankie, you received love, more than you could ever have dreamed of. This is where your relationship grew into what it is today.

You can't wait to see what your new place will bear witness to.

"Querida?"

You blink, your reverie interrupted, and turn your head to see Frankie standing in the doorway. His footsteps echo in the empty space when he comes up to you.

”You okay?”

”Perfect,” you nod, taking his hand to wrap his arm around you. Assured that you are well and that you want his sweat-smelling body next to your own, which doesn’t exactly smell like roses either, he hugs you to him and rests his chin on the top of your head.

”Does it feel weird to leave this place?” he asks, hand slowly stroking the small of your back.

”It does,” you admit, ”but I’m not getting cold feet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

”You lived here for a long time.”

”I did, and I loved this apartment. But I love moving together with you more.”

”This is where we had a lot of firsts, though,” Frankie reminds you, and now he cups your cheeks and turns your face up towards his. ”A lot of really nice firsts.”

”We have a whole new home to break in,” you smile as you get up on tip-toe to kiss him. There’s sweat on his upper lip and you can’t resist licking at it, his mustache bristly against your tongue.

”Care for a last one in this home…?” There’s seduction in his voice and you raise your eyebrows at him.

”We have no furniture.”

”We have a floor, my love.”

And that’s how you end up on your back on the floor, splayed open for Frankie to delve into you with tongue and fingers, sucking your clit until you’re shaking and sobbing his name.

When he pushes all the way into you, you’re literally trapped between a rock and a hard place, with the unyielding floor under you. It’s almost too much.

”Frankie,” you whimper, unsure for a second that you’re going to manage it, ”it’s so big.”

”You can take it,” he reassures you gently, stroking your air as he pins you down, staying still yet deep, so deep inside you. ”My sweet, good girl. One last fuck before we go back to our home, okay? You can take it.”

”I can,” you whisper, and he kisses you sweetly, like he wasn’t balls deep in you and spearing you down into the carpet. When his hips start to roll against yours, you quickly find the rhythm and move with him, breathlessly kissing, your eye contact breaking only when Frankie’s pace quickens and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, grunting against your sweaty skin.

He stays deep inside you when he’s finished, kissing you all over your face while you wipe the damp curls from his forehead.

”I love you so much.”

”I love you, Frankie.” You pull him in for a long kiss, tongues licking at each other, your fingers in Frankie’s hair. ”Let’s do this in our new place, too.”

”I’m glad we don’t carpet there,” Frankie groans as he slowly straightens his back, pulling out and sitting back. You sit up as well and notice the burns on his knees and elbows. You smile wryly.

”I think I have one on my ass,” you confess, sensing a heat on said body part. ”We have aloe vera cream at home.”

”I like that,” Frankie smiles at you. ”We have it, at home.”

”I like that, too.”

You help each other up, get dressed, and gather your cleaning equipment before you leave the keys on the kitchen counter, as per your agreement with the real estate agent. When you close the door on this chapter of your life, there’s a wide smile on your face.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hi ^^ mer!sugu-centric!polycule anon here (this feels genuinely like a code i’m crying… uhm what about 🐟 anon?? if it isn’t taken, ofc!) just dropping to say thank you for liking my silly idea and answering! <33 i was getting a little worried with my previous anon because for a whole day i even thought ‘oh……….. what if i didn’t press ask? and i didn’t send it?’ which is very funny because it had happened in the past (yes…….. i’m dumb like the fish emoji 🐟🐟 no thoughts behind the eyes, just gloo gloo gloo)

SO !! I WAS SO HAPPY WHEN I READ YOUR ANSWER AND THAT YOU APPRECIATED MY IDEA TTTTTTTT AAAAA it made me so happy! thank you sm for your kind words :,))) i thought to drop by to thank you only, but your answer just made my brain go crazy with new ideas!! you said that i could basically rant about it, so i’m really sorry, but i’m gonna accept the offer!! 🙏🏼

I COULD SEE THIS SOOO VIVIDLY satoru gets slapped w sugu’s tail and he scowls at reader all offended bc he takes his pearls VERY seriously…. silly little fish man. AND WAHHH THE SLOWBURN OF IT ALL….. sugu realizing he appreciates their company 🥺🥺🥺

THE TAIL SLAP 😭😭😭 i giggled at that because suguru totally WOULD! i also imagine that when geto is a little annoyed by the silly fights between reader and gojo, he would use his tail to splash water at them with a sassy face because “………are you two done now?” 🤨 and oh the slowburn :,,) it’s one of my favorite tropes ever so it’s almost in any fic idea of mine, but i genuinely feel it would hit differently here because when i think about it, this story is like patiently building a sand castle to me. where each character has an unique role and in this case you see their dynamic shifts from something funny/a feeble desire guided by superficial liking to a deeper understanding, accepting each other’s differences, building a safe and respectful bond for each other. i believe that when you pair slowburn with characters with unique traits (in this case mer!sugu), it becomes something much more tender and captivating! 🥺🥺🥺

anon r u perhaps a writer….

this deserves a whole point for itself because HELP?!2$:!/&:$:@/ WHAT GAVE IT AWAY??? TTTT i’ve only written a piece for bungou stray dogs on ao3 so far but that’s really it! so i don’t consider myself a writer :,) ……. aside that, i’m pretty much new to read/write about jujutsu kaisen lolololol ANYWAY—

mer!sugu getting melancholic at the passage of time :((( tying it to his underwater existence is soooo clever too !!! it feels like he associates gojo and reader w the sun …. warmth …… and i think that shifts so easily into love

genuinely crying :(((( i like your thought! because it makes more sense that he would associate both of them with something warm like the sun, and it ties better with the whole depiction of mermaids sunbathing on rocks imo!! in my mind it was the same thing but with the sky itself. it’s a bit difficult to explain so i’ll try to do my best! when i was writing the first anon i thought about mer!sugu seeing the night sky in gojo and the morning one in reader. i guess it’s because the sky imo is what best we have closer to a window. one that links our world while giving us a glimpse of what was happening beyond, a glance in the past in short (hence the universe, because the more the stars are far away from us, the more its light is older) while also giving us two very different performances.

so now that i’ve clarified this thought of mine, how does it apply to this situation? i think that to mer!sugu gojo is the night sky because night it’s the only moment we can see the sky at its rawest point. and to mer!geto, gojo is nothing more than a bundle of honest and raw emotions— because he is able to break through the surface (no pun intended! but….. eheh…….more points to me bc suguru lives underwater, far away from the surface where everything is shiny and clear so he knows there’s much more to gojo that he probably doesn’t show), which is pretty similar to canon!stsg. gojo it’s a window without a shutter, unapologetically shining and not hiding anything from suguru’s stare, the only one who seems to pinpoint and name each constellation that thrives in gojo’s persona.

meanwhile reader is the shutter of the window. the morning sky, the filter that covers the stars from prying eyes with soft and gentle shows with the complicity of the clouds. but not because they hide something, but because they’re shining too, so so bright that it’s nice. it’s warm, it tickles the skin covered in sea salt and reaches all the way to the water to help the marine environment thrive. again, mermaids are always depicted sunbathing— so purposefully seeking the sunlight, the same way mer!geto would actively seek for reader. a soft soul that tend to every little thing in our planet but holds power, attracts and is needed to prosper. also i think it works perfectly in this case because both the sun and the moon have an influences over the tides :,,) so the three of them actually influence each other in a very specific manner the same way gojo, reader and geto influence each other! it’s a respectful and balanced relationship where they have to always work together.

god……….. that was embarrassing………… i yapped too much, sorry. just the last thing and i promise i’m done!! for real!! 😭😭

okay but i do imagine that merfolk have really specific courting processes AND that they’re possessive by nature so i’m just imagining that in this au… 😵‍💫😵‍💫 […] …..giving them both his scales to wear as some kind of jewelry to signal to the other merfolk that these humans are his…. i usually don’t like the idea of sugu being overly possessive but i think it works well w the merman au :33

YOUR MIND‼️ like, seriously!! giggling because i always liked the implication that suguru was a little shit like gojo in canon, though in different fonts (which i tried to incorporate in the way he intentionally doesn’t tell gojo&reader that he has accepted their courting to enjoy the show a little more). SO!! maybe it could be used again when he gives them the scales to ‘mark his territory’ 🤨🤨………… maybe reader and gojo appreciating the gift but being utterly clueless at the same time, so they meet one night and try to brainstorm the meaning behind it since suguru won’t tell them! just to reach the definitive conclusion when they see mer!sugu splash water to a stranger that was asking them the directions to go somewhere…………………. idk, my brain is fried now sorry TT

AAAAAAAAA i’m sorry :(( i yapped too much about it but i’m really growing fond of this au. again, really thank you for answering my first anon <33333333 hope you have a wonderful day/night mwah!!!!

🐟 ANONNNN WELCOME TO THE FAMILY did u know the fish emoji is one of my favs ……

first of all U R SOOO SO WELCOME PLS….. tysm again for dropping the concept into my inbox bc it rlly did make me insane 😭😭 second of all i’m sorry for taking so long to answer this it got kinda lost in my drafts :’3 IT WAS A PLEASURE TO READ THOUGH never apologize for yapping!!! we r all yappers here <3333 aaaa i’m so happy u liked my response to ur ask too!!!! sugu’s tail slaps make me laugh sm… i feel like he would do it alllll the time and it would get so annoying….. he’s a little bit of a brat <33 AND HIM SPLASHING WATER AT THEM IS ALSO SO GOOD he’s so funny….. permanently making this 😐 face while they bicker and banter

AND I SOOOO AGREE ABT THE SLOWBURN it’s one of my fave tropes ever and i’m also so weak for the tenderness of it all T—T aaaa the sandcastle metaphor is so good too ….. themed to the sea and all!!!! they’re building a little sandcastle together and making sure it doesn’t get knocked down by the harsher waves :’3 (both figuratively AND literally bc i do think reader and toru would love making sandcastles…. sugu joins them and accidentally knocks it down psvdkdjdj)…..

this deserves a whole point for itself because HELP?!2$:!/&:$:@/ WHAT GAVE IT AWAY??? TTTT i’ve only written a piece for bungou stray dogs on ao3 so far but that’s really it! so i don’t consider myself a writer :,) ……. aside that, i’m pretty much new to read/write about jujutsu kaisen lolololol ANYWAY—

HEHEHEH I KNEW ITTTT >:3 u just have such a way with words!!! would love lovelove to read some jjk fics from u one day <333 AND OOOOH BSD what character did u write for 🐟 anon…. 👀 extremely important!!

BUT WAHHHHHHH the whole thing abt the night sky and the morning sky….. the window and the shutter……. PLS don’t apologize my beloved anon bc u literally gave me a fullcourse meal for free?? i’m a little stunned bc u just put it so, so well and beautifully 🥺

gojo is a window without a shutter, unapologetically shining and not hiding anything from suguru’s stare, the only one who seems to pinpoint and name each constellation that thrives in gojo’s persona. meanwhile reader is the shutter of the window. the morning sky, the filter that covers the stars from prying eyes with soft and gentle shows with the complicity of the clouds. but not because they hide something, but because they’re shining too, so so bright that it’s nice. it’s warm, it tickles the skin covered in sea salt and reaches all the way to the water to help the marine environment thrive.

LIKE ?????? goshhhh i know i literally just said it but u have SUCH a way with words 🐟 anon…… ur writing is so pretty i’m so in awe . this is such a gorgeous dynamic aaaa i also love how they all influence each other like u said !!! they all move the tides !!!!! :> that’s so lovely.

ANDDD i’m so glad u like the idea of possessive little mer!sugu :33 i just think he’s sooooo cute. i ABSOLUTELY agree that he’s a little shit btw… has fun watching toru and reader being all clueless and oblivious but then some stranger tries flirting w them and he has no choice but to bare his sharp teeth a little and then they figure it out 😞😞 hehe i just think the idea of suguru latching onto them and seeing them as his humans is so sweet.

TYSM FOR THE FOOD STSG 🐟 ANON i love hearing ur thoughts sm !!!!! again i’m sorry it took a bit for me to get to this T_T but i enjoyed reading it sm AND i absolutely adore ur take on a mer!sugu au… they’re the cutest <3333 i am sending many kisses and a big can of fish food just for u !!!!

[celibibratty]

Okay, i/we played true colors this year, we waited so long(since 2021), it was long cuz first we needed to wait for the physical version on the nintendo switch, and then wait to find a version with a better price (was too expensive), but now we finally made it, and this texts that i will put now are my reactions and thoughts while playing the game

"man, seeing these things, sean looks like a saint, whata hell was that with this Issac guy?💢, comparing Alex with Sean, Sean becomes even a saint"

"for a character who is said to be empathetic, alex has a very jerk way"

"Me with alex was the opposite with me in 2018 with sean, my first impression of her was good, but playing the game more further i'm not liking her very much, with sean my first impression of him wasn't very good, but as the episode went on i liked him❤"

"i kinda like that alex doesn't give up on her brother, it'sss… kinda cute💦, if it was up to her she would die trying to pull him, ha-ha, god, the bro died in a horrible way😂, I keep trying to imagine the dude vision, first out of nowhere a rock flies in his face that makes him fall (that was kinda hilarious not gonna lie😅), he probably should have hitted the mountain because of alex holding, then after that, the bro must be hanging and thinking "no, calm down, I'm saved because alex is pulling me, her and ryan just need to try to pull me that.. .", then out of nowhere the rope "breaks", the bro dies from fall and then his body is crushed by some giant rocks, jesus (i didn't thought about that, maybe he was unconcious cuz of the rock hit)"

"for someone empathetic alex accuses others/get conclusions of people very quickly😒"

"my god, what does this franchise have that loves drugs?💢especially marijuana😒"

"playing true colors made me realize why i like sean and daniel, (makes me feel even a little melancholic and embarrassed, playing true colors makes me realize how much this franchise is not/doesn't work for me, I feel kind of stupid for liking the second one)"me getting melancholic thoughts for some reason😑💦

"that's a good one😂, sean is a pothead and alex is an alcoholic (marina who said, and is kinda coherent god damnit alex seems to drink/mention alcoholic drinks a lot)"

"who needs references when you yourself can do/say the references😂, we always joke around about the second/sean and daniel when something remind us of them"

"Alex: getting sick of people feeling bad for me" well, so fuck you then!, continue crying about your dead brother💢"

"whata hell!?, i didn't find funny the goose thing, an animal have died!, what's wrong with you?💢🔥"

"i'm not even with this mindset of "i won't do the romances cuz ryan and steph don't deserve alex", i'm like "i won't do the romances cuz alex don't deserve ryan and steph💦", they are too nice/cool"

"sometimes this game characters/protags says things that i don't understand, like, huh???, some nonsense things"

"that LARP thing was kinda cool/cute (i not even a big fan of rpg gameplay, but was cool watching marina playing)"

"Sometimes she's nice, sometimes she's jerk"

"alex breaks champion blah blah thing - well, if steph had some feelings for "us", it all gone now😅💦, at least she wasn't the champion (i was the champion✨), would be more mean/cruel, poor steph💧"

"we playing true colors resumes on - 10% we complaining about alex's jerkness 30% we don't understanding a word that the characters says(mostly alex) 90% we asking "who is (character name)?"😂"

"fuck you alex, stop blaming the woman"

"it's difficult playing this episode with this amount of cool musics in the background (steph you have good taste, we loved this "🎵you make me go crazzyy🎶")"

okay, getting a little out of the true colors conversation, the music thing has a very cool story, so, the spring party had some cool background songs, and i enjoyed one of them and with that marina tried to find it for me, but unfortanely she didn't find the song that i wanted, but she find two ones that were also cool, these were "you make me go crazy by jaco caraco" and "best i ever found by mitchell marlow", in the day after we finished the game, i listened to the songs, while i was listening to this "best i ever found" i was looking at the youtube recommedations and appeared a song called "we will always win" from the same person tha has something to do with this "best i ever found", the song name was familiar (past story, i used to like a song that played on tv in telecine premium commercial of the newest programming that would have on october from 2015, and i did find the song at the time, i wrote it in some notebook, time pass i forgot where i note the song(i never found) and since 2016 i tried to find the song again, i remember the sound of the song and that the name had something to do with win), my reaction was like "no, no, is that the song?", i click on the video and i recognized immedially the hard rock instrumental, i was like "OH MY GOD, IS THE SONG!!!, I NEED TO TELL THIS TO MARINA", the most cool part is that in this exactly year in the beggining we tried to find this song!!, we tried to see some old telecine commercials, but we failed, and now thanks to true colors i find the song, if we didn't get interested in playing true colors i wouldn't find the song, that's so crazy, i believe one day i would find, but it wouldn't be today

"it plays a cute song when we were on the terrace with steph (sorry steph, only hug)"

"poor old man, very few people helped him to overcome his trauma, hmph, people were all running to talk to steph, right?💢"

"older brothers being older brothers (never likes affection)"

"🚨problematic/incest alert🚨😂 - i kinda find interesting alex with her brother, but i feel bad cuz of that charlotte💦(but i think the biggest turn off is alex herself😑, she's too much jerk/bitch😒)"

"wow, alex's past is pretty fuck up, it seems that her father and brother abandoned her, she was left alone, she tried to be the mother, but she couldn't, she couldn't keep the family united/balanced, and now the father and her brother are dead, there is only her left as always"

"motherfucker brother💦, tried to run away and didn't even take his sister with him, learned from PW sean😂"

"ha-ha, our gameplay definitely summed up us in life😂, it was the old people who stood by our side😂"

we made all this effort to play true colors because we wanted to know if true colors would be better than the second one or if the second one that would be better than true colors, but in the end, I don't know, because true colors transmits what it wants to transmit, the story goes in a more natural direction, but on the other hand the second one is the one that i/we liked, it's the one that won me over somehow, so at the end of the day, I just don't know, and I don't think I'll ever know

[angeli-marco-writes]

Sherlock Holmes - Kiss Me, Mr Detective

A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.

Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.

Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night...

TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway? 

“You are absolutely unbelievable!” 

“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid. 

“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”

“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”

“Sherlock!”

“John!” He mimics. 

John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face. 

“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”

As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs. 

Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what's coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded. 

“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.” 

With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open. 

“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake. 

John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.

Can you come over? Please? SH

It wouldn’t usually bother him as much. The case didn’t phase him, at all, but John’s opinion did. It always does. But today was a particularly long day of being brutish and rude, cold and distant, his usual and true self, but John’s more and more impatient with him now. 

Being called a ‘machine’ is, again, nothing unusual, but this time it stings a little more than usual, especially after his recent arrest, and a fallout with Molly. He only has one person left, right now, who doesn’t hate him. His longest friend, the one he keeps away from it all so as to not tarnish her life with his misdeeds; Y/N, the one he can always rely on.

He knows she’s arrived by the sound of his window crashing open. Crawling up the bricks, skimming the drainpipe, latching onto the ivy; it’s her usual manner of entry. She never uses the door. 

Putting his cups and saucers into the sink, he makes his way through the house, opening his bedroom door to find her already sitting there on the bed, her coat hung up on the hook, her work clothes clinging to her body. 

“Hey there Mr Detective, you okay?” she asks as jovially as she can muster.

The way he ambles across the room, his dressing gown floating behind him, and slumps down onto the bed, instantly tells her he’s not okay at all. She can’t help but to look upon him sympathetically, edging a smidge closer to him, until he’s prompted enough to wrap his arms around her torso, finding his rightful place tangled around her. She knows him well enough - his past, and his current life - to realise she’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do this with, and that brings her a certain swelling pride in her bosom, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock as he feels her skin heat up against his cheek. 

It doesn’t take long, either, for his head to follow suit, burying into her chest. He’s always, always had a thing for her boobs, ever since they were in uni together. 

That’s something so special about the two of them, he doesn’t have to say anything for her to know he’s not okay the way he does with everyone else. And naturally, he can read everything about her in a split second.

“I’m here, bud.”

Above all else, he just needs to know someone is there for him in moments like these. The world is cruel to him, and Y/N wishes more than anything that it wasn’t. Upon instinct, her hands stray, one to his back, pressing against the silk of his dressing gown, the other cradling his long neck, fingers knotting in the dark curls there. 

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, simply holding him, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every breath of his against her skin, but she likes it. Of course she does, every time she likes it. Sherlock brings her an inordinate amount of comfort at the best of times, today is no exception, especially with what the day has held. Even when she’s the one comforting him, he doesn’t realise how much he helps her too. 

His flat is so familiar, his bed as comfortable as her own. She knows his sock index, she’s studied his periodic table over his shoulder more times than she’d care to admit, and she even has her own toothbrush in the bathroom in case she has to pop over for an emergency freshen up. Sherlock has, and always will be, her first port of call, and that she remembers as she shifts further onto the quilted bedspread, her phone on his oak bedside locker. 

His head begins to stir against her chest, his curls tickling her collarbones, small hums escaping his lips as he pushes himself up, his elegant yet trembling hands still splayed on her waist.

“I could feel your heart beating weirdly, what’s wrong?” he asks, quirking his eyebrows. 

“Just the usual.” she vaguely replies.

Sherlock isn’t having it, though, and scans her a little more. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

“Great deduction. I was hoping you’d go a little deeper, though.”

“You hate wearing work clothes longer than necessary, which means you had plans straight after work, considering you finished… five hours ago? That’s your usual time for today. Counting overtime, forty five minutes, walk to your car, another ten, but your umbrella wasn’t working, round that up to an hour, leaving at 6. You arrived home, no, not home, at your boyfriend’s house for dinner. However, you’re not comfortable enough with one another yet for you to use his shower, or perhaps you are, but you elected not to, and stay in damp clothes that only had seventeen minutes to dry with the heater on in your car for the journey there. You ate dinner, Mexican, had a glass and a half of five percent wine, realised you couldn’t drive, but you didn’t particularly want to stay. Nonetheless you sat and watched the telly with him for hours, football, I can see the dreariness in your eyes. I know how much you hate it, and frankly, same. You stayed for almost all of the match, seeing as you’re now sober, but something else happened.” She lulls her head to the side, prompting him, her smile not meeting her eyes. “As soon as the match ended, he tried to make a move on you, he pressed his mouth to yours, he tried to push his hand up your skirt;” his throat bobs with a vicious gulp; despising the thought of anyone else laying a finger on her, “you swatted him away, rightfully so.” 

He pauses a minute, his harsh tone of voice and his sharp face softening. He can see the vulnerability in her eyes, her walls about to crumble. This woman he appreciates so much. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Smiling melancholically up at him, she brings her hand back to his hair, her fingers carding through the soft curls. His face buries back into her chest just as her voice offers a broken whisper, “I broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit this time.” 

And as she lays her head on top of his, her breathing more shallow, resounding in her chest, he dwells over those very words. The way she said them, not to mention the words themselves, hold a myriad of meaning. What could she possibly-

Oh.

The subtext, yes, impeccable. She’s always had a way with implications and subtext, always knowing that the likelihood of him actually picking up on it is little to none. But now, now he’s become trained to her, her way of life, her way of thinking, her way of speaking. This is too good an opportunity to miss. If she means what he thinks she means, ever hopeful, then this is completely unfamiliar territory. 

Gathering all of his courage in one deep breath, he begins to pepper kisses on her skin. The faintest brush of his lips on the tops of her breasts, all that’s available to him with her shirt the way it is. He feels her heart flutter, her breathing stutter, but despite the chemical flush of her chest, he still isn’t quite sure she likes it. Not until he feels her grip on his hair increase, and he glances up to see her head thrown back. Her spine delicately arches against his hand, thrusting her chest further into his face. 

His nimble fingers reach for her buttons, undoing the top two, giving him space enough to find the valley between her breasts. Lathering kisses there, licking the swells of her boobs, his tongue pulsates with the increased thrumming of her heart. The sensation is new, so unbridled, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the stirring in his loins right about now. That unknowing is only further amplified by the sound that rips from her chest when he involuntarily bites down on the supple flesh. It couldn’t be… a moan?

Sure, he understands the chemistry of it, the reactions that occur in the synapses of the brain, the pheromones and hormones released when one is aroused, but this is all new to him. And, from his embarrassingly basic level of theory, surely that doesn’t start until some more stimulation on other parts of the body commence? Nipples, perhaps something lower down… then again, what does Sherlock know?

Of course it’s an intimate moment, the closest he’s been to a woman before, and maybe that’s why he freezes, stops, and she tugs his head up by his hair, her gentle, pleasured smile with her lips softly parted deepening the look of bewilderment painted onto his face. Her eyes are twinkling, alight with an excitement he hasn’t seen for far too long. 

“What are you doing?” she whispers. 

He shrugs his shoulders with a sudden force, his dressing gown falling off a little. “I don’t know. But now I feel like I read your pining words all wrong.” 

She gasps, a wheezing sound, sucking the air from the room. She smacks his arm gently, muffled by his button-down and dressing gown. “I wasn’t pining! I was saying.”

“Hmm, same difference.” 

Everyone must acquiesce when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. “But no, you didn’t read them wrong at all, but I know you don’t see me that way, you don’t feel things that way.” 

He pauses, his beautiful plump lips pursed, fidgeting on the bed. Brushing her hair off her face reveals the pain she expressed. However, her eyes glued on his, sadness is betrayed in every line of his young, clean-shaven face. His entire bone structure is taking a nosedive. 

“For you, I’ve been feeling everything from hate to love to lust, and I guess that’s how I know I want to hold you close.”

“Sherlock...” she whispers, her singular word an inflection of surprise. 

Never tearing his eyes from her, his hand comes up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the slightly blushing skin, searching her face, with his big blue eyes, for a shred of reluctance. But, all he sees is her, so he elects to do what his heart is yelling at him to do for once, and kisses her breathless. His full lips holding hers, his one hand on her face, the other still wrapped around her back. Hers fly around his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

It doesn’t take long, their movements steadily heating, for their previously slow, intimate kiss to grow into something more, Y/N pulling herself up from the bed and making herself comfortable on Sherlock’s lap. His breath hitches in his throat, a cute little hiccupping sound escaping his lips in between embraces. 

As much as he loves just this, soft caressing and gentle petting, he just knows she wants more. He does too, that much is evident from the length prodding at Y/N’s inner thigh as she moves gently on his lap. She won’t make a move, though, he’s too inexperienced, and she’s too much of a sweetheart to corrupt him, so she thinks. Ever since he first saw her, she’s been corrupting him slowly. He didn’t realise at first, but over the years, he began to understand, and now he’s in too deep. 

For Y/N? It’s always been him. Every breakup she’s had, she’ll come to Sherlock’s flat, full well knowing the real reason she broke up with them, because she couldn’t commit, because she was too caught up on him. 

Skimming his hands beneath her shirt, he savours the press of his hands on her bare skin, warmth seeping from her body into his, his fingers dancing along her spine. Electricity shocks her in bursts, unlike anything else, from his touch alone. 

“May I take your shirt off?” he asks. 

“Fuck, yes.” she groans. “May I do yours?”

“Be my guest.”

In a tangle of limbs, a few buttons pop off, and eventually, two shirts make it out the other side, tossed from the bed and into the laundry pile. Aka Sherlock’s floor. He’s like that: sock indexes, yet he won’t get a hamper. A walking contrast.

His thumbs press beneath the band of her bra, savouring the pressure of the flesh that falls into his hands, but that’s as far as he gets. 

“Never undone a bra before?”

He shakes his head sheepishly. “I know the theory. Just… you always wear peculiar ones.”

“I wear relatively normal bras, and this one is certainly bog standard. Had I known you’d be undressing me Mr Detective, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“Just do it for me.” He requests, chuckling. 

She unfastens her bra, and allows her breasts to spill from the cups, into Sherlock’s awaiting hands. The gasp that erupts from him sends Y/N’s brain into overdrive. He’s cupped her chest through her shirt before, buried his nose into her cleavage countless times, but never before have they had such skin on skin contact. Her lips press to his neck, shifting her closer to him. Sucking on his pressure point, she receives a similar gasp in response, only this one is more guttural, more a sound of pleasure than surprise. He’s wilting from a single kiss to his neck. 

“Has no one ever given you a hickey?” She husks in his ear, her voice alone sending tremors down his spine. 

“N- fuck, no.”

“I’ll make it worth it. All of this.”

“I know you will.”

She fuses her lips onto his again, savouring the faint hesitations as he grapples with his breath, eager to get some control on his mind with all that’s happening. Never did she ever think Sherlock would be here beneath her, his rough fingertips brushing over her peaked buds, and his palms dancing over her waist. Never did she think she’d hear him whisper his next words, either, not in a million years. 

“More.” he pleads. “Can we do… more? Whatever that entails?”

“That depends what you want to do.”

“Get me out of these damn trousers. They're rather uncomfortable.”

She snorts lightly, a piggy like sound, the one they bonded over all those years ago. “I can feel why.”

“I imagine you want out of your work trousers, too.”

“God, yes; they’re ghastly.”

“I don’t think so.” he hums. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks begin to burn, blood rushing to colour them, betraying her true feelings, but as he tweaks her nose playfully, the little snort escapes again. 

They were in the dining hall, second week of university, almost ten years ago, and Y/N was sitting with her friends, downing enough coffee to sink a ship, eating her hangover away, when her friends decided to make her laugh with tales of last night's drunken events. Unbeknownst to her, one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century was sitting just a few seats down on the half-empty bench, watching her perceptively in his periphery. That’s when he first heard the sound. The cutest thing, and it startled him into action, beginning his deductions almost instantly. Admittedly, her student ID on the table aided him a little. 

He shocked her from her haze, too, as soon as he spoke her name. 

“Y/N, eighteen, jurisprudence first year, freshers week over with. You left a boyfriend back home, but you’re more sad about leaving your dog, as I would be. You don’t particularly care about law but know it’s a good undergraduate to receive anyway. Dyed hair, extrovert, killer hangover, and apparently there’s a little piggy living inside your nose. Sherlock Holmes, would you like some aspirin?”

“That’s weird; what are you, some kind of detective?” She asked, sans malice, a playful bounce to her words. 

“Chemistry, going for a masters. But I do like the mystery, yes.”

“So you’re… bright. Nice to meet you, Sherlock, and it seems you know almost everything you need to know about me. But yes, I will take that aspirin, if you don’t mind. How was your weekend?”

He smiled at her, the first true smile he’d given in a long time. “It was nice, thank you.”

And thus a friendship was born, all because he heard her little piggy snort. 

Her slender fingers work wonders with the fastener and zip of his suit trousers, and even manage hers too, all within the space of a few seconds, but Sherlock is reluctant to let her go, even just to get her trousers off. 

“I need to sit up, just for a minute.”

“No.” Sherlock commands, insistent. “We can make this work.”

“Sure we can, but it won’t be very comfortable. Come on.”

She’s barely peeled away from him and wrestled hers off before he’s drawing her back in for a kiss, his trousers settled just above his knees. 

“Sherlock,” she protests, mumbling against his lips, her hands on his heavenly, broad, muscular shoulders. “Sher!”

Her squeal at his sudden tug on her panties disappears, captured by his eager mouth. And in fact, her panties seem to disappear along with it, thanks to Sherlock’s swift movements and nimble hands. Maybe he’s had some experience to be so good at this…

“You sure you wanna go this far?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been. I need you.” 

He takes a deep inhale, dropping his forehead against hers, his breathing coming out in bursts as he tries to get a grasp on the situation. “Kiss me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly getting to work on the waistband of his boxers as his tongue lavishes her own. His hips rise briefly, just long enough for her to tug the elasticated material from around him, slipping past her, and then he kicks it into their growing pile of clothes. His length falls into her awaiting palm, and-

“Wow.” She exhales in amazement. “If I’d known you were packing this much, I’d have jumped you long ago.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely not, until tonight I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

He pecks her lips affectionately, “Never. You’re bloody beautiful, I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

Stifling a chuckle against her neck, he recommences, “Maybe not anything.”

Yeah, that's definitely the right call. Still, she finds herself all but clawing at him, her breath hovering teasingly just over his lips, their noses touching, her hands clamped to his cheeks, feeling the building heat there. She must be making such a mess of his bed right about now, but for one night? It can’t matter.

This is a one time thing, it has to be. Sherlock just needs to release some tension, she just so happens to be there. Still, she can’t prevent the little glimmer of hope shining through at the possibility of this being a more-than-one-time thing. The moral compunctions of their friendship after this don’t matter anymore, because he’s leaving a fire in his wake, his delicious fingertips digging bruisingly into her bum before trailing lightly up her spine, skimming her shoulder, brushing her neck - arched for him to reach where he wants, able to mark her as his own - and finally slipping over her lips, taken obediently by her awaiting mouth. Christ, if there’s one thing she hopes for tonight, it’s that his actions never relent.

Whether it’s what he intends to happen or not, his fingers in her mouth give her an idea, one she prays he goes along with at least a little, so she pulls away. The dirty, telling smile on her face hints at what she’s about to do, lending Sherlock to shift a little more up the bed, his eyes following her every move. Hands splayed on his thighs, her small fingers gripping onto the fine hairs there, she begins to take his tip into her mouth, never once breaking eye contact with him. Yeah, this is what’ll drive him insane. 

Inch by inch, she takes him into the welcoming heat of her mouth, pulling off slowly, only to go down again. She adds her tongue into the mix at some point, too, and her hand, on what she can’t reach, tickling his balls, but further than that, his mind is blank. Hot white, washed with pleasure. The sounds he emits are other worldly, so much that he has to muffle himself with his own hand; what would Mrs Hudson say? He’s always had such control over his mind and body, but this… he’s slowly losing all semblance of control, and he’s not even mad about it. What he does know is that there’s a building heat in his abdomen, a coil about to spring, and his cock is beginning to twitch. If she keeps going this incredible way, her teeth grazing him ever so gently, adding another new sensation into the mix, he’s inexorably going to finish before he can help it.

“As much as I adore your torturous ministrations, I think I need to be inside you…” He husks, his voice deep.

A smirk gracing her lips, she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mischief glinting in her pretty little mesmerising eyes for a second, before she hollows her cheeks and takes him wholly, allowing his length to slip partially down her throat. Her moan reverberates around him, and Sherlock begins to thrash above her, scrunching the duvet in his hands, not caring if it creases. If there’s one thing Sherlock hates, it’s creases. And being called a machine by his best friend. Right now, though, it seems as though every misstep in his day has led him here, into the welcoming heat of Y/N’s mouth, taking him so eagerly, her tongue lapping at the vein on the underside of his dick, a string of saliva remaining as she pulls away. 

“I think you’ve got a couple of rounds in you, Mr Detective. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” He stammers, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy a moment later as she begins to work on the head with kitten licks. “But… can I s- fuck me, say something?”

“I plan on it.” she chuckles, “anything.”

She goes back to peppering kisses all over his member, tip to base, brushing his balls, working her way back up. 

“Touch yourself f- for me.”

“What? Why?” 

Her tone is more inquisitive than anything else, but upon that playfully rueful look in his lust-darkened baby blue eyes, she knows he’s going to get her back for this little display, and he’s just worked out how. It works both ways, she can prepare herself for what’s to come next while pleasuring him. And he gets to watch. It’s a win-win for him. Maybe he likes this sex thing a little more than he’s letting on. 

“Are you sure you want me to? I’ll just make a mess on your sheets, Sher.”

She swallows him again, bobbing her head up and down on his length a few times while he grapples with literal reality. He’s teetering on the edge. One more move, and he’s a goner. His head is already against the wall, lolled there. 

“I don’t care about the sheets, darling, I need you ready for me.”

She gulps, nods, and reaches one hand around her, skimming over her stomach, until it nestles between her thighs. She rubs her thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-come beading there, while she rubs over her throbbing pearl, pressing softly. Then, as she inches down on his cock, taking him in her mouth, she also collects the slick from between her thighs, and uses it as a lube to push a finger inside herself. Of all the times she’s touched herself, she never imagined, even in her wild Sherlock fantasies, that she’d be doing it with his dick down her throat. With every bob of her head, she scissors herself more, sinking back onto her fingers. 

“I think I’m-” Sherlock begins to say, his words cut off by an utterly obscene moan splitting the air. 

She hastily abandons her one post, and wraps both of her hands around his girth, working on what she can’t fit into her mouth with her increased speed, licking and suckling his head as he begins to fall apart, coming, with a scream, down her throat, his one hand clamped over his mouth, biting down harshly to silence his cries; the other buried in her hair. 

His whole body falls lax, completely spent, meanwhile, Y/N savours every drop she’s been able to draw from him. He softens in her mouth, allowing her change to slip away from him, grasping a tissue from the bedside to wipe away any excess. That’s certainly something she never thought would happen… 

He’s calm, though, smiling lazily through hooded eyes, his breathing regulated once more, making beckoning motions to her with his big hands. He’s placated, though, and sliding her hands into his, she’s allowed time enough to get into place, smiling softly at him, raking her fingers over his scalp in a comforting way. Even as she sits herself on his lap, she can feel him hardening beneath her ass, slowly but surely. She was right about him, he’s definitely got another round in him. 

“Do you have a condom?” he asks. 

“No, sweetheart, they’re in my other bag. I didn’t plan on getting any for a while… do you?”

“Not in here, that I’m aware of. John may have stashed some in my less favoured dressing gowns or socks, and he definitely has some upstairs, but I’m unawares.”

“I’m gonna sound crazy here, but do we need one?” She says hesitantly. His eyes widen, he cocks his head to the side. “I was tested after my last partner, I’m clean, and on birth control. You’re a virgin. There’s no point, is there?”

“You have a considerably good point.”

With that, energy rejuvenated a little, he wraps an arm around her body, flipping them over so he’s on top, shadowing her, looming over her, gazing down at every inch of her naked beauty.

“Take your time. I’ll be your safety.”

“I know.” he whispers, a tearful smile making its way onto her face. “Thank you.”

He needn’t say more, because she already knows why she’s being thanked. For her kindness, for making him so comfortable, for accepting the fact he’s still a virgin in his late twenties and, if he’s being honest, has no damn clue what the practicality and reality of sex is. Sure, he’s seen porn. He’s also looked at John’s laptop. But that doesn’t prepare one for when the moment comes. It’s like all of that goes out the window, and he simply remembers the first time he opened a biology textbook at secondary school, pictures of flushed organs staring back at him, desperately waiting to be relieved. That’s what his own coock is like right now, already hard again, virtually pulsating with hunger in his palm. He strokes himself a couple of times, glancing down at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Can I…”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she chuckles, “whenever you’re ready.”

Now, he thinks. He rubs two digits through her folds, gathering her wetness, enamoured with the way it glistens on his fingertips. Tentatively, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to get a taste. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he moans. She’s better than any cup of tea he’s ever had. 

His cock slaps against his lower stomach pleadingly, so he grasps it in his hand, and begins to enter her, pushing gently, feeling every flutter of her walls. Her arms fly out, hands grasping his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake at the delicious stretch. It’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before. 

“Can I move?” He asks, balls deep inside her, their pelvises flush against one another. 

“Please.” She all but begs. 

Before doing anything else, Sherlock hooks one strong arm around her body, malleable in his hands, and holds her chest against his. Her breasts push into his skin, her nipples gaining friction from the dusting of hair there. Her one hand cups his slender neck, the other, his sharp cheek. Their eyes meet in a fierce gaze of burning intensity, and he begins to move. Slow, calculated, sharp thrusts punctuate her core. With every heavenly stroke, he can feel the ridges in her velvet walls, squeezing around him unwittingly.

“Jesus,” she cries, her clutch increasing. 

“Hmm, not quite.”

The smirk in his words is quite literally audible. He’s so cocky, so full of himself, and fuck if she can’t feel another gush of arousal coursing through her, drenching his cock. How does he manage to be so attractive when he’s so dishevelled?

“Is that good?” He asks, unsure.

“So good.”

She brings her legs up, skimming the clenched backs of his thighs, until they wrap around him, drawing his hips into her at a new and improved angle. Heels digging into the base of his spine, he begins to move with a new purpose, his thrusts more passionate as his breath is drained from him by her kisses, his eyes alight with a new flame. 

“Oh my God, Sherlock.” She pants, pulling him in for a kiss he greedily returns. 

He drives his hips deeper, squeezing his fingertips into her supple waist bruisingly. It’ll be a mark that she belonged to him once, even just for one night. That’s when he reaches that special spongy spot that makes her entire body buckle. She all but screams, pressing into him wholly. 

The coil is building, ready to break. He seems to be nearing the edge, too, his member twitching inside her when he buries himself particularly deep. She’s oh so fucking close… She licks into his mouth filthily, desperately clashing her teeth with his, eager for his kisses to tide her over. Silence her. Shifting his supporting hand, he trails one dextrous finger around to circle her clit, adding the faintest pressure for a moment. She mewls as he groans into her hot skin, clawing at him, entirely at his whim. Now he knows where to press, he settled his grip back around her, and draws her in close. This time around, he bends his knees a little more to measure his movements more carefully, ensuring that he ruts up and brushes her sensitive bud with his pelvis, helped by the extra friction of his neatly trimmed pubic hair on every thrust within her, his tip just scraping her g-spot.

“I- Sherlock, please tell me you’re- oh sweet mercy- close.”

He grunts softly in her ear. “So close.”

Their lips meet tenderly, passionately, in what they acknowledge to be a final kiss, moans mixing between them, savoured by the other. 

His thighs clench, her legs tighten around his waist, and finally, her sweet walls flutter, squeezing him as she reaches her climax, his not following long after, spilling inside her, painting her soft walls white, marking her. 

“Y/N,” he cries in ecstasy as his orgasm reaches him. “Sher…” she repeats, her saving grace as pleasure washes over her entirely. 

Their whole bodies wind up pressed together, bound together as one, skin on skin completely, becoming one another. 

He lets her down gently, unravelling his grip, unsurprised when their sweaty skin sticks together. Her long legs unfurl, splaying in a butterfly. Sherlock tumbles ungracefully away, somehow landing with a certain gangly elegance on the space of mattress beside her, his arm instinctively flying over to place on her stomach, the skin hot and flushed red. Her chest moves hastily up and down with the thrumming of her heart, while his barely shifts despite his shallow breaths, his white skin glistening in the moonlight. 

“Are you okay?” He huffs, turning on his side. “You look pretty fucked out.”

His baby blue eyes train instantly on her nipples, hard in the open air. This is the first notifier, the first inkling she has to feel self conscious, so she draws the sheet up around her as best as she can. Sherlock’s not having any of it, taking a stronghold on her arms, and pulling her until she’s lying on him, naught to separate them. 

“I’ve never been this close to anyone physically and y'know.” He hums tiredly. She’s never heard him sound tired before… 

She smiles up at him as best she can, “Are you glad?” 

He begins to hold her ever closer, squeezing her tighter, feeling every ridge of her body. 

“I’m so glad that you were my first, in so many ways.” 

Praise from Sherlock is a rarity, and she’ll take it as and when she can, savouring every moment, this time by holding him like a koala, her grip not wavering. 

“I’m glad too, Mr Detective.”

He brushes a kiss to her cheek, “As much as I like this, we need to get you cleaned up.” 

A supporting arm beneath her bum, he picks her up, and unsteadily ambles into the bathroom. 

“I don’t know much about this, but I know you should probably use the toilet, should you want to avoid a UTI, so if you’d like me to leave…”

He sets her down on the loo seat, cupping his hands over his nether regions, and he hurries to grasp for things, until she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing in a conciliatory manner. 

“You do remember the camping trip, don’t you? You really don’t have to leave just because I have to pee, you never did before. In fact, you frequently annoyed me with it if you had a particular point to make, steadfastly refusing to leave the bathroom after following me in there when I went to pee. Why does this change anything?”

He shrugs, dropping whatever was in his arms, “It just doesn’t feel the same now, though.”

“Ooo, and now Mr Detective feels things.” She jokes, poking at his ribs. 

He recoils, chuckling with her, “Only for you.”

As Y/N washes her hand, Sherlock begins to wrangle with a floorboard, clattering about until he eventually pulls out a small lock box, from which he withdraws a packet of brand new marks-and-spencer's ladies briefs. 

“Why the fuck do you have these? Anything you wanna tell me?” she asks, eyes wide.

“John’s idea. He has plenty of girls over here who frequently stay the night, simply a precautionary error.” He takes a beat, gargling with some mouthwash, “they’re clean, new, I just don’t like the idea of you in dirty underwear, and I know how reluctant you are to go without them whenever you’re not in your own bed. I stayed with you enough nights in university to know that.”

Those nights were awfully painful. She’d take the floor, he’d take the bed, and every time she’d have to wash the sheets. He’d sweat and vomit, shake and cry, plead for the pain to be over. He wouldn’t go to hospital, he wouldn’t call his brother, he’d just turn up on her doorstep, high as a kite, almost in tears, knowing he’d gone a little too far. And each time, it was a little farther. 

“Thank you, Sherlock.” 

She takes them from him, and begins to shimmy them up her legs, only prevented by Sherlock moving to grab a handful of her arse. 

“Hmm, I like this. Fancy another round?” He smirks. 

“I’m too tired, babe. Give me a bit.” 

He can see the lazy smile on her face, the tiredness in her pretty eyes, so he wets a flannel, and begins to clean her up with gentle movements between tender kisses.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” She asks, inquisitive more than anything. 

“Instinct, I suppose. I never read or learned about it, seeing as I never thought it would happen.” 

She snaps the waistband before moving her hands to his waist, leaning up onto her toes to reach him, kissing her softly. 

“Look at you now.”

After brushing their teeth in an amicable silence, their pinky fingers overlapping on the porcelain of the sink, he aids her back to the bedroom, settling her on the bed. She has things here: deodorant, toothbrush, moisturiser, and yet somehow she doesn’t have underwear, even after all these years. Perhaps that's one too many things to explain… 

With superfluous extravagance, he throws her his shirt, offering her a wry wink. She finds a blush clawing its way onto her cheeks, dumbfounded. It smells like him, just like a forest glade if it was rained on by tea and cigarettes. Maybe he’ll let her keep it as a memory.

In such a short amount of time, she’s learnt that he has a very sensitive neck. Very. A single kiss there has him biting back a moan. A low one at that, considering his deep voice also drops almost an octave when he’s aroused. His nipples are almost as sensitive as his neck, and he rather likes it when she tugs on them unwittingly. 

His first orgasm comes quickly, but his refractory period is astonishing, and it takes longer to achieve a second high, long enough to make her come more than once, she assumes, though her first orgasm was mind blowing enough for two. Perhaps that’s just because it’s his first time, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

What’s the point in learning all of this if, once he comes around from his post-orgasmic haze, he’ll pretend like it never happened, in typical Sherlock style?

The shirt, though a small gesture, means a lot, and her vision begins to cloud as she looks down at the black cotton. 

“You mean you want me to stay?” She croaks.

Sherlock turns to her from his set of drawers, his face full of apparent obviousness, brows furrowed in that cute bewildered way. 

“Of course I want you to stay.” He states, like it’s the plainest thing in the world, like it’s stupid for her to even ask. But she’s silent, and when she says nothing in response, he launches into a long winded explanation: don’t show sentiment. “I- I just mean, i-it’s midnight, I’m not having you out in London alone. You stay with me. Only if you want to as well...” 

She nods eagerly, “Yes. Yeah, course I want to stay.”

He all but leaps access the room, jumping onto the bed, before planting a proper smooch on her lips, grinning down at her. He slips into his usual side of the bed, and she takes hers, rolling to look at him.

“Don’t get cold.” He warns, tucking the duvet up around her shoulders. She giggles like a child, that small snort sounding again, prompting Sherlock to press his thumb to her nose like a button. “How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine bub, really. That bloke doesn’t matter to me at all. Bit of a scumbag if I’m honest. You’re the one I’m with, the one I wanna talk about. How are you feeling? Must’ve been a pretty big blow up with John for you to call me and be so... teary.”

He sighs, crestfallen, “He called me a machine.”

Her gasp pierces the air, her hand flying to his hair, stroking in consolation, cooing senseless reassurances to him. She’s done this innumerable times, but now it feels different, like there’s no barrier. 

“He’s done it so many times that it needn’t bother me anymore, but the way he looked at me, like I was this abhorrent monster, especially after the day and the disappointing case we had, it got to me. I hate having feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them with me, though.”

He hums gently, burying into her chest. “I know. That’s why I treasure you so dearly.”

“That means you also have to trust me, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.” His chest heaves, shifting her whole body. That’s his way of giving in. “Please just talk to John. You know that whenever he leaves, he’ll come back, and try to pretend it never happened. He needs to know you’re human and that he upset you, but also that the case upset you as well. No one’s superhuman, and once you let John in on the fact that you’re not a machine, things between you will be so much easier, because you might agree for once.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grumbles. 

He pulls her into his warmth, hooking her leg around his as he snakes his arms around her back, breathing deeply from the crook of her shoulder. She begins to pepper kisses on his salty skin, savouring the taste with every small swipe of her tongue.

“Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck,” he breaks off with a faint whimper when she sucks a little harder, “I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”

“Of course they do,” she whispers brokenly, hoarsely, “they’ve always known you.” She swallows thickly, “Does that mean it’s a feeling you’ll forget?”

“No, I don’t think I ever can.”

The silent words that pass between them both are so special, too special to be spoken aloud. ‘Think I’m in love now.’

“Kiss me like you wanna be loved.” He begs. 

And really, who is Y/N to deny him? They just stay that way a little while, revelling in their lazy kisses, until she begins to fall asleep. It isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in his bed, not by any means, but it’s the first time she’s fallen asleep in his arms. She isn’t mad about it.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. You were made to keep my body warm.” She smiles into her words, and embeds herself into him, entirely covered by the duvet, spattered in his kisses, safe in his arms. Sherlock feels safe with her legs around him, her fingers in his curls, holding himself against her. Amicable silence is how they drift off, Peaceful.

John re-enters 221B at a respectable hour. He got a fair amount of sleep on Greg’s sofa, having no girlfriend in the picture right now, but not enough to deal with Sherlock just yet. Not before his coffee. He expects to see Sherlock sitting in the exact same spot as when he left, perhaps just with a refill of tea, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed yet wide awake. Instead, he arrives at a seemingly empty, considerably clean flat, with no Sherlock in sight. Perhaps the unsleeping man must actually be asleep, he thinks, so he quietens down, and toes off his shoes before wandering farther into the flat. Even if the man does piss him off extraordinary amounts, perhaps he should just check he’s okay…

He gives the bedroom door a quiet rap, listening in momentarily before pushing it open. Frankly, he’d rather have found Sherlock with a cigarette in hand and the whole flat torn to shreds for the level of surprise he gets upon reaching the bed. His first idea is to scream bloody murder, but that might annoy Mrs Hudson, and upon stepping closer, even in the sliver of daylight through the curtains, he sees the duvet riding down a little. The last thing in the world he ever thought he’d see: Sherlock in naught but boxers pressed against a half naked woman, his palm splayed on her bare thigh. Sherlock? Spooning? It seems so, his entire body pressed to this woman. John feels himself go rigid, his feet glued to the floor, his gaze unmoving from shock. 

It takes his phone to buzz in his pocket to get him moving, and when he does, all he tries to do is balance precariously on his tip toes in a wry attempt to get a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He’s not disappointed, or disturbed, once he does, though, his army agility proving useful. Sherlock’s hand is holding her, fingers entwined, just next to her chest. He wonders how comfortable it is, but if they’re staying this way, it can’t be too bad. Maybe all Sherlock needed to loosen up was a good shag. 

She’s wearing his shirt, too; Sherlock’s black dress shirt from the previous day. And Sherlock? He never seeps in anything less than a full set of pyjamas, he’s weird like that . 

This girl begins to stir, her lips parting gently, small hums escaping. Next, her eyelids flutter, and her hair shifts on the pillow. He didn’t make any noise, did he? John was specifically careful not to, just in case. He doesn’t fancy Sherlock’s wrath just yet. 

One eye opens, and she whispers, almost incoherently, “Hi John.”

How she knows his name and who he is, he’s not at all sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen this face in his life. The hair is familiar, and maybe, if she were more awake, he’d recognise her smile, but he’s never seen a woman in Sherlock’s company beside Molly Hooper. Speaking of… 

Before he can even say anything, though, before he can ask who she is or if she wants tea or if she date-raped his roommate, she’s mumbling, and detaching her hand from Sherlock’s, rolling over. Dumbfounded, John just stands there and watches her cuddle into Sherlock’s chest, her arms wrapping around his torso like second nature. Even in his sleep, not consciously thinking about his actions, he grips her back - one hand resting just above her bum, and buries his nose into her neck.

John can’t help but smile to himself. Maybe their fight was for the best if Sherlock now has a girlfriend, someone he turned to for solace. So, he grasps for the top of the duvet and pulls it up over both of their figures, reaching their shoulders, and leaves, staring wistfully for a brief moment at the seemingly happy couple. 

The weight of the duvet of what startles Sherlock, though, stirring him a little, inviting him to him against Y/N’s skin, smiling with eyes barely open. This is really nice, he thinks to himself, not waking up alone. 

She smiles back blearily, and in her morning voice, whispers to him, “Kiss me Mr Detective.”

[momiji-bookhouse]

Hmmm with Albedo at 1 pm

[1 pm]: "and i'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways, maybe just the touch of a hand"

100 Followers Event Prompts + Masterlist

now playing: thinking out loud - ed sheeran

pairing: Albedo x gn!reader

genre: Fluff, soulmate!au, very light angst almost unnoticeable

a/n: I have such a huge urge to write a part 2, but I just don't know.

Word: Soulmate

Definition: A person who is perfectly suited to another in every single way. Someone you are predestined to be with.

Word: Homunculus

Definition: A life form that is artificially created by an alchemist.

Theory: Homunculi do not have soulmates.

A homunculus is not created by the hands of the gods, therefore it is a transgression to the natural order that Celestia has ordained. When faced with such an anomaly, the evidence of human hubris in thinking they can usurp the life-giving powers of the higher beings, who is to say that the gods will look favorably on that which should not exist?

Who is to say that this entity is deserving of a soulmate?

Albedo has no problem reconciliating himself with this theory, even while some of the people around him scramble eagerly around to find their destined one.

How equally fascinating and mind-boggling that a single touch of the hand is enough for one to recognize their soulmate.

While he can somewhat understand a human's need to seek out love and companionship, he himself does not despair over the fact that he may never have his one and only. He is very much content with the status of the relationships he has at the moment, and find no need to occupy his mind with other matters when there are questions about the world that needs explaining.

Until you came stumbling into his life, that is.

He was in the middle of sketching something that caught his attention when the serene silence is broken by a loud scream. He whip his head around to see you sprinting for your life towards him, the only thing coming out your mouth is a simple "Lawachurl!"

That is all it took for him to run after you and telling you he knows a place where you can hide. He leads you to the mouth of a cave where the two of you had your backs to the wall, hidden from sight. Only when the growling died down and the footsteps sounded far away did you breathe a sigh of relief.

"Hi," you offer a timid smile.

"Hi," he responds, noticing that he has never seen your face around Mondstadt before.

"Sorry for dragging you into this."

"No, it's all right. Dragonspine is a very unexpected place, after all." He also sees the way you shiver despite the layers of clothing you have on. "My camp is nearby, if you don't mind we can go there to get you warmed up."

It only took a warm bowl of soup and a roaring fire to get the both of you acquainted with one another. He found out that you're an adventurer drawn to the city of wind partly due to the tales of the mountains of everlasting winter that had enchanted you when you were little.

You, in turn, learn that he is an alchemist with a mind too curious and far too brilliant, whose body seem to not register the cold as much as a normal human should.

"And, what is your impression of Dragonspine thus far?" He asks as he takes the bowl away from you.

"It does look to be a place right out of a fairytale book, like the ones that tell of a princess made of snow and her castle made of crystal on the side of the mountain. But there's something oddly melancholic about this place, as if tragedies upon tragedies are buried here. Never to see the sun again."

Albedo sees you staring out at where the stark-white bones of a great beast lay, and he cannot help but agree with you.

So begins an eccentric routine of him occasionally spotting you in Dragonspine, him inviting you back to camp, him continuing to do his experiments while at times listening to you.

You have a way of telling stories, making them feel so alive and vibrant that he almost believed he was there experiencing what you experienced, seeing what you saw, sensing what you sensed.

"Why do you continue to come back to Dragonspine?" he questions one day as he observes the reaction of mixing Electro Crystals with Mist Flower Corollas.

"If no one has the mind to wonder and a will to discover despite the dangers and uncertainty of it all, nothing in the world will be known," you say simply.

He leaves it at that.

Albedo does not want to admit it, but he looks forward to your visits, revels in your presence in a way that is different from his other relationships.

A good different, he decides.

A kind of different that makes something inside him stir, makes him feel comfortable and at ease with you even when not a single word is exchanged between the two of you. Makes him feel like he can simply be himself around you.

For all of his brilliance, he cannot put a name to whatever it is you invoke in him. It feels foreign, alien, unknown. It feels almost human.

Albedo sets down whatever he is working on and turn over to look at you. You're taking a nap right after lunch, a picture of tranquility as your chest rises slowly up and down, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

A couple of hair strands fall onto your sleeping face, and suddenly he has the urge to brush them behind your ears.

If his theory is correct, then nothing would happen right? And he has his gloves on, so it should be fine, right? It's not like his heart is shaking and his throat feels like it's constricting as he slowly moves his hand closer to your face, something tugging at his heartstrings as his fingers lightly graze your strands.

He retracts his hand, unable to submit himself.

(Another part of his mind tells him that he is afraid).

Word: Coward

Definition: Who he is right now.

[bibbykins]

Vulnerable in The Dead of Night (M)

I wrote this QUICK, so if it’s bad, I’m so sorry, but I just wanted to get this out ASAP, so I hope you like it! Also, pls feel free to give me your thoughts or ask any questions, I love to answer them!

NOTE: This is part of The Household’s Bunny series, which I recommend you read before this bc otherwise, it may not make sense.

Summary: Taehyung finds himself consumed with self-loathing and crushing loneliness. You find Taehyung standing alone in the kitchen late at night, happy to see him again for the first time in weeks. The usually playful and flirty man is left with his feelings when faced with you in the dead of night.

Genre: Soft Yandere! Taehyung x Chubby! Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+, soft yandere tendencies, obsessive/possessive thoughts, crying, loneliness, self-loathing, abandonment issue, adopted person feeling unworthy of love, kissing, hickeys, cunnilingus, precum, blowjob, swallowing, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, this is a yandere fic so unhealthy relationships are throughout this series

Taehyung felt like he was losing his mind, and maybe he was. What could he be doing wrong? How can you not know how he feels? How can Jimin get his point across better than him? 

Do you not like him?

His pacing in the kitchen ceased at this thought. 

No.

Surely, no. You liked him, right? You told him you did.

Although, that was before he and Namjoon had basically disappeared from your life these last two weeks. Is he that replaceable? 

The nagging insecurity of his childhood crept up. Flashes of tears, isolation, and craving for love tugged at his mind. He shook his head. He wasn't a 6 year old watching his father leave him. He wasn't a 14 year old in a foster home. He just wasn't that 17 year old in a new home, trying to adapt. That wasn't him anymore. Taehyung was loved now, by many. So why not by you? 

He blew out a shaky breath before finishing his glass of room temperature water. He was still dressed in his suit, having just gotten home from the final session of the blasted weeks-long project that kept him from you. His tie was more suffocating than ever but could not find a reason he deserved to undo it.

Too enraptured in his own thoughts, he didn't hear the soft pad of slippers downstairs or the tiny pants of regaining your breath from the nine flights you just went down in the dead of night, "Tae?" Your breathy voice sliced through the chaos in his mind and he let out a breathy chuckle, thinking he was going insane, hallucinating your voice.

Truly, he felt useless. He felt sub-human. He felt every piece of shit adult who turned his back on him must be justified if this was the best he could do. If a smokescreen of lovability with no love was his peak. If being alone with only hallucinations was the closest he could get to companionship-

He nearly choked on his water when he felt arms wrap tightly around his midsection, "Tae, you're home!" Your voice cleared the cloud of self-loathing and he looked down to see your half manicured nails, most of the polish chipped off. He slowly placed his hands on yours and was relieved to find you weren't a hallucination, "I missed you." He could feel your mouth moving against his suit jacket as you squeezed him a bit harder.

He let his eyes close as he relished in the feeling of you nuzzling into him, missing him. 

Worried when he said nothing, you moved to detach yourself but he held your hands firmly, "Tae?" You questioned only for him to hum lightly.

"I missed you so much, little lamb." His voice was soft, the softest you'd ever heard it as his thumb stroked your palm, "I didn't know you missed me." His voice held a fondness you had never heard from him before. Usually, his tone was light and playful but now, he was almost melancholic.

Did he genuinely feel that way? The panic of one of the men you found yourself falling for each day thinking you didn't like him as much as you did take over and you moved for you both to face each other. Tae merely blinked before you were in front of him, hands holding his face, not searching in his eyes but looking to express something with yours, "Of course I missed you." You pouted, "You all mean the world to me." 

He searched for any sign of a lie. He'd seen it time and time again from people in the entertainment industry, but with you, it was nothing but pure honesty, "Little lamb." He commanded your attention even though he already had it as you let your hands settle on each of his shoulders, "You mean that?" 

"I would never lie to you." You didn't miss a beat before looking at him further, realizing he is not acting like he usually does, "Are you okay?" You asked lightly, eyes traveling over his form, hands working to undo his tie as you've done before when he asked you to help him, "Oh gosh, that must feel so suffocating this late at night." You mumbled and undid two of his top buttons. He grabbed your hands as you worked at the second button, making you look up.

"Do you wanna know how I feel, baby?" He asked, eyes a little darker now as he drank in your form, wearing a mere long shirt that reached the middle of your thighs with no shorts in sight. You nodded and his grip on you tightened but wasn't painful, "Jealous." He rasped and you looked up, confused, "Jealous that you don't cum for me or crave me like you do everyone else." His voice was strained despite neglecting Namjoon's own lack of experience with you.

You blinked, "I mean if you want sex, that's okay." He let go of your hands, one of his hands moving to grip your hip as the other cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb, "But you know that sex is just that, I mean, I like closeness and it makes me feel good, so I do it. But I also know that being sexually attracted to me doesn't mean you want me as your partner- oh!" He cut you off by pressing you roughly against the wall, his hand now cradling the back of your head to prevent you from getting hurt.

His gaze burned into you and you averted your eyes but the hand behind your head went to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his own, and what a fierce gaze it was, "Who made you think that?" He snapped and continued when you struggled to respond, "Who convinced you that you're not just as worthy of pleasure as you are intimacy? Love? Companionship?" 

You were dumbstruck. Part of you wanted to ask how long he had because you had a list. You remembered every person who made you feel that way whereas they surely forgot you moments after you either did or didn't succumb to their desires. Instead, your eyes began to water, "Why are you…?" You forced out, blinking back your tears, "I don't...I don't understand." You shook your head.

"I don't want to fuck you so bad just because you're the sexiest woman I've ever seen." Your breath hitched and your mind couldn't properly process his words, "I crave you." He breathed, leaning down, "I've been agonizing over how to come to terms with the fact that I feel so fucking strongly for someone who has no obligation to feel the same." Before you could even respond, he placed his mouth on yours in a bruising kiss.

You responded immediately, trying your best to convey your feelings in this sloppy kiss, tongues intertwined as you needily moaned when his hand wrapped your leg around him, but he didn't grind into you, he just pulled your closer. The kissing lessened in urgency and increased in passion as he gripped you with a near bruising force, "Tae…" You groaned into his mouth and found yourself nearly crying. You held him closer and he squeezed you to him.

"Yes, baby?" He moved to kiss lightly at the corner of your mouth, mouth moving to. kiss at your tears. He didn't need to ask you why you were crying. He knew. He felt it too. He felt the relief that came with being held close, being kissed, and is wanted as much as another wants you.

"Do you mean it?" You asked, crying more now, "You…"

"I feel so strongly for you." He affirmed and you shook your head, having a hard time believing him, "And that's so frightening because you could just leave and I..." He breathed shakily, head tucked into your neck, "I don't know how everyone else is holding it together when I know they feel the same-"

"I do too." You had to say it before you wouldn't, "All of you, I do." You sniffled, "But I can't find a reason why you guys would feel anything for me too." Your voice was breaking and he just crushed you to him further, "And I don't know if they feel that way, and-" You cried further, "I-I need to go to bed, I need to-" You tried to pull away from his crushing embrace to no avail. 

You whined a bit at this. Your mind was scattered, and you didn't know what to do. There was so much going on yet nothing going on at all. You received a confession and so did he and yet, everything felt so complicated. The doubt of anyone wanting to be with you strangled your very being and made you want to stay in your room and never think about it again. Live alone in mediocrity and loneliness.

"Promise me you're not scared." His words were demanding but his tone was pleading, "I...I know it's a lot and I know I never act like this, but just, don't avoid it, don't avoid me." He sniffled and you relaxed, "The fact of the matter is, we feel the same about each other, the rest will come in time." He was regaining his composure and slowly you began to calm down. He was right. It was just you and him. Everyone else is at bay, they will get their time. You don't have to wake everyone up to know their feelings. You have time, "I know Jimin said his piece to you too, and we're not going anywhere, so please, don't go." His voice was stable again as he tucked in the scared and lonely little boy that haunts him sometimes and set his mind straight.

You nodded against him, honest and understanding of his words. You were nervous, sure, but only time would tell. If you run, you break your heart. But if you stay, you could either get your heart broken or get everything you want. It's a risk that you don't know how to calculate, but it's a risk you're willing to take. Maybe Taehyung is right and everyone feels the same about you in a way you could only dream. Just maybe.

He lets you go and you look at him, flawless as ever. His face was minorly red, tears minuscule and long gone by now, "We should go to bed." You murmured as Taehyung reached up to wipe away the stray tears on your cheeks and he nodded. 

He held your hand as he pressed the elevator button, lightly scolding you for taking nine flights of stairs in slippers with no traction, "Wow, you tell me you tell me you like me and now I'm getting chewed out." You giggled, the feeling of someone fussing over your safety was quite refreshing.

He looked at you incredulously, "If you fell or hurt yourself, all hell would break loose." He chided and you hummed.

You broke out into a goofy smile, "You like me." You giggled and the man next to you gave you a side-eyed glare before giving up on containing his own smile.

"Yeah well," He paused for a moment, smiling to himself, "You like me back." He chuckled and you felt your face heat up. 

He squeezed your hand and you watched the floors tick up to your own, "Tae?"

"Yes?" He asked, noticing your voice got quieter, more unsure. 

"Do you have anything to do tomorrow or do you want to stay with me tonight?" You forced out, nervous he would say no. 

Little did you see, he broke out into a cheerful smile and thanked his lucky stars before responding coolly, "I'd be honored to stay with you tonight." 

The elevator dinged just in time and you held his hand all the way to your bedroom before finally standing to face him. You studied his face for the nth time tonight. He was still beautiful each time and the moonlight only further deified his beauty further, "You're all so beautiful." You mused, reaching up to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"And all yours." He breathed.

You scoffed, "Sounds impossible." 

"Start believing, my darling." His voice was as smooth and deep as ever and you looked into his eyes and found an emotion you'd never seen before. 

Maybe you could do this. Maybe Taehyung was right and all 7 of them felt the same. Maybe you were deserving of sex and love.

And quite possibly it was your own resignation of maybe of the whole situation that made you reach up and push his suit jacket off of his shoulders. Confused, he still shrugged off the jacket, letting it fall to the floor. You reached up and began undoing the third button on his shirt. With more of his chest exposed you reached your hands up and feel the exposed skin of his chest softly, "Baby, what are you- fuck!" You cut him off, leaning up to suck onto his neck harshly before licking the spot. Your breath hit his neck, "You have got to be careful or I may not be able to control myself." You merely smiled before licking a stripe along the column of his throat and you could feel the vibration of his groan against your tongue before kissing along his jaw, "I don't want you to think I just confessed to you so I could come up here and-" He cut himself off with a strangled growl as you shifted your leg up for your thigh to brush against his erection.

"I like how cumming feels knowing you're still going to like me the next day." You spoke honestly and Taehyung wanted to find every person who didn't make you feel that way, "Unless you don't want to do anything, which is fine." You nuzzled into his neck, "I just, want to be close to you in more ways than one." 

He pulled back to look at you properly and found no doubt in your eyes. With Jimin, sexual acts had been a show of emotions. Now that you thought about it, even what happened with Yoongi and Jin felt like something different than what you were used to. In each sexual encounter, there was a level of care, making it feel so alien. Even with Jungkook and Hoseok, there was something there that you didn't know, intimacy. And yet, it felt so good.

Nevertheless, he asked, "Are you sure?" You nodded and he smiled, head dipping down to kiss you deeply. You continued your work on the buttons of his shirt while your tongues felt each other. Your hands went to his belt, undoing the Italian leather before you pulled away from his mouth and began kissing down his neck and his hands intertwined with your hair, "Baby, you don't have to make me cum." He breathed and you sucked at his neck to protest.

"I want to feel you in my mouth." You whined, hand reaching into the pants you unbuttoned to grip his dick over his briefs, "Please?" 

He nodded, eyes heavy, unsure how he could ever say no to you in the first place, "On the bed though, I don’t want you to hurt your knees." His voice was soft and you giggled at his wholesome request but nodded anyway.

You sat on the bed as he rid himself of his mostly taken-off clothing. You both tangled into each other as he kissed while he laid over you on your bed. You lightly pushed him to flip over so you were on top of him, legs straddling his hips. His hands glided over your thighs, squishing the skin gleefully as you continued peppering kissing down his chest, pressing your core into his bare erection, making you let out a needy moan, “You’re so hard.” You whispered, mouth sliding down his body.

Before you knew it, you reached his dick and of course, it was pretty. You wrapped your hands around the base and he sucked in a breath through his teeth before you licked at the precum at the tip before taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and he let out the most delicious grunt,” So good to me, my little lamb.” He praised you in a gravelly voice and you felt yourself get wetter as his hands curled into your hair, “Fuck, just like that.” He groaned as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him further. The dark room was filled with sounds of you drooling all over his erection as he praised you and was very vocal with his pleasure. The praise made you moan against his dick in delight, “My little lamb likes to be praised, huh?” He cooed, voice strained and breath heavy as you nodded, never letting his length escape your lips, “So perfect for me, aren’t you?” You hummed in delight as he threw his head back, fingers tensing in your hair as he did his best to not pull it or push your head down. However, determined to please, you guided his hand to push you further, nodding to let him know it was okay. He was gentle as he guided your head, his other hand intertwining with yours as a sweet gesture. You bobbed rhythmically and you could hear his noises becoming less and less controlled, “Fuck, I’m getting close.” He warned and you responded with a strong suck that made his hips lift off the bed, “Where do you want me to cum?” He asked urgently and you answered by looking up at him through your lashes with a look way too innocent for someone about to drink down his cum. It was that look that sent him over the edge and you felt him cum in your mouth. You drank him dry before letting his dick go with a resounding pop.

“Did I do well?” You asked and, his hand still in your hair, pulled you to him as he nodded before planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Perfect, baby, perfect.” He was breathless but still intent on kissing you deeply as he sat up, hands going to your thighs to grip the hem of your shirt, “Can I taste you, little lamb?” He asked and you nodded.

“Please.” You whined as he kissed your throat, going over the hickeys you had from the other me in the house, all of them mostly faded except for the one Jimin gave you. He lifted the shirt, only detaching from marking you to strip you of your clothing. He laid you down as he slipped your panties off, groaning at how you were glistening.

“You this wet for me, sweetheart?” He spoke huskily and you hummed desperately as his finger slid from your clit to your drenched hole slowly, “I really wanted to go slow, but fuck,” His finger slid in with little resistance much to his delight, “You’re just so ready for me, aren’t you?” You nodded, panting as his finger fucked slowly into you and he raised a brow, expecting you to be verbal.

“Yes, yes, I’m ready Sir, please.” You gasped out, fighting the urge to wiggle your hips as you confirmed with the honorific you trusted him enough to give yourself fully.

“Just because you’ve been so sweet to me,” He leaned down, breath fanning over your drenched core, “I won’t make you beg this time.” He kissed your clit, making you twitch before his tongue licked a stripe from your clenching hole to your clit, making you gasp, “You taste so fucking good, no wonder Jin and Yoongi were so smug for days.” He rasped and felt you clench around him further, “Oh?” He chuckled darkly as his tongue flicked your clit, “You like when I talk about the others? You wish they were here watching you squirm around my finger?” You writhed in delight as he slid another finger in, “You wish they were here helping me get you off so pretty, holding you down so you’ll be still like a good girl?” He teased you and it only soaked his fingers and tongue further as he slurped you intently. Taehyung had been waiting what felt like his whole life to have you come apart in his clutch and feel your sweet cum on his tongue.

He tasted you intently, fucking into you a little quicker as he let you squirm around him. He would be lenient and kind this time around, because of both of your desperations and tearful confessions. There was so much to feel and so much to taste, and he just wanted to have you crumble in his clutch. You were well on your way to be his, theirs, and he would be yours in return. He wanted to channel his hunger for you as he moaned into your pussy. You were already getting off by making him cum and now, you were unsure how long you would last if he kept flexing his tongue and running it over your clit as he curled his fingers in your cunt, hitting a particularly sensitive spot that made your back arch off the bed.

He murmured dirty and sweet nothings into your pussy as you clutched the sheets with a death grip, doing your best to not push his head into your core. You wanted him to have total control over your body and pleasure in this moment, “You’re getting close.” He cooed teasingly and you nodded, spurring him to take his fingers out.

You cried out as he chuckled, sucking your juices from the two fingers, “Please, I wanna cum, please, please!” You whimpered, pushing your hips up as he let his fingers go from his mouth.

“Shit, you’re so fucking cute.” He groaned, hands pinning your hips to the bed as you squirmed, “I’ll make you cum, baby, don’t worry.” He kissed at your clit, eliciting a desperate cry, “You just have to be really good for me and cum while I fuck you with my tongue.” He licked at your hole as you nodded eagerly, “Can you be good for me and do that?” His voice was dripping with lust.

“Yes, Sir, I can, I will, please!” You babbled, having been so close to cumming just moments ago.

You calling him Sir made his teasing nature disappear as he slid his tongue into you with a groan on his end and with you nearly screaming as he fucked into you. He moved inside of you as your walls fluttered, slowly clenching more and more as you could feel your high coming. It was when his hand went to rub quick circles onto your clit that you came with a strangled moan.

His tongue fucked you through your high and he only pulled away when your back settled back onto the bed and you were trying to catch your breath. He kissed your stomach before going to put on his briefs as he slid your panties back on. He hovered over you, placing a quick kiss on your mouth as you wrapped your arms around him, humming in bliss, “You’re such a good girl.” You keened at his praise as he placed a kiss on your cheek before rolling over to pull you in his arms, holding you tight.

“Now you get to be smug.”You giggled tiredly, eyes closing as you listened to his heartbeat.  

He chuckled, equally tired as he kissed the crown of your head, “I already am.” He mused, “Goodnight, little lamb.” His voice was soft and sweet as you could only muster another blissful hum.

Now, you were starting to understand what was so different about all of your sexual, or near-sexual, interactions with almost everyone. It was the emotion in it. 

You’ve had people say they liked you, get what they want, and then never see you again. However, the guys, barring Tae and Jimin, hadn’t said they liked you, but they tried to communicate it. They held you close, they stayed to cuddle with you after. There was care in the way they touched your body and it was liberating. It was frightening, the idea of getting used to something that could just go away one day, but nevertheless, you let your consciousness fade, knowing he would be there tomorrow morning.

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