hello !! happy anniversary to ur blog and so sorry again for not reading ur rules for the flash requests post 💔
may i request sfw + 12 w solomon. just him pining for reader. like doesn't even have to include dialogue w/mc, i just wanna see him being so horrendously down bad for them hehe thank you 🫶🏻
Thank you, and no worries! I hope you don't mind headcanons with this one. Now, did I get too invested in this request? I think so. It's almost double the intended length. Do I regret that? Not in the slightest. I hope you enjoy it!!
1 year anniversary flash request event - SFW
(Solomon x gn!MC)
Prompt 12 – Your choice: Pining
Pining!Solomon, whose hands tremble when you hug him as he slowly brings his arms up to try to hug you back. For his entire life, he had never needed to be held by anyone – not in the way that he needs you. When he’s in your arms, he almost can’t believe it. It feels too good to be true, like some cruel setup designed to bring him a moment of pure joy before ripping you from his grasp. So, his hands tremble with uncertainty and love and hope that he can never speak of. Solomon will snap himself out of his fear, and when he does, his hands will grip your back and pull you in. He never knows when to let go – or rather, he never wants to. If only he could keep you in his arms for a second longer. If only he could hold you every day. If only your warmth would linger on his skin forever.
Pining!Solomon, who will never give up sitting with his legs spread apart now that he knows the feeling of your warmth pressed against him when he refused to give you the space. He knows it’s rude, but he would do anything to keep that prolonged contact. He needs it. Politeness be damned. What does politeness know of the comfort he gets from the physical proof that you are right by his side?
Pining!Solomon, who traces the spines of his books, mapping your name through the topography of every curve or scratch as he waits for you to arrive for your study sessions with him. When you’re running late, your name exists on the spine of every book on his desk. You’ll live on them forever. Now, he can scarcely scan through his personal library without feeling your presence.
Pining!Solomon, who reviews your last sent message when he hasn’t seen you all day. His fingers hover over the screen as he contemplates reaching out. But is one day too soon? He scans his mind for any believable excuse to contact you.
Pining!Solomon, whose mouth is a reflection of his mind, always wandering in your direction. Whether he’s chatting with the demons or angels or in a conference with the Sorcerers’ Society. He can’t resist asking about your well-being or your daily life (the parts of it that he isn’t involved in). He brags about his adorable, talented apprentice to the Sorcerers’ Society and even random demons and witches he’s acquainted with. However, he’s always careful not to brag too much – less someone try to harm you or steal you right from under his watchful eye. If anyone so much as considered it, Solomon would see red until his anger was soothed by disproportionate aggression or the comfort of your voice and touch.
Pining!Solomon, whose body follows after you whenever you pull away. When you break off a kiss, he leans into you, chasing the feeling of your lips on him again. When you let go of his hand, he reaches forward, ever so slightly, trying to recapture your touch. When you let go during a hug, he inches just a bit closer. When you walk ahead of him, he picks up his pace to catch you. When your bonds strengthen with the others, his heart aches, trying to crawl its way back to you.
Pining!Solomon, who doesn’t know how to be alone anymore. His mind has your face and voice memorized. When you aren’t around, sometimes he imagines you calling him from the other room – that if he sat up and walked in there right now, he’d see your precious face, smiling at him. He’ll use technology and magic to preserve these memories with routine frequency – in case the worst should ever happen.
Pining!Solomon, who has never known fear like this. His entire life could collapse in on itself, making him an emotional black hole, from a simple shift in your existence. That is the magnetic strength of his love for you. No change in your presence goes unnoticed. If you got hurt. . . if you died. . . he would pull all realms into his pain.
But, also, Pining!Solomon, who has never known peace like this. If anything could wash over the wreckage of a garden that Solomon has cultivated himself – sick with rot and death that poisons instead of fertilizing, that smells of chemicals and rust, where only the toxic and wretched could bloom – and make it divine, it would be your presence. It would be your laugh when Asmo has pranked Solomon, and the witty sorcerer was none the wiser. It would be the way you danced along to music with Solomon in the kitchen as you prepared dinner – if for no other reason than pointless joy, then to distract him from his desire to help with the cooking. It would be the way you rolled your eyes when Solomon caused you trouble, because your annoyance couldn’t overcome your affection for him. It would be your warmth and the gentle sound of your breathing as you slumped against Solomon’s shoulder – when he longed to trace his fingers along your beloved form, but the fear of waking you stilled his hands. It would be the trusting, understanding smile on your face, when Solomon couldn’t express his feelings in anything more than a whispered “I love you” – even when you needed his praise shouted to the sky for all to understand.
A/N: this will be the last request for the 1 year event - SFW request day. I still have 3 more SFW requests in my inbox though.
Requests are now closed. I will be working on the NSFW requests tomorrow. Don't worry, if you got your flash request in (or if you're waiting on requests from the previous round of general requests), I'll still be working on those. This was a lot of fun so far, so thank you all for participating with me.
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Delusions (Patreon)
"Could I have your hand, sir?" Max didn't move, which Dexter was, sadly, getting used to.
"Sir?" Max jerked, then turned and stared at him, lost and blank. "Your hand, please."
Max's hand lifted shakily, and he laid it gently in Dexter's upturned palm. Dexter gave a quick and quiet "thank you," then turned it over in his own hand, observing him closely.
Too closely - his knuckles were rough and his fingernails were dull and cracked in places. His once-soft, not-a-day-in-his-life-subjected-to-hard-labour hands were now, already, toughened and split and scarred in places, especially the heel of his palm. He turned it over again, this time to stop looking so intensely. He had only wanted to give it a cursory glance to begin with.
"Do you know what I see, sir?" he asked as conversationally as he could manage, running his fingers along Max's abused flesh. He seemed to be at least half paying attention, his eye gazing down between them, and he'd occasionally twitch, encouragingly Dexter thought. He seemed to want to curl around him, then stopped and shook, his hand squeezing into a fist. Dexter coaxed him back out, encouraged him to hold himself lightly.
"What do you see?" He was almost startled by Max actually continuing their conversation, that happened so rarely now, shaking and quiet as it was. He took a deep breath, was he really going to do this?
"I see a hand, with five fingers." Max remained quiet, though his brow curled, and a guarded look came into his eye, though he still wasn't looking at Dexter. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had to try. "What do you see?"
Max's eye unfocused and began to water. He looked up, but not enough to reach Dexter's gaze in return, instead staring through his chest, and he felt just as hollow and empty as he must look to him.
"Do you take me for a fool, DAX?" Quiet and as close to angry as he'd heard since they'd been here.
No, not angry.
Betrayed.
He swallowed down the stinging lump at the back of his throat. He had to put on a brave face, had to keep his composure if he wanted Max to get better. That was the only thing he wanted, more than anything.
"Of course not, sir. Genuinely, what do you see?"
Max pulled his hand away and turned his body, his bandaged side facing Dexter. Shutting him out, pointedly. Dexter's empty hand curled into a fist, he was no better.
"Please, don't..." Max took a shallow, shuddering breath, and several beats before he spoke again, even quieter. "Don't ridicule me." Dexter could hear his breath catch, and he wanted nothing more than for this all to just stop.
"Sir, I didn't-"
"I've had enough of that." He shook his head stiffly, the action strange and wrong, like he had forgotten how. He stilled, his head turned even further away. "More than enough."
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