#False flattery | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brainstirfry · 3 months ago

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Reading these long posts again and again until I can see what OP sees like I'm studying ancient magic. The only thing I keep thinking is. This double-speak that they do with each other. It's almost literally a love language. Either in this post or another op also writes about how "if you're outwardly nice, you can't be trusted" (paraphrasing here ofc--) whereas if "you identify as an asshole" you might just be kind inside or something to that effect (SORRY) BUT that implies that Wade's also using this subtextual understanding of what he's saying as a defense; the people who can see through it are the ones that have any chance at all of breaching his other defenses, humor maybe being the most obvious one, and it identifies the people who he has to be wary of getting to actually see him OR to even see that he's wearing a mask at all? It's literally a language, like a secret code only those who think like him or maybe have experienced a certain, horrible side to life can understand, and really interacts meaningfully with people that can speak the language. BUT it's also a love language in that it's a manner of his expression of affection. It might be forced or strained or otherwise difficult to speak freely. It might feel good to do so, like recalling his old pre-deadpool self even? (if you've read a passage from OP about Wade saying happy holidays, that's what I'm talking about) but it could only be with those people who he can let past the walls and defenses and who he feels are committed to him. Colossus and negasonic are on his list of people that literally mean the world to him, because they've committed time and energy again and again to him, they've stayed, and not because they necessarily think they can profit off of him, like cough cough other people in Wade's past. (They try to get him to join the X men but it's not really about their benefit from doing that, I think colossus for one genuinely thinks it would help dp) but colossus and negasonic don't speak his language. LOGAN does; it's why they get along so well despite the top surface discourse. (It's gotta be refreshing to be able to be seen like that, having most of what you say and do fly completely under the radar for most people and then meeting someone who actually fucking gets it, like...) If you don't read into it, they hate each other for most of the movie. It feels like. Play fighting sometimes too. Idk Anyways right off the bat when the movie makes a joke out of every other variant immediately getting violent with Wade without communication, regardless of what Wade says, worst wolvie actively picks up what Wade puts down. chugging the whole bottle Wade told the bartender to leave was a one-up multipurpose tactic, where I think in other cases different logans wouldn't have even accepted the gesture. Would have just walked away. sigh (this whole thing with the bottle is another thing OP touches on I think innnn the car monologue subsection, it's one of my favorite breakdown bits with the "care behind offense" wording it's genius help me I'm ROTTING HERE)

This is a fucking WALL of text I'm so sorry. Anyways ANYONE penny for your THOUGHTS? I need help

A Jolly Red Lie

Why a red suit? Cause it's christmas, and someone's been naughty. But also so that people don't know he's bleeding, that he's hurting.

In dp2, Wade says he should have worn his WHITE suit when he meets Juggernaut. Because a red suit hides blood, a white suit hides that you're excited, that you're enjoying all this. That you're getting off, that you want it.

A red suit shows you're enjoying it. A red suit doesn't show you're hurting. A white suit doesn't show you're enjoying it, but it does show you're hurting.

Wade's first suit was white.

He swapped it to red because he didn't want to show he was bleeding all over everything. You know, like a bleeding heart. He doesn't want people to know he cares so much he'd sacrifice himself over and over. Selflessness. He wants it to appear as if his actions cost him nothing. He can't have anyone thinking he wants to be there.

But the red suit does show he's enjoying it. Enjoying the fighting, the killing, the being stabbed.

When we first meet pre Deadpool Wade, he was in a red coat, white shirt--the Golden Girls shirt. He's enjoying what he's doing.

Wearing his heart on his sleeve. Showing what he cares about. Told pizza stalker girl he does it for the hugs, and then covered up by turning it into a joke "for the money"--(haha the deadpool movie was ostensibly jokes for money, but we all know that's not true)--and then later refusing to take payment. He's being open, even if he knocks it down a peg after the fact.

Looking at Vanessa with open care, and letting her see. Openly saying things like "Happy holidays", without being sarcastic about it or negating it.

But he stops doing that after Francis. The only time it's shown is when she tells him she wants to have a kid--even then it's still not openly, because it's hidden behind jokes. He doesn't tell her he loves HER, only that he really wants a kid: but DOES HE?

No. He's pretending to care, to want. They first intend to "watch some porn and show the bed who's boss", but we cut to them watching Abjectly Not Porn. He then says he wants a kid again, but the way he describes it is to "get the strap on": that's not how kids are made. He didn't want that in dp1 though: he says "no" to the strap on in the sex montage. (That was on international women's Day. When Vanessa is dead in dp2, it's always international women's Day there. Aka, Wade doesn't want to be there. Why is he there, then? Because he thinks she wants that.)

He's pretending to care about something he doesn't. He's using things he's supposed to want, but no longer does, to act like he cares. He wants to, but he does not. He says he wants kids as he's selling used cars, but that's a lie followed by the offense of "not having vaginal sex". Because he wants to get pegged now, which is extremely offensive to Disney.

So what changed?

He isn't "Happy holidays" open anymore after Francis.

He's showing her what he wants, but won't say it. She is also showing and not saying what she wants: him to SAY it. They both want a family, just not THIS one. Do you want what I can give you or do you want me? He's only alive on the outside, not the inside.

They give each other multiple opportunities to just say it, but neither actually wants to make it happen. She doesn't take the excuse that he would be a bad father as the "I don't want this" subtext it really is; he doesn't take her dismissal of his excuses as the call for change--to go back to how things were--that it is. He knows what's going on, he'll flirt with the line but he won't go to the end.

He's too selfless to tell her he doesn't want this. He doesn't say no anymore, unlike he did pre-Deadpool. Because he thinks she wants this with him, and he won't deny her that, because he calls that selfish.

He CAN do it, so does it matter if he wants it?

He's so selfless he'll hide how much he's being hurt: his bleeding heart. Hide how much it's killing him that he can't say no. He thinks he doesn't have a choice.

Because Father Christmas is going after the naughty list: NOT handing out presents. Enjoying receiving them from other people--not wearing the white suit to hide that--because he's giving presents while giving nothing away. Giving but not receiving. (Haha multiple meta levels and multiple sex jokes)

When did Wade change and why? Going to Francis was showing he cared so much about something he was willing to risk it all. That was the decision he told us is when "it all went wrong": when he changed, on more than just the outside. When it went wrong with Vanessa.

He's only alive on the outside. He's only got a life (with Vanessa) on the outside--he's dead inside. This isn't a life he wants.

Because what he got for caring that much--risking it all--was everything going wrong. The new him, wrong but so right: hiding everything behind a joke, saying the opposite of what he means. Not like he used to be.

The trauma wasn't the torture, it was that he asked for the help they offered only to learn they were lying, that they didn't actually want him around: both in the sense that they weren't doing it for him, and also that they were going to ship him out enslaved afterwards. He no longer trusts claims to care, kindness, because that's where everything goes wrong. Kindness is a lie, hiding the threat of getting the rug pulled.

If you have to say you're nice, then you're not actually nice.....if you don't say you're nice--if you identify as an asshole--you could be nice on the inside. False skins.

Rejection can't hurt you if you don't give it a chance in the first place. If you act like you don't care, that you don't want the thing you want. If you act like you're a psychotic asshole, pushing people away from the getgo.

He gets off on being hurt now: red suit, not white. He's no longer hiding that he gets off on that. Openness is a turn off.

People in jolly red suits are supposed to enjoy giving presents in exchange for cookies and cream after coming down the chimney. Openly doing things for other people, for no payment except appreciation. That was Wade in his jolly red pizza jacket.

And that selflessness still is him, except it's killing him inside and out.

But now he's saying his bleeding red heart--not just on his sleeve but his EVERYTHING--is about hiding the gore: a lie that it's about blood to cover the truth that it's about his heart, how hurt he is on the inside. How he's constantly dying.

It IS about the blood, but it's also not. An omission. Honesty from the other side: not full frontal but raw dogging it from the back, in the subtext. A reach around, if you will.

There wasn't any bloody gore to hide with the pizza stalker, he really was just wearing his heart on his sleeve. Like he's doing in his red Christmas suit, except he's now lying about what it is.

Don't listen to him, he's a fucking liar.

He was pizza Santa, but now he's Bad Santa: claiming it's about blood feud and his face when really it's about making sure Francis couldn't happen to anyone else. Hiding his bleeding heart out in the open behind the ugly statement that he's selfish. Taking out Francis' entire operation instead of only getting revenge on Francis.

He now doesn't care if people see he enjoys what he does, in his red suit, getting off on being hurt: unlike with the pizza stalker, when "that came out wrong, or did it, kiss". He didn't kill that guy because that's not what it was about; but now, he openly enjoys that. So long as he can hide what it's really about behind a different front, a different face, a lie.

The face he presents isn't his real one. It's a mask. Ugly offense instead of truth. Offense as truth.

That's (not) what she said

That's why Vanessa said "show me you care about something bigger than yourself": I need you to be open. An offensive statement ostensibly saying he's selfish, because she wants him to SAY OPENLY that it's not the truth, that his front is JUST a front. (But it's not. She wants him to go back to who he was--not the face, but the "happy holidays".) To remove the cover. (That's why he took off the suit: he removed the lie. Other people wanted him to, so he tried to give it to them because he's just that selfless.

Why should it matter if you don't want to? Sacrifice isn't a good thing if it's not your choice. It'll destroy everything.)

But he can't remove the cover and still be himself. Removing it means he's lying to himself. He's not "right there" anymore. He's always behind an invisible barrier, and he won't cross it anymore. It's not a facade, it's who he really is. He's offensive, not polite, impolite.

Her crazy no longer matches his crazy. He's got a new him that he shouldn't put a mask over.

Vanessa's "show me you care" was giving him the excuse and choice he needed to breakup: here's something ugly you can call yourself so that you can leave. She knows he doesn't want to be there, he just can't give up the wish to be, and he won't subject her to rejection because he sees that as selfish, because that's what he's most afraid of himself.

She said "I don't want you", and it was a lie, but it also wasn't. Wade took the excuse of the text, the superficial statement, to ignore that what she was really saying was "I know you don't want me".

By the end of dp3, he learns that wanting things for himself isn't selfish. "I did it for you", he says, and because it's not impolite, not who she knows he is, Vanessa knows it wasn't about her. That it's a lie. He's telling her that he's finally doing something HE wants, and it's not her: he's finally telling her no, able to say no again, to say what he actually wants. It's a thank you to her for telling him to go, to do what makes him happy--what he wants. She's happy for him. All she wanted was for him to be happy, that's why she wanted him to leave. He's learned that getting to choose matters, and wanting matters, more than ostensible selflessness.

"I did it for you": not the truth but not a lie. A lie that is the truth.

He's pretending to care about his non-deadpool life in dp3, when really he doesn't. It isn't him and Vanessa knows it. So she gives him an excuse: I'll call you selfish, so you can go find what you really want, because I know it's not me, I know you need an excuse to act for yourself.

He goes to 616 looking to join the Avengers with the excuse on his lips that it's someone else who wants it. He's sick of not belonging. Because even when what he wants is right in front of him, when it's true he wants to do it for other people--he still can't say it. He lets it go because they would want him to stop being impolite, just like Vanessa, and he won't do that. He won't admit what the red suit really is.

He won't say he's selfless. He won't say he's nice. He'll say he's not.

But he hangs up the suit because he thinks he'll never find somewhere to belong unless he changes. Unless he gives everyone else what they want. Unless he acts like someone he isn't.

Wade won't openly care after Francis, but after Vanessa was saved in dp2, she changed too: she wanted more open care, not behind an excuse. She missed the happy holidays. It had started before she died too: she wanted him to give her the real reason he was late, not an excuse: she wanted him to say he came back FOR her, not excuse why he hadn't. He DID leave in the middle of a job FOR her, though--he just wouldn't say it. Weaker and weaker excuses were the best he could do. Pouty face because he doesn't want to say the truth, and she knows it. Accepted it at the time, but not after dp2: when she saw he would be fully self destructive in an attempt to not be selfish. That's why she's with someone openly kind in dp3: not someone offensive like Wade.

How does offense as defense, offense as a true lie, come into things?

He says he's not having vaginal sex as an offensive way to cover the truth that he wants to get pegged, aka he's gay. (Subtext that Vanessa was a beard for dp2. He wasn't gay before he became Deadpool, before he became Jesus.) Metanarratively, it's an offensive sex comment to hide the greater offense Disney takes to queerness. Desire under offense. A lie to hide the truth. A lie that IS the truth.

He does do things because other people need him. He always has. He's always been kind.

He cares SO MUCH, he just won't say it out loud, make it obvious. Just like Logan couldn't have anyone knowing how much he wanted to be there. They need cover, an excuse.

What you think you're seeing isn't what's really there: it's not Captain America but Johnny. It was all along. It's not the money shot but the hug. He's not there for mister chandelier jeans, he's there for the delivery. To make a delivery himself.

But if offense is defense, if offense is the truth: not my favorite Chris, is, in fact---

So he hides behind being fake: he's not faking being nice, he's faking being offensive. Nicepool is the opposite, a facade of kindness hiding selfishness: he doesn't let the dog choose, even after she ran away twice. Deadpool specifically let Vanessa choose: "tell me you don't want me and I'll leave". He let Logan choose: do you walk away or do you come back? He waited to jump back in the car until Logan asked him to come hither. Show me you want me. Over and over again: romance.

He did fake being nice though: Deadpool telling Nicepool to say he's going to live while he's actively being murdered is a callback to Francis killing him over and over, telling him he'll get to go back to his life--to LIVE--when it was actually a lie and he never intended such a thing. Two different lies.

Or was it a lie, when Deadpool's lies are the truth? Francis didn't intend for him to live, and Deadpool didn't intend for Nicepool to live either: kindness is a risk, a threat. Truth in the lie. It's not his business that Nicepool didn't know the difference, just like it wasn't Francis' business that Wade didn't know the difference.

The xmen wanted them both to change: in dp2, the rules were be nice and no killing, but he couldn't do that. For Logan, they wouldn't drag him off no matter how much they wanted him, because they wanted him to do it openly. Be nice. Instead of rebuffing them, instead of hiding behind offense.

The Car Monologue

That's why Deadpool gets all breathless and speechless after Logan's OFFENSIVE rant in the car: that was a confession, it wasn't an insult. Truth in the lie: except Deadpool can tell the difference between what's a lie and what's the truth, just like Logan can. Insulting him, saying he's NOT NICE: the lie in the text to hide the subtext that he knows full well he really is.

They'd just spent a day driving: look at the timeline, Wade starts with three days and they show up at the last hour. Where did all that time go, when we only saw one night? Where were was the other day?

They spent it driving, and talking. Logan knows about Vanessa in his rant, and he could only know their history if Wade told him: he talked about everything else before asking Logan about himself, because offense is being nice, is caring. "Selfishness" to show care, because Logan DID NOT want to talk about himself. He was literally a jabbering prick as a lie to show he cared, instead of saying it.

That's another in the list of things Wade does that no one else will: be the asshole no one else will, be the asshole that's needed.

He comes off as a megalomaniacal psychotic asshole. But the real asshole is Cassandra, not him.

Logan's rant was a cover of offense over empathy: but it was actually Logan telling Wade he understood why he hated himself, because he felt the same way. Like Logan wearing the suit under his clothes because he can't let anyone know how much he missed them, how sorry he was. Like Logan not reacting to the bartender treating him badly because he can't show how much it hurts, how much he's bleeding to death. He was quite literally embarrassed to wear the suit, to be a superhero, to show he cared. And so is Wade of the red suit: bad santa to cover how much he wants to give things away.

Wade met all those other Wolverines first: they all attacked him, except two whom he walked away from.

Why did he walk away from those two?

Accurate Wolvie didn't respond to his insult at all, so that one isn't like Wade: offers no offense. Wade can't have THAT when he's so openly offensive himself. He needs the offense as a cover.

Cross Logan was up there because he openly cared. Without an excuse, without an offensive cover. Openly bleeding. He'd gone after the people who attacked the rest of the team, instead of walking away.

Just like Logan said: they can't let him know how much they care or go willingly. Not caring and walking away is the real Wolverine. The BEST Wolverine. Cross and Accurate wouldn't match Wade's crazy.

He walks away from all the other Wolvies because they didn't show they care in any way at all. They said no without saying it.

Worst Wolvie, however, does show he cares, while still maintaining offense: "you don't want this", but not outright rejecting him. He's saying yes without saying it.

Having met those other ones, Wade knows that for what it is: exactly the kind of thing Wade says. And like Wade says in greeting: "you don't know me but I know you". Gives him the drink he wants under cover of offensively threatening the bartender. Care behind offense, and Logan took the bottle.

Does Logan know it was care behind it, though? Or does he read it as pure offense?

He KNOWS, because he could have easily killed Paradox. But instead, he doesn't, and joins Wade in the trash heap: because he wants to help. He wants THIS guy. The attack attempt on Paradox was an offense, a cover for what he really wanted: Wade.

Wade says to Wolvie, "I don't want this just like you don't want this": but he KNOWS Wolvie. He knows how much every version of him wants to die. That line was really saying, I do want this, I know you need this cover, and I know you want it like this too. It was "I get you", and "I'll do it the way you like, because I'm the same way".

Let's look at that car rant: it came AFTER Wade told him he didn't know if he could save his universe, but it wasn't a careless slipup. He repeats exactly what he said, instead of denying it. Painting himself as careless is the lie to cover the truth: he was checking whether Logan was really doing this for wholly selfish reasons, if he felt coerced, or if he was there because he WANTED to be. Giving him a choice, again.

Tell me you want me: over and over. Do it again. The romance in

Look at her, I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way, what bliss. Last night - you were unhinged. You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me. - Do it again!

So he told him the truth in an offensive way: hey did you know I lied? GASP how offensive! Really it was: Are you here just for you, or do you want me too? Are you here for ME? Because this "slipup" carelessness is me being here for you. Just like my annoying jabbering was for you. It's you I want, not anyone else. It was YOU I chose, like the radio says: I'm with you. Here's your excuse, saving my world, let's recommit to the truth in the lie.

Logan responds to offense with OFFENSE. "You lied to me". A cover of offense for the truth that he IS there for Wade. An excuse to fuckin' go at it, an excuse to stay. An excuse of "I'm doing it for them" when really he just wanted to a teamup with Wolvie, whatever excuse he could get for that. An excuse of "I'm doing it to fix my own world" when really he just wanted the excuse to stay.

You know what? You're a fucking joke. No wonder the Avengers didn't take you. Or the X-Men... and they'll take fuckin' anyone! I mean, you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. I have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering little prick in my entire life. And that says a lot, because I've been alive for more than 200 fucking years. I’ll tell ya, that bald chick was right about one thing. You will never save the world. You couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper. Motherfucker, I wish I could say you'll die alone, but it's one of God's best jokes that you can't die, except that's on all of us. You got nothin to say, MOUTH?

Like Wade's accusations of "I heard all about you, how you screwed everything up", it's a lie to cover the truth, an insult to cover the reality that it's a personal confession. You're not nice and neither am I.

The xmen will take anyone--just like strippers. Logan couldn't make it work with strippers either. He's a fucking joke. He's a sad, attention starved, prick; not jabbering aka yapping about anything and everything that doesn't matter, but silent about what does and only talking to scream at those who do--the antithesis to Wade's yapping at Logan, ABOUT EVERYTHING THAT MATTERS TO WADE, to help take his mind off everything.

Logan wishes he could die alone, away from the voices that haunt him. Away from the people whose deaths haunt him. But what he really wants is to be welcome, wanted. Wade wants to live with someone he loves. They understand each other, they get it like no one else does.

This is a confession, compliment, confidence, and also thank you for Wade not making him talk about himself. Thank you for the attention he just gave him for a whole day+ driving. For trusting him, unlike how his own world refused to. Wade confessed first, and so Logan followed suit.

Wade is gobsmacked speechless because not only did he just get read to filth, it was done in exactly the way he wanted it: not nice. He can take the excuse of the insult, or he can take the excuse in the subtext. He's being given a choice, and that's what he craves. Like he gave Vanessa a choice to leave him. Choice that was taken from him when he went to Francis.

Nothing to say, Mouth?: are you going to say something or not? Are you going to tell me it was real? Give me confidence.

Logan just said he knows who Wade is, he's the same kind of crazy, and he's HERE for it. A proposal. Desire under offense.

Checking In

So why did Wade first offer up that the TVA could help him, if he was going to admit it later? Because he knew Logan couldn't say he openly wanted to hang around, he needed an excuse. The world "wasn't his fuckin problem": his real problem was needing an excuse to stay with him. So Wade gave him one: the TVA can fix your world. They actually could: it was true, and it was a lie.

It was an educated wish: the education of knowing Wolvie needed an excuse (I know you), and the wish that it's an excuse he wanted. That he wanted to say yes.

Without having to say yes. The flip of how things were with Wade and Vanessa: he was implying yes when really he was saying no without saying it.

Then instead of being just an excuse, just a wish, in the car it becomes a declaration of love. A proposal. Wishing that was wanting.

That educated wish came after Wade insulted Wolvie:

"Give me a hand up, you APE": offense to cover the truth of how much he likes him. A question: do you get off on this like I do?

An offense as an excuse to touch him. To check if he'll openly care, or if....he'll offer more offense right back. Because that's Wade's crazy, offense is what he gets off on. "Nope, I'm actually okay, thank you very much": An obvious lie, to give Logan a chance to withdraw: "Are you gonna take the excuse to back off or the excuse to fuckin go?"

Aka: pick your offense. I'm giving you the choice.

They don't openly say what they mean. So everything they say, isn't what they really mean. The offense is the point. Do you still care even if I offend you, even if I'm ugly to you? Even if I'm repulsive? Not nice? Will you still be there, in sickness because I am never decent, till death do us not part?

If you can't handle me at my worst, then your supposed kindness is a lie. So I'll offer a lie, I'll offer the worst first: I'll put my worst face forward. Do you still want me? Which excuse do you take?

Give me a hand up: that's exactly what Logan does, putting up his claws. It's fuckin foreplay! Also a consent kink.

Achievement unlocked: excuses established, your crazy matches my crazy. They both get off on being offensive. On being wanted, on being given the choice.

"I heard all about you, how you screwed up everything": SO DID WADE. That's how he greeted wolvie: I need you, my world needs you, aka everything is screwed up. I screwed it up and can't fix it, just like you did. We're the same. Neither actually wants to go back to the world they left, but they needed a cover, a lie, to stay together: we gotta save the world.

Wade carries the picture of everyone because it's his excuse for what he does. He likes them, but not like that. Because he wanted to go with the TVA when they showed up to kidnap him: he knew he could use them to get to Wolvie, whom he'd known about since he could break the fourth wall. The birthday party was not his world, he didn't want it anymore. He was wearing a toupee and without his suit: he was trying to be something he wasn't, so he took the excuse to get out of there. He knew who the strippers were. He lost the toupee.

Failure hurts less if you act like you didn't want it, if you act like you're not bleeding out because of it.

Rejection hurts less if you act like you never wanted it. If you don't tell them you care.

It hurts more when you say you want something you don't.

After Francis, he gained the ability to break the fourth wall. He's no longer the same person he was: this is when he learns about Wolvie. But he couldn't get to him, couldn't yet hop universes, so he was settling for Vanessa. At the end of dp1, the mask he put on his face? It was ostenisbly "here's a pretty face for you", "do you want this or me", but it was really Wade directing the question to himself: do I want Vanessa, or do I want the guy I know I belong with? Do I be selfless or selfish: he let Vanessa choose for him. Because he's too selfless. He wouldn't say no if someone else said yes.

If you can't say no, if you don't want it, the sacrifice isn't selfless but a crucifixion.

He knew what he really wanted, but he wouldn't hurt Vanessa to get it. It's why he left Vanessa in the first place after Francis--he just didn't SAY it, hiding under the excuse of selfish vanity. Showed instead of telling.

When the TVA told Wade that Wolvie was dead, what he heard was there was a space for one in his universe. When they told him his universe was going to end, he took that excuse to go get his man. Going after what he wants.

"I wasn't unconscious". YES HE WAS--

It wasn't a mere wish, it was a proposal. Both of them here now know they're doing it for each other. So, HA to that. A nasty HA in an ostensible fight, to cover his real amusement at the truth that they're referring to how much they want each other: do it again.

-->"SO EMBARASSING": oh my god that was HOT do it AGAIN; right away boo boo.

-->"He died from murder, you dumb fuck": oh my god that was so smart how you did that, THANK YOU.

-->Logan gargling and spitting the liquor when they're talking in the hide out? "I don't give a shit about your world": nobody in this room does, it's all for their own ends. It's all just an excuse: a true lie. They're sick of hiding, of not being who they are.

Wade had just said the group could save his world, to give them the excuse they needed for their real aim: their own egos.

He's kissing ass to get them to do what he wants: false flattery, currying favor.

Sucking up is called "apple polishing". Apple polishing, slang, is to suck nuts. Aka....gargling balls. Without swallowing; spitting; because it's false flattery.

Logan's showing Wade he knows what he's doing. And that he's getting off on it, encouraging it, by not saying anything.

"My god read the room": I know you're putting on a show here and I'm all for it, you read me to filth, keep playing along and I'll do you next.

-->"A catty bitch when I'm jealous": he's jealous that the blowjob handles came out for other people but hadn't for him. Jealousy is the excuse he's giving himself and Wolvie to hide that he's stating a desire and admiration.

What's the wind resistance on those blowjob handles?: are those strong enough for me to pull on? To withstand all the bluster and hot air that Wade's blowing him with. Wolvie doesn't object, and that's him saying YES. Just like it was in the bar: "you don't want this", not NO.

-->They only give looks of adoration when the other isn't watching, cause it hurts more if you never acknowledge it: he openly ENJOYS getting hurt in his not-white suit now, ya know? Gets off on the offense of it. Do it again. Be not nice to me.

-->"You didn't lie, you made an educated wish": You were right, I do want to stay with you, I'm here for you. I accept. Tell me again.

"You got a whole world to go back to. I got nothin, give me this." I got you, I need you to live. Give me that. Show me you understand.

"You were the best Wolverine": Logan says nothing, because if it's true, don't say it, show me. Because he won't say anything nice, he didn't say anything at all. Yes without yes. Let's fight about it, because we don't actually care about the universe, it's just an excuse for our flirting.

"You don't need to do this": safe word. I don't want this, this is too far, I can die for you and kill for you but don't make me live without you.

"I'm doing it because they do": do you want to be with me until death do us part? And not part even then? It's an echo of Wade leaving Vanessa to die: neither went after the other. He didn't want to be with her until death. "For them" is a heroic lie. Call me on it. Show me that it's not until the end of the line, but through it, do it again. Show me you're sure, that you want it all beyond life itself.

Death as romance. Like Romeo and Juliet.

....

They can be nice to other people. To the dog. But it's just not what they get off on. They don't play nice together. And in doing so, light that fuck-box on fire. Among other things. Can't have sparks without a little arson, yeah?

That's why Wade clocks Wolvie with a fire extinguisher in the reactor. To try to knock out their "fire" so that he'd not follow him. It's a callback to Human Torch being easily put out: Wolvie's fire wasn't. Instead, they actually set someone else on fire, so well she was ruined for life. The power of love!!!!

They're anti heroes. The heroism is just the excuse to cover up that it's really about enjoying the action. (The movie and the payday is just the excuse to cover up that it's about---)

This clown car can fit so much gay in it. You think you've got it all and then there's just more and more and more.

#ALSO #the apple polishing bit ?? op how the fuck do you see these connections is this like common knowledge about the term?? it makes such sense #LIKE? gargling so not swallowing. this false flattery WHAT did you major in #how high do I have to be to understand things like this #AND the death as romance but Grits my Teeth my eyes bulge my mouth fills with blood /pos #long post #sorry to everyone that has to see this #which admittedly is not many people #poolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadclaws #and I mean LONG post

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literaryvein-reblogs · 7 months ago

Text

commonly confused words

accept: to receive except: with the exclusion of

advice: recommendation (noun) advise: to recommend (verb)

adverse: unfavorable averse: opposed to

affect: to influence (verb); emotional response (noun) effect: result (noun); to cause (verb)

aisle: space between rows isle: island

allude: to make indirect reference to elude: to avoid

allusion: indirect reference illusion: false idea, misleading appearance

already: by this time all ready: fully prepared

altar: sacred platform or place alter: to change

altogether: thoroughly all together: everyone/everything in one place

a lot: a quantity; many of something allot: to divide or portion out

angel: supernatural being, good person angle: shape made by joining two straight lines

are: plural form of "to be" our: plural form of "my"

accent: pronunciation common to a region ascent: the act of rising or climbing assent: consent, agreement

assistance: help assistants: helpers

bare: nude, unadorned bear: to carry; an animal

beside: close to; next to besides: except for; in addition

boar: a wild male pig bore: to drill a hole through

board: piece of wood bored: uninterested

born: brought into life borne: past participle of "to bear" (carry)

breath: air taken in (noun) breathe: to take in air (verb)

brake: device for stopping break: destroy; make into pieces

buy: to purchase by: next to; through the agency of

canvas: heavy cloth canvass: to take a survey; a survey

capital: major city capitol: government building

choose: to pick chose: past tense of "to choose"

clothes: garments close: to shut; near cloths: pieces of fabric

coarse: rough course: path; series of lectures

complement: something that completes compliment: praise, flattery

conscience: sense of morality conscious: awake, aware

corps: regulated group corpse: dead body

council: governing body counsel: advice; to give advice

dairy: place where milk products are processed diary: personal journal

descent: downward movement dissent: disagreement

dessert: final, sweet course in a meal desert: to abandon; dry, sandy area

device: a plan; a tool or utensil devise: to create

discreet: modest, prudent behavior discrete: a separate thing, distinct

do: a verb indicating performance or execution of a task dew: water droplets condensed from air due: as a result of

dominant: commanding, controlling dominate: to control

die: to lose life; one of a pair of dice dye: to change or add color

dyeing: changing or adding color dying: losing life

elicit: to draw out illicit: illegal, forbidden

eminent: prominent imminent: about to happen

envelop: to surround (verb) envelope: container for a letter (noun)

everyday: routine, commonplace, ordinary (adj.) every day: each day, succession (adj. + noun)

fair: just, honest; a carnival; light skinned fare: money for transportation; food

farther: at a greater (measurable) distance further: in greater (non-measurable) depth

formally: conventionally, with ceremony formerly: previously

forth: forward fourth: number four in a list

gorilla: animal in ape family guerrilla: soldier specializing in surprise attacks

hear: to sense sound by ear here: in this place

heard: past tense of "to hear" herd: group of animals

hoard: a hidden fund or supply, a cache horde: a large group or crowd, swarm

hole: opening whole: complete; an entire thing

human: relating to the species homo sapiens humane: compassionate

its: possessive form of "it" it's: contraction for "it is"

knew: past tense of "know" new: fresh, not yet old

know: to comprehend no: negative

later: after a time latter: second one of two things

lead: heavy metal substance; to guide led: past tense of "to lead"

lessen: to decrease lesson: something learned and/or taught

lightning: storm-related electricity lightening: making lighter

loose: unbound, not tightly fastened lose: to misplace

maybe: perhaps (adv.) may be: might be (verb)

meat: animal flesh meet: to encounter mete: to measure; to distribute

medal: a flat disk stamped with a design meddle: to interfere, intrude metal: a hard organic substance mettle: courage, spirit, energy

miner: a worker in a mine minor: underage person (noun); less important (adj.)

moral: distinguishing right from wrong; lesson of a fable or story morale: attitude or outlook usually of a group

passed: past tense of "to pass" past: at a previous time

patience: putting up with annoyances patients: people under medical care

peace: absence of war piece: part of a whole; musical arrangement

peak: point, pinnacle, maximum peek: to peer through or look furtively pique: fit of resentment, feeling of wounded vanity

pedal: the foot lever of a bicycle or car petal: a flower segment peddle: to sell

personal: intimate; owned by a person personnel: employees

plain: simple, unadorned plane: to shave wood; aircraft (noun)

precede: to come before proceed: to continue

presence: attendance; being at hand presents: gifts

principal: foremost (adj.); administrator of a school (noun) principle: moral conviction, basic truth

quiet: silent, calm quite: very

rain: water drops falling; to fall like rain reign: to rule rein: strap to control an animal (noun); to guide or control (verb)

raise: to lift up raze: to tear down

rational: having reason or understanding rationale: principles of opinion, beliefs

respectfully: with respect respectively: in that order

reverend: title given to clergy; deserving respect reverent: worshipful

right: correct; opposite of left rite: ritual or ceremony write: to put words on paper

road: path rode: past tense of "to ride"

scene: place of an action; segment of a play seen: viewed; past participle of "to see"

sense: perception, understanding since: measurement of past time; because

sight: scene, view, picture site: place, location cite: to document or quote (verb)

stationary: standing still stationery: writing paper

straight: unbending strait: narrow or confining; a waterway

taught: past tense of "to teach" taut: tight

than: used to introduce second element; compared to then: at that time; next

their: possessive form of "they" there: in that place they’re: contraction for "they are"

through: finished; into and out of threw: past tense of "to throw" thorough: complete

to: toward too: also; very (used to show emphasis) two: number following one

track: course, road tract: pamphlet; plot of ground

waist: midsection of the body waste: discarded material; to squander

waive: forgo, renounce wave: flutter, move back and forth

weak: not strong week: seven days

weather: climatic condition whether: if wether: a neutered male sheep

where: in which place were: past tense of "to be"

which: one of a group witch: female sorcerer

whose: possessive for "of who" who’s: contraction for "who is"

your: possessive for "of you" you’re: contraction for "you are" yore: time long past

commonly confused words part 2 ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#writing #writing reference #words #writeblr #literature #poetry #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #creative writing #writing tips #lit #langblr #studyblr #dark academia #vocabulary

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sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts · 6 months ago

Note

Just here to beg for a crumb-- just a little blurb about Marcus as a new dad? All those swimming lessons would have paid off before long, right?

⤷ Credits: Pinterest

Warnings: DUB-CON (Forced/Arranged marriage), Birth, insecurity, vulnerability, fluffy romance vibes with a hint of the reality of parenthood

A/n : Sorry this took a second but i hope you enjoy

"MOTHERFUCKER!" you shouted, your voice echoing through the chamber as you clung to Marcus' arms, your grip iron-tight. Midwives swarmed around you, their practiced hands moving swiftly, their voices a blend of soothing reassurances and urgent instructions.

"It'll be alright, love," Marcus murmured, his voice steady despite the worry etched across his face. He wiped the sweat from your brow, his touch tender. "You're the strongest person I know."

"Strongest person you know?" you snapped, glaring at him through the pain. "If you had just kept your hands to yourself, we wouldn't be in this mess, Marcus!"

Marcus chuckled softly, though there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "I recall you being quite persuasive that night."

"Don't you dare put this on me!" you retorted, another contraction making you wince. "If you had any self-control, I wouldn't be screaming my head off right now!"

"Almost there," the head midwife announced, her voice cutting through the haze of pain. "I can see the head."

Marcus looked at you, his eyes shining with pride and awe. "Just a little more, darling. You're so close."

"Close to killing you," you muttered, though your grip on his hand tightened, drawing strength from his presence.

With a final, primal scream, you pushed with all your might. The room seemed to hold its breath as the midwives sprang into action. And then, a new sound filled the air—the cries of your newborn son.

Tears streamed down your face as the midwife placed the tiny, wriggling bundle in your arms. You looked down at him, your heart swelling with a love so fierce it took your breath away. Marcus leaned in, his arm around your shoulders, his eyes filled with wonder as he gazed at his son.

"He's perfect," Marcus whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "You did it."

"We did it," you corrected, meeting his gaze. "And you owe me a lifetime of back massages and foot rubs for this."

Marcus laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Deal. And I'll start by being the best father I can be."

As you held your son close, feeling the warmth of his tiny body against your chest, you knew that whatever the future held, you and Marcus would face it together. This was the beginning of a new chapter, one filled with hope, love, and endless possibilities.

The midwives busied themselves around you, cleaning up and murmuring congratulations. You glanced at Marcus, who was still watching you with that same awestruck expression.

"Stop looking at me like that," you teased, though there was no heat in your words. "I look like I've been through a war."

"A beautiful war," Marcus said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "And you, my love, are a warrior."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you replied, though you couldn't suppress a smile. "But I suppose I can let you off the hook. Just this once."

"How generous of you," Marcus said with a grin, leaning in to kiss you. "I love you."

"And I love you," you whispered, feeling a deep contentment settle over you. "Even if you did get us into this mess."

"Well, it's a beautiful mess," he said, looking down at your son. "And I wouldn't change a thing."

"Marcus, you can't hold him like that," you said, trying to suppress a laugh as you watched him awkwardly maneuver the tiny, squirming baby in his arms. Your son wriggled, his small fists waving in the air, clearly unimpressed with his father's attempt.

"I'm trying!" Marcus replied, a mix of frustration and amusement in his voice. "He's just so slippery."

You stepped in, gently guiding Marcus' hands to support the baby's head and body correctly. "There, like this. See? He's not that hard to handle."

"Easy for you to say," Marcus muttered, though a smile tugged at his lips. "You've always had a way with handling difficult creatures."

"Are you calling our son a creature?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Only the cutest one I've ever seen," Marcus said, his eyes softening as he looked down at the baby. "Alright, little man, let's get you clean."

You carefully poured warm water over your son's tiny body, making sure the temperature was just right. The baby let out a small, surprised squeak, his eyes widening at the sensation. Marcus chuckled, his large hands gentle as he helped you wash the baby’s delicate skin.

"He's not so bad once you get the hang of it," Marcus said, his voice filled with wonder. "Look at him. He's so small, but so perfect."

"Just like his father," you teased, running a soft cloth over the baby's head.

Marcus grinned, his eyes twinkling. "You think I'm perfect?"

"In your dreams," you replied, but there was no denying the affection in your tone.

As you continued the bath, Marcus took over washing the baby's tiny feet, his fingers incredibly gentle. "These little toes," he mused, "I can't believe something so small can be so perfect."

"Careful, Marcus," you warned with a laugh. "You're turning into a sentimental sap."

"Too late," he admitted, looking at you with a smile that made your heart melt. "This little guy has completely undone me."

The days and nights blurred together as you adjusted to the whirlwind of new parenthood. There were moments of sheer joy and wonder as you watched your son grow and change, his tiny features becoming more defined with each passing day. But there were also moments of exhaustion and doubt, when the weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. Your pregnancy had been a mix of excitement and anxiety, each milestone bringing a new set of emotions. Now, holding your baby in your arms, you felt an intense love that was both beautiful and terrifying.

You marveled at his tiny hands and the way his fingers would curl around yours, his innocent eyes gazing up at you with trust. Those were the moments that made everything worth it, when the world seemed to stand still and all that mattered was the bond between you and your son. But there were also nights when he would cry inconsolably, and no amount of rocking or soothing seemed to help.

One particularly long night, as the baby cried relentlessly, you found yourself on the brink of tears. The exhaustion was bone-deep, and the frustration of not being able to calm him gnawed at you. "Why won't he stop crying?" you whispered, your voice trembling with fatigue and despair. You rocked him gently, trying every trick you knew, but nothing seemed to work.

Marcus appeared in the doorway, his hair tousled from sleep, his eyes instantly alert with concern. He had been your rock throughout the pregnancy and now, in the chaos of new parenthood, his support was unwavering. "Hey, hey," he said softly, crossing the room to you. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," you admitted, your voice breaking. "I feel like I'm doing everything wrong. I can't even calm my own baby."

Marcus took the baby from your arms with practiced ease, his strong hands cradling the tiny body. He began to hum a gentle tune, swaying back and forth as he did. Almost immediately, the baby's cries began to quiet, his small body relaxing against Marcus' chest. Watching them, a mix of relief and sadness washed over you. Relief that your baby was finally calm, and sadness that you couldn't seem to provide the same comfort.

"See?" Marcus murmured, looking at you with a reassuring smile. "Sometimes, he just needs a change of scenery."

You sank into a nearby chair, the tears finally spilling over. "I feel like such a failure," you confessed. "I love him so much, but I can't seem to get anything right."

"You're not a failure," Marcus said firmly, kneeling beside you, still holding the now calm baby. "You're an amazing mother. This is hard—it's supposed to be hard. But we're doing it together, remember?"

You nodded, wiping your tears away. The weight of his words began to soothe the ache in your chest. "I just... I want to be perfect for him."

"And you are," Marcus insisted. "Look at him. He's healthy, he's loved, and he's got the best mom in the world."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you reached out to touch your son's cheek. His skin was soft and warm, and you felt a rush of love so powerful it almost hurt. "I guess I just need to take it one day at a time."

"Exactly," Marcus agreed, standing up and offering you a hand. "Now, let's get you both back to bed. I'll take the next shift."

You allowed Marcus to help you up, feeling the fatigue in your bones but also a renewed sense of hope. The journey of parenthood was far from easy, but with Marcus by your side, you knew you could face the challenges ahead.

“He’s growing up so fast,” you whispered, a bittersweet ache in your voice as you took in the sight of your little boy, so full of life and promise.

Marcus nodded, his voice a gentle balm. “He is. But look at him—strong and happy. We’ve done well, haven’t we?”

You leaned back into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his presence. “It’s been an incredible year,” you agreed softly.

Marcus pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, a playful glint lighting up his eyes. “How about we make this weekend even more special? A trip to the sea, just the two of us.”

You turned to face him, excitement mingling with a hint of anxiety. “But what about our son? I don’t want to leave him.”

“Don’t worry,” Marcus reassured you, his voice soothing. “I’ve spoken with your mother. She’s thrilled to have him for the weekend. We’ll be close by if anything happens.”

You hesitated, biting your lip as you considered his words. The thought of time alone with Marcus was enticing. “It would be nice to spend time together,” you admitted.

Marcus smiled, the warmth in his eyes making your heart flutter. “We deserve a little break. And perhaps… we could start thinking about giving him a little brother or sister.”

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philosophybits · 8 days ago

Quote

There is nothing in the world more difficult than candor, and nothing easier than flattery. If there is a hundredth of a fraction of a false note to candor, it immediately produces dissonance, and as a result, exposure. But in flattery, even if everything is false down to the last note, it is still pleasant, and people will listen not without pleasure; with coarse pleasure, perhaps, but pleasure nevertheless.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

#philosophy #quotes #Fyodor Dostoyevsky #Crime and Punishment #sincerity #honesty #flattery

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jweekgoji · 3 months ago

Note

when i read your sentinel/reader/starscream fic it felt like my neurons got ACTIVATED

PLEASEEEE GIVE US MOREEE OF THEM BEING ABSOLUTELY FILTHY WITH THE READER

Starscream/Sentinel/Reader [TFO]

tw: 18+, dubcon, dom!Starscream, dom!Reader, sub!Sentinel, pre-TFO, threesome, valveplug (MDNI), humilation, established relationships between Starscream/Reader, bondage, blowjob, fingerfucking, orgasm denial, brief mentions of violence/threats, Sentinel has spike and valve here, no description of reader's genitalia, no romantic feelings between Sentinel/Starscream. word count: 2,7k summary: After Sentinel's betrayal, the leader of the high guard and his right hand decide to give the false Prime a lesson. a/n: ty for your request~ I hope you like this one too. basically can be a sequel to this.

“I vote to rip his spark out right here and there.”

“He still has some use, even like this.”

“You really wish to spare him?! After what he had done?”

“No. But there are ways to hurt him more, than let him die.”

Sentinel's optics flutter open, and a soft groan escapes his lips as he slowly tries to process his new surroundings. What had happened during the time he was unconscious? He barely remembers anything right now. That short moment of triumph when he finally left the cave, not like some chores-bot, but as a future Prime, the new leader of Iacon— but where he is now?

He tried to sit up straight, to reach for his helm and to soothe this dizzy pain in his processor, only to feel a short tug of the stasis cuffs, restraining his wrists.

“Now, who is dumb enough to do that...” Sentinel grumbles to himself. When he finds out who's responsible for this, who's that glitch who thought that putting him in a cell, like some lowly criminal...

Sentinel's optics dart back to the front of the cell as soon as he hears the clanking sound of metal coming closer, with each step. The dim, purple light makes it hard to instantly recognize the faces of his captors.

The bright red optics met his own with nothing but disgust, and another pair flicked with a hint of...what exactly? Coldness? Anger? Disappointment?

“Great, now he's awake.”

That familiar voice, a pain to the advisor's audials. Of course, why didn't he think of that...highly respected commander of the high guard earlier?

“Starscream,” Sentinel sneered, tilting his helm. “The great leader of the high guard, personally chosen by our beloved Primes! I wonder what I do to deserve such a personal meeting?”

Starscream stepped closer to the bars of the prison, look full of hatred. It seems like any word from the blue-and-gold mech only pushed him closer to the edge of snapping him in half.

Sentinel paused for a moment after a threat, but that was hardly enough to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. If anything, it only amused him more.

“Flattery won't get you anywhere,” the commander said, slightly leaning forward, narrowing his optics. “You'll be left here and rust until it corrodes so deep into your circuits, every little flinch will make you break.”

“A little dramatic, don't you think? We both know what a sucker for praise you are,” Sentinel learned back against his seat, tone full of mocking innocence. “But I'm deeply flattered, really, already thinking about my internal workings...hm?”

You can hear Starscream's wings bristling in annoyance. What does this lying piece of scrap think he is? Even here, far away from any bot who could possibly help him escape, tied up and held on a plate like a piece of a high grade energon, Sentinel still makes him seethe with rage. How infuriating.

“I still recommend going back to my first suggestion,” the mech huffs, turning to look at you by his side.

You briefly look at Starscream, only nodding your helm in a silent reply to his words. As much as ripping the traitor's spark sounds alluring, it would be a mistake done in a fit of rage without thinking about the further consequences.

“The quintessons are still thinking he's the new Prime,” you whisper softly to your commander, just enough for Sentinel not to hear about what you two were talking about. “We can use him.”

Letting the «Prime» find out that he's still needed, despite everything he has done, would be too much of an honor. After all, you're not planning to let him forget about his wrongdoings here, even for a single second.

Starscream's optical ridges furrowed, but instead of another hissy remark, he lets out another soft scoff. Of course. That bastard had to plan everything down to the smallest detail. Putting him off the picture too early would make everything collapse like a house built of cards.

“Might as well just give him his first lesson.”

“If only that shuts that annoying, loud mouth of his.”

The quiet conversation between the two members of the high guard didn't go unnoticed by Sentinel. He knew it was about him. The question is, what exactly were you planning to do? If you really desired his death that much, he would have been offline a long time ago.

No.

You want something more from him than a few simple answers to your questions, aren't you?

“You're not very subtle, lovebirds, come on,” Sentinel studied both of you, with optics focused on one bot, then the other. “Share your thoughts with me.”

You step closer to the control panel, tapping a few green buttons on the screen, until the energon bars disappear with a one lust buzz.

First to approach Sentinel, you lock your optics with him. Now, closer than ever, he feels so smaller next to you. Hands tightly tied behind his back, it keeps a little to no ways for him to move.

You never felt such a deep frustration towards the Primes' advisor like your partner did. But it would be a lie if you said you haven't thought of this mech underneath you, shaking and writhing, in pleasure, pain, or both, perhaps.

A small, almost too hard to notice shiver runs down his spine when your servo gently rests on the side of his face. The tips of your digits run over his chin like a soft caress, and in any different circumstance, Sentinel would purr, melt under your touch like a cat in the hands of its owner. Until with a slight push of your other servo against on his chassis, you force him to fall on his back with a loud, painful thud.

Sentinel grunts from the impact, and the pain immediately shoots through his processor, making his optics flicker a few times, as he tried to get rid of the stars, twinkling in his sight. The smirk on his faceplate, now gone a long time ago, changed to a pout.

“Sweetspark, don't tell me you're too,” he groans, servos twitching behind his back to somehow push himself off the cold floor, but you cut off his attempt with your foot on his midsection. “Aghh—, I thought...we had something special, remember?”

As Sentinel mentally curses in his mind, with a ‘did they really have to push me that hard?’ to ‘by the Allspark, they can pack quite a punch’. He barely notices you looking over at Starscream, pointing at something, which only receives a grumble in response.

“I still can't believe you convinced me into this,” Starscream lowers his voice, muttering in a mild irritation, and yet, he complies without any further protest.

There's a tiny, pleased smirk on your faceplate, your red-and-white birdie might grumble, acting like he's totally not interested in humiliating and punishing Sentinel for his crimes, but...wasn't it too obvious already, hmm?

You move on your knees next to Sentinel, reaching for his thighs to grip the smooth metal, only to nudge the poor «Prime» on his side. Sentinel only mewls, but without any other choice, lets himself because tossed around like a doll in your hands.

“Don't even think of enjoying this, you useless waste of metal,” Starscream shoots Sentinel a warning glare, as he mirrors your own movement, now his thighs on each side of the other mech's helm.

With a soft humm of agreement, you gently glide your servo over Sentinel's waist, before trailing lower, to take a hold of his knee and raise his leg up, just to press your hips against Sentinel's own.

Sentinel's optics slightly dimmed in anticipation. His spark throbs in between the fear for his own well-being and disgust. Pathetic, unbelievable, and wrong. He's going to rule over Iacon, become a new Prime, and he's reduced to like some cheap Primus knows who?

Another shiver makes him buck his hips against yours without even noticing it, his own body betraying his thoughts. It was not intentional, was it? After the countless private meetings you had, it's no surprise that he unconsciously reacted to it like he used to. Even though the circumstances are far from how it was in the past.

And with how your touch is significantly gentler than Starscream's...how could he deny it?

No tiny gasp or shudder escapes your optics, and a short moment later, you continue, grinding your panel against his own. With each, agonizing slow movement, the cold metal now feels warmer, hotter to touch. Sentinel's optics are now fully focused on you, or better to say, where your frame connected with his own.

You wonder, what was he thinking right now, looking at you like that? Want you to stop him? Gentler?

“Harder,” he growls demandingly, the soft clicks of stasis cuffs faintly heard in the background, as he tried to loosen them up, or break, if lucky.

It wasn't enough, not nearly enough to satisfy him like he needs it right now. This slow pace you set up for him is nothing but a joke, and he's not sure, if you're doing it on purpose or just that slow by your own nature.

You give Sentinel an amused look. Demanding? Now? Did you damage his processor with that little push you gave him, but knowing how Sentinel is, are you really that surprised?

No, no, if he wants something, he should ask it. Nicely.

“Greedy and impatient is no quality of a real Prime, Sentinel,” you purr, moving your hips back and forth, until you tug on Sentinel's leg, to roughly pull him closer.

Sentinel lets out a sharp gasp, the heat of his own frame is now meeting yours, this does nothing to calm the raising of his spark. A hot puff of air escapes his mouth in frustration.

“Have a little mercy, c—can you?” he says through gritted teeth. Half of him wants to plead, to beg, so this torture will finally stop, but the other, prideful and oh so high of himself part refuses to bow.

Just not so long ago, he was the one to use you however he wants, on his knees in front of him, working over his spike in cute attempts to please him. How did he allow this?

“Enough,” Starscream grabs the side of Sentinel's face, a few digits roughly pushing inside the mech's mouth, forcing it open. Finally, no more cocky and annoying remarks.

The high guard slips deeper, and he can feel a cold drool coating his fingers. The feeling almost makes Starscream groan in disgust, a small frown on his face.

“Fragging freak,” his servo twitch in a suppressed need to either slap Sentinel so hard, or push his servo down his throat and rip this tongue off in addition to his voice box this instant.

You wouldn't be surprised if a part of Sentinel enjoyed it. Have you seen this Airachnid bot constantly lurking behind his back? F-r-e-a-k.

Admiring the sight, you let your servo run over the inside of his thigh. Sentinel flinches in response, his processor is practically overloaded with constant sensations coming from different parts of his body. Every time you decide to tease him, making his thighs rub in a desperate attempt to relieve himself, Starscream just has to roughly pull him out of it.

“mfff...!”

Sentinel moans around Starscream's fingers, optics rolling into the back of his helm, and it takes all of his strength not to whine and cry out for more. His interface panel finally opens up, and the cold, almost freezing air of the cell makes his spike twitch from sensitivity.

“Tsk, tsk, have no shame at all, Sentinel?” you playfully taunt him, with a fake sweetness.

You give Sentinel's thigh a light slap, and the mech winces under the roughness of the touch. It feels good, too good for his liking, his need for overload makes his thoughts blurr into one.

“Primus! Please—” he gasps, voice muffled, and still, he looks at you, pleading, no, begging to continue.

The ache between his thighs is unbearable, how can he focus on anything but it? The way you lazily rub your thumb over the head of his spike makes his legs quiver. If you hadn't been holding him still, he'd already be all around your waist, just to make sure you won't leave him hanging on the edge.

A hint of jealousy sparks in Starscream optics, first Sentinel keeps being demanding glitch, despite it, clearly a punishment, you're a little too soft on the prisoner, or he thought so.

Without any warning, Starscream grips the back of Sentinel's head, only to force the advisor's faceplate against his interface panel. The abrupt movement makes Sentinel let out a soft huff in displeasure, his neck already straining from the position.

“Bite and I will snap your neck” Starscream hisses as soon as he notices the look of defiance in Sentinel's half lidded optics. To which, he nods.

Sentinel can feel the tip of the guard's spike pressing against his lower lip, Starscream's fingers now replaced with a hardening length. Sentinel has to bite back his pride, the act already heavily hitting his confidence, always so in control and now at the mercy of you.

But you can't just simply let him rest, can you? Not when you shamelessly toy with his spike, spreading transfluid with your index finger, making sure to move right against the spot that makes him push against your servo.

Maybe if you just hold your servo right here, without even moving, he'd fuck himself into it, just anything would be enough to soothe this needy feeling— until you thrust your fingers inside him. Slowly, but deeply at first, a slick coating your digits and slowly dripping down your servo..

Sentinel's valve flutters around you, the soft walls already squeezing at the smallest intrusion. His hips stuttering, the tiny bits of restraint are practically gone now, it's overwhelming. It's for the best that he can't talk anymore, with Starscream using the mech's throat as a personal fuck-toy.

The advisor's own golden-like wings twitched in quick response, with each brush of your fingers against the sensitive nub inside him. Sentinel jolts in ecstasy, arching his back. How unfair, how it's so, so unfair— if only he had his servos free, uncuffed and free to move, he would have grabbed your wrist to do the job himself, but no, you just have to make him work for it!

As Sentinel tirelessly worked himself to his own release, practically feeling it on the tip of his tongue, or it was rather, something else You slightly lean forward, towards Starscream, for a kiss, to which he gladly replies to, by locking lips.

Sentinel feels like a third wheel in this trio, but no complaints escape him, perhaps for now. Watching the two of you, so obviously forgetting about him and in your own world...when he's all squirming and writhing underneath you. It's no help for him at all, that none of you seem to stop, despite finding each other more interesting than the other mech in need.

He can feel his spike throbbing almost painfully, a puddle of his own transfluid staining the sleek metal of his thighs. Sentinel can almost feel it, optics crossing and almost seeing the stars...until a strangled cry escapes from him, instead of a sigh of relief.

You pulled your fingers out of his valve a mere seconds before he had a chance to reach his overload. His hips thrust forward in a feeble attempt to meet your touch once again, to push him over the edge and let him satisfy his need, but nothing comes to rescue from his own desire.

He would cry, whine, and whimper for more, if only that would somehow make you take mercy on him. His wings slumping down in defeat, and that little look in your optics gives him no hopes at all..! Oh, Primus, how long is the night on Cybertron?

#sentinel prime x reader #starscream x reader #transformers x reader #transformers one x reader #tfo sentinel prime #tfo starscream

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bitter-me · 10 months ago

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Hello,I am have been reading your work for quite sometime :), I really am loving them so far 😭💗 .I saw that your requests were open, so may I be able to ask for Dazai or Fyodor with male reader who are like Sunday from HSR, and could be in a enemies to lovers type relationship :D, the plot can be upto you :>

A Seraphim or..

Osamu Dazai | M. Reader as Sunday [Honkai Star Rail]

----------

"Who are you..? An Angel.."

----------

The Charmony Festival.

A once-in-an-era event held in the Country of Festivities, Penacony.

Members of the five great families, which together make up "The Family" on Penacony. As well as staff members of the Reverie, are united in welcoming the world to their home.

The Oak Family.

The Alfalfa Family.

The Bloodhound Family.

The Iris Family.

The Nightingale Family.

All important figures in Penacony.

But one stood out the most...

The man with a halo and wings. [Name].

The leader of the Oak Family. The organizer of the Charmony Festival and a representative of The Family of Penacony. The most important figure amongst them and the one holding the most power.

Who wouldn't be interested in a man like him?

With a charming smile and a soft voice, paired with his unique appearance... he's like an Angel.. no..

A Seraphim.

----------

The first time he laid eyes on him was at the Golden Hour. The moment he saw the man himself he thought he saw the heavens itself.

A Seraphim.

He thought.

But upon further observation... Dazai soon found a different answer..

His vibe seems a little.. sinister..

His smile barely even reaches his eyes.

His voice is soft and yet his tone is firm.

Either way, [Name] had caught his interest.

"Your radiant glow illuminates me! Your voice is as soft as an angel! I can't believe that I've met such an angelic being! Please make me the happiest man and kill me with these holy hands of yours."

What.

What did he just said.

What in Harmony's name did he just say?

[Name] can't help but chuckle as he pulls his hand away from Dazai's hold. What was that? A proposal?

"Aha.. you're quite funny, Mr. Dazai.. but I believe you've drank too many SoulGlad." He replied, trying to keep it casual and professional.

This man, this suicidal prick..

He's all talk and flattery. It never fails to get under his skin with how buddy-buddy he is. They're only acquainted and yet this bandaged man acts as if they're old friends. Does he even know who he's speaking to? He's [Name]! Leader of the Oak Family! The very mention of his name could silence a whole room and this man dared do such things to him!

"Now now~ I only drank a few~" Dazai reassured with a smile on his face. "Don't you want to go back home to heaven with me~?"

"I believe you'll be sending me down to the fiery pit instead of going up."

"Ouch! How cruel! Then how about we go to your manor?"

"Don't make me turn you down twice."

This.. man child.. what does his agency even see in him..

----------

"Oh, Triple-Faced Soul, please sear his tongue and palm with a hot iron, so he will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows."

"...What have you done?"

"Under the light of the Harmony, all wickedness is revealed. I implore THEM to shed THEIR light, and I'll ask you questions on THEIR behalf. Next... you have 113 seconds to prove your innocence and gain my trust."

"And if I refuse to answer?"

"You can try — and we'll see if the Harmony rejects you."

It had finally led to this.

Both of them had taken off their masks. Revealing the true wickedness underneath. The suicidal maniac and the so-called leader of the Family.

Oh how he hated that man.

Acting like a child who believes he could get away with everything. It's time where [Name] to put his foot down and stand his ground. This entitlement will not go unnoticed by him and with THEIR radiant light.. he will find the truth..

And judge him as the Harmony see fit.

"Question: Do you have an ability?"

"Yes."

"What a simple answer. You, too, understand that idle chatter leads only to poverty."

"Did you neutralize your ability when you entered Penacony?"

"No. My ability nullifies others."

He already figured that out.. which is why he's holding this "trial" with THEM. For the power of the Aeon is far more powerful than any ability in the world. "Does the page of the Book you handed over to The Family belong to the agency?"

Honestly, he never would have thought the Armed Detective Agency would use such an item to bargain their way into Penacony. Something as powerful as the Book. A page of the Book.

It's a given why he allowed them to enter the dreamscape when they bargained such an item.

"Yes."

"Is the Page of the Book in this room right now?"

"Yes."

"Is your memory free from any kind of tampering or deletion, encompassing but not restricted to the techniques of the Garden of Recollection?"

"Yes."

"Are you a former executive from Port Mafia?"

[Name] continues to ruthlessly question him without missing a beat. Dazai furrowed his eyebrows at the question. Something that doesn't make sense. How could [Name] know such things? "Yes. You even know about that?"

"Does your agency and the Port Mafia have any ability to read, tamper with, or manipulate one's own or another's mind?"

"No. Does it matter?"

"Do you love your family more than yourself?"

Okay where is he getting at here... the questions are getting more and more personal. "Yes."

"...Do you hate and wish to destroy this world with your own hands?" [Name]'s expression turned serious as he narrowed his eyes, his perpetual smile seemed to widen slightly. "...I don't know."

"Interesting. Now, the final question..." [Name] breath out, putting his hands behind his back. "Can you swear that at this very moment, the page of the Book is safe and sound in this box?"

Dazai seems to hesitate a little, thinking of a way to get around this. He always has a plan after all. "...Of course."

[Name] hums as his smile turns a little more sincere. "Looks like we can get an answer."

"Open it, Mr. Dazai... It's your last chance to defend your honor."

"Aren't you happy, Mr. Dazai? You'll finally get your wish in seventeen system hours, the end that you desire so much. Off you go, Mr. Dazai. You are free. I will wait here for your good news."

"Maybe one day.. no.."

"In another universe..."

"I can learn how to love you too.."

#seme male reader #top male reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x male reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x male reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x male reader #x male reader #x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr sunday

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eatmeandbirthmeagain · 26 days ago

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Hi, could you please do one where Baldwins wife and Sybilla absolutely hate each other, complete rivals you know. The reader was a queen of another country who willingly married Baldwin, and once she arrives in Jerusalem men pay much more attention to her than Sybilla, and Sybilla is bitter and jealous and she was really mean to the reader, but the readers is NOT a passive person and fires back at her. Thanks! ❤️

♧ Family Drama - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: HELLO EVERYONE!!! Good lord this took a while to write, I really hope you enjoy this Anon💖. Thank you so much for the request!! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

P.S. I spilt nail polish remover on my laptop while finishing this off and had a level 10 crashout. Pray for my computor guys 😭

Sybilla knew from the moment she laid eyes on her that y/n was trouble. From the moment she stepped one of her elegant, perfectly shaped feet from the carriage, all eyes fell on her.

Queen y/n/l/n.

A queen from a distant land who had come to marry her brother Baldwin. When Sybilla found out that her brother was being married off, she laughed. She did not mean to laugh, per say. It was only a reaction to what she believed to be a joke.

There was simply no way that any queen would be willing to give up her virginity and her dignity to wed a man plagued by such a horrible disease.

But she was wrong.

This beautiful, elegant woman was willing to give her brother a chance at a new life and rule by his side. Sybilla’s only explanation for the phenomenon was that she wanted Jerusalem for herself and her people after her brother's death.

Despite this, Baldwin was ecstatic the day she arrived. The two had been exchanging letters to one another for months now and he was beyond excited to finally meet his future queen.

The king went forward to greet y/n as she stepped down from the carriage.

“Hello” he said softly, barely being able to contain the smile on his face. Y/n grinned, “good evening your majesty” she replied with a small curtsey.

Sybilla cringed from her place behind Baldwin, perfectly keen to walk back into the castle and shut herself in her chambers until dinner was served.

“I must say my lord you are even more beautiful than I could have imagined” y/n stated with a smile as they began walking towards the castle.

Baldwin stuttered bashfully at her comment, “w-well thank you madame”.

No one had ever said such kind things to him before, he was truly lost for words. His bashfulness only made Sybilla cringe more. It was one thing that she wanted Jerusalem for her own after her brother's inevitable death, but to mock him with false flattery was another thing entirely.

Only it wasn't false. Y/n did indeed think he was beautiful. The way his silver mask shone in the sun, framing his stunning blue eyes was truly the most lovely thing she had ever seen.

She was not surprised or taken aback by his appearance at all, as he had described it to her through the letters, and he couldn't be more grateful.

The wedding was to be held tomorrow at dawn and the couple were beyond excited. When the small group of guards, Sybilla, the king and his soon to be queen entered the castle, they were informed dinner would be served in an hour.

Baldwin was delighted at this news since it meant that he and y/n could spend time talking and catching up before she had to go and sit with everyone else (since the king ate alone in his chambers).

“Shall we go to my rooms, y/n?” he asked, feeling almost shy at the simple question.

“Yes I would love to” she replied with a smile, Baldwin relaxed slightly at her acceptance.

“Before you go brother” Sybilla chimed in.

“I would like to have a word”.

“Oh of course, you go on ahead y/n” he replied, gesturing to a maid to accompany the queen.

Once she was out of sight and they were alone, Sybilla spoke.

“I don't trust her Baldwin” she said planley.

The king was shocked by her boldness.

“How do you mean sister?”

“I believe she only wishes to marry you so she can take Jerusalem… when you..” she caught herself.

Baldwin narrowed his eyes.

“Is it so difficult to believe, dear sister, that your ‘disgusting’ leperous brother has the capability to find a beautiful woman who will love him unconditionally?”

Sybilla’s breath caught in her throat.

“No- no not at all, I was simply-”

“that settles it then” he cut her off, turning to leave.

She didn't have the words to stop him.

------------------------------------------------------

Baldwin retreated to his chambers where he was greeted by the lovely sight of his soon to be wife, standing outside on the balcony.

She turned to look at him when she heard the door close, an expression of warmth on her beautiful face.

That wonderful smile melted his troubles in an instant, and he was brought back to reality: This perfect woman was going to be his wife.

The two talked and played several games of chess before dinner was served. She was even more amazing than he could have imagined.

Baldwin warned y/n of Sybilla before she went down to dinner.

“If she makes you uncomfortable at all, just leave the table and come get me okay?”.

Y/n agreed, but little did he know, she had no intention of anything getting between her and her Baldwin. She had fallen for the man hard, and nothing was going to keep him from her.

As y/n sat down at the table, she couldn't help but feel the eyes of men all over her.

She did her best to ignore it, but it was impossible to unsee.

The whispers of “is that the king's finance?”, “is she really going to marry him?” were deafening in her ears.

And she wasn't the only one who took notice of the prying eyes. Sybilla watched from across the table as eyes wandered to y/n. A pang of jealousy stung her as even her husband, Guy's, eyes landed on the woman's beautiful carved body.

After the food was bought out and a prayer had been said, Sybilla was the first to break the silence.

“So, y/n. Is there a particular reason you have decided to embarrass yourself and marry my brother or do you have a decent explanation?”. Thinking back on it, it may have been harsh but it needed to be said.

Y/n was taken aback by the question, but did not show it. Instead she took a deep breath and replied.

“So, Sybilla. Are you bitter and jealous because your leperous brother has found someone to love him more than your own husband loves you? Or are you just looking for a fight?” The room went silent and mouths fell agape.

Y/n just smiled and raised her eyebrows, expecting a reply from the princess.

“How dare you!” she stood, hitting her hands against the table.

“No! How dare you assume that just because your brother has an illness that it makes him unlovable” y/n yelled back, standing to meet Sybillas eye.

“I Baldwin told me what you said, that you believe I am only marrying into your family because I want your land. Well I have bad news for you, I am a queen of my own land, I have more than enough wealth on my own and need not anymore. I am marrying your brother because I love him. No more no less and nothing you do can stop that”.

Taking her seat again, y/n waved the other people at the table back to their own business.

They obliged and continued eating and Sybilla was left standing and looking like a fool as casual conversation resumed.

------------------------------------------------------

At the conclusion of dinner, y/n was looking forward to telling Baldwin what happened. How she had finally put Sybilla in her place.

He listened with surprise and excitement as y/n recounted the details from the dinner. By the end of the story, the pair were nearly howling with laughter at how the snooty princess had been pushed down.

“It serves her right, you know,” Baldwin exclaimed. “She has always tried to control my life, claiming that she was "protecting me" but in reality, she was just making me miserable and then avoiding me at all costs whenever something was going right, claiming that ‘she can't bear to look at me’. Maybe this will finally set her straight and she will learn to be more supportive".

Y/n sighed, wiping her eyes with the corner of a handkerchief, “we can only hope my dear. We can only hope”.

Baldwin thought for a moment.

“Y/n?” he said, suddenly becoming shy.

“Yes?” she said sweetly, making him feel guilty for asking.

“You.. you really do love me, yes?”

Y/n was shocked by how suddenly this came,

“yes of course. I fell in love with you before we even laid eyes on one another. And now you're here infront of me and I couldn't be happier” she said, placing a hand on his covered thigh gently.

The simple affection made the king's heart swell.

“Why do you doubt me?” she asked.

“I don't doubt you at all.. Just.. Sybilla must have gotten to me. I apologise” he put his head down in shame at being such a fool. Here was this lovely woman who loved him and he was about to go and mess it all up by doubting her-

His thoughts were cut short by a gentle hand coming to rest against his masked cheek, turning his head to face y/n.

“Don't ever apologise for needing to reassure my love. I completely understand but you must also understand that I really do love you. Nothing is going to change that. I couldn't care for the land that you rule. I would love you if you owned no land at all!, because I am in love with you” her kind eyes and her soft words were so lovely.

Baldwin choked back a small sob as tears formed in his eyes.

He nodded and did his best to fight the tears as y/n pulled him into a gentle embrace. It had been so long since he hugged anyone, he almost forgot what it felt like. It was so nice.

Y/n rubbed small circles onto his back as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He buried his masked face against her shoulder, quite content to remain in her arms for the rest of his life.

“Thank you” he whispered.

“I can't wait to marry you Baldwin” y/n said softly.

“Likewise, my love” he replied, closing his eyes and melting into her embrace.

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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 days ago

Text

12 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔~𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑺𝒊𝒙

synopsis: you and Emo!Kento Nanami, your best friend whom you've been in love with for years, had a falling out. But, when you're assigned to be his secret santa, you come up with a meaningful gift you can only hope will fix things between you before the semester is over and you lose him for good.

Words: 12.5k 🖤

cw: MINORS DNI, xFEM! READER, x EMO!NANAMI, COLLEGE AU, ANGST, reader has "emo" aesthetics i.e.:eyeliner, wears certain clothing(obv self indulgence) ,jealousy, social anxiety , some pick me behavior, mutual pining, fluff, shyness, SMUT (protected p in v, Kento's a virgin, makeout, dry hump, oral f and m receiving, fingering, breast play, rough at the end, orgasm)

a/n: NGL it's been a struggle bus lately but I'm doing my best to finish this damn Xmas series. TY for your patience 🙂‍↕️ @actuallysaiyan my Emo!Nanami guiding light and inspiration as always. 🔥

12 Days of Smutmas Masterlist 🎁🎄🎅🏽

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics, pics from pinterest

You linger like a stubborn shadow in the corner of the overheated, loud, sweaty, and cramped Christmas college party at some frat you can't remember the name of with a Jack Daniels tapestry hanging on the main wall and a musty concoction of weed, beer, cigarettes, B.O. and too much cologne.

You fiddle nervously with your red solo cup, tracing over your name written in black sharpie for what feels like the millionth time, trying to act nonchalant and like you weren't on the verge of being overstimulated.

Jeez, even the line for the bathroom is a mile long. Guess that's out of the question. Oh God, everybody's staring. Kitchen. Okay, let's try that.

You wandered back to the kitchen, stumbling over your black knockoff Doc Martens, trying to preoccupy yourself with the surgeon general's warning on the discarded Mike's Hard Lemonade box instead.

Normally, you wanted zero parts of these holiday ragers with too many people. But, when you got the memo you were supposed to be Kento Nanami's Secret Santa, you knew there would be no getting out of this one.

Especially since you had so much to say to him after all of the things that happened between you two in the last several weeks, and the looming end of the semester threatened to put even more distance between you. You just needed him to hear you out, to apologize, clear the air, do whatever you could to make him not hate you anymore.

----

You weren't sure what it was, but once you two went to college, it was like Kento got hit with a sex pollen that attracted all these women that seemed to spawn out of nowhere. The awkward, shy, Kento seemed to become the object of everybody's desire.

But how could they not? He was the most handsome man you've ever seen, and you stood by that fact as his beauty only grew with each passing year you knew him. He was intelligent, a natural whiz and gifted in both the jujutsu and non jujutsu worlds. Despite possessing all of these fine qualities, his humbleness never wavered, clueless even at just what a gem of a person he really was.

You had no option but to grin and bear it like a thorn in your side, resisting the urge to give into that unbearable wave of nausea that would hit you like a train when you spied some random girl's name on his Blackberry or when a group of them batted their lashes at him while you guys ate lunch in the food court.

"Hiiii, Ken!" They'd giggle as they'd walk past, making him blush while you stood there like chopped liver.

But, you knew Kento, and you had faith in his ability to snuff out all of this false flattery. Most of these chicks would have been the very same ones who bullied you two all throughout middle and high school and made your lives a living hell. You suspected they were just wanting an easy A, or to get in his pants. Either way, the feeling made you sick to your stomach.

They didn't know that his parents were high school sweethearts. They couldn't list his favorite songs, or animes. They couldn't guess his orders at every konbini you frequented after class(and it changed from chips and an energy drink or a soda to shitty coffee and a sandwich depending on which one you visited). And they certainly never knew how the tops of his ears would turn pink whenever you caught him staring at you while you were finishing a thought.

No, those were things sacred only to you, and nobody else as his girl best friend. Best friend. Just friends. Ugh.

And while you were grateful for it, it made witnessing all this unabashed thirst over Kento all the more torturous.

He wasn't yours.

You had zero business telling him who he could be friends with, or talk to. You definitely didn't want to come off as the crazy fucking jealous girlfriend before you even had the title. Kento was smart, but somehow the fact that you've been in love with him for years was one puzzle he never cracked.

It was so pathetically obvious. How you'd cancel all your plans for him at the drop of a hat. How you intentionally wore your hair in that way he liked after that one time he complimented you. How awkward you acted whenever you accidentally touched him. How you almost never talked about any other guys around him and noticeably avoided those questions because the one you loved was standing right there.

But it all came to a head when you heard rumors that he might be taking someone else to the winter formal. Some popular girl from a well known sorority. She had rich parents, stellar grades, and a banging body too, just to add even more insult to injury.

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

And how did you cope? By finally texting Atsuya from the football team that of course you'd love to go out on that date you must have wrote him five rainchecks for by now. Always turning him down and putting him on hold in hopes that your best friend would finally wake up after all these years of loving him from afar.

You regretted it as soon as you said yes like a pit that descended to the bottom of your stomach. You ended up canceling out of guilt and pulling the Aunt Flo card, but it looked like the damage had already been done.

You neglected to remember that Kento spent every weekend tutoring the football team in math. You didn't have to guess that Kento must have caught wind of the gossip in the locker room from Atsuya when he went seemingly radio silent overnight.

When you went to meet him in your usual spot to study at the library on Wednesday mornings, he was a no show, and when you texted him, he didn't respond until hours later:

Sorry, had something come up this morning.

Ken? Is everything alright?

Kento?

You called him at least 7 times, embarrassingly enough, and all of them went to voicemail. Finally, he replied:

I'm really busy with exams. I think it's best if we take time apart to focus on our studies and finish the semester.

Was this about Kusakabe? Because if so I can explain...

Silence.

Kento, please.

And he never responded after that.

You didn't push the issue. You knew Kento didn't like to be bothered when he was upset, but God, having him disappear on you like this as though your two favorite hoodies weren't collecting dust in his dresser drawer cut you deeper than any knife.

How do you get over someone who was never yours to begin with?

It seemed like he was dead set on acting like you never existed, like you never saw him when he had nobody, before he became this big shot in college with all the ladies. Like you didn't support him after he lost Haibara and like you didn't have a thousand inside jokes and a shared language between you in the form of pizza, drawing sharpie on his studded belts and each other's notebooks, 80s anime, and loud music that only comes from knowing somebody for so long.

No, it seemed like that Kento you knew was gone, or he was at least acting like he was. And it was all because of stupid jealousy and a date you never actually went on.

The CD that you had burned just for him and clumsily wrapped in Munchlax wrapping paper was weighing in your pocket. You hoped and prayed that even if this was really going to be goodbye, that at least he wouldn't hate you before he went.

----

"Alright *hic*, everyone gather round, gather round."

99% of the attendees are already sloshed as the participants stumble to form a circle around the room for the gift exchange. You couldn't help but notice Atsuya's arm around a mystery date. Seems he took the rejection rather well.

The frat leader stood on a chair in front, yelling incoherent directions you only caught the tail end of, due to the man across the room you couldn't shift your gaze from.

It was Kento, clad in an MCR Christmas sweater with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms(that seemed a little bulkier than you remember), half drunk bottle of Fat Tire beer in his hand, and that amber gaze scanning the room until it came to a stop directly on you.

A noticeable look of shock broke across your face and you looked down immediately. You were certain he caught you, and out of your peripherals you notice he's not phased in the slightest. He simply raises the beer bottle to his lips again, still eyeing you wordlessly from across the room.

The old Kento would have looked away, but this new Kento (possibly emboldened by the free flowing booze), wasn't backing down from you. The rounds of secret santa reveals dredge on from one after another, most of the participants being too drunk to even stand up.

You've lost track of who has who, but you honestly don't care by this point. Your hands are growing clammy and your leg is bouncing more and more restlessly as it approaches your turn to give your gift to Kento.

But, as Shoko stands up next to you and presents her gift to Utahime, you can't help but notice an unknown girl approach Kento from behind, slipping into the seat next to him. Is this the same one he was supposed to take to the dance? You can't tell. There's been so many girls around him by now, you've honestly lost track.

Attention diverted, he turns to her, and she has the audacity to scoot closer and touch his arm. Your mind feels fuzzy as surely the scene playing out in front of you must be a dream. But you only seem to watch it from an out-of-body lense as you see his lips curl into a smile and lean in a little closer to hear what she's saying, their thighs touching.

She's got different hair than you. A completely different style and aesthetic. Probably smart. Probably far more interesting. An absolute knock out. She's the opposite height, opposite build from you. She's the walking antonym of everything that you are not and the ideal encapsulation of everything you wished you could be. She looks so cookie cutter next to him and the soft way he grinned at her looked like one of the special grins he used to give you.

It's too damn much.

The party continues on without interruption when nobody seems to even care or notice that you left. Kento's CD lands discarded on the chair in the wake of hot tears pouring out of your eyelids and ruining your eyeliner as you bolt out of the door.

-----

It's Christmas break, why in the fuck are there no taxis available right now?

You stand pitifully, thumb raised in the snow on the curb trying to hail a cab. You were in no state to drive and your mind was whirring a million miles per hour. At least the agony of what you just witnessed was being temporarily overshadowed by the mind numbing cold the longer you stood out there.

Your mind replayed again all of the times you thought for certain would be the one that he'd finally tell you he loved you. All of the glances, all of the touches that happened by accident, all of the things he remembered about you and the awkward hugs he used to give.

You guess this whole time you were operating with your blinders on. It took you messing everything up and another girl waltzing into the picture for the rose colored lenses to come off and realize that, like always, your mind was right and listening to your heart gets you absolutely nowhere.

No matter how many deep talks and sleepless nights and unspoken words and tears you exchanged over the course of your friendship with Kento, there would always be somebody better. Perhaps he was only ever meant to be nothing more than a friend until he outgrew you completely and the relationship ran its course. You had fallen to the wayside, and you only had yourself to blame for foolishly believing that he was ever worth leaping for.

-----

"Awww looks like emo girl tapped out!"

Kento jerks his head in the direction you once were, noticing the empty chair and small thin present sitting in its place. The girl next to him is still talking, but her voice fades to echoes as he searches, confused, his eyes darting all over when he realizes you must have left.

Kento looks down, his mind traveling somewhere else as the girl continues with her spiel. He puts two and two together, and feels his heart sink in his chest. In all honesty, he knew damn well what he was doing when Christina,(the girl who was now chatting him up and one of his new study partners), came to sit next to him.

He just wasn't expecting you to leave so suddenly. It was childish, he understands that now. And he realizes those feelings that have lingered beneath the surface for you for all these years can't remained buried for long. Maybe he just wanted you to feel how he felt when you agreed to that date with Atsuya.

It crushed him when he found out, so much so that he left the locker room immediately and went back to his dorm and laid down in silence for hours, listening to all the songs he never had the guts to admit were ones that he'd dedicate to you.

He even scored a 73 on his accounting quiz, something completely out of the ordinary for him. But, like most men, he bottled his feelings and chose to run away from the problem by sending you those cold texts.

Time is of the essence with every second that passes that he's not chasing you down in this snowstorm before you slip away for good.

"Hey, look, Christina? I gotta go. Sorry." He mumbled, nearly tripping over his legs as he got up, grabbed his secret santa present, zipped out of the stuffy dorm, and into the night where you disappeared.

-----

"Finally, Jesus Christ..." You murmured as a cab finally pulled up to the curb. The snowflakes started anew, and, combined with the wind chill, were making you tremble like a leaf.

"Wait!!"

Just as you were beginning to step in the backseat, you turned and saw Kento, running at light speed towards you and nearly slipping on ice. Your heart skipped a beat but you turned towards the taxi driver, giving him your address.

"731015 College Road."

"Wait! Shit, goddamn it!" Kento cursed as he skid to a stop, hand outstretched as he stopped the taxi door from slamming in his face.

"What the hell..."

Kento slid in the seat next to you, mumbling apologies as he almost crushed you with his actions, turning red when he caught his breath and was faced with yours and the taxi driver's expressions that were half flabbergasted, half annoyed.

"Same as her." He nodded, realizing his thigh was touching yours and scooting to give you more room, awkwardly looking at the ground.

The driver hmphed and shook his head, tossing his cigarette out the window as he pulled away, leaving you and Kento with no option but to endure the awkward silence of the painful ride.

The dorms you two live in are about 10 minutes away, but it feels like it's been stretched into an hour.

You can hear the scratchy sound of February Stars by Foo Fighters coming through the radio. At least you have that as a distraction.

"So, it's been a while."

"Has it?" You ask sarcastically, folding your arms and shifting your knees to point in the opposite direction.

"Look, I'm sorry..." Kento starts cautiously.

"For what?" You know exactly what you want an apology for, but your pride wants him to say it first.

"For dipping out on you like that." Kento replies, a bit uncomfortable now that the beer he downed earlier was loosening its grip. "For ignoring your calls and texts without hearing your side and being a bad friend."

"I tried to tell you, Kento. But you wouldn't even give me a chance to explain. I hope you had fun with your new girlfriend."

"... girlfriend?"

"Goodbye, Ken."

"Wait-"

The taxi screeched to a halt that made Kento flop back in his seat when you were already opening the door and practically attempting to jump out of the moving taxi.

"Goddamnit!!" Kento seethed again, then handed an extra $20 to the cab driver before jumping out, cheeks blooming red again. "For the trouble."

The cab driver raised his chin, accepting the $20 and driving off with a shake of his head.

Crazy drunk college kids and their relationship problems.

------

Kento called your name as you speed walked towards your dorm. "Stop! For two seconds, please!"

"For what?" You croak with tear streaked eyes.

"So I can tell you that I never went to winter formal. And there's nothing going on with me and Christina. There's nobody."

"Really?"

Kento huffs. "Seriously? You know me better than that. Do you honestly think I'd go to some nightmare dance?"

"I dunno. I thought I knew you, Ken. You've been acting differently lately." You resume walking again.

"How?" Kento asks, chasing you down.

"Nevermind..." You turn to put your key in the door.

"Hey, you left this." Kento hangs his head slightly as he shows you the CD he's holding, the secret Santa present you were supposed to give him.

You feel yourself freeze. "That..."

"It's got my name on it. Was it from you?"

"I mean, it was..." You go back to trying to unlock your door, the keys slipping through your fingers like butter.

Kento stands in front of you, slightly blocking your way. "You're not gonna unwrap it with me?"

You sniff and wipe a couple of tears with your free hand and avert your eyes.

Kento feels his stomach twist with guilt. How he wanted to reach out and comfort you. But the volatility of the situation leaves him unsure. He thinks for a moment, then breaks the silence.

"Look. I have the new Super Mario Bros if you wanna come over." He offers, lowering his voice as he extends this olive branch. "We can chill and do whatever. Maybe have a jam sesh like old times?"

You paused, evaluating this proposition. "For the Wii?"

"I'm stuck on World 7." He blushes.

You scoff. "Bullshit. You're the one always carrying me in that damn game."

"Okay, okay. I haven't started it, actually." He confesses.

"Wait, you haven't, why not?"

"I dunno, it..." He releases a shaky sigh. "It didn't feel right playing without you."

You take a step back, touched and a little dizzy from this whiplash at this realization that maybe he actually missed you after all.

He waits and the silence weighs heavy between you, his ears turning more pink and his stomach somersaulting more violently with each moment you don't respond.

"Please say something?" Kento pleads.

You do a quick appraisal and realize: what's the use? You couldn't say no to him even if you tried.

"What about curfew?"

"Um, well..." He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, subtle slyness in his tone. "I was sorta thinking that nobody needed to know. My roommate's gone for the holidays and it's just me."

You nodded, understanding, but also quite apprehensive with what this could mean. You weren't sure Kento was off the hook completely, but the part of you that missed him pushed you to say yes. You could sort out all of that later. For now you just missed your best friend.

"Okay. Yeah, I'd like that a lot. Lemme get some clothes from my room really quick? And I'll meet you back out here?"

"Y-yeah! Of course. Do whatever you gotta do." Kento blushed again and gave you one of those grins you so missed, relieved they were back.

—

"Ready." You smile at him a short time later as you come out of your dorm with your duffel bag with all the pins hanging off it you mostly bought and didn't shoplift from Hot Topic back in junior high. He smiles at the sight of you in your black Good Charlotte hoodie. One of his, as a matter of fact.

"That mine?" He asks, moving to the side to allow you to walk next to him in the hallway.

"Yeah, you left it here a while back." You respond sheepishly. "It was cozy to sleep in."

Kento can't ignore the warmth he feels everywhere at your admission.

"Glad it could be of assistance." He looks at you fondly as you approach the entrance to his dorm. "You're gonna wanna put that on."

Your breath halts as he carefully adjusted the collar of your hoodie, pulling the hood over your head, making sure your hair is completely concealed.

Kento pulls you in closer against his body as you two walk in the common area, blessing you with a faint concoction of cigarettes, his cologne, and that laundry detergent of his that smelled so good. You were equal parts relieved and flustered to be so close in his proximity.

Luckily there aren't many students up at this hour. A small group of guys sit in a corner with their beers and smokes, and one or two sit by themselves in various parts of the room trying to cram for last minute finals. They barely notice the imposter that Kento's sneaking in, a dark hoodied figure leaning on his shoulder.

"RIP. Man must have drank too much," they think to themselves before paying you two no more mind.

-----

"Here we go." Kento whispers as you arrive at his doorstep. He fishes his keys from his pocket attached to the friendship bracelet keychain you made for him one summer with his initials: KN. You feel a pleasant flutter of your heart when you recognized it.

You walk in Kento's small apartment which is impressively neat and cozy, with posters of his favorite bands on his wall, bookshelves lined with some of his anime figurines he collected and football jerseys and trophies on the other from his roommate.

The small, knee high Christmas tree you found on clearance together at a department store sits in the corner with a mod poge of ornaments you bought from Goodwill, smiling when you see Gary from SpongeBob, a poké ball, and a mac and cheese ornament hanging side by side.

"Make yourself at home." Kento gestures a little bashfully despite the fact that you've been over here many times, setting your overnight bag on the couch and letting you take off your shoes. "You hungry?"

"Hmm, you know what? I am, actually."

Kento smiles. "What sounds good?"

"Umm...what do you have?"

"Well, let's see." Kento strolls over to the kitchen with you in tow. "We have..." He clicks his tongue as he opens the pantry while you open the fridge door. "Granola bars, stuff for PB&Js. Protein powder."

He laughs when you make a face at him.

"Lemme see..." You take the canister of protein powder from the shelf. "Is this your roommate's?"

"Yeah. He makes shakes with it every morning."

"Blech." You shudder.

"Um, oh, we have Gushers." He pulls down the box. "Damn, there's only one." He offers it to you.

"I'm not gonna eat your last Gusher, Ken!"

"I insist." He chuckles. "C'mon. I already ate the entire box by myself."

"Share with me." You fold your arms, unwilling to budge.

"Fair enough." Kento shrugs and opens the pack for you, letting you choose the first one. You grab a blue one and pop it in your mouth with a grin, relishing the blue raspberry explosion on your tongue.

Kento looks fondly at you, popping a green one in his mouth before looking in the fridge with you. "Unfortunately we only have mostly healthy options besides the Gushers."

"Boringg." You poke your head underneath his arm to take a gander at the sparce options. You spy a bag of shredded cheese and get an idea. "Do you have tortilla chips?"

Kento catches your drift. "Yeah, actually. Nachos?"

"Nachos." You grin.

Soon, the countertop is transformed into a makeshift nachos station as you sprinkle the cheese on a high pile of chips in a bowl big enough for you two to share.

As it melts in the oven, you two take to the couch and get a head start on the new Mario Bros. The new propeller power up takes some getting used to, but you can't help the laughs and guffaws that escape you both as you play together, the never ending curse words streaming from your mouth when you lose the power up to a stray Goomba.

And, like you predicted earlier, although you come close to besting Kento in skill level, he's still standing when you two are battling Bowser Jr. and he carries you across the finish line when the shell hit and killed you at the last minute.

"God..." You drop the remote on the coffee table and he snickers as he looks over at you. "Looks like it's time for a break."

You pause the game and go back in the kitchen where you feast on the homemade nachos. Somehow they taste even better at 11 pm as the gooey cheese melts in your mouth, punctuated by the satisfying crunch of the corn tortilla chips.

Kento enjoys it too. His eyes cautiously steal glances of you popping chips in your mouth so casually in his space. He doesn't dismiss the underlying elephant in the room which is the fact that the hour is late and you're alone with these implications between you that neither have been bold enough to give a voice to thus far.

He needs to figure out a way to broach the topic, but he's drawing a blank.

"I have a confession, Ken."

His mind jumps to fight or flight, but his legs keep him right where he is. He wasn't expecting you to start this mid-nacho, but he guesses better to rip the bandaid off now.

"Yes?"

"...I'm still hungry." You throw him that adorable look that you reserved especially for when you were about to be begging for something.

And he's a willing victim in this cute little trap you laid. That wide glimmer in your pupils could get him to do whatever you wanted.

"Well, what were you thinking of getting?" He cocks his head.

"I'm thinking these nachos have me craving Taco Bell."

And who is he to say anything but yes? Especially since the mention of Taco Bell sets off a resounding grumble in his stomach that even surprises him.

"Alright, deal."

----

The hour is well past when you two should be asleep by now, several cheesy gorditas, Cinnabon bites and nacho fries later washed down with Baja Blast and more booze.

You're underneath a blanket next to him on his bed. The twin size of the mattress leaves you no option but to be right up against him with your thighs and arms touching. The mood has certainly shifted, with both of you scared to be the first to acknowledge it.

"Well..."

You can't help but burst out laughing.

"What?" Kento looks at you incredulously. He can't help but nervously laugh along when your wheeze of laughter ends up being more funny than the persistent awkwardness.

"I...nothing." You shake your head, backing down from opening the can of worms yet again.

Kento sighs. "Well, um. Should we open my present before we pass out?"

Your stomach feels that familiar pit building inside it. All the fast food you just ate certainly isn't helping the case either as it does slow somersaults with the reveal you know is coming. "Yeah, go for it."

Kento can pick up on your discomfort, because in all honesty he feels the same. But there's no time like the present. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't dying to know what you got him either.

He sits up, reaching towards the edge of the bed where the present is sitting. He reads the sticker that says in sharpie:

To: Kento 🖤

From: your secret santa

He wonders if his heartbeat is audible on your end as he earnestly tears the wrapping paper off(after appreciating your choice in wrapping paper as one of his favorite Pokemons) until the CD is all that remains. His eyes widen and he reads aloud the message written on the CD again in sharpie:

I'm sorry Kento. Merry Christmas.

Love was written and signed off with your name right underneath.

"Thank you. Really, I...this means a lot." Kento normally tripped over his words but you really left him speechless this time. Trading music was a religion between you two already, but this gesture of burning a CD for him was one you had never done for him before.

"You're welcome, Ken." You answer in a way you hope is cheerful.

Kento stands up, walking over to his CD player. There's a click and a mechanic whirr disturbing the quiet space as it roars to life. He loads it up then closes the tray, pressing play on Track #1, and turning bright red when the Peavey speaker absolutely blasts the song at full volume unexpectedly, making both of you jump 10 feet in the hair.

"FUCK! SHIT!! Oh, shit..." He mumbles as he cranks the volume control down. "Sorry...Jesus, fuck..."

You can't help but laugh, much more loose now the initial shock was over with and at Kento's adorable scared expression. "You shoulda seen your face just now!"

Kento shakes his head and teases back as he walks back to the bed to sit next to you. "Y-you looked just as ridiculous, y'know."

You giggle. "Sureeeee." You glance at the window. "Ya think your neighbors are gonna snitch on us for playing music too loud at 2 am?"

"Fuck if I know..." Kento sighs, laying his head back against the headboard as he takes his place next to you. "Let's just...listen to the music, alright?"

"Yessir, Kento, sir."

"Don't say that." Kento pokes you playfully with his elbow.

"Why not?" You prod back.

"Makes me sound like I'm old as shit or something..." Kento huffs, but he smiles at you all the same.

You both go back to listening, and he perks up in recognition.

"We the Kings. Alright, not a bad start, not bad at all." He smiles and closes his eyes. You look over at him, at your best friend with his relaxed expression.

The way those long bangs fell backwards over his forehead to showcase those enchanting eyes that could be so elusive, that Adam's apple that bobbed in his throat, the way his humble beauty never left his face no matter what state it was in. And, right now was your favorite, with his head thrown back and his body right next to yours listening to your favorite music in the world, hands dangerously close together on your respective laps.

You look straight ahead again as the song plays. Gradually, the curve of Kento's closed lip smile begins to slowly fade as he catches wind of the lyrics from the song currently playing: Rain Falls Down.

I hear your voice and what we talk about

And I'm trying to say what won't come out

Yeah, I'm trying to fix what's broken now

And I'm wishing that I could take your hand

And set you on some untouched land

Just so you are never sad again

And the world you've known will somehow end

There's a beating to your heart

That I just can't be apart

I can feel the rain fall down on us together

Just wait for the sunshine

Let's wait for the new day

When we can get away

It's me and you held close together

Hold on for the long ride

This won't be easy

Tonight

Hear my voice and know that I am here

I'm always there to wipe away your tears

I lay your hair behind your gentle ear

And tell you there is nothing more to fear

You are the reason I am the best I'll be

So let me stitch your heart so it won't bleed

And I won't rest until you finally breathe

'Cause I still love you more than anything

The song eventually ends and you can't deny there's more tension in the air than before you started. However, Kento wonders if maybe it was just coincidence. After all, what were songs nearly always about at least half the time? Love.

You're staring at your Nightmare Before Christmas socks, too nervous to even look at him, wondering if he's figured it out. But, you catch your breath when the next song starts playing and it doesn't seem to be the case just yet.

Kento wouldn't have guessed you'd put one of his favorite songs by Bright Eyes on the CD, either. Funny enough, this one happens to be one of several songs on that top secret playlist of his that he dreamed of dedicating to you one day. He's only astonished you managed to beat him to it. This time he's listening with you, it hits him like a rock.

And so I thought I'd let you know

Yeah, these things take forever, I especially am slow

But I realized that I need you

And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night

Just to meet me in the morning?

And I thought it was strange, you said everything changed

You felt as if you'd just woke up

And you said

"This is the first day of my life

I'm glad I didn't die before I met you

But now I don't care, I could go anywhere with you

And I'd probably be happy"

So if you wanna be with me

With these things there's no telling

We just have to wait and see

But I'd rather be working for a paycheck

Than waiting to win the lottery.

Besides, maybe this time is different

I mean, I really think you like me

The song ends and it's quiet for a moment before the next song starts.

"I wasn't expecting that..." Kento uttered quietly. You turned, and he was already looking at you. The third song, All My Heart by Sleeping Sirens begins to play in the background.

There's so many things that I could say

But I'm sure it would come out all wrong

You've got something that I can't explain

Still I'll try and try and let you know

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" You notice his voice is thick, emotion where you weren't expecting it as your own tears well up once again.

"I wanted to. Believe me, I wanted to, Ken. I literally tried to-'

"I mean before..." Kento clarifies, grateful the dim bedroom makes the heat in his face somewhat less visible. "A-all this time, I mean..." He sighs wearily, and makes a shaky inhale, his shoulders begging to be relieved of this burden that he's carried since exactly one week after he first met you in elementary school.

It's spanned years and ebbed and flowed, but it has never left him completely. It was more than just a crush. It may have started out that way, but to label something so special that's endured this long would be doing you the disservice of a century.

You meant so much more than that to him. He'd give you the entire world for the simple fact that in his eyes, you were forever worthy of it.

"We've known each other for ages..." Kento's voice hovers above a whisper and it lingers next to your ear. "I wish you told me."

That first summer we spent's one we'll never forget

Looking for any kind of reason to escape all the mess that

We thought was what made us

Ain't it funny now? We can see

We're who we're meant to be

His voice is much closer to you now, and you're still afraid to fully turn and look up at him directly for fear that you wouldn't be able to hold back once you did.

"What's the point?" Your tears slip past your waterline once again and create trails of hot salt on your cheeks. "You've already outgrown me, Ken. Tonight has been wonderful, but let's not pretend like you haven't been distant lately and a completely different person."

Kento's heart breaks and in defiance, he turns your chin to finally look up at him. He's alarmed to see all the tears running incessantly and he feels it wrench when he realizes he's the cause for them.

"But how?" He asks quietly as he turns his thumbs into tissues to wipe them away. He can't help the thought at the forefront of his mind as he does this: you're still unbelievably stunning this way. Emotions worn boldly on your sleeve: puffy eyes, snotty nose and all.

"I thought you were tired of me. I mean, Atsuya told me you were..."

There's too many times I have to say

I could have been better and stronger for you and me

You always make me feel okay

Those late summers we spent, stay up talking all night

I'd ask "you think we'd ever make it?"

You'd say "I'm sure if it's right"

Ain't it funny to think just how stupid I used to be

Hope you always believe

You still have all of my

You still have all of my heart

It clicks for him all at once and now he wants to kick himself in the shins.

"This is still about Christina and the formal, isn't it?"

You hiccup as you shudder a little bit more as the tears still don't relent. "E-ever since junior year started, Kento. It was just everything. I thought I was losing you with all this attention that you were getting. I thought I was being left behind. You've always been so smart. A-and those girls are all really pretty, smart, and funny..." You hang your head in shame and Kento's heart skips a beat, staring at you in disbelief.

How could you not see that you were pretty, and every bit as smart and funny?

"Even if you didn't feel the same, I didn't want to lose my best friend. But I didn't wanna hold you back either..."

Kento brings you into his chest as he lets you sob into it without saying anything else right away. How painfully obvious the answer was all this time and here he stood with his head proudly in the sand, partly with blind acceptance of all this unsolicited attention that fed his ego, not knowing he was doing it to distract himself from what he's known clearly all along: being utterly in love with you.

"You could never, ever lose me." Kento answers, cupping your face, bringing your gaze back to meet his. "You're not holding me back, either."

You want to look away with embarrassment with how snotty and disgusting you must look right now as you just sobbed and sobbed your eyes out in front of him but he's not deterred, not even in the least as he sooths you with his lulling voice.

"I never went to the dance. I swear on my life. I talked to Christina at the party tonight because I was jealous of you and Atsuya but that was a dick move of me. I'm not ever gonna be stupid enough to put myself in a position to lose you again. I'm not gonna hurt you like that ever again. I swear to you..."

Those tender pools like melted caramel of his travel down to where your lips part softly in surprise with every emotional confession he gives you. These were details he only ever dreamed about. Part of him wonders how he could even be this close to possibly finding out and crossing that line between fantasy and reality to where you'd no longer be just a daydream to him.

"And I don't want anyone else..." He whispers. "It's you I've wanted. It's always been you. It's always ever going to be you. They couldn't come close to you even if they tried." He holds your hands more earnestly as he continues with this fire that was lit underneath him that emboldened him with each sacred truth he unraveled.

"Can you forgive me? Can you forgive me for being the world's biggest dumbass? I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I-"

His train of thought is quickly evaporated under the object of your loving stare, and the dwindling space between your face and his. For a moment he forgets how to breathe, once again marveling at how pure you were, even in the afterglow of your tears.

Especially in the afterglow, when your cheeks shone with the gleam they left behind, leaving the windows to your soul exposed to his. You remind him how to breathe again when that soft swipe of your thumbs over the back of his hand anchors him to this moment with you right before the fall.

There's only one thing left to do and it's like you two move in sync as you lean towards one another and the song continues to blare in the background.

Let them talk and talk and talk

Let them say what they want

We will laugh at the thought they don't know what we've got

The first meeting of your lips began as the most dainty brush. Kento's not sure how hard or soft to kiss you, and so he plays it overly safe, making himself almost as stiff as cardboard as he freezes at the first contact, hands still a clammy mess as they cling to yours.

At first, you were a little thrown off by the reluctance, momentarily worrying if he didn't actually want to kiss after all. You try to reassure him by leaning a little bit closer, using one of your hands to hold the side of his neck.

To your relief, Kento melts in response as though your touch granted him permission. You stay locked like that for a while in your first kiss and a half, lips molded harshly against the other's.

Neither of you want to be the one who ends the kiss, so you hold it for as long as you possibly can until you realize you've been going without oxygen a moment too long and you hastily break apart, softly exhaling against his open mouth, leaving Kento blooming the deepest shade of red he's been all night.

"S-sorry that was kinda..." Kento clears his throat, the shade of red worsening with mortification at how sweaty his hands were. "You're... you're my first, so..."

You smile at him, determined to put him at ease which he felt immediately with tingles blooming in his ribcage as you leaned in and tenderly brushed noses with him.

"It was perfect."

And you meant it. For two awkward college kids who barely found themselves venturing into romantic territory after being friends for so long, that kiss couldn't have gone any other way for you two.

But, you don't want to end your exploration here just yet, and Kento doesn't either. These deserted hours past midnight, the romantic tunes, and the enticing way he looks right now encourages you more and more to press the gas pedal.

"Do you wanna do it again?" He asks and he beams when you say yes. He leans in again, a bit hurriedly but he catches himself as he learned from the last time to slow down a bit. He releases both of your hands and cups your face this time.

You allow him to take the lead, letting him drink his fill of your beautiful face. The flutter of your eyelashes over a pair of irises with a color that made him feel weightless, the arch of your brows, and the hypnotic parting of your lips. You stun him in the rawest way and make him melt where he sits.

Unknown to you, all of those times you did your hair and makeup and wore your best outfits before tonight don't hold a candle to the way you look to him right now. It's because this one was fully intended for him in the sanctity of this moment when you've been your most vulnerable with him, in all of your precious, pure and unfiltered honesty.

And you could not be more beautiful to him than that.

He expresses this by wordlessly bringing his mouth to yours once more, cautious then loving all at once as he allows them to engulf you completely.

Every year that goes by, a year older we are

You'll still be beautiful then, bless your beautiful heart

They'll talk and talk and talk

How crazy is it?

Someone could waste their whole life, helplessly

Just patiently waiting for a love like you and me

This second kiss carried sparks more potent than the first. You become amazed at how quickly he learned as he begins to slowly open his lips against yours, embarking in their first slow dance together as they daintily pucker and press, before they seamlessly pick up a rhythm. You glide your tongue along his bottom lip until he responds with his own, the feeling trickling hotly to your core like lava.

The slick and wet roll of your tongues that map and trail thoroughly inside your mouth and his leaves Kento particularly dizzy, softly panting intermittently between each reunion. The faint taste of sunscreen from his Blistex chapstick mixes well with your raspberry lip gloss. Each little moan he makes is laced with the baritone of his normal speaking voice, the masculinity of it and his growing weakness causes you to move with more urgency, kissing him more passionately.

Kento's not opposed to this invitation one bit and he adjusts his fervor to meet yours, sitting up and pulling you into his lap. This new position unlocks a new level of ferality in your brain. His size quickly gives himself away as you feel his bulge pulse in his skinny jeans where the thin barrier of your leggings allows you a sinful sneak peek. All bets are off now as the walls between you have completely crumbled.

"Kento..."

"Baby, please...holy fuck..."

You grind against him, pausing after every roll of your hips for the friction to linger, chasing that relief for your aching clit that could only be cured by humping his fat cock.

Kento feels his restraint loosen impossibly fast. It felt like he went from never driving to speeding on the interstate. It's a lot all at once, but holy fuck does it feel good.

He allows you to overpower him, laying backwards on the bed with his head on the pillows as he pulls you on top of him.

"I didn't go on that date with Atsuya..." You pant then squeal at the abrupt change in position. "I swear to God, Ken. I didn't, fuck, I couldn't..."

Kento feels himself lighting on fire from this knowledge, seizing your ass cheeks in his hands as he too chases that feeling, that pulsing of your pretty pussy over his cock that he just knew was soaking through the fabric.

"Haa-aah....y-you didn't?" He throws his head back with his jaw dropped open, letting a heady moan escape as you kiss and suck his neck with uncaged vigor, still focusing on thrusting his hips upwards against yours where they magnetize and shove against your clothed cunt with building greed.

"I-I didn't, baby I swear to God..." Wetness builds in the corners of your eyes as he positions you directly over his thigh instead, hands flying to help you tear off your hoodie as he encourages you to ride him.

You lean down and kiss him deeply again, your breasts squishing against him and threatening to spill from your cups as the motion of you riding his thigh causes one of the straps to spill over your shoulder.

"I don't know what I was thinking...just thought about you the whole time. Just wanted you, Ken...I couldn't do it... I promise, I'm so sorry-"

"Aa-aah, fuck...I-I believe you, sweetheart." Kento's eyes clench closed in ecstacy, his hands following the dizzying pattern of your hips as they bumped and churned on his thigh.

"Fuck me I...I..." He pants, a sheen coat of sweat beginning to dot his forehead. "I'm not gonna fuckin last like this, baby, God...."

You show him a little mercy, stalling your hips as you dipped your head down to passionately make out with him again, postponing the tension of the tight coil that was building low in your belly. You both hummed pleasantly as you enjoyed kissing one another deeply again. The softness of the act was a welcome distraction from Kento nearly cumming all at once in his pants, dual wet spots from you both in your underwear and his boxers bearing the proof.

"Can I...be inside you?" He aims his next kiss at your throat, his lips thrumming with the tender melody of your sigh at his question.

"Are you sure, baby?" You greedily roll your hips again and he groans loudly. Clearly, you didn't need much convincing.

"Yeah I'm sure." Your foreheads meet one another and his thumbs skim your cheeks. "I have protection too." He adds before nuzzling against you.

"As long as you're certain you want your first time to be with me..."

"I'm positive." He replies, the reminder from the subtle pressure of you spread out on top of him makes him fight to bite back the desperation in his tone.

"You're the only one I ever wanted to do this with." He confesses, his cheek twitching when a section of your hair tickles his face, fanning a subtle waft of your PINK perfume. He flushes again and massages up the soft sides of your waist as he speaks.

"Just...just bear with me if...if I don't know what I'm doing or just tell me what feels good and I'll do it."

You nod and smile with a wave of anticipation for what's coming, "Of course, Kento. You're completely safe with me. And I trust you too."

Tonight wasn't your first time. You had a few sexual encounters but none of them were anything worth writing home about. There was no question that tonight with Kento was already leaps and bounds better than anything you ever experienced before, and the feelings that ran deeply between you weaved it with an undercurrent that made it even more special than any connection you've made. His pureness, his consideration for you, his sweetness towards you made you want to do anything for him.

"Good, good."

"Well..."

Awkward silence.

"Should we take off our clothes?" He inquires awkwardly.

"Mm, well, we could always keep kissing while we do it. Makes things a little bit more fun if you want to try."

"Yeah, yeah let's try it."

You smile down at him, tucking the stray pieces of your hair out of the way as you resumed locking lips with him again.

Unexpectedly, Kento takes the reins. Before, the kisses were experimental, slow and tender to express your affection. Now, you kissed as though to express your mutual, stirring desire. Kento moved his lips and tongue as if he was trying to devour you, pushing against you as he sat back up and pulled you into his lap again.

You tug on his bottom lip with your teeth and he hisses and responds by grabbing your breasts. When he does, you release his lip and whine into his mouth. He smirks, pleased with this effect he was having on you, feeling more and more brave the longer he stays immersed in this steamy experience with you. His long fingers quickly move to your bra clasp.

"Okay?" He pants, cheeks still dusted with color. The evidence of his exertion from him putting in the work with you leaves you swooning quite a bit as you take in his pretty, blush tinged face.

You nod and the bra clasp comes undone with little resistance. The weight of your soft globes bounces in the most alluring way when they spill from the cups of cloth. Kento groans, completely mesmerized from the first glance, letting his eyes roam and soak you up, moving back to look up at you where you sit perched in his lap, the perfect position for him to worship.

"You're so beautiful..." He whispers. "So, so beautiful...." He brings your breasts together, loving the line that forms down the middle when he squishes them together, and the way your nipples peek between his fingers. It was awfully possessive, viewing them this way, reserved for his eyes and for his touch only.

He wishes to claim them even more and leans in without a second thought, licking your left tit into his mouth. You throw your head back at the same time his eyes his roll back in his skull, starting to ride the outline of his cock through his jeans as he sucks and laps up your breast to his heart's content.

He pulls back a bit, a saliva string that drips around the pointed end of your nipple and continues in a slick trail as he moves to the right. He surprises you and pins you underneath him, mouth still attached to your right tit. You purr at him as you play with his hair while he sucks in your tits, memorizing the way his blonde locks run like silk through your fingers, how your thighs look now that they're spread on either side of his lean waist.

You help him unzip his skinny jeans, peeling them down as he finishes his work on your breasts that now gleam shiny with his spit, bidding both farewell as he hollows his cheeks and sucks his lips abruptly, leaving both nipples in a pointed puckered state from his tongue.

He watches as you slip out of your leggings underneath him, reaching down to help you tug them off, entranced with the soft flesh that dimples and only adds to the supple, divine figure you possess that he's touched himself at night to countless times. You're completely bare to him now besides your panties, kissed in the moonlight with your hair behind you like a halo.

"You're so perfect..." He praises you again, the shadows lining his face that was surely burning under the warmth of your ethereal gaze.

"I don't understand how I'm so lucky."

"I'm the lucky one." You reassure him as your lovely mouth curls into his favorite smile, gazing in his eyes as you go to rub his cock through his boxers. However, your pupils expand in shock when you're met with a heavy package that doesn't even fit in your hand.

Kento blushed as he noticed your reaction to his size, standing off to the side of the bed and stripping down, sliding his boxers hastily down his long legs. His cock is a slight beige that's sweaty, long, and pink at the tip, and it flops out in front of you all of its manly glory.

You feel equal parts aroused and scared. There is absolutely no shortage of size anywhere on his intimate area. Your pupils expand again as you observe how the circumference is almost proportional to its length, to his large set of balls.

His pubes are neatly trimmed, but there's certainly a generous amount that makes up the forest of dark hair, different from the color on his head that bushes around his thick base. It dances up his belly button in a pattern that makes your brain go fuzzy and your clit throb for attention.

Even if he looks like he could split you in half, you can't help how absolutely heavenly he looks in this moment, looking down at you with shyness and anticipation, like he's equally excited for what's about to happen, and that he hopes you like what you see.

"You're absolutely perfect, Kento..." You whisper. Your fingertips find his in the dark, eyes still locked on each other as he entertwines with yours.

"Every inch of you."

"No way, you're the perfect one..." He takes your hands in both his palms, bringing them to his mouth to plant a set of tender kisses on both sets of knuckles before he turns to his dresser to retrieve one of the condoms that he's had forever but never used, elated that it's with you.

"No way." You shake your head and he blows air through his lips. Before he can slide the condom on, you stop him, "Wait..."

Kento's eyes go wide as he watches you crawl seductively towards him, breasts bouncing, beautiful, and bare across his bed and eye level with his staggering length.

"Let me make you feel good. Please?"

Kento's always wanted a blow job. Truth was, he was hoping that he could possibly get his first tonight with you, but he'd never, ever ask in a million years. He felt like that was way too forward, and the last thing he'd want is to make you uncomfortable or make himself look like a selfish guy. He can't help but feel impossibly turned on in this moment, turning to you with a lustful expression.

"R-really?"

"I'd love to." You purr, aiming your gaze innocently through your eyelashes as you softly kiss his bulging tip. "Let me pleasure you, Kento..."

He tilts his head as he looks down on you, fingers cradling the corner of your jaw as you stick out your tongue, swirling it around the pink tip. Kento shudders immediately and you relish his sensitivity to just the careful licks of your tongue, imagining just how responsive he must be when you're taking the full thing in your mouth, or your pussy.

Your tongue laps slowly around the tip, and then the underside of his shaft, goading him slowly until you wrap your mouth around as much of him as he can, until you slowly begin to bob your head.

"Fffuck...." Kento almost loses his footing at where he's standing next to the bed, hands immediately anchoring themselves in your hair as he can't help but chase that fuzzy feeling you're giving him all over, beginning to rhythmically move his hips into each motion of your pretty lips down the veiny length of his cock.

"That-haaah, please, please keep going..."

You smile and coo to let him know you have absolutely no plans of stopping anytime soon.

He's so soft. His taste is nothing unpleasant or particularly delicious, but oddly rousing in his own way. His faint musk from his bush and salt from his skin makes you want to seek more of him so you can taste him properly, until he's dripping down your throat, or between your legs, you're not picky at all by this point. And feeling him throb in your mouth with every soft purr and moan you give him to let him know how good he feels is so fucking sweet.

"Shit...shit..." Kento pulls out of your warmth unexpectedly, panting and wincing as he feels his balls draw tight, aching by this point as he inadvertently edged himself.

"I'm sorry, aaah..." He grunts and takes a deep breath.

"Are you okay, Ken?" You ask, slightly alarmed as you scoot over and allow him to sit down.

"I'm...I'm perfect." He puffs. "Just...just thought I was gonna cum back there, and I didn't want to. Not yet." He blushes. "I'm really sorry about that. I really really liked it."

"No, don't be sorry." You lean your head on his shoulder, the tunes from the CD were still playing. You two take a breather, pausing to listen to some Margot and the Nuclear So and Sos.

"It-hah...it felt really fucking good, just to let you know." Kento interrupts, one of his hands coming to trace over your spine.

"Haha, I'm so glad." You whisper, moving your lips to kiss his cheek, giving his ear a little lick.

Kento exhales tiredly and you smile as you see him twitch and start to go fully erect again. So adorable.

"Are you sleepy?" You ask, beginning to leave more kisses on his cheeks, then jaw which he's started to clench.

"N-No..." Kento sighs as he closes his eyes. "No way. I'm not ever tired for you." He lays you back on the pillows before rolling the condom on his cock. Then, he returns to kissing down your neck and chest until he gingerly lays his chin on your sternum, just below your breasts.

"I'll just go slow? And tell me if it hurts?"

You nod, doing your best to not tense up when you remember his size you have to contend with. But still, you craved him inside of you more than anything. If there was any cause worthy of getting your insides rearranged for, it would be by Kento, every single time.

"Just...uhm, look at me?" Kento orders sheepishly.

You smile, endeared that he's so eager to try and sit in the driver's seat for once.

"Okay." You look up at him, tenderness lining your pupils and the corners of your eyes soften as you look at Kento on top of you.

Kento smiles back down at you, balancing above you on his forearms, flexing a little bit in adorable display, all for you. You giggle, running your hands up and down his biceps which were surprisingly solid.

He always hid his figure underneath his baggy shorts and hoodies, and you can't help but feel so lucky again that he was being so vulnerable with you like this, electricity running in a steady thrum underneath your skin when you feel him start to ease his weight on top of you.

"You're so beautiful..." He murmurs the phrase like it's the only one he knows. Like he wasn't ever meant to speak unless the words were spent acknowledging the true depths of your beauty, lest it go completely wasted.

He kisses you softly again, daintily licking his tongue into your mouth, pumping his cock up and down. While doing so you feel him gently spread you open with one of his knees. He cradles your head, still keeping himself connected to your lips as he teases his cock in circles near your clit.

Kento didn't have experience, but he did watch plenty of porn. He has a pretty good idea of what he needs to do to make sure you're well warmed up. And ultimately for you, and he'd spend into next morning figuring it out if he needs to.

He takes note when he feels you break away from the kiss to pant and press your head back a little further into his pillow, a sign that he's rubbing and stimulating you right where he needs to. He breathes softly, sweet breath tickling your face as his eyes gently flicker and roam over you, every sip of you he drinks threatening to be the drop too many that leaves him intoxicated.

He uses the round squishy tip of his cock to press and rub your pussy, drawing circles and very barely dipping into your dripping entrance that was starting to build and leak a steady pool of juices. He lays his cock flat against your clit, watching his meaty shaft be hugged by both wet folds as it slides up, and down, the ribbed edges of the condom are even more pronounced with Kento's veins to give your puffy clit all the euphoric friction you need.

"Kento..." You mewl out again, and he uses his kiss to swallow your cry before you can get too loud as he moves to guide himself inside you.

Pure warmth with the wettest silk is all he knows as he slowly enters you for the first time. He's being absolutely gripped by you on all sides like an intoxicating vice, feeling you hug and squeeze and pulse with life around him.

"Baby...holy...fuck..." Kento breathes out, sucking in air through his teeth. He's practically delirious from this foreign feeling, fighting with every ounce of strength he has to continue going slow and not give into that primal itch that's aching to be scratched to fuck you senseless into the bed springs.

He thought the blowjob was heaven, however being inside of you was the hidden pot of honey where he realized he needed to be all this time.

You feel his veins, his curve, the consistent way he throbs in response to every time you clench around him. The shaky and breathless effect you're having on him and hearing his gorgeous voice, soft and gentle in your ear is summoning and releasing butterflies in your belly that you never knew existed. However, you'd be lying if you said his size wasn't pushing you to your absolute limits. You're reminded on all fronts that you're full of him every time you move with every inch he feeds you, now about halfway inside. He is the most endowed man you've had sex with by far, and you whine softly from the stretch.

When he hears your whimpers, he pulls out immediately and sits back on his knees, relieving you with his tongue. His flat, warm muscle laps up the nectar oozing underneath your clit and swirls in figure eights in every sensitive spot he can reach. He's hooked on the taste he left from being joined to you temporarily and presses his face into your dripping warmth, soaking his chin.

You arch your back, toes curled, and he utterly groans, locking an arm around each thigh as he slowly drags his nose back and forth, bumping your clit in the process.

----

Time has now slipped away, completely swallowed up by the wintry night and in every single secret, intimate, steamy, filthy, tender thing that's unraveled tonight in Kento's bed.

By some miracle he's held on like a champion until you both are drenched in sweat, although it becomes clear he's at his limit, the condom practically sliding off with the surplus of sweat and precum you conjured up from him. You both heave with exhaust that's made it's way to the fogged windowsill in the confined space and all the time that's been whittled away in this passionate encounter.

He's licked your warm cunt until an ocean is practically pouring out of you, he's sucked both your nipples into his mouth again to the point that they're most certainly branded with love marks and not just his spit. He's wiggled and curled those long fingers of his inside your silky pussy until you snapped like a rubber band at least twice.

Now, he hovers above you again after putting on a fresh condom, harder than a rock and searing with ache. He kisses you and grunts when he feels you deepen it immediately, apparently eager to taste your nectar after it's been inside his mouth. Now, his cock glides into you, warm and snug, filling every inch perfectly like you two were separately divinely crafted to fit each other.

"So good, Kento..." You reward him with that mellifluous way you rasp out his name, and he cradles your head in his hands as though you could break.

And all you can do as you stare at one another, bodies fully engulfed as he gently rocks his hips, is hold each other close and walk that up that staircase to heaven together, years and years of knowing one another already behind you as the seamless foundation you can use as a bridge.

Kento imagines this is as close to what married people must feel like on their honeymoon. As far as he's concerned in this moment, your pussy is the only pussy he'd like to fuck for the rest of his life.

What would wasting even a precious second on someone else do for him? There's no need. The connection that burns between you right now has long exceeded anything physical, leaving carnality and greed long in the dust and burning in the surplus of time between you that you had already spent.

Now, it's something profoundly emotional that all words fall short of conveying, but only in the gentle push and sway of your bodies moving and rippling like wild tides out at sea as one. It's especially meaningful as he hands over every bit of himself to you. The piece and part of his soul that was untouched, now forever claimed by you, and you only, none else.

"I love you." He whispers and kisses you again, those eyes of sweetest honey amber.

"I love you so much..." He begins to move a little faster against you, his declaration leaving his body with searing passion in its wake. "I always have."

"I love you, Kento...with all my heart." You gasp and feel your jaw slacken, the coil in your lower belly tightening with impossible tension with each deafening thrust. He whines a little louder as his cock slips and squelches with silky obscenity.

"Fuck I...I have to...I'm sorry." He mumbles and kisses you hard, as he holds up your legs and folds them to your chest as he begins to thrust into you lewdly in mating press.

"Kento!"

You cry out his name and he swallows it again, taking care that whatever beautiful sound he can wring out of you stays in this heated space you built together, all for his eyes and ears only. His cock fills, stretches, and impossibly stokes at those leftover embers from all the previous fires he ignited inside you tonight.

Now, you both move and grind with freedom, with sweetest absolution from straying past those lines of friendship you both ached and longed to shatter, set free from your cage with the tender profession of your mutual love.

Your skin smacks and sticks, drenched and salty from resistance built from perspiration and arousal. The heat is almost uncomfortable, but it's all forgotten when you look at him and he gazes down at you with those eyes you have seared into your memory. Your pleasure and love is the very forefront of your brain that guides you down this road, a path you're not afraid of so long as he's the one next to you.

"Gonna cum, I'm gonna....FUCK!"

He yanks you into his mouth again, this time using your kiss as an echo chamber to stifle his sounds as he unloads himself. He shudders as the tension rolls off of him and settles into you like cascading dominoes.

He whimpers quietly, still locked inside your kiss as he jerks sharply a few times for good measure despite the barrier of the condom catching all his cum, bringing his thumb back to your clit as he does so as though to demonstrate what he'd do exactly if the barrier were not in place.

You fall off not long after, with a shiver and tremble that dies in a broken cry against his lips.

"That was...."

"Perfect."

He releases all his weight onto you but it doesn't phase you one bit, his pressure and embrace a welcome respite as you weakly glide down from your peaks. After a moment when he collects his breath, he rolls onto his back next to you, keeping his fingers tangled with yours.

"Y-yeah. To be honest I dunno if perfect comes close.." Kento closes his eyes as he feels sleep begin to rouse in his eyelids with the clearing haze.

"More than perfect.....What's a word for that?" You smile, sleep beginning to tinge the sound of your voice as well.

He lets out a huff, then chuckles. "I dunno, babe. You did kind of just reset my brain back there..."

"We'll go with more than perfect, then. How about heaven?"

He nods and exhales, but the smile that curves at his lips is undeniable in his tone. "That sounds about right to me." He turns to you. "You okay?"

"I'm okay, I just." You look out at the window, briefly surveying the sights available to you in the present moment: the flurry of snowflakes in the window, the dip of the mattress where he lays next to you, the shadow of his eyes, the glow that raptures both of your skin.

"Things aren't ever gonna be the same with us, are they?"

"No, I guess not." He scoots closer to you, noses inches away. "But I'm okay with it. Are you?"

"I'm more than okay." You whisper with sincerity. "As long as I have you."

He smiles at your words, not getting over this welcome feeling of being needed by someone, especially you. "Course you do. I'm not letting you go after this."

"I love you so much. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. I love you more."

And the sleep that befell you afterwards could not be more peaceful, wrapped up in the conclusion of your lovemaking and the blissful beginning of a new chapter between you.

You shared sleepy laughs and infinite cuddles the next morning, huddled for warmth and tucked into one of his shirts as you talked over a morning cup of coffee before playing Mario again. You received an awkward note on his door with a noise complaint afterwards, which you giggled and hid your face in your hands, Kento's face a bright red.

Needless to say, you got pretty creative over winter break with finding places to meet and burn off steam, from his place to yours, to the little motel on the edge of town, to the backseat of your shitty pickup truck with fogged windows in the snow.

But one thing you could count on was each other. Love in the purest form of brown eyes waiting for you outside your class door, fingers coming to find their home in the spaces between yours as you walked hand in hand together.

His clear commitment to you made all the outside attention cease when it was obvious he was happy in love with you, his best friend, solidified permanently in that playlist that never did leave his CD player since that night.

It never made you wonder or second guess yourself again. You belonged together, it was as inevitable as the snowflakes that landed in his hair to the crinkle in your nose as he pulls you into his arms and kisses you again.

#jelly's 12 days of smutmas ✼ ｡ﾟ･ྀི𓈒 ݁⋆#from my trees . ˚ 𖧷 ·𓇥 ° . ♡#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #smutmas #x female reader #x fem!reader #Spotify #dividers by saradika

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bandgie · 1 year ago

Text

Hate You So

prince!bangchan x fem!reader

MDNI 18+, fantasy au, enemies-to-lovers (kinda), oral (f!), cum swapping, brief overstim (f!), biting, brief thigh humping

ask here! notes: I am not taking requests, however, I am interested in this one with my own version ofc

3.2k words

There is never a dull moment with Prince Chan. His words are belittling, his eyes are full of scorn when he looks at you in all his ruthless beauty. Sometimes you wish you could ignore his piercing gaze, but he bores his eyes into the back of your head so harshly you feel it burning.

Even without his hatred, it would be hard to turn away from him. With full lips, plump cheeks, and strong nose, it really is hard to think of him as anything below attractive. Still, you know better than to approach him unless you wish to cry yourself to sleep that night.

A masked ball is the perfect opportunity for you to slip away. Pretend to be someone you're not, or perhaps it's to show your true self behind a false face. Not that it matters. A night like this allows you to put the puzzling hatred the prince has for you far behind your mind.

Drink after drink, spin after spin and you find yourself in the arms of the Viscount Felix. You can tell it's him from the way he adorns himself in jewelry, his hair the color of the sun itself. His deep blue robe stitched with silver treading in layers. It must be difficult to dance in heavy clothes, but he twirls you in his arms easily.

"Ah, isn't it the beautiful Duchess," he regards you with a sly smirk. His eyes peek out from his silver mask underneath.

You narrow your eyes, though you doubt he can see much of your facial expressions from your black mask. "How did you know?" To this, Felix's smirk widens to a smile. "Even behind such a clever guise, your charm seeps through the fabric."

You mock the sound of laughter. "Is this a trick of flattery to get my hand in marriage? To help you rise higher than a Viscount?"

Felix's eyes gleam with mischief. "You think too highly of yourself, dear Duchess. I simply wish to lay in your bed."

Now you laugh. Your voice is swallowed from the sounds of heels clicking on the ground and loud chatter. The two of you dance steadily despite the liquor running in your veins. Felix is careful not to spin you too fast or dip you too low. He may speak vulgar, but he is every bit gentleman in every other way.

"I think I'd like that very much, if I'm to be truthful," you say once you're swaying evenly in his hold. "I can't recall the last time I've been properly loved." Felix makes a sound of understanding, eyes darting to the people around you.

It's improper of you to speak in such a way. You are of high status, and talking like this not only in public, but to someone of lower ranking is foolish. Still, it's this potty mouth that gives you and Felix such a close bond. The fact that you can speak freely without judgment.

Chris does not share your sentiment.

He can hear your crass words from where he dances with his own partner. It sickens him to know that you openly express lustful desires, but it disturbs him even more that he finds himself jealous.

His partner is speaking, but he doesn't pay attention to any words she says. He strains his ears to eavesdrop on the conversation with you and the brightly hair-colored Viscount.

"Is that so?" Chris hears the deep voice of the man dancing with you. "Sounds like that is quite the problem. Has no one caught your eye? Do you think no one is worthy of seeing your wholeness?"

You react as if you tire of your dancing partner, rolling your eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. The person I have my eye on would rather see me burn, that's all." The smile on your lips falter. Despite his better self, Chris wonders who would turn down such an opportunity to spend a night with you. What a foolish man.

"And pry tell, who is this person?" Felix speaks as though he read Chris's mind.

"The Prince."

Ah, that makes sense. Chris can't count the amount of times he's upset you, the times he's spewed swears cruel enough to make your eyes water. He brushed it off as you being too sensitive, too emotional. But he knows deep down, it's so he doesn't get close to you.

Felix's eyes widen and his jaw drops. He looks at you with alarm, and some fear, then he hisses under his breath. "I am not one to tell you what to do and how to speak, but I highly suggest you refrain from speaking ill about the royal blood in their own castle."

He has a point, it's treason to speak how you are now. But the alcohol makes not only your thoughts, but your words careless. "So then tell me, what do you suggest? I tire of my lonely state. I think I'm up for any suggestions you have."

Before Felix answers, his eyes dance around the room one last time to spot any itching ears. Chris, despite being a prince, turns his head to finally acknowledge his partner and try to pick up on the conversation. Once Felix determines there are no listeners, he says, "Perhaps you should lure the prince into your sheets. You say you want love, but I argue hate is a much more fun way to spend the night."

A wicked smile finds its way to Felix's lips that you can't help but match. "Now look who's speaking ill" you say. "Plus, that's a terrible idea. I will regret it in the morning."

To this, Felix shrugs. "Then let him make sweet hate to you past sunrise."

☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎

Chris should know his luck is thin. Only the universe would have him push you away so much so only for you to want him with the same intensity. It mocks him even now as you stand outside of his chambers when he wanted to get away from you as far as possible.

"Did you follow me here?" He questions you with authority. You swoop into a deep curtsy and bow your head, "Yes, your majesty."

You don't have to look up to know he's sneering at you, lips pulled back into a snarl. Felix, along with the bitter alcohol, gave you too much confidence. Sure you may not be of low status, but standing before a prince unnerves you.

Especially when you followed him with intentions.

"If you want me to ask why, you will be disappointed. Leave me." Chris looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to take those steps back. You never do, however, but instead pick your head up and stride deeper into his room, shutting the door.

His eyebrows furrow and a blush crawls its way up his neck. Chris tries to mask his surprise with anger. "Stupid wrench. Can you not listen to simple instructions?" His eyes that are filled with anger slowly dissipates when he sees you reel back at his words.

You fiddle with your hands nervously and you suddenly feel as though you cannot do this at all. How are you, a duchess, supposed to ensnare a prince who hates you so? Doubt clogs your mind, but you are already here. It would be far too shameful to turn away without even trying.

"Why do you hate me so?" That's not what you were supposed to say. You were supposed to sound flirtatious, experienced. Instead, you're meek and quiet. For a moment you doubt the prince even heard you, but the disheartened look in his eyes says otherwise.

He sighs, running his jeweled fingers in his brown hair. A prince is to never be vulnerable, to show weakness in fear of exploitation. In the presence of your teary eyes, however, none of that seems to matter.

Chris takes a deep breath, "I hate you for many things."

Your jaw drops. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. A foolish part of you thought maybe it was a misunderstanding, but there's no time to reply when the prince carries on.

"I hate that I think about you every hour of everyday. I hate that you live freely while I have to act accordingly." He takes a step to you. "I hate how you look at me with those hidden eyes. I hate it even more that I know it's you underneath that plain mask." Chris is close enough to reach for your face and he does just that. Gentle fingers undo the knot that keeps your mask on and he lets it fall to the ground.

"I hate that I know your voice, that I ache to hear it. I hate that I know in which way you walk, should you be in my castle." His fingertips ghost over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I hate that I dream of you and I hate when I wake from those dreams."

Chris traces the outline of your lips, watching how your tongue darts out to taste his fingers. He shudders.

"Worst of all," he leans close to your face, a kiss away from you. "I hate that it's only for one night that I will be yours."

You don't kiss him back at first. You can't even register his plush lips on yours. How they move steadily, sickly sweet. The prince tastes faintly of alcohol, but not enough to overpower his kiss. You come back to when his hands find your waist, pressing you closer to his warm body.

A part of you thinks maybe this is a test. That when you begin moving your mouth with his, he'd pull away and laugh. Chris doesn't do that though and instead groans against your lips when you finally reciprocate.

Shaky hands find their way to his styled hair, tugging on his curls to bring him closer. It doesn't take long before you're both chest to chest, one of his legs between yours as you stand, and breathing into each other's mouths. His kiss is bruising, filled with the overwhelming desire he claims to hate.

Chris nips on your lower lip, pulling it back harshly to hear you whimper. Then he kisses you again, messily sliding his tongue against yours. His lips travel down your cheek, your jawline, to your neck. You shiver at his warm tongue tasting your skin, hips rocking on his thigh.

The grip on your waist only tightens to keep pressure on you grinding on him. You feel him smile against your throat. "Humping me like a little bunny, aren't you?" He lifts his head to whisper in your ear, biting your earlobe. "Is my leg enough to satiate your lust?"

You shake your head, "N-no. It's not, my prince." Chris rewards your honesty by moving his hands from your waist. He lifts the many layers of your dress in bunches, holding them above your hips. You take the hint and grasp them in your own fingers, watching him descend lower...

...and lower... ...and lower...

The prince kneels before you, facing your core. You gasp, and despite dreaming about this with your hand underneath your nightgown, it's still an unbelievable sight. No royal blood is to kneel before another, let alone you of lower ranking.

"Prince Christopher!" You sound slightly panicked. "You mustn't! To kneel before...not even that! You must have drunken one too many glasses. I shouldn't have-"

You cut yourself off with a yelp. You feel Chris's teeth dig into the soft flesh of your thighs. He does it hard enough to see his teeth imprints when he pulls back. "You think of me drunk," he says it with accusation. "But how could I be drunk off wine when I could be drunk off this instead?"

Though you can't see him from the frills of the many layers of your dress, it helps ease your nerves when he hooks his finger under your panties. Your hips jolt when the cold air hits your bare cunt, but his warm breath quickly replaces it.

Chris trails kisses just next to your core, his hands planted on each thigh. His fingers makes shapeless figures, dancing closer to where you throb just before pulling away. It's bearable it first, his teasing. But then you start to feel yourself dripping, arousal seeping from your folds. His lips ghost over your clit, moving to the next thigh.

You tremble, trying to move your hips so his mouth catches your pussy. You're met with a chuckle, deep and quiet. It makes you more impatient, whining. "My prince please. I cannot bear it."

The prince pulls away from you completely, leaning back to look up at you. He looks silly beneath where you stand. His mouth red and curls messy from your earlier tugging, but his wet lips are frowning. "Are you, a duchess, telling me, a prince, what to do?"

Shit, you got too comfortable. "Of course not," your voice wavers. From fear or lust, you're not sure. "I didn't mean to offend you, I just-"

"You're quite the nervous talker, aren't you?" Chris's once pouting lips turn into a smirk. His observation makes you blush, though you're sure your face was already a deep shade of red since the beginning.

He smiles at your reaction, teeth gleaming in the candlelit room. "No need to fret, pretty duchess. I told you that tonight I am yours. If my mouth on you is what you desire, then so be it."

You watch as Chris dives forward to the empty space between your legs. His tongue darts out to taste you directly, going under your lower lips to collect your arousal. The warmth from his mouth makes you squeal, but his hands move to the back of your thighs to keep you in place.

It's hot, wet, and a little rough when he licks you. He trails his tongue upwards to rub soft circles on your nub before dipping back down. Chris moves his hands higher until they're under your hiked dress, gripping your arse. His fingers kneed into your soft flesh, forcing you deeper into his mouth.

There's a guttural moan that leaves him, sending waves through your cunt. Chris opts to suck on your flesh, pulling it only to let it go with a wet 'pop!' The sensation makes you shiver, legs buckling for a second before you regain your composure.

"This is..." the prince trails off. He buries his nose on your clit, sticking his tongue out to prod at your entrance. There's no doubt that the evidence of your shame is dripping from his chin, but he acts as though he doesn't mind. He hardly cares how your legs squeeze and how the hair on your pelvis tickles his face when he painfully pushes his face deeper into you.

This is divine.

You want nothing more than to grind on his face, hump on his tongue like the bunny he said you are. But your legs shake so much, your knees lock so often you see your vision go black for seconds. Finishing on the prince's face is something you could have only dreamt of. Yet here he is, seeming to eagerly coax a release from you. Surely he must be flushed himself, straining painfully in his trousers.

"P-Prince Christopher I- oh~ I'm so close. Do you want me to...should I..."

It's difficult to finish your sentence when you're so close to finishing in his warm mouth. You want to taste him how he's doing to you, you want to feel how his length would stretch you out. He must feel the same way, he has to.

But he only shakes his head with your pussy still in his mouth. "You should cum," he says breathlessly. "Let me taste this, drink you in. I've never had a cunt as pretty as yours."

Hot kisses rapidly peck on your clit. The prince spits messily on your already wet core, but he quickly spreads it all over your lips. Chris moves you up and down by your ass, encouraging you to ride his face. The idea of hesitating and passing the opportunity is behind you. You feel as though you might crush his head with the force of your legs, but he takes it all.

It makes sense why you're moaning, writhing under the tongue of the prince. But it makes you wonder why he's so loud himself. Groaning at your taste and whining when your hips shy away from his relentless mouth. You can hear him mumble mostly to himself. Mindlessly babbling soft words of praises.

"So good." "Pretty pussy." "Fuck. Ride my tongue, just like that."

Maybe he's trying to help get you to your high, but it makes you distantly wonder, nonetheless.

You whimper at the feeling of pleasure building in your stomach. It bundles and quivers until you drop the hem of your dress to reach down and grip Chris by the hair. He ignores how the layers surround him like blankets. You feel him gasp against your pussy when you slide your cunt up and down his face.

"S-sorry," you apologize pathetically. "Close. Wanna cum- fuck! wanna cum. Please forgive me." You mewl more apologies before vibrating with pleasure. Chris can't protest as you finish on his tongue, and he seems to rather like it with the way his blunt fingernails stab into the skin of your bottom.

You keep him there on your cunt as your body trembles with aftershocks from your orgasm. The prince obediently licks you throughout it all, collection your cream before loudly gulping it down. Your shaky hands finally release him from your grip, but Chris is persistent on giving your quivering clit final kisses.

Even if you try to move your hips from his mouth, he keeps you in place. "Your majesty," you struggle to find your voice from how much you were moaning. "Please. It's so sensitive."

He licks a fat stripe along your pussy to hear you cry out one final time. "You ask for me to taste you. You practically beg for me to let you finish on my tongue and when I do, you tell me to stop. Tell me, duchess, what is it that you want from me exactly?"

It's a simple question that has a simple answer, yet, saying it would bring complicated issues you know neither of you are able to face.

You. The word is on the tip of your tongue, but you settle for saying, "T-to please you, if you'll have me." It's close enough to what you actually want.

Chris finally brings himself to his feet, reaching for your fallen mask on his way up. He hands you the fabric, but you're so distracted with his face that you gasp.

He's soaked in your juices, his face glistens in the rising moonlight coming from his window. It's almost offensive to look at, reminding you of how you lost yourself so easily.

The prince only smiles at your words, your shocked expression. "Don't worry about my pleasure, pretty duchess." He leans in to kiss you, eyes fluttering closed upon impact. You can taste yourself on him, the bitter flavor settling on your tongue and invading your senses. It brings a new wave of desire, of an aching want.

"There," he gives you a dazzling smile when he pulls away. A string of saliva mixed with your arousal connect your lips. "Have a taste of yourself instead."

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