talktothesun

[talktothesun]

If Only You Would Know

HenryCavill!Sherlock x Female!Reader

summary: You and Sherlock are in love, Enola is sure of it. But she is forced to watch you tiptoe around the topic for an eternity. So when the opportunity arises, and Sherlock is forced to confront his feelings towards you, she does not hesitate.

a/n: we're diggin' out old old drafts for this one, but I needed a little Sherlock again :)

word count: 4k

warnings: a little arguing, pining, someone gets injured, idiots in love™️ (it's a new genre of mine)

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

You sighed as Sherlock moved about his office with hasty determination. He was a strange man. Oblivious, too, time and time again. But that did not matter for you loved him. You loved him and every strange habit he harbored. Whether it was the way in which he arranged his coats on the brass hanger by the door or that godawful pipe he seemed to always have hanging from his lips. He did not even like it - he had told you one time. “’tis just a habit, dear,” it would muffle past the brown bit in his mouth before he would clip it back between his teeth. 

But you did not care. And that must have been the very fact telling you just how deeply your heart had already fallen for the famous detective. Not a care in the world, especially not for what other people thought to say the least. Because all you ever thought about upon seeing him was love, warmth, and endearment. Nothing less. Not even a wretched criminal could ever shoot these feelings out of your heart. 

Oh well, it did not matter, anyhow. For there was one issue keeping this fairytale from becoming reality. And this issue was that Sherlock Holmes, the brightest man you knew, was blatantly oblivious to the feelings you had harbored in your chest. To be fair, you had never mentioned it to him before. For you were simply terrified of the consequences such a confession would hold. It was one thing to pine over a man who you were lucky enough to be in the same room with, but it would be undeniably humiliating to be rejected by said man as well. So you had chosen not to act on the fiery desire burning within your veins whenever your eyes hushed a glance at him. 

As much as that decision was made to protect your heart, it had turned out the circumstances provided the opposite of the desired effect. You were hurting more and more with every day you had to live with the realization that Sherlock Holmes did not love you back. In fact, he loved other women - many of them. And every single one more beautiful than the other. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if they were human at all. Never before had you seen such luscious hair as that of Sibyl or such a beautiful smile as that of Amelia. It was difficult to settle with these gorgeous women having a place in his bed and possibly his heart, but soon, you realized the importance of seeing him happy trumped your own desires. If he was happy, so were you. And if you weren’t the one making him happy, so be it. 

You had just come here to see Enola from her home to the city. Stopping by her brother’s apartment had not been on the agenda, at least not yours. But Enola was adamant to have you come when she raced up the stairs to his door. You had gasped when Sherlock had opened, his hair slightly disheveled and the shirt loosely tugged in his trousers. Your heart was pounding - it always happened when you saw him, and you swiftly averted your eyes to hide the flustered look on your face from him. 

Now you were standing in his messy home as you listened to Enola convince him to let her help him on a particular case of his - one she had a personal attachment to. Mixed emotions crawled up your spine at the sight of this professional yet intimate space. Not only one room over, Sherlock's bed was mockingly standing beyond the door, messy sheets indicating his prior endeavors, but there was no Sibyl or Amelia in sight. Still, your hands clamped around the silky material of your skirt, wrinkling the fabric harsher with every minute you spend in the deep-colored room. It smelled of musk and tobacco. Two things you had grown to miss whenever they were not surrounding you, but now, it was a shiver too much. 

Sherlock stood before you and Enola with his hands on his hips, a look of annoyance and disapproval etched on his features, but nonetheless, a sense of amusement in the edges of his frown. You knew him too well not to notice the slight pride swelling from his chest at his little sister’s determination. 

“I believe it is too dangerous for a girl like you to wander the streets, chasing criminals through London, Enola.”

“And I believe that you are an idiot, brother.”

“Perhaps,” your finger lifted in suggestion, stopping Sherlock’s head from tilting in disapproval at his sister’s array just in time. “She can be accompanied in her wandering?”

“And who would this accompany be?”

You knew it was not your place to negotiate, but you cared for Enola too much not to. And even though Sherlock’s stern eyes bore into your frame, you began to talk again: “I could-“

“Oh, dear lord. That is out of question.”

“Why brother? Do you not think Ms. Y/N and I can defend ourselves?”

A short silence lay upon the siblings as you watched the man’s shoulders draw up with a tense jaw. “I said no.”

“You are being irrational.” Enola cried. She was not one to accept defiance easily, you were well aware of it.

“No, you are being irrational. I will not vouch for having two women hurt on a mission to gather intel for my cases.”

“You cannot stop me.”

There was something itching in the glimmer of his eyes when the words left his lips, though you weren’t quite sure what to make of it.

“Enola!” Almost fearfully, Sherlock turned to you, his eyes wandering and desperation conveyed in his stare when you heard the young girl open the door.

“I am sure we can negotiate a way to have both parties satisfied.” Enola halted as you spoke. “I am certain your bother has other tasks that need fulfilling and are less prone to danger. Isn’t that right, Mr. Holmes?”

Sherlock was not entirely satisfied with this turn of events, but his sagging shoulders told you that he accepted the compromise. A sigh eluded from his lungs and Enola turned to the dark-haired man with excited eyes. “I presume, there would be things you could do.”

“Thank you–“

“But,” his eyes turned stern again, “In the office only. No more wandering, is that clear?”

Enola beamed. “Yes.”

❁ ❁ ❁

It was not long after the discussion when you and Enola went about home from the city. Still, however, despite the seemingly fair compromise negotiated just minutes prior, the younger woman sloppily trudged next to you.

“He is an idiot, that is what he is.” Enola stomped past you with a pouty face. It was not ladylike, but luckily, she knew that you were not one to care about that. 

You understood Enola’s frustrations, but simultaneously, your heart were to break if anything ever happened to her. So you understood the settled worry in her brother’s words as well. He was a good man. “He is just worried. It means he cares.”

“Well, he could care a little less and let me do my job.” You hid a smirk. Only Enola would be as adamant about saving a boy she had only met days ago. She was just as goodhearted and justice-seeking as Sherlock, and your heart warmed at the similarities the siblings shared.

“It is not your job, Enola.” Sometimes you genuinely admired her fixation, though it mostly converted into trouble, still. Enola had a lot more freedom than you did when you were her age, and you too would have sprung at any chance to go and wander about, seeking adventures and perhaps a little more than that. Which was in turn, why your heart felt torn between the fulfillment of having her seek childhood dreams, and the subtle but strong tug Sherlock Holmes held you with. 

“Did you forget what we just found out yesterday? It seems no one cares about him. And if nobody else will do it, I consider it my duty to help.”

“Enola, dear.” You held her shoulders gently. “I understand your worries, but I understand your brother’s as well. I would be just as worried about you if something were to happen, and I do not want to see you hurt, either.”

“But we have to do something!” This was true. It would not be right to leave the boy framed with false accusations when you had the power to change his fate. There was something you could gather - information that may help him be acquitted.

“How about I go?” You silently cursed your good intentions as Enola’s eyes lit up. It was a blessing and a curse. But other than Enola, there would be nobody worrying for you, and in turn a lot less hearts broken if something were to happen - which it surely would not. “You can stay in the study and I will see to it that we may gather more information.”

“Alright, but be careful. And make sure to come back by five. Otherwise, someone will get suspicious.” The girl smiled, but her shoulders shook with excitement.

“What? Do you think I’m stupid?” You teased, awaiting a sassy ‘of course not’ which you returned with a wink.

❁ ❁ ❁

Enola watched the clock next to the window. Seconds, ticking by too fast for her liking. She needed more time - you needed more time. Her brother had given her files to sort and he would be coming back soon. Upon your agreement yesterday, you had gone out to gather information on the woman who accused the boy. But you would be back soon, she told herself.

“Is Ms. Y/N not here with you?” Sherlock’s voice called through the room and his steps approached her steadily. 

Enola was stiff. “She is out,” she told him while her fingers counted the pile of files on the desk.

“Out? With who?” He stepped around the polished mahogany, settling in front of her with his hands behind his back. “I didn’t realize she was being courted.” 

Oh. Enola’s eyes sparkled with amusement when she obtained a glimmer of jealousy in her brother’s. She had always had her suspicions. And she knew of your being madly in love with her brother, but Sherlock had always been secretive regarding the topic of love.

“She went to shop,” she smiled, averting her eyes. Waiting - no, anticipating a response from him.

“So she is not with anyone.” Sherlock leaned forward with squinted eyes. For a man as good at solving puzzles as he was, he did need an awful lot of confirmation.

Enola finally looked up. “Ugh, you really are an idiot.” 

“Would you quit calling me an idiot?” Disapproval swept his features and made a frown settle instead. 

“I would, but you won’t quit being an idiot.”

“Whatever do you mean?” It was quite amusing to see him clueless for once. And even though you tried to hide your feelings or the way you responded whenever he was as much as in the same room as you, it did not go past Enola how long your eyes lingered on his frame or the way the sadness overtook your features at the mention of another woman.

“Ms. Y/N is head over heels in love with you. And I do not understand why you refuse to see it, she is not hiding it very well, you see?”

Sherlock stumbled back, his hands seemingly finding their pace over his heart when he repeated her words. “Ms. Y/N? In love with me?”

“And you really call yourself the greatest detective of our time.” Enola shook her head. Still, the thought of the two of you together was one she liked to entertain. And she asked herself just how much you could talk Sherlock into once you were together. He was already caving when you suggested things - the possibilities of Enola getting her way when the both of you finally gave into the pining were endless!

“Oh, hush. I just never thought she would...” Sherlock trailed off, and if Enola was not mistaken, she caught a whisper of pink settle over his cheeks. Could it really be? The great Sherlock Holmes in love? Even better with a woman Enola adored as well?

“This is exactly the problem, brother. You don’t think when it comes to women.” Her mind wandered back to the women you had seen leave his chambers by the break of dawn. And just like then, Enola noticed a familiar sense of sadness wash over her brother’s eyes - the same one you hid from her in these moments.

“Enola...” But his words died on his tongue and Enola thought it wiser to resume her task. Sherlock was aware of his idiocy. For Enola knew just how insignificant all the other women were to him. And she hoped he had realized this fact.

A moment or two passed in which Sherlock paced the room mindlessly. His hands disappeared behind curtains and in bookshelves, until they reached for the pocket watch in his coat and a subtle grumbling eluded his lungs. “She should be back soon, anyhow. Should she not?”

“I suppose, yes.” 

“Well, it is quarter past five already. The shop is closed well over an hour now.” Sherlock did not hide the impatience in his tone, now. And Enola felt a wave of success wash over her.

It was difficult to hide her nervousness, though, for she now worried about you as well. But you were fine - she consoled herself. You were tough and intelligent, simply a little late - that was surely it. “She will come soon.”

An unusual tension fell over the room and Enola was certain, her brother had already dismissed her little story. But she would not falter. Her fingers kept cramming through the papers, counting pages she had analyzed and sorted two times by now. Her movements, however, became more frantic, and soon, her heart was pounding in her wrists.

“Enola, what in heavens did you do?” Sherlock urged impatiently, a look cold as a stone set on his face. 

“Nothing.” She did not look at him, then he would know instantly - the little lie she told.

“You sent her out to spy didn’t you?”

Why did he keep asking if he already knew the answer? Enola did not speak. She was fairly ashamed, though. She wanted to show her brother just how capable she and you both were. But having you not come back made for a serious difficulty to her plan.

She looked up at him now, just in time to see his shoulders sag and his head tilted up in frustration. “After I told you not to?”

“You only ever forbid me from going!” She cried, suddenly feeling attacked by his irrational outburst.

“I did not want Ms. Y/N out in the streets alone, either.” Sherlock was pacing again, his shoes clicked on the polished wooden floor until the reached the coat hanger by the door, only to gruffly rip the dark cloak from its place.

An accusing finger reached in his direction and a small smirk appeared on his sister’s lips. “So you are in love with her.”

The man frowned and his chestnut locks shook with annoyance. “That is not important right now. We need to find her.”

He did not deny it and Enola Holmes viewed it as a success.

❁ ❁ ❁

Sherlock swept through the streets as fast as his feet could carry him. Never had he thought that he would need to worry about your well-being. Enola’s? Yes, constantly. She did dangerous things all the time. But you were the one with the rational mind, the trait he adored most above all, for it eased his own every so often. It was enough to look out for Enola as much. He loved her and that was what love did: It made for weaknesses. Though Sherlock never wished to not adore you as much as he did, at this moment, it would have spared him trouble. 

He passed another alley filled with dubious fellows and willed his thoughts not to stray to dark paces. Normally, he could stay focused. Normally, he was able to separate his feelings from his tasks very well. Normally, he needn’t worry about you, however. 

Enola was many steps behind, he could hear her heels clicking in haste in her catching up, but Sherlock would not budge. He would keep on searching, keep on going straight until his sister gave him another direction to follow. She knew where you were after all, and he could not even begin to indulge in the worry-consumed anger this fact fueled him with. 

It did not take long for the detective to reach the house of the last suspect he had abandoned in his search for answers. You must have gone there. Enola had been especially furious about his dropping the woman upon questioning, urging her brother to stay on the lead. But Sherlock had already gotten enough information to place her in the entire scheme. Enola did not know this of course - he had never told her. So it was only plausible to send you to spy on said woman. What you had not known, however, was the dangerous affiliates this woman had, and the little to no hesitance of hers to pursue them.

The house lay empty on the street once the siblings reached its steps, no light shining through the glass windows, not the smell of dinner lingering in the air. It was odd, though nothing to be upset over. You had been here, Sherlock knew it. He was disappointed to find out, however, that you were not anymore. Of course, you had realized the danger of the situation and left, but where to? 

His head jerked to the left once Enola caught up to him, following the rattling of bins coming from the alley close by, where a faint trail of blood droplets mixed with the rain. 

“Bloody hell,” the detective mumbled with every inch it lead him further to your location. And sure enough, beyond the shielding confines of a wooden palette, he spotted your coat pressed into the wall. 

A small hiss, and then: nothing when he called your name.

“Ms. Y/N, heavens!” He rushed over once his eyes caught your distraught face behind the wood, your entire hand covered in blood, pressed to your head, where more seemed to have already dried on your scalp. 

“Mr. Holmes?” Your voice was weak, your eyes hazy - growing in the confusion the head injury most likely brought to you. 

Sherlock's arms reached out to engulf you, a handkerchief quick to be pressed on your head as he knelt beside you and let your body rest against his torso. “Enola, go and get help, immediately!” He commanded with urgency, having the young girl run off with a shocked nod.

His attention traced back to your body, where his eyes focused on your heavy lids and his heart clenched at the sight. You were hurt - seriously hurt - and Sherlock could not shake the feeling of it being his fault. Had he only consulted you in his case, had he talked to Enola, had he been less cowardly and finally admitted to his feelings. This all might have never happened.

“You should not have gone out alone!” He cried as he rocked you back and forth, his arms held you a little tighter, and he was certain that his heart beat through the several layers of clothing separating you.

“You have no right to rule over me.” Your hands pressed against his chest, forcing him to let you pull away from his embrace, and Sherlock instantly missed the warmth holding you had given him. He needed it back - confirming you were fine.

“But I told you not to go!” Big eyes stared up at him, but there was disappointment simmering beneath the sheer gleam of anger.

“Why are you upset? I can do whatever I desire!” It was meant to come out strong, but not even a woman as tough as you were able to hide the weakness taking over your body.

“But you got hurt!” Sherlock was juggling with empty arguments, he knew this much. But there was no right way to express what he wished to pursue with his words. It was all too much and not enough, all the same.

“Mr. Holmes, I can take good care of myself. I have done it my whole life.”

“And you shouldn’t have.” This seemed to have caught you by surprise. For you stopped in your shuffling away and held his gaze equal in confusion and intrigue. 

“Whatever do you mean?” You shrieked softly, your breath staggering when he came closer to you.

Sherlock found it incredibly difficult to talk, suddenly. His hands were clammy and that stupid tie around his neck seemed just a tad too tight. Christ, he could not even look at you. He was left staring towards the wet grounds with his hands wringing beneath him.“I- it has come to my attention that I lack perception in some categories.” He hushed a look at you and was not surprised to see utter confusion seeping through your stare. 

Sherlock sighed and his shoulders jumped heavily once he mustered up the courage to explain: “I do not wish to see you hurt.”

“Why?” Your eyes were big and wondrous, much like a curious child prying up in awe over what it was to become privy of.

Sherlock tried, he really did, to be steady and informative, but there was no use, for his heart had decided otherwise. “Because... because, I- my heart hurts when I imagine something happening to you.”

“But what about Sybil or Amelia… or Babette?” Every name stung another hole in his heart as your eyes saddened naming the woman he had spent previous nights with in order to get over you. He never loved them, never adored them the way he did you. They were simply a distraction. A petty compromise for the actual being he was sure would never return his affection. Now that he found out the opposite, Sherlock was uncertain about how to act. 

“These women... they were just compensation for the one I couldn’t have.” He confessed slowly, his hand reaching for you and finally getting ahold of your chin. “I did not think you would be interested in me.”

“Oh but I am, Sherlock.” Your fingers came to cover his. “I am.” And an unbelievable force of warmth and calmness washed over him. Despite the blood, despite the worry. Despite everything being wrong at this very moment, he was calm. You had this effect on him.

“I know that now. My sister told me.” Sherlock sent a silent prayer to the stars. Had his sister not been as persistent he would have never gotten the opportunity to hold you close - feel you the way he desired. 

“She is quite a smart lady isn’t she?” A low chuckle echoed through the darkening alley, though a shy blush crept upon the detective’s cheeks. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, she is a good detective.” His thumbs stroked gentle swipes over your skin, a sliver of warmth tasting your body with every movement, and it felt good to have you indulge in his touch. He would have never dreamt of having you this close, having you feel the same feelings he did. And to be perfectly honest, experiencing it, in reality, was a hundred times better than anything he had ever imagined. “God, Y/N. If only I had known earlier.”

“Let us not grieve what is already done. Embrace the possibilities of the future with me.” Your eyes locked with his once again and your aura seemed to pull him even deeper into a trance. Sherlock could not look away. He was captured by every loving emotion radiating off of you. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. But he would keep it guarded in his chest for eternity, even if nobody were to ever ask him about it. It was precious - this moment was worth hundred terrible ones. 

“You are right,” he agreed, and then, beyond his control almost, Sherlock pulled you into a warm kiss. 

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[talktothesun]

man what is your fucking problem i just watched midnight mass for the first time and ive been crying hard enough to crack a rib for the past thirty minutes jesus fucking christ genuinely what the fuck

anyway keep up the good work 👍

If Netflix had released a blu-ray set for Midnight Mass, this is the blurb I'd want on the cover

[talktothesun]

they were at each others throats oh my god

[talktothesun]

this broke me in ways that can never be healed and fixed me in ways nothing else could

[talktothesun]

I have read every canonverse Akafuri fic on ao3 (<—not even remotely true) and am therefore a Cerified Expert, so I made a trope/plot beat bingo.

Feel free to use it on any fic (even AUs, because some of these beats transcend ‘verses) and tell me if you get a bingo! ^^

[talktothesun]

Hii! I really love your stories and writing style and since i saw your requests are open, I'd love to request a NSFW with Akashi where it's both, his and reader's first time, with lots of fluff if possible and if you want!!

If you decide to write it, thank you in advance! <3

Omgggg can't believe it took me 6 months to complete this request I swear I momentarily forgot how to write smut 😭😭 hope you still enjoy this though, I felt bad so this one is extra long (4.7k) <33

You're My First // Akashi Seijurō x Fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

Context: Might have taken you and your boyfriend Seijurō way too long to finally have sex, whoops! All characters are aged-up (18+) for plot purposes.

Warnings: mainly fluff till the last quarter, mention of reader (and Akashi a bit) being sexually frustrated, mention of masturbation (both Akashi and reader do it), kissing obvs, handjob, fingering, protected sex (because Akashi is a gentleman 🥰)

The wooden tile strategically placed on the board, Seijurō's game partner sighs. It's a force of habit: can you ever win against a guy like him? You chuckle, arms wrapping around your boyfriend's shoulders as you kiss his cheek.

“What is it that you say? Your victory is absolute?” you whisper loud enough for Shintarō to hear you.

“Please, no need to add more to my defeat” the green haired man readjusts his glasses, seemingly unbothered by his loss but you aren't dupe.

A smile on your lips, you let your fingers run through Seijurō's red hair. His shogi playmate looks away, like all the times you show some sort of affection to your boyfriend. Throwing his jacket over his broad shoulders, Midorima excuses himself by saying that he's got practice. It figures, you think, Seijurō's friends are players like no other. You wave him goodbye as he walks out, and once his tall figure is out of sight, you let out a soft sigh.

“Sei?”

He looks up from the board with a softness in his gaze, putting the tiles back in their designated bag. Akashi Seijurō conceits his emotions quite well, that's a well-known fact. But the minute he fell in love with you, he's learned to open up. From talking about his mother to how basketball saved him from his darkest times, the Seijurō you know is exclusive – no one, not even Midorima that he's fond of, has any knowledge of the depth of his person. But you don't bother: he's your one and only, isn't he?

“Coming to my place tonight?” He asks.

You breathe in, like every time he asks. Most of the time, there is no meaning to these words. Nights of shy touches, nights of "sorry love, I can't". You ponder if you should refuse. You have needs, don't you? Of course you do. More than touch-starved, you crave love to a level that you feel Seijurō is not ready for.

“Sure thing” you utter, incapable of turning him down.

A light brings his eyes to life, and you feel your heart melt.

Isn't he sweet, your Sei-chan?

A thought you never believed you’d ever had, on the day you met him; an afternoon in May, both of you finding yourself in the same isle of the library, looking for the same book.

“It's in my recommended reading list” you said, not willing to back down.

“Funny, my professor wrote this one.”

His arrogance turned you off, but then, he organized a special lecture for your class with the author of said book, leaving your own lecturer in awe and you wondering why he did such thing for someone who meant nothing. Took you long enough to realize that you actually meant something to him. He asked you out right after that lecture and now here you are.

“Sei, let me treat you. We’re having celebratory diner for your victory in shogi” You stretch out of your spot, hands swaying to your hips as you smile to your boyfriend.

“My love, if we have a celebratory diner every time I win, you’ll end up broke.”

You scoff, nudging him in the arm. His arrogance ever so often pops out, but in a rather endearing way. In the right settings, you find yourself thinking, it might even be attractive – but you guard yourself from admitting so.

“We’re eating to my place instead” he says as his arm finds your shoulders, wrapping around it with the grace that could only be associated to him.

You raise an eyebrow but doesn’t refuse the invitation. The last rays of sun cast on your faces as you both walk in the late summer evening, between the distant laughter of children and the sounds of birds going home. And amidst all of what soothes your soul, nothing compares to the way you feel at this exact moment, walking so close to the one you love. It’s a subtle feeling, one that you don’t bother to describe, that makes things so easy when he’s around. And you just need to glance for a second in his direction, to see it. The way he makes you feel, written all over your face.

Seijurō is silent, yet, from the dancing flame in his eyes, you can guess that something is brewing in his head. You smile, a soft chuckle coming out of your lips. You know he hates it, when you’re able to read him so easily; he told you once, “I’ve always thought of myself as hard to decipher”. Not so much though, or at least, not to you.

“Sei, you seem nervous despite having an awfully good day.”

Your remark gets him to straighten up as he walks, a quick raise of his eyebrows indicating that you took him by surprise.

“Can’t a guy be nervous around his girlfriend?”

“My…” you chuckle, “don’t put it on me now. What’s up? It’s not the first time I’m coming over, although I’d argue it’s not a common occurrence.”

“Well, you know – “

“You might do things you'll regret if I come by too often, I know” you cut him off.

You both stay silent for a minute; your words having brought up the memories of countless of discussions around this topic. Seijurō has never outrightly told you why he barely has you over, why he cuts your dates short when things start to escalate, why every time you take the level of intimacy up a notch, he is the first one to grow distance between you. It’s always some vague excuse that you don’t really understand, but you try your best not to judge. Intimacy, after all, is not a given to everybody.

“But you know, I don’t think I’ll regret anything I do with you.” You say, cutting short to the long silence. “I mean, as long as it’s you and that… you know. I just wanna say, I trust you with these things. I wouldn’t be with you overwise.”

You quickly glance in his direction, in search of a reaction from your boyfriend. You don’t know if your words are clear enough to him – not that it’s been your kind (or his kind) to be straightforward. Yet, you still manage to get yourself to be understood, despite never saying things outright. So you just hope that he’s got the message clear; and he does, you figure, by the small nod he gives as you approach his place.

“I’ll treat you to a lovely diner tonight, then. And if you don’t mind, you can spend the night.”

You stare at him, incredulous. Have you heard that last part right? Seijurō always speaks with assurance, but these aren’t words he’s used to speak.

“Oh, y-yeah…” you clean your throat, hand clumsily trying to hide your blush.

This is a turn of situations you haven’t expected whatsoever, but as you walk into the familiar lobby of Seijurō’s place, you realize soon enough that this is real. Unusual, but real.

And then it hits you.

The reason he seems nervous, the reason he’s invited you over in the first place, and why he’s asked you to stay over from the start. It comes clear, especially knowing him. The young man has always been one to plan things out, especially important things. And if you read the situation correctly, tonight is not born out of nothing.

Maybe he’s finally taken notice of the small clues you’ve left, traces of your desire for more. The way your hands linger longer on his body when you touch him, the sweet perfume you wear on your neck in hope whiffs draw him in, the elongated looks you’ve sent him for weeks now. Sweet, innocent eyes, yet eyes ready for more, if he’s only willing to give you an opportunity.

And willing, to your surprise, he is. Something feels different when you walk the threshold of his place; it’s not the soft smell of lavender you’ve grown familiar with, it’s not the warm shade of the light, it’s not the way he hangs his jacket on the hanger at the door. So, what is it?

“Love, are you coming?” His voice brings you out of your thoughts.

You breathe out a short “yes”, joining him in the kitchen. Your gaze fall upon the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, as he rinses vegetables for diner. The way he moves with grace and confidence while you’re still trying to process what this whole night means stuns you, and you sit, in contemplation of whether you should address the subject.

How are you supposed to ask your boyfriend if you’re having sex for the first time tonight, anyways?

You contemplate, ultimately concluding that being direct is the best way to go about it. Well, that is, if you even know how to be direct in the way you address the subject. So you stand, looming over his shoulders as he stirs some onion and garlic in the pan, shy hands locking behind your back. He hums, an assured smile creeping on his lips as he feels your presence in his back. He’s seemingly way more relaxed about this night than you are – but then again, Seijurō is the last person on Earth to show any sign of nervousness. His hand reaches back to you, gently dragging your face closer to land a kiss on your forehead.

“What’s that, love? Are you the nervous one, now?”

He chuckles as you stare at him, baffled. Are you doing such a terrible job at hiding it?

“Can’t tell me you’re all chill about tonight either” you retaliate.

“Oh, but I am.”

“When did you decide to make tonight the night, anyway?”

He turns off the stove, flipping the veggies one last time.

“I had that idea in mind for a while, but I wanted to make sure that you wanted it as well” he replies honestly, “so when you said that you trusted me earlier, I had all the confirmation that I needed.”

You nod, sitting on the counter.

“And you’re really gonna make me think you’re not nervous at all about it?” you cock an eyebrow.

His silence leaves you uncertain – something that annoys you ever so often. Your ability to read him better than anyone else has always been your pride, so these moments where he strips you from your special ability to comprehend him always annoys you.

“Seijurō.”

He looks up in your direction, his eyes open slightly as he hears your tone. It’s not cold, or mean, or stern. But it’s serious, well serious beyond what he’s used to hear from you. He sighs, joining you as his pinkie finger gently grazes your hand.

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to do it.” He sighs. “Maybe we should have talked about it before…”

“It’s fine. If we did, it would have ruined the mood.”

“Because there’s a mood to ruin to begin with?”

You chuckle, finger interlocking with his.

“Oh, I’m crazy nervous, but it doesn't make me any less… eager than I’ve always been.”

He raises an eyebrow, slight amusement on his face. You can’t help but chuckle a bit at his expression. Suddenly, seeing him smile so wholeheartedly makes (most) of your nerves go away. Maybe that’s what he does to you, and maybe that’s why you stick around. You let out a soft giggle, before looking at him.

“Anyways. Do you have any idea how the night where you lose your virginity typically goes?”

“I was relying on you to have an answer on that.”

You scoff, a heartfelt laugh coming out of your throat. The sight of you like that makes the blood pump to his face; a light pink blush painting his cheek as he laughs too. He doesn’t even know what gets you to laugh like that – head thrown back as the little crinkles by your eyes that he loves so much appears, but it warms his heart like nothing else can.

“Damn, we’re two big virgins, aren’t we?” you say as you sigh dramatically.

“For some reason, I imagined that you would have been more knowledgeable than me on that topic.”

“Seijurō, who do you think I am?!”

He chuckles; a slightly high-pitched sound that rarely comes out of him unless he’s with you. Because this is what you do to him, letting his true nature shine through from time to time – whether it be his radiant smile, the pink on his cheeks every time he’s near you, or the kindness of his amber eyes.

“Well… you know I’m not one to half-ass anything, but it’s not the easiest thing to do some studying on.”

“I see.” You nod, fingers interlocking with his. “But we trust each other, don’t we?”

He hums, looking at you. And that’s when you see it in his eyes, that glimmer that tells you without stuttering that he is absolutely sure about this, you and him, but mostly you.

“Can’t go wrong if it’s us, yeah?”

His words travel in your mind as he slowly leans towards you. His thumb caresses the soft skin of your bottom lip, before he leaves a sweet and soft kiss on it. It feels almost nostalgic, a kiss similar to the one you first exchanged when you just started dating. The warmth in your heart and the gentleness of his fingers on your skin, all reminiscent of the kisses you experienced when you were falling for him. And now that you have fell, the idea of feeling these kisses all over again makes your heart beat frenetically. You kiss him once again, your hand resting on the soft skin of his cheeks as you pour your love in that single kiss. He pulls away, hot breath falling on your lips as his eyes capture you, forbidding you to look anywhere else.

“Is it crazy if I tell you I am absolutely sure about this, in this very instant?” he mutters against your lips.

You hum, shaking your head. It’s not crazy, the thought has crossed your mind, too. And maybe that’s a sign; for the little that you know on the topic, overthinking things usually isn’t the way to go. It’s more one of these “if you know, you know” moments.

And right now, this is it.

Just one look, and he grabs your hand, taking you both to the bedroom – not before covering up the sautéed veggies he’s cooked earlier, of course (Seijurō, even in desperate need for you, wouldn’t leave freshly made food uncovered). You giggle, body lying on the soft mattress of his bed; bed that you’ve shared multiple times without ever crossing the line.  And here you are, fingers tangling in his soft, red locks, too lost in a haze of desire to think of the hardship it has been all along to not act on your needs for him, for his touch.

“Sei, I want you, you know that?”

“You made it quite clear, yeah” he blushes softly as a sweet laugh comes out of his lips. “And I know it’s not very gentleman-like of me to say it, but baby, if I could, I would strip you naked right away.”

“Do it then, who’s stopping you?”

He raises an eyebrow, pink painting his cheek as he sees the daring look in your eyes.

“My... I’m no savage, I had to make sure you wanted me to.”

You laugh, leaving a sweet kiss on his jaw.

“Baby, I’ve got years of pent-up sexual frustration about to get unleashed. Please, do not be a gentleman with me tonight.”

He looks at you curiously, not expecting his sweet girlfriend to utter such words. Yet he feels his cock twitch in the confine of his pants when he hears you speak like that. Something about your tone – so clear and confident, with a hint of need, makes the blood rush down to his aching member. The one he used to stroke once you were gone from his place, mad at himself that he didn’t gather the strength to touch you despite knowing that it was what you both wanted; and he found himself angry at himself and in desperate need for you, stroking his dick shamefully as he thought of you.

But here you are, under his body, your tongue leaving the sweet taste of you in his mouth as you push him as close to you as possible.

He pulls away, heavy breath fanning on your hot skin. It’s almost by instinct that he lets his hand trail down to the hem of your shirt, tugging on it as if to ask if he can remove it from you. And he does when you give him a nod, loving eyes examining all parcels of skin that gets unveiled before him. He’s delicate and meticulous, removing piece by piece with so much regard for the fabric that you’re almost tempted to tell him to just rip it off. He has always had that theory about you – one that he finally gets to confirm.

You are, indeed, a piece of art.

The beauty of your skin, the marks, moles and scars, the curves and angles. All so perfectly mixed like you were created by an artist and no less. He stops for a minute, wondering: does he have any right to touch something so immaculate?

But you’re quick to give him an answer, when your hands remove his shirt, letting you get a sight at his body. Seijurō is surprising. His build is slender, delicate; but when your fingers trace the outline of his muscles, it becomes clear that he is more than he appears to be. Not that you’ve ever been curious about his body either. One thing that you’ve always liked about your boyfriend, is his face. His features are soaked in grace, always having the look of a prince in all situations – even in the morning when he’s just wakened up, or after practice when he’s sweaty. He’s got that same look, over and over, that makes you believe you must have done something great in your past life to find yourself someone like him in this one.

“Sei, I wanna touch you, can I?”

He smiles softly. Your request is sweet, almost innocent. He can’t say no, he doesn’t want to.

“Be nice, yeah?” He leaves a peck on your cheek.

You giggle – who would have guessed that he’d make you feel like a silly teenage girl in love right now? Your hand trails down his body, meticulously exposing his skin. It’s soft and warm, and now you understand why his hugs always feel so good. Your movements slow down when you reach his belt, eyes widening slightly at the sigh of the bulge in his pants. It’s not the first time that you see it – you’ve noticed it in the previous nights you had a sleepover – but this time, you ought to do something about it.

“Ah – oh my…” his breath hitches in his throat as your fingers reach inside his pants, pulling the fabric down to unleash his cock.

It’s a bold move on your part, one that gets you to blush furiously once you see his erected member before your eyes. It’s pretty, you think, much more than you expected it to be. A delicate curve that leads to a blush pink tip – sensitive, you notice as your finger curiously brushes over it. You explore, hand wrapping around his length as you give him gentle caresses.

“Is that good, Sei?”

“Amazing, love… please don’t stop.”

You hum, letting your fingers translate your curiosity by the way they explore every inch of skin you find, watching him shiver when you touch some places, sigh when you touch others. So… this is it, you think, a man’s pleasure. You continue, watching him twitch in your hold. You look up at him, sparkles in your eyes.

“Sei, do you love my touch?”

His fingers run through your locks, a soft smile on his face.

“I have to, it comes from you.”

Pulling you up to pepper your face in kisses, you can almost cry. It's never hit you before, how much your boyfriend actually loves you. But you can’t deny that look in his eyes – love and lust painting his irises like night lights.

Beautiful, like him.

Enchanting, like him.

Loving, like him.

“Sweetheart” his voice falls in your ear in a soft murmur, “I’ll need you to stop fiddling with my cock with those soft fingers of yours or I won’t be able to contain myself anymore.”

“Oh… Oh!” you blush, pulling your hands away. “Got carried away. A man’s anatomy is a curious thing” you remark.

He raises an eyebrow, laying you down on the mattress.

“I could say the same thing about a woman’s body, particularly yours…” he taunts, thumb tracing down your throat to your perky nipple.

You hiss, surprised look at the way he touches you like a scientist making a new discovery. His touch is exploring. He rolls the sensitive bud between his fingers, observing the way your body folds in response.

“Sei! Ah… sensitive!”

“I know.”

You ogle at him, only getting him to laugh with a bit of mischief in his voice. And you get reminded at this moment that this is who he is. Seijurō is a learner, getting his kick in mastering new skills. And for a man that has never done it before, he is surprisingly skilled in touching your body. As his lips trail down your abdomen to your navel, you hold your breath. On the moment, countless thoughts cross your mind. Did you shave this morning? What if he finds out about this one mole on your pubis and freaks out? Doesn’t it look a bit weird down there?

“Good lord…”

Fuck.

You panic even more upon hearing his exclamation; what does it mean?!

“My love, are all vulvas like yours? Because it looks so pretty…”

“Huh?”

You’re stunned, speechless. It isn’t quite the compliment you could ever wish for. To be honest, you’ve been too scared to take a proper look at your own cunt before, so all the sense you have of it comes from what you’ve gathered from your touch. You’re familiar with the ridges, soft bulging parts and folds, but what has always been mere anatomy to you, seems to be art in Seijurō’s eyes. His curious finger runs through your slit, separating the lips as you blush furiously. His movements are teasing – you wonder if he’s doing it purposely or is it just a mishap of his exploring. Either way, you bite back your whimpers, watching him brush against your clitoris softly, while you squirm.

“Sei that’s uh…”

“Here? You want my touch here, love?”

You nod eagerly, observing the way he looks at you from between your legs, finger gently circling around your clit. Your hips buck forward, setting a rhythm to which he adapts his moves.

“You’re getting wet… do you mind if I put a finger in?”

“Please!”

You quickly cover your mouth, surprised by how needy you sounded just now. Such tone has never gotten out of you; except late at night, in the solitude of your room when you’d think of him, frustrated fingers toying with your clit as you would almost cry thinking about how much you craved Seijurō’s touch. But now that you have it, it’s a different thing. It’s much more intense, like your skin is a fragile flame, and his touch is fuel. He pours, your flame grows, and grows, and grows.

“Fuck… I…” You pant, far from expecting his fingers to know your cunt so well – isn’t that supposed to be his first time, too?!

“Everything’s alright?” he asks between two kisses on your inner thighs.

Your lips tremble, one arm pressed against your forehead while your other hand holds the bed sheets like your life depends on it.

“I think I’m close” you finally manage to say.

“Want me to stop?”

“…” you think for a moment, too overwhelmed to have an idea of what you truly want – but you do give reason to your body, eventually, “Don’t stop.”

He leaves a sweet peck on the skin of your thigh, working his fingers till you squirm, your warm walls pushing him out as you reach your orgasm – first one that he’s brought you to. He props his body up to kiss you with all the love he has for you, and you pull him close, goosebumps covering your skin when you feel his naked body against yours. He’s so soft, so loving, it can almost make you cry.

He’s just… love. That’s what he is, the embodiment of love.

“Baby, should we go all the way?”

You nod, kissing him again, and again, drunk on him.

“Please say it with your sweet voice” he murmurs against your lips.

“Seijurō, please make love to me.”

He nods, the tenderness in his eyes giving you the kind of warmth you’ve always craved. It stays, even when he gets up to get a condom, and even when he stands before you, hard-on in his palm as he rolls the rubber on it. You look with stars in your eyes when he hovers above you, leaving a peck on your forehead.

“I’m going in, alright?”

“Yeah” you breathe out.

Your nervous, trying to distract yourself of the stinging feeling when his head pushes in, so you look at his face. His half-lidded eyes, his parted lips as his hot breath fans on your face, and the contraction of his shoulders as his hold himself above you.

“Are you good, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, feeling tears coming up. You can’t tell if you’re just overwhelmed or if it’s that novel pain you feel in that part of your body. Seijurō’s furrow his eyebrows in concern, stilling as he looks at you.

“Shall I stop?”

“Let’s… don’t move. I wanna get used to it.”

“Sure?”

You nod, take big breaths to calm yourself down. Leaving kisses after kisses on your forehead, you feel yourself relax a bit, eventually giving him the thumbs-up to push deeper. And he does, slowly, carefully, like your pussy is the most precious place in the world and that he, a mere mortal, should only thread carefully around it.

“Here you go” he coos “taking me so well…”

You mewl, hands wrapped around his neck, as he starts his slow thrusts. You wonder for a minute if he’s pacing himself as to be careful, or because he’s afraid of not being able to hold himself back overwise. Either way, you slowly find pleasure in the feeling of his cock roaming inside your walls – in and out, deep and slow. Seijurō’s soft grunts falls in your ear, making you shiver.

“You feel… ah… so good, love” his voice is slightly more high-pitched, hints of desperation tinting his timbre.

“Please, faster…”

“Is that what you want, hm?”

“Yeah” you moan out as your hips buck to meet the movements of his.

He pants, the look in his eyes being something you’ve never seen before. It’s not something you can comprehend, but seeing that light danse in his amber irises, combined with his slender finger toying with your clit, you feel your high build up. And explosion of sensations, taking your entire soul to another dimension as you squeal his name, holding on to him like he’s your saviour.

“Fuck, I…”

You giggle in surprise, not ever recalling hearing him swear before. But can he be blamed, when the tight hold your pussy has on him is just so heavenly?

“I’m… love, I’m cumming!”

Those words alone send you into a frenzy, the song of both your moans filling up the room, the same way his hot seed fills up the condom, seconds before he gives out, head falling on your chest.

“I love you” you whisper, just a bit louder than the erratic beat of your hearts.

He looks up at you, incapable of voicing an answer, but you’ve known Seijurō’s face well enough to read his thoughts.

You’re his biggest victory, he believes, being here in this bed, closer to you than he’s ever been before.

[talktothesun]

still in akafuri nostalgia

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my first ever AkaFuri drawing (yes I know it's 2023)

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I write for myself

*checks AO3 every few hours to see if I got any new kudos, comments or subscriptions*

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  黒子のバスケ  ☆ 「Jump Festa 2023」 ☆

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: ̗̀➛ tiny.

murasakibara has a size kink

pairing: Murasakibara Atsushi x reader

word count: 1,489

✎ smut, nsfw, explicit content

You didn’t notice it at first. You thought him cupping your hands between his was just a cute gesture. Or when he pulled you into bed and curled his massive frame around you until you were folded into a ball was just him being lazy and wanting to cuddle. You actually wouldn’t have caught it at all if that one fateful afternoon hadn’t happened.

It was a lazy Sunday, Atsushi’s favorite time of the week. Sundays meant no basketball practice and no school, which meant you had no reason to leave his bed unless it was to make food or pee. Currently you were laying between his legs, back against his chest with his chin resting on top of your head. He had propped a family sized pack of chips between your legs, reaching in and grabbing a piece every twenty seconds as his droopy eyes flitted over the laptop before you two. One of his hands was running lazy strokes over your bare thigh. It was quiet except for the sounds of the characters on the screen.

Every ten minutes or so, Atsushi would abandon the snacks in favor of wrapping both his arms around your middle and squeezing, nuzzling his face into the junction between your head and shoulder, inhaling deeply. He would bend forward until you curled under him, giggling at his affections.

“You’re so tiny, Y/N-cchin.” He cooed. “So cute.”

You opened your mouth to reply but all that came out was a gasp, feeling something long and hard press into the small of your back. You stiffened as the mood in the room shifted.

“Atsushi.” Your voice was breathy and quiet, feeling his lips meet the skin of your neck. Goosebumps rippled over your arms and your eyelids began to flutter shut when his hand on your thigh started inching up, fingers dipping below the seam of your shorts to tease the sensitive skin. Your intake of breath was sharp, and you felt Atsushi lean forward even more, effectively folding your body on itself. His arms wrapped around you tight, lips busy sucking a dark mark on your neck.

“Look how small you are,” he drawled, “I can cover you with my body completely. You won’t-” a pause while he squeezed your body. “You won’t be able to get away from me.”

You yelped as your body was suddenly lifted into the air and flipped, Atsushi now on top of you as your back hit the mattress. His shorts did nothing to disguise his hard on, pressing between your spread legs as he lapped at your neck like you were his latest snack.

You reeled at his words, feeling your body heat up at the implication. Oh.

“Atsushi,” your body buzzed in excitement as you thought out your next words. “You’re so much bigger than me. You could crush me completely.”

His moan was broken and it made you fill up with glee. Oh, the thought of this was destroying him. And you weren't fairing much better either. You could feel yourself dripping at the thought of your huge boyfriend holding you down until you couldn’t move. Until all you could do was lay there and take what he gave you.

He seemed to be on the same page as his hand played with the waistband of your shorts, teeth nibbling at your earlobe. “You want it, Y/N-cchin?” His voice had dropped a few octaves. “I’ll give it to you if you promise to take it all.”

You nodded into his hair, pulling your limbs further into yourself. You watched his eyes darken at the action, at the thought of you making yourself smaller for him. Your mind was getting hazy, playing into this newly discovered fantasy you didn’t know he had.

“I’ll try to take it.” You whispered. “But I don’t think I can.”

Of course you can. You had done it before. But you loved the way his lips twitched at the pretend apprehension in your voice. His expression turned devious as he stared down at your pliant body.

“We will just have to see, won’t we?”

Clothes came flying off after that, feverish kisses exchanged between you two as you felt Atsushi resist all of your actions. He slapped your hands away and pushed your body down over and over, making sure you knew how helpless you were compared to his overwhelming strength. You moaned and whined into his mouth, letting his tongue ravage every crevice. You loved it when he got like this. When he abandoned the slow, lazy sex and gave you more. And if you were anticipating correctly, today he was out to wreck you.

His heavy cock dragged over your slit, rock hard and throbbing. He hooked his hands under the backs of your knees and pushed your legs up until you were folded in half, making you sigh and squirm just a little. You bit your lip in exaggeration.

“Atsushi-kun, I can’t move at all.” You purred, watching him take in a shuddering breath as his hungry eyes ran over your pinned body. He gave you a grin.

“Don’t worry, baby. You don’t have to. You’re gonna take it like a champ, just like this.”

The head of his cock poked at your entrance and your eyes widened. Okay, this was new. Atsushi always prepped you. Always. Because it was true that he had a huge cock, and you couldn’t possibly take him without opening up on his fingers first. He registered the genuine apprehension on your face and you could feel his cock twitch at the sight. His eyes gleamed.

“Take it like a good girl, Y/N-cchin. No complaints~” And then he sank into you.

You gasped and your back arched, body struggling to accommodate his girth. Pain shot up from your core and through your torso as Atsushi pushed deeper and deeper, not pausing for one second until his balls slapped into your vulva, and you cried out when the head hit your cervix. He was moaning loud and unhindered, hands gripping your legs so hard you were sure he would leave bruises. Tears ran down the sides of your face and into your ears, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to relax your core, panting heavily.

“Aw, baby,” Atsushi bent forward when he saw your state, licking at the tears running down your temples, humming low. His cock twitched inside you, making you yelp. He was enjoying this too much, and that made you squirm in excitement. His enthusiasm was turning you on.

“You’re so big, Atsushi-kun.” You gasped out, clenching around him until he groaned. “You’re stretching me out. You’re going to tear me into two.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the pounding that came next.

He was fast and rough, slamming his hips hard into you with every thrust. You screamed and cried, more tears leaving your eyes. He leaned over you, your legs hooked over his shoulders and forehead pressed to yours, watching every little detail of your face closely as his cock tore through your pussy.

“Taking it so well, Y/N-cchin.” He muttered, his breath hitting your face. He licked at your lips. “Your tiny little pussy really wants me that bad? No matter how much it hurts, you’ll still let me crush you?”

You did nothing but babble out scrambled words in response, gripping tight at his biceps until your nails were digging into his skin. That seemed to spur him on even more. His hand reached between your legs, pinching your clit until you shrieked, rubbing it in hard, tight circles that had you arching your back off the bed and cumming all over his cock, eyes rolling up and legs seizing tightly. Atsushi groaned and kept going, prolonging your orgasm by not letting up his ministrations on your clit until you were sobbing and begging him to stop. You struggled against his grip, trying to push his hand away from your pussy but failing. He drove into you harder at the sight of you struggling against him.

“One more,” he moaned. “Come with me. Gimme one more-”

He pushed you into another orgasm fairly quickly after that, heavy balls slapping on your ass until he stilled deep inside you, cumming with a loud groan that washed over you like warm water. Both of you heaved long breaths, trying to blink through the roaring in your ears.

You whined when he finally pulled out of you and lowered your legs. They were trembling and twitching with fatigue, making Atsushi snicker and kiss the inside of your thighs. He bit and licked at your salty, sweat-covered skin.

“Well,” you sighed. “That was new.”

He hummed and fell down on top of you, making you groan in protest. He shoved his face into your neck when your fingers reached up and carded through his damp hair. Already, you could feel sleep encroaching on your mind.

“Next time, I’m taking you against the wall.”

[talktothesun]

kuroko no basket + text | part two

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FELLOW TRAVELERS Episode 1 "You're Wonderful"

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If Only You Would Know

HenryCavill!Sherlock x Female!Reader

summary: You and Sherlock are in love, Enola is sure of it. But she is forced to watch you tiptoe around the topic for an eternity. So when the opportunity arises, and Sherlock is forced to confront his feelings towards you, she does not hesitate.

a/n: we're diggin' out old old drafts for this one, but I needed a little Sherlock again :)

word count: 4k

warnings: a little arguing, pining, someone gets injured, idiots in love™️ (it's a new genre of mine)

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

You sighed as Sherlock moved about his office with hasty determination. He was a strange man. Oblivious, too, time and time again. But that did not matter for you loved him. You loved him and every strange habit he harbored. Whether it was the way in which he arranged his coats on the brass hanger by the door or that godawful pipe he seemed to always have hanging from his lips. He did not even like it - he had told you one time. “’tis just a habit, dear,” it would muffle past the brown bit in his mouth before he would clip it back between his teeth. 

But you did not care. And that must have been the very fact telling you just how deeply your heart had already fallen for the famous detective. Not a care in the world, especially not for what other people thought to say the least. Because all you ever thought about upon seeing him was love, warmth, and endearment. Nothing less. Not even a wretched criminal could ever shoot these feelings out of your heart. 

Oh well, it did not matter, anyhow. For there was one issue keeping this fairytale from becoming reality. And this issue was that Sherlock Holmes, the brightest man you knew, was blatantly oblivious to the feelings you had harbored in your chest. To be fair, you had never mentioned it to him before. For you were simply terrified of the consequences such a confession would hold. It was one thing to pine over a man who you were lucky enough to be in the same room with, but it would be undeniably humiliating to be rejected by said man as well. So you had chosen not to act on the fiery desire burning within your veins whenever your eyes hushed a glance at him. 

As much as that decision was made to protect your heart, it had turned out the circumstances provided the opposite of the desired effect. You were hurting more and more with every day you had to live with the realization that Sherlock Holmes did not love you back. In fact, he loved other women - many of them. And every single one more beautiful than the other. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if they were human at all. Never before had you seen such luscious hair as that of Sibyl or such a beautiful smile as that of Amelia. It was difficult to settle with these gorgeous women having a place in his bed and possibly his heart, but soon, you realized the importance of seeing him happy trumped your own desires. If he was happy, so were you. And if you weren’t the one making him happy, so be it. 

You had just come here to see Enola from her home to the city. Stopping by her brother’s apartment had not been on the agenda, at least not yours. But Enola was adamant to have you come when she raced up the stairs to his door. You had gasped when Sherlock had opened, his hair slightly disheveled and the shirt loosely tugged in his trousers. Your heart was pounding - it always happened when you saw him, and you swiftly averted your eyes to hide the flustered look on your face from him. 

Now you were standing in his messy home as you listened to Enola convince him to let her help him on a particular case of his - one she had a personal attachment to. Mixed emotions crawled up your spine at the sight of this professional yet intimate space. Not only one room over, Sherlock's bed was mockingly standing beyond the door, messy sheets indicating his prior endeavors, but there was no Sibyl or Amelia in sight. Still, your hands clamped around the silky material of your skirt, wrinkling the fabric harsher with every minute you spend in the deep-colored room. It smelled of musk and tobacco. Two things you had grown to miss whenever they were not surrounding you, but now, it was a shiver too much. 

Sherlock stood before you and Enola with his hands on his hips, a look of annoyance and disapproval etched on his features, but nonetheless, a sense of amusement in the edges of his frown. You knew him too well not to notice the slight pride swelling from his chest at his little sister’s determination. 

“I believe it is too dangerous for a girl like you to wander the streets, chasing criminals through London, Enola.”

“And I believe that you are an idiot, brother.”

“Perhaps,” your finger lifted in suggestion, stopping Sherlock’s head from tilting in disapproval at his sister’s array just in time. “She can be accompanied in her wandering?”

“And who would this accompany be?”

You knew it was not your place to negotiate, but you cared for Enola too much not to. And even though Sherlock’s stern eyes bore into your frame, you began to talk again: “I could-“

“Oh, dear lord. That is out of question.”

“Why brother? Do you not think Ms. Y/N and I can defend ourselves?”

A short silence lay upon the siblings as you watched the man’s shoulders draw up with a tense jaw. “I said no.”

“You are being irrational.” Enola cried. She was not one to accept defiance easily, you were well aware of it.

“No, you are being irrational. I will not vouch for having two women hurt on a mission to gather intel for my cases.���

“You cannot stop me.”

There was something itching in the glimmer of his eyes when the words left his lips, though you weren’t quite sure what to make of it.

“Enola!” Almost fearfully, Sherlock turned to you, his eyes wandering and desperation conveyed in his stare when you heard the young girl open the door.

“I am sure we can negotiate a way to have both parties satisfied.” Enola halted as you spoke. “I am certain your bother has other tasks that need fulfilling and are less prone to danger. Isn’t that right, Mr. Holmes?”

Sherlock was not entirely satisfied with this turn of events, but his sagging shoulders told you that he accepted the compromise. A sigh eluded from his lungs and Enola turned to the dark-haired man with excited eyes. “I presume, there would be things you could do.”

“Thank you–“

“But,” his eyes turned stern again, “In the office only. No more wandering, is that clear?”

Enola beamed. “Yes.”

❁ ❁ ❁

It was not long after the discussion when you and Enola went about home from the city. Still, however, despite the seemingly fair compromise negotiated just minutes prior, the younger woman sloppily trudged next to you.

“He is an idiot, that is what he is.” Enola stomped past you with a pouty face. It was not ladylike, but luckily, she knew that you were not one to care about that. 

You understood Enola’s frustrations, but simultaneously, your heart were to break if anything ever happened to her. So you understood the settled worry in her brother’s words as well. He was a good man. “He is just worried. It means he cares.”

“Well, he could care a little less and let me do my job.” You hid a smirk. Only Enola would be as adamant about saving a boy she had only met days ago. She was just as goodhearted and justice-seeking as Sherlock, and your heart warmed at the similarities the siblings shared.

“It is not your job, Enola.” Sometimes you genuinely admired her fixation, though it mostly converted into trouble, still. Enola had a lot more freedom than you did when you were her age, and you too would have sprung at any chance to go and wander about, seeking adventures and perhaps a little more than that. Which was in turn, why your heart felt torn between the fulfillment of having her seek childhood dreams, and the subtle but strong tug Sherlock Holmes held you with. 

“Did you forget what we just found out yesterday? It seems no one cares about him. And if nobody else will do it, I consider it my duty to help.”

“Enola, dear.” You held her shoulders gently. “I understand your worries, but I understand your brother’s as well. I would be just as worried about you if something were to happen, and I do not want to see you hurt, either.”

“But we have to do something!” This was true. It would not be right to leave the boy framed with false accusations when you had the power to change his fate. There was something you could gather - information that may help him be acquitted.

“How about I go?” You silently cursed your good intentions as Enola’s eyes lit up. It was a blessing and a curse. But other than Enola, there would be nobody worrying for you, and in turn a lot less hearts broken if something were to happen - which it surely would not. “You can stay in the study and I will see to it that we may gather more information.”

“Alright, but be careful. And make sure to come back by five. Otherwise, someone will get suspicious.” The girl smiled, but her shoulders shook with excitement.

“What? Do you think I’m stupid?” You teased, awaiting a sassy ‘of course not’ which you returned with a wink.

❁ ❁ ❁

Enola watched the clock next to the window. Seconds, ticking by too fast for her liking. She needed more time - you needed more time. Her brother had given her files to sort and he would be coming back soon. Upon your agreement yesterday, you had gone out to gather information on the woman who accused the boy. But you would be back soon, she told herself.

“Is Ms. Y/N not here with you?” Sherlock’s voice called through the room and his steps approached her steadily. 

Enola was stiff. “She is out,” she told him while her fingers counted the pile of files on the desk.

“Out? With who?” He stepped around the polished mahogany, settling in front of her with his hands behind his back. “I didn’t realize she was being courted.” 

Oh. Enola’s eyes sparkled with amusement when she obtained a glimmer of jealousy in her brother’s. She had always had her suspicions. And she knew of your being madly in love with her brother, but Sherlock had always been secretive regarding the topic of love.

“She went to shop,” she smiled, averting her eyes. Waiting - no, anticipating a response from him.

“So she is not with anyone.” Sherlock leaned forward with squinted eyes. For a man as good at solving puzzles as he was, he did need an awful lot of confirmation.

Enola finally looked up. “Ugh, you really are an idiot.” 

“Would you quit calling me an idiot?” Disapproval swept his features and made a frown settle instead. 

“I would, but you won’t quit being an idiot.”

“Whatever do you mean?” It was quite amusing to see him clueless for once. And even though you tried to hide your feelings or the way you responded whenever he was as much as in the same room as you, it did not go past Enola how long your eyes lingered on his frame or the way the sadness overtook your features at the mention of another woman.

“Ms. Y/N is head over heels in love with you. And I do not understand why you refuse to see it, she is not hiding it very well, you see?”

Sherlock stumbled back, his hands seemingly finding their pace over his heart when he repeated her words. “Ms. Y/N? In love with me?”

“And you really call yourself the greatest detective of our time.” Enola shook her head. Still, the thought of the two of you together was one she liked to entertain. And she asked herself just how much you could talk Sherlock into once you were together. He was already caving when you suggested things - the possibilities of Enola getting her way when the both of you finally gave into the pining were endless!

“Oh, hush. I just never thought she would...” Sherlock trailed off, and if Enola was not mistaken, she caught a whisper of pink settle over his cheeks. Could it really be? The great Sherlock Holmes in love? Even better with a woman Enola adored as well?

“This is exactly the problem, brother. You don’t think when it comes to women.” Her mind wandered back to the women you had seen leave his chambers by the break of dawn. And just like then, Enola noticed a familiar sense of sadness wash over her brother’s eyes - the same one you hid from her in these moments.

“Enola...” But his words died on his tongue and Enola thought it wiser to resume her task. Sherlock was aware of his idiocy. For Enola knew just how insignificant all the other women were to him. And she hoped he had realized this fact.

A moment or two passed in which Sherlock paced the room mindlessly. His hands disappeared behind curtains and in bookshelves, until they reached for the pocket watch in his coat and a subtle grumbling eluded his lungs. “She should be back soon, anyhow. Should she not?”

“I suppose, yes.” 

“Well, it is quarter past five already. The shop is closed well over an hour now.” Sherlock did not hide the impatience in his tone, now. And Enola felt a wave of success wash over her.

It was difficult to hide her nervousness, though, for she now worried about you as well. But you were fine - she consoled herself. You were tough and intelligent, simply a little late - that was surely it. “She will come soon.”

An unusual tension fell over the room and Enola was certain, her brother had already dismissed her little story. But she would not falter. Her fingers kept cramming through the papers, counting pages she had analyzed and sorted two times by now. Her movements, however, became more frantic, and soon, her heart was pounding in her wrists.

“Enola, what in heavens did you do?” Sherlock urged impatiently, a look cold as a stone set on his face. 

“Nothing.” She did not look at him, then he would know instantly - the little lie she told.

“You sent her out to spy didn’t you?”

Why did he keep asking if he already knew the answer? Enola did not speak. She was fairly ashamed, though. She wanted to show her brother just how capable she and you both were. But having you not come back made for a serious difficulty to her plan.

She looked up at him now, just in time to see his shoulders sag and his head tilted up in frustration. “After I told you not to?”

“You only ever forbid me from going!” She cried, suddenly feeling attacked by his irrational outburst.

“I did not want Ms. Y/N out in the streets alone, either.” Sherlock was pacing again, his shoes clicked on the polished wooden floor until the reached the coat hanger by the door, only to gruffly rip the dark cloak from its place.

An accusing finger reached in his direction and a small smirk appeared on his sister’s lips. “So you are in love with her.”

The man frowned and his chestnut locks shook with annoyance. “That is not important right now. We need to find her.”

He did not deny it and Enola Holmes viewed it as a success.

❁ ❁ ❁

Sherlock swept through the streets as fast as his feet could carry him. Never had he thought that he would need to worry about your well-being. Enola’s? Yes, constantly. She did dangerous things all the time. But you were the one with the rational mind, the trait he adored most above all, for it eased his own every so often. It was enough to look out for Enola as much. He loved her and that was what love did: It made for weaknesses. Though Sherlock never wished to not adore you as much as he did, at this moment, it would have spared him trouble. 

He passed another alley filled with dubious fellows and willed his thoughts not to stray to dark paces. Normally, he could stay focused. Normally, he was able to separate his feelings from his tasks very well. Normally, he needn’t worry about you, however. 

Enola was many steps behind, he could hear her heels clicking in haste in her catching up, but Sherlock would not budge. He would keep on searching, keep on going straight until his sister gave him another direction to follow. She knew where you were after all, and he could not even begin to indulge in the worry-consumed anger this fact fueled him with. 

It did not take long for the detective to reach the house of the last suspect he had abandoned in his search for answers. You must have gone there. Enola had been especially furious about his dropping the woman upon questioning, urging her brother to stay on the lead. But Sherlock had already gotten enough information to place her in the entire scheme. Enola did not know this of course - he had never told her. So it was only plausible to send you to spy on said woman. What you had not known, however, was the dangerous affiliates this woman had, and the little to no hesitance of hers to pursue them.

The house lay empty on the street once the siblings reached its steps, no light shining through the glass windows, not the smell of dinner lingering in the air. It was odd, though nothing to be upset over. You had been here, Sherlock knew it. He was disappointed to find out, however, that you were not anymore. Of course, you had realized the danger of the situation and left, but where to? 

His head jerked to the left once Enola caught up to him, following the rattling of bins coming from the alley close by, where a faint trail of blood droplets mixed with the rain. 

“Bloody hell,” the detective mumbled with every inch it lead him further to your location. And sure enough, beyond the shielding confines of a wooden palette, he spotted your coat pressed into the wall. 

A small hiss, and then: nothing when he called your name.

“Ms. Y/N, heavens!” He rushed over once his eyes caught your distraught face behind the wood, your entire hand covered in blood, pressed to your head, where more seemed to have already dried on your scalp. 

“Mr. Holmes?” Your voice was weak, your eyes hazy - growing in the confusion the head injury most likely brought to you. 

Sherlock's arms reached out to engulf you, a handkerchief quick to be pressed on your head as he knelt beside you and let your body rest against his torso. “Enola, go and get help, immediately!” He commanded with urgency, having the young girl run off with a shocked nod.

His attention traced back to your body, where his eyes focused on your heavy lids and his heart clenched at the sight. You were hurt - seriously hurt - and Sherlock could not shake the feeling of it being his fault. Had he only consulted you in his case, had he talked to Enola, had he been less cowardly and finally admitted to his feelings. This all might have never happened.

“You should not have gone out alone!” He cried as he rocked you back and forth, his arms held you a little tighter, and he was certain that his heart beat through the several layers of clothing separating you.

“You have no right to rule over me.” Your hands pressed against his chest, forcing him to let you pull away from his embrace, and Sherlock instantly missed the warmth holding you had given him. He needed it back - confirming you were fine.

“But I told you not to go!” Big eyes stared up at him, but there was disappointment simmering beneath the sheer gleam of anger.

“Why are you upset? I can do whatever I desire!” It was meant to come out strong, but not even a woman as tough as you were able to hide the weakness taking over your body.

“But you got hurt!” Sherlock was juggling with empty arguments, he knew this much. But there was no right way to express what he wished to pursue with his words. It was all too much and not enough, all the same.

“Mr. Holmes, I can take good care of myself. I have done it my whole life.”

“And you shouldn’t have.” This seemed to have caught you by surprise. For you stopped in your shuffling away and held his gaze equal in confusion and intrigue. 

“Whatever do you mean?” You shrieked softly, your breath staggering when he came closer to you.

Sherlock found it incredibly difficult to talk, suddenly. His hands were clammy and that stupid tie around his neck seemed just a tad too tight. Christ, he could not even look at you. He was left staring towards the wet grounds with his hands wringing beneath him.“I- it has come to my attention that I lack perception in some categories.” He hushed a look at you and was not surprised to see utter confusion seeping through your stare. 

Sherlock sighed and his shoulders jumped heavily once he mustered up the courage to explain: “I do not wish to see you hurt.”

“Why?” Your eyes were big and wondrous, much like a curious child prying up in awe over what it was to become privy of.

Sherlock tried, he really did, to be steady and informative, but there was no use, for his heart had decided otherwise. “Because... because, I- my heart hurts when I imagine something happening to you.”

“But what about Sybil or Amelia… or Babette?” Every name stung another hole in his heart as your eyes saddened naming the woman he had spent previous nights with in order to get over you. He never loved them, never adored them the way he did you. They were simply a distraction. A petty compromise for the actual being he was sure would never return his affection. Now that he found out the opposite, Sherlock was uncertain about how to act. 

“These women... they were just compensation for the one I couldn’t have.” He confessed slowly, his hand reaching for you and finally getting ahold of your chin. “I did not think you would be interested in me.”

“Oh but I am, Sherlock.” Your fingers came to cover his. “I am.” And an unbelievable force of warmth and calmness washed over him. Despite the blood, despite the worry. Despite everything being wrong at this very moment, he was calm. You had this effect on him.

“I know that now. My sister told me.” Sherlock sent a silent prayer to the stars. Had his sister not been as persistent he would have never gotten the opportunity to hold you close - feel you the way he desired. 

“She is quite a smart lady isn’t she?” A low chuckle echoed through the darkening alley, though a shy blush crept upon the detective’s cheeks. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, she is a good detective.” His thumbs stroked gentle swipes over your skin, a sliver of warmth tasting your body with every movement, and it felt good to have you indulge in his touch. He would have never dreamt of having you this close, having you feel the same feelings he did. And to be perfectly honest, experiencing it, in reality, was a hundred times better than anything he had ever imagined. “God, Y/N. If only I had known earlier.”

“Let us not grieve what is already done. Embrace the possibilities of the future with me.” Your eyes locked with his once again and your aura seemed to pull him even deeper into a trance. Sherlock could not look away. He was captured by every loving emotion radiating off of you. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. But he would keep it guarded in his chest for eternity, even if nobody were to ever ask him about it. It was precious - this moment was worth hundred terrible ones. 

“You are right,” he agreed, and then, beyond his control almost, Sherlock pulled you into a warm kiss. 

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[talktothesun]

Commission done for @valkeakuulas starring the grumpiest and hottest Commander of the GAR

[talktothesun]

Ruin (Rex x Fem!Reader) Smut

Summary: Rex proves why clones are superior to natborns. A.N: I....I don't know what to say for myself. I woke up horny and key smashed this filth onto my laptop. Word Count: 1,085 Warnings: Rough sex (with aftercare), marking, dirty talk, competency kink, a hint of choking, mentions of clone bigotry.

Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up  /// AO3

You had no idea what had gotten into Rex that night, but whatever it was, you were reaping the best benefits from it.

His hands had a bruising grip on your wrists as they pinned you to the bed, his hip pounding relentlessly into you as he took you from behind, growling and grunting lowly in your ear. His cock was stretching you with every thrust, barely prepared to take him when he threw you on the bed. Getting so wet from the way he pulled your clothes off was your only saving grace as he practically impaled you.

Rex must have decided that you were too quiet for him, because without warning his lips moved from your ear, darting down to give your shoulder a rough bite. Something just short of a scream ripped from your throat as you threw your head back- or at least, as much as you could, with him pinning you down with his whole body.

“That’s it,” he growled, tongue darting out to soothe the mark he left, “moan and scream as loud as you want. Let everyone hear you. Kark, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You get off letting everyone know that you’re in here, getting fucked by a clone.”

The way he hissed out the word startled you, even in the heat of the moment. So, that’s what got into him. You tried to lean back, press your lips to his ear or temple or any part of him you could reach as he grazed his teeth over more of your skin.

“I'm getting fucked by a man, not just a clon- AH!” 

Another guttural sound left you when he reangled his hips, fucking even deeper as he bit you again. “It’s alright, mesh’la,” he hummed against your skin, “I know what they think of us, what they think of me.” Another growl as he released his death grip on your wrist and instead wrapped his large hand around your throat. “Thinking we’re beneath them, like kriffing droids.” He gave just the lightest squeeze, fingers playing at your neck, “But you know different, don’t you, darling? You ever had a natborn fuck you like this? Fuck you this good?”

You couldn’t stand it, between his hips pounding against your ass, his hands and teeth marking you up, and those filthy words, you were a mess, eyes rolling back, mouth agape, body like jelly under him. All you could manage was an urgent nod and a whimper of agreement.

Rex grunted his disapproval, before dragging his hand down your body and shoving it between the bed and your cunt. He laid out his rough fingers right where he was grinding you into the mattress, curling the digits just right so your clit rubbed hard against them with every thrust of his bruising hips.

“Say it,” he growled, “tell me why you let this clone fuck you.”

You made sure your moan of a curse was loud as your body pulsed with pleasure under him. Kriff, you were close, so close! Somehow, you found your voice, even if it was a raw, barely coherent mess. “B-best I’ve ever had! No one ever fu-fucked me so good, no one but you, Rex!”

That got his approval, he hummed, nuzzling you just below your ear, his hips and hands never letting up. “That’s right, mesh’la, ruined you, haven’t I? Ruined you for any other man.”

“Yes- yes! Fuck, Rex, want you to ruin me over ‘n over.”

You could feel his cock twitch at that, the hand still pinning your wrist tightening possessively. His lips returned to your ear and right when his fingers started to work in tandem with his thrusts, he purred, “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Your pleasure reached its peak suddenly and blind hot, so euphoric that you weren’t even sure what you sounded like when it happened. It must have been music to his ears, though, because he let out a distracted curse as he slid the hand from your clit to grip your hip. Just like everything else about him tonight, it was hard and rough, holding you in place as Rex readjusted himself again, using your abused cunt to chase his own end.

It didn’t take him long and you cried out in overstimulated bliss as you felt him spill deep inside you, filling you up, making you his yet again. Just like all the marks he left that night. You couldn’t help but whimper when he pulled out of you, feeling his cum dripping on your ass and thighs. 

Neither of you were able to breathe right after that, and Rex collapsed half on the bed, half over you and he tried to get his ragged breathing under control. You were laying there, spent, eyes closed and uncaring of the mess your open mouth and dripping pussy were making of the sheets.

Still, when Rex, still breathing hard, started laying tender kisses over your hair, you shuddered with delight. He moved your body this way and that until he was under you with your head to his chest. Next, he took your wrist and brought it to his mouth, soft lips pressing gently to where he had held you so tightly.

“I- I left bruises, didn’t I?” he mumbled, and the shame underlying his tone made you look up, “ ‘m sorry, cyare, I don’t know what got into me.”

His gentle hold made it easy for you to reach out and cup his cheek, thumb tracing over his lips. “Nothing to apologize for, Rex. I’m not complaining.”

You wanted to ask who and what was said about clones that got him so upset, mostly so you could give the di’kutla a piece of your mind, but you decided to save that for later. Right now, you just wanted to show Rex exactly how superior he was to anyone who thought less of him. With all the strength you could muster, you raised yourself up, straddling his hips and holding his face in both hands. You kissed him, pulling him against your still sore body and running your hands over his short hair.

He moaned into your mouth and this time his fingers gripped your hips gently, kneading the tender skin with care.

“Rex,” your tone was breathy when you pulled back, holding his gaze as you said, “I’m going to show you how thankful I am that you ruin me every night.”

Slowly, a smirk lifted his mouth, and that haze of possessive need darkened his eyes again.

.

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[talktothesun]

just read your drabble with hunter and ASDFGHJKL; my brain has stopped working (in the best way possible) so if you're still taking asks from the prompt list then #5 with Fem reader and Rex?

Thank you for the wonderful prompt! 😈

I think my brain stopped while writing this one! I’ve received a handful of requests and been having a blast writing them. Feel free to send some in from the spicy prompts linked below.

“I’m literally naked on your bed and you’re talking about work?” with Rex x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. BJ inbound. 😏

Word Count: 1,000ish (oops haha)

Spicy Prompts

Rex sighed as he walked out of the refresher, just a towel wrapped around his delicious, tanned waist. You were in bed under the covers stark naked, waiting for him. 

Rex was continuing on with his story about Fives almost blowing their cover on a mission while digging in the drawer for his sleep clothes. “Mmmhmmm…” You said, removing the covers to show off your bare breasts, waiting for him to turn toward you. 

Rex turned and was looking right at you, still engrossed in telling his story. You raised your eyebrows, nodding, Rex still not getting the picture. Rex grumbled as he removed his towel, also stark naked, continuing his rant.

“And then, to make matters worse, General Skywalker changed our plan completely, the strategy I worked so hard on! It was flawless…” Rex rubbed his face with his hands, turning away from you again to continue digging through his drawers for sleep clothes.

“I’m sorry, Rex. Is there any way I can help you..destress?” You called seductively. 

You moved more of the sheets off you, now completely exposed, hoping when he turned to you again, he’d get the picture. 

You watched as he pulled on sleep pants and a shirt, muttering about changed plans and disobedient troopers.

 Rex turned, shaking his head, climbing into bed, laying down next to you. He was oblivious to the fact you were completely naked.

“Rex…”

Rex laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. “And THEN I get a kriffing comm from Fox that he arrested Jesse and Kix at 79s last night for being too rowdy. Where does Fox get off…?! You should have heard him, that smug di’kut…!” “Rex…”

“So now I have to deal with those reports, on top of figuring out punishment for Fives…” “Rex!”

Rex turned to you, his tired eyes meeting yours.

“I’m literally naked on your bed and you’re talking about work.” 

Rex blinked a few times, before you see his cheeks flush with embarrassment, realizing the situation. “Mesh’la…I’m so sorry…I…” Rex stuttered, finally taking in your form and what you obviously wanted.

You maneuvered on top of him. “Shh…it’s okay, love.” You whispered sweetly, pressing yourself down on his crotch, feeling him twitch beneath you. 

“It does sound like you’ve had a stressful day…” You kissed his jawline, your hands roaming underneath his sleepshirt, feeling his muscles flex beneath your fingertips. Rex let out a low sigh, his hands coming up to your hips, squeezing your soft flesh. “Can I help you forget?” Rex bucked up against you, his now  rigid cock rubbing against your already wet folds. “Please…I could use the distraction…” Rex rumbled. “Of course, Captain.” You purred, moving down his body until you were between his legs. You hooked your fingers in his sleep pants, tugging them down to his thighs, Rex lifting his hips so you could remove them completely.

Rex’s cock bounced out, hard and swollen, waiting for you and only you. 

You kissed the tip and Rex let out a long shaky breath. “You deal with so much…I’ll take care of you…”

You swirled your tongue over his velvety head, tasting his warm skin and precum that was already beading at the tip. 

Rex groaned, his hands clenching the sheets. You released his tip, kissed your way to the base of his cock, where you licked a long stripe back up to the top. 

Rex bucked, mumbling incoherent words as you did this a few times, coating his cock with your saliva, kissing up and down his shaft. “Please…I need…” Rex gasped, his knuckles white in the sheets. 

You hummed as you took his tip in your mouth again, gathering saliva and sucking. Rex let out a deep, guttural moan, his hands flying to your head as you took all of him in your mouth, feeling his head bump the back of your throat.

Rex cursed loudly, his fingers tangling in your hair, his grasp firm but gentle. You slowly bobbed up and down his cock, more curses leaving Rex’s mouth as you set a slow pace, gripping his thighs that were twitching under your hands. “Maker…mesh’la…I’m not going to…feel so good..” You glanced up at Rex, who was watching you with such an intensity you could feel your pussy clench as you continued to greedily slurp, hollowing out your cheeks and increasing your pace. 

You brought your hand to his base, beginning to work his hot cock with your hand and mouth.

Rex’s moans turned into desperate, deep growls in his chest as he could feel his release coming quickly.

Rex’s hands gripped your head harder, slightly tugging on your hair, his hips bucking up to match your pace. You could feel his cock swell in your mouth as his thrusts became erratic. “I’m going…I’m so close…justlikethat…”

The deliciously erotic sound of your slurping, your eyes looking back at him, and seeing your mouth stuffed with him sent him flying over the edge.

Rex let out a growling shout of your name, erupting inside your mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head. 

You could feel his hot release fill your mouth, swallowing every drop he gave you. You slowed your pace, but still sucked and swirled your tongue, letting him ride out your mouth until the end. You loved seeing him like this, completely undone and at your mercy. 

Rex patted at your head, your mouth now too much on his sensitive cock. You gave him one last lick at his tip, his body shivering at the overstimulation. 

You sat up, letting his cock out of your mouth with a soft pop, your lips swollen and shiny with saliva, some of his cum dripping down the side of your mouth. 

Rex was panting, still watching you intently, the sight of you igniting a new fire in his belly. “Still thinking about work?” You teased, licking the last bit of his cum off your lips. Rex sat up, caressing your face in a tender touch as he brought you in for a deep, loving kiss, tasting himself on your tongue.  “You���re too good to me…” He whispered against your mouth, his voice husky with desire. “Let me show you my thanks…”

Rex quickly and easily flipped you on your back, his mouth instantly on your aching cunt. He felt his cock hardening again as he lost himself between your legs, your cries and whimpers filling the room. 

He wouldn’t be thinking about work the rest of the night.

A/N: Rex deserves all the BJs.

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