#he could have been handsome if he was short

[simpforrooster]

this is so much better.

jake 'hangman' seresin x f!simpsonreader

summary: jake and reader are trapped in an elevator, much to jake's excitement, and reader's demise. t/w: mentions of claustrophobia, on-page panic attack, some fluff. 18+ content mentioned.

“hold the door!!” a southern drawl calls out to you, his handsome face barely visible as the elevator doors start to close.

as you punch the close door button, his strong forearm stops the door, and he runs in.

jake “hangman” seresin feeds you an annoyingly beautiful smirk. you answer with one of your best eye rolls.

“thanks, sugar,” he drawls. his flight suit is unzipped to his waist, showcasing the tight black shirt stretched across his chest.

“in a hurry?” you ask, keeping your gaze straight ahead, watching the numbers countdown.

“i could ask you the same. coulda’ sworn i saw your finger reach for the close door button.” his blonde brow arches up.

god, he’s infuriatingly handsome. and your favorite verbal sparring partner.

“just trying to deliver these reports to, Dad. he left them on the counter and called me in a tizzy,” you reply. “you?”

“oh, i heard you were making an appearance on base and had to see you,” he winks. “couldn’t let the pretty simpson go without a little flirting.”

“don’t call me that,” you say. “hey does the elevator feel like it’s—“

before you can get the words out, the elevator lurches and throws you into jake, the papers you were holding scattered all along the floor. the lights dim out, replaced by a red emergency light.

his strong arms lock around your waist, holding you up. your gaze is locked on his chest where his shirt meets his collarbone. your breaths start to come in short spurts.

“is this a bad time to tell you this is my worst nightmare?” you murmur.

“is this a bad time to tell you i’ve never been happier with the way you’re clinging to me for dear life?” he whispers back, his breath soft on your ear.

for a moment, your fear is replaced with longing. you look up into his green eyes, and he gives you another smirk. you remove your hands from him and try to step back.

he matches your step, not unlocking his arms from your waist. one hand cups your neck.

“your pulse is racing,” he comments. "i didn't know you felt this way about me, simpson." his lip quips up in the corner.

the walls of the elevator feel like they're closing in. in a matter of seconds, you are going to be enveloped between the lacquered wood walls. the roof of the tiny box is joining the walls, ready to squish you into your eternal doom.

"please don't be a smart ass, jake," you managed to say in between your gasping breath.

jake pulls back to take in your features. his green eyes roam over your face. your hands are in fists against your own chest, rising up and down in time if your hyperventalations.

jake reaches for your hands, and you don't fight. he flattens out your fists, enveloping them between his own. realization falls over his beautiful face.

"you're having a panic attack." it's not a question.

in an instance, the jake you know and hate--err, love--is gone. in his place is lieutenant seresin, the aviator with three confirmed kills. the man who is going to rise in rank in no time.

"listen to me, simpson," he says your last name as if he's speaking to your dad, not trying to get into your pants like usual.

his green eyes lock and hold yours. you couldn't look away if you wanted to.

"the walls are closing in. we're going to be crushed," you admit your fears, feeling the tears you've been trying to keep away roll down your cheeks. saying the fear aloud helps you reason with the absurdity of it.

"they aren't," he murmurs, continuing to rub your palms in his. the sensation pulls your thoughts from the elevator, keeping your present with jake.

"the roof too," you whisper. jake shakes his head. there is no sign of the flirty pilot. no sign of raised brows questioning your sanity. lieutenant seresin believes you. he believes this illogical fear.

and he's helping you through it.

"we're stuck," you croak. this time, jake nods. you sink to the floor, and jake goes along with you. he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. reaching over your shoulder, he pushes the call button.

"power outage on base," the collected voice announces. "working as fast as they can. who is in the elevator?"

"lieutenant seresin and y/n simpson."

"noted. hang tight, you two. might be a little while."

a little while. the phrase has your pulse ramping back up. how long is a little while? thirty minutes? an hour? overnight?

as if he can read your mind, jake begins rubbing your palms. you meet his eyes and your breathing starts to steady.

"it's okay. you can be scared. i'm here," he whispers. "you are safe. your biggest enemy right now is your mind."

"i know," you admit. one of his hands lets go of yours to rest on your neck. he slides the hand up to your cheek. immediately, you lean into the touch. he calloused hand rough against your cheek helps to keep you from exploring all the ways this elevator could hurt you. his thumb brushes under your eye, removing a tear.

"i'm sorry," you say, embarrassment replacing some of your anxiety.

jake looks startled. "you have nothing to apologize for." jake looks around the elevator, and in a stage-whisper says, "i used to feel so claustrophobic in my jet."

the admission catches you off-guard. "you don't have to make me feel better, hangman."

he shakes his head. "i'm not. it was a huge thing. i thought i would never make it through the academy."

"but you did."

"i did."

"thank you, jake," you murmur. the serious mask of the lieutenant slips, and your jake is back feeding your soul with that insufferable smirk.

jake's hands are still on your body, and now that you're convinced the elevator is not alive and wanting to crush you, the weight of him fills you with longing.

a longing you have tried to ignore.

jake must sense this too, because he pulls you over to straddle his lap. both hands settle on your face, and yours holds onto his wrists.

"is this how you saw your 'flirting' playing out?" you whisper, leaning into him, stopping millimeters from his mouth.

"did i see the pretty simpson straddling my waist? i can't say i did. i'll admit, i did fantasize about kissing you against the wall." his hands fall to your outer thigh, running his hands slowly up and down them. "this is so much better."

"you fantasize about me?" you ask, your restraint waning.

jake rolls his eyes and slides his hands up to your waist. your body betrays you by shivering under his touch, which doesn't go unnoticed by him. his lips spread into a smile. a genuine smile.

"oh, baby, please." the pet name sends another thrill through you. he's called you baby before. but it's never had the want behind it like it does now. "i know for a second you don't believe i haven't."

his eyes roam your face again, this time, searching for consent. "are you feeling okay enough for me to kiss you?"

"i am dying for you to kiss me, jake," you say. jake's mouth collides with yours in a mixture of relief and wanting. the tension in your bones releases as you press yourself further into him. the groan at the back of his throat causes one of your own to meet it.

jakes hands move to your back, pressing you against him. you are in his lap and still feel like you can't get close enough. his erection presses against his flight suit, a deep flush filling your cheeks.

reading your emotions, he murmurs against your ear, "i can't even attempt to hide what you do to me, but i'm not doing anything you aren't comfortable with."

"i'm certainly not comfortable with the idea of my father pulling the camera footage of his daughter and one of his pilots," you laugh into jake's neck.

"hmmmm," he hums against your ear. "yeah, that'll do it." jake helps you off his lap, and you settle into the side of him. his arms envelope you, pulling you close. "join me at the hard deck tonight? you know, given we're rescued in time to join everyone?"

you answer him with a kiss on the cheek. another wide smile forms, and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

a/n: i hope you enjoyyyyeddddd.

[sematarygirls]

⠀    ⠀⠀♯┆marshgirl!reader x rafe ⏤ part ii.ㅤ ۪ ୧

ᰋ. ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎“ i witnessed a girl dragged under by the current once; i wanted to help her, but my father pulled me away. he told me there was no justice for drowning girls ,, ‎‎ ‎ ‎ : ‎‎ ‎ ‎IN WHICH . . . a strange boy shows up at the marsh unannounced.   ─── ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆🌾

THE AIR SEEMED different that day. The wind blew harder, swaying the leaves and making an eerie moaning sound that echoed through the marsh, a warning call that you should have picked up on. The air, usually a dusty blue in the evening, was a dark, suffocating grey that weighed down the atmosphere, making everything seem sinister and ghostly.

You were sitting in the window, gathering your dried herbs into bundles to hang around the house and ward off negative energies and bad spirits when the sound of a car approaching caused your ears to perk up. You knew the rattle of your daddy's truck like the back of your hand. This engine purred smoothly, like it was brand new.

A pit settled in your stomach at the realization that someone was in the marsh, someone you didn't know, and while your daddy was out no less. If he came home and saw a stranger, he would assume the worst of you, and you'd be in a heap of trouble.

Your heart thrummed wildly, like the wings of a moth caught in a lantern's glow as your head darted up to look out the window, watching a sleek black truck come into view. It looked expensive, a stark contrast to your daddy's rusty one.

The truck rolled to a stop a few feet from the porch, the sound of the engine cutting off sending a wave of nerves through you. No one ever came out here. No one should be out here.

You were frozen in place, fingers tightening on the bundle of dried herbs in your hand that you had been tying a string around. You watched a boy step out of the truck, glancing around with an uncertain look on his face. He was adorned in a dark blue polo shirt, white shorts, and a backward hat on his head.

Just from looking at him, you could tell he was the kind of boy your daddy had warned you about, the kind that took what he wanted without regard for consequence. The kind that girls like you should run from.

He approached the door, cringing as the porch creaked under his weight. He half thought it was going to give out right underneath his feet, but it stayed somewhat sturdy. He knocked once, surprisingly lightly, as if he thought the door would crumble under his knuckles and then stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around as he waited.

You hesitated for a moment before slipping off the windowsill and walking on the balls of your feet toward the door as quietly as you could manage. You shouldn't open the door. You knew better than the open it, but still, your hands twitched at your sides, eager to turn the knob and see what he wanted. He looked to be not much older than you were, after all.

You knew you shouldn't, but you longed for conversation that wasn't tense and short like the ones you had with your daddy. You longed to know what it was like behind the marsh, but you also knew that if your daddy found out about that or found this boy standing on your porch, it would get ugly.

The house held its breath as you stood there, hand outstretched just an inch from landing on the knob. The air around you seemed to thicken, pressing against you from all sides, and the wind outside howled, the marsh eager to see what decision you would inevitably make.

To your surprise, you closed the distance and pulled the door open before you could talk yourself out of it. Your eyes widened as you saw the tall boy up close, his head turning at the sound of the door opening. He was handsome, like the boys on the covers of the magazines you saw at the store.

His gaze snapped to yours, sharp and assessing. There was something uncertain in the way he rocked back on his heels, like he was trying to put distance between the two of you.

You didn't say anything at first, only stared, hands still clutching the bundle of herbs, the brittle stems digging into your palm. His presence felt intrusive, unnatural, like a stone tossed into a still pond. You weren’t used to visitors. You weren’t supposed to have them.

“You shouldn't be here,” you murmured, your voice soft, barely above a whisper.

Rafe tilted his head slightly, brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of you. “Yeah?” he said, like he wasn’t convinced. His voice was smooth but edged with something you couldn’t quite place—arrogance, maybe, or curiosity.

You glanced over his shoulder, tilting your own head like a curious puppy as you listened intently for the rumble of your daddy's truck of the quieting of the crickets—any indication that he was coming.

“You need to leave before my daddy gets home,” you said finally, voice even softer now, as if speaking it too loud might summon your father from the trees. “If he sees you…” you trailed off, letting the implication settle between you.

Rafe’s lips pressed together, like he was considering pushing his luck, but something in your expression—your wide, wary eyes, maybe—made him pause. “I just wanted to talk,” he said after a beat. “Didn’t think I’d get the third degree for it.”

You blinked at him, confused. “The third degree?”

His lips quirked up in amusement, glancing behind you into your house, seeing a shelf of herbs, jarred substances, animal bones, moss, stones, and carved sculptures that made his brows furrow. “Uh—Nevermind. Look, I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just…” He hesitated, like the words weren’t quite right, like he was trying to find something that didn’t sound like a lie. “I wanted to see you. I mean, I saw you before—at the grocery store, and I just—I dunno, wanted to meet you.”

A foreign feeling settled in your chest at his words. “I'm not supposed to talk to strangers,” you told him, looking up at him with wide eyes, but still, your feet seemed planted in place like the roots of a tree, keeping you from doing what you knew you should have—shut the door in his face.

“Well, I'm Rafe,” he grinned, that arrogant look he was known for. He reached his hand out for you to shake, but you just cocked your head, looking down at it in confusion, like you didn't know what to do. “What's—uh—What's your name?” He asked, retracting his hand. “So we won't be strangers anymore.”

You froze at that, at the simple question. Names were dangerous things. They weren’t just words. They were identities, parts of yourself that you could never take back once given. You were known as “marsh girl” for a reason. No one knew your real name, and you had always intended to keep it that way. Names were powerful.

The weight of the question hung in the air for awhile, and for some reason, you really wanted to tell him your name. For once, you wanted someone to know you, someone to not be a stranger, but you knew better. “My name's... not important," you finally whispered. “I'm not allowed to talk to people like you.”

“People like me?” He asked, his brows furrowing at how cryptic you were. This was definitely going to be harder than he thought, but he was determined to make it work. He'd made a bet to win, and that's what he was going to do. It would just take a little more effort than he anticipated.

You felt your chest tighten, as if the words were caught between your ribs. Your gaze flickered to the ground, to the bundle of herbs still tightly held in your hands, a small comfort. "People who come from... places where the air is different," you whispered, your voice fragile. The air around you was a comfort to you and a discomfort to him. He didn't understand the ways of the marsh, and that was a dangerous thing.

Rafe stared at you for a long moment, clearly trying to decipher the layers of meaning in your words. “Places where the air is different?” he echoed, sounding like he didn’t understand. Inside, he was trying to keep his composure. You were nuttier than all the Pogues he'd ever met combined, and it drove him crazy that he had no idea what you were talking about

It made all the sense in the world to you, though. Everything about him—his clothes, his demeanor, his shiny car—it all screamed that he was out of place, different, and that kind of thing got you killed in this world. Prey blend into the greenery. They don't stand out.

He came from a place where being loud and assertive was how you survived, how you thrived. He didn't know what it was like to live by the standards of the marsh, to only speak when spoken to. He didn’t know what it was like to keep your head down, your voice soft, and your hands busy, never drawing attention to yourself.

“You have to go now,” you told him firmly, the air seeming to shift in a way that you noticed, as if the marsh was warning you. “Goodbye... Rafe.” You shut the door in his face before he could say more, leaning against it and letting out a shaky breath.

You listened, and for a moment, there was nothing, but then, you heard his footsteps retreat and his car start up. You were relieved that he was leaving, and all you could do was hope that he never came back, not unless you knew your daddy wouldn't be home in time to interupt.

                         ୭ৎ

tags .ᐟ   @lovemesailor / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed / @rafeslittleangel / @bakugouswaif / @fakedhearts / @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 / @oatmealisweird / @lanaslushworld / @6r4cie / @corpsebridenightamare / @moustacherryismyhusband / @littlelamy / @vanityvixen / @susanhill / @jjasmiineee / @rafecameronswifeyy / @throughthedakotas

[babyjinsu]

heartlink - anton lee

it's a match!

wc; 2.8k slight fluff (for now :x) 002 here!

💭 hehehhehehhehehehhe there'll b a part 2 n a reddit post!!

you weren’t looking for love—you weren’t even looking for something casual.

it was boredom, plain and simple. besides, the semester just ended and you had nothing else to do besides attending your part-time job at a local cafe as a waitress. it was a quiet sunday night when the idea came to you—a way to kill time.

going on dating apps!

you created your profile—chose the best, prettiest selfie you have of yourself. you didn’t put much details in your bio, just a simple, just for fun! ◡̈. at first, it was just swiping for the entertainment of it. left, left, left… right, left… most of the profiles were almost the same—bad quality selfies, forced, corny bios, dudes flexing their muscles in bathroom mirrors… you weren’t expecting much, or anything at all.

then his profile appeared. 

anton lee. 20 years old. likes music n playing them.

holy shit. this guy doesn’t even look real, you thought. he looked like he had been pulled straight from a magazine—the type of guy you just know you stood no chance with—his hair was dark and it fall just past his eyes and he had those handsome features and this anton dude just looked like someone who didn’t belong in dating apps (he definitely didn’t need one too).

you hesitated—but reminded yourself that this was just for fun. if you had no chance with this guy to begin with, what’s the harm? just have fun!

you couldn’t deny that he was exactly your type. painfully so. 

you swiped right. and a second later, almost immediately, your screen flashed—

it’s a match!

——

it didn’t take long for anton to send you a text. 

in fact, it happened faster than you’d expected that it got you wondering if he was the one who had been waiting for you to initiate a conversation. you thought that anton was just one of those guys who matched with girls to boost his ego—that he’s still relevant to the market, but you might be wrong.

anton lee: hey.

even the greeting suited him. short, simple, deceptively normal. or maybe you were just sooo starstruck by his appearance to think he was weird.

upon receiving the text, you stared at your screen—your thumb hovering over the keyboard. it was just a simple hey, but you were thinking too hard on the perfect reply. one that won’t leave anton ghosting you afterwards.

you hesitated for a second before typing back.

yn: hi. i didn’t think you’d text first.

you hummed in satisfaction, giving yourself a slight nod and smile. almost immediately, you got a reply. 

anton lee: why wouldnt i?

you bit the inside of your cheek—why wouldn’t he…?—debating what and how to respond. now feeling a little bit stupid for asking him that. you should’ve just said hi back. you didn’t want to sound insecure, or ‘pick me’, but at the same time, realistically, it felt insane that someone like him, would even notice someone like you.

yn: i dont know lol. you look kinda out of my league. im surprised we even matched.

there was a pause after your text—read—and for a second, you thought you fucked up.

but then his reply came through.

anton lee: you think so?

huh, there was something about his response that made you… shift uncomfortably on your bed. a feeling—an unfamiliar one. it wasn’t a dismissal, nor was it a playful teasing. it didn’t even feel like a question…

before you could think too hard about responding, another message popped up.

anton lee: i think youre really cute though.

the unfamiliar feeling vanished as soon as it came—replaced with a now strange warmth booming in your chest. he thinks i’m cute, you thought, giggling by yourself. you reread the text over and over—flattered.

yn: i guess i got lucky then :) 

anton lee: yeah you did ;)

——

for the next few weeks, you and anton fell into an easy rhythm.

it started slow—just a few, once or twice texts a day. but somehow, the conversations never died. surprisingly, anton knew how to carry a conversation, and he always came up with different topics to talk to you. you started to realise that anton wasn’t like any other guys on the app, or any guys you’ve talked to before. 

he was calm, steady, and almost too easy to talk to—despite his looks.

the odd feeling never came back. he never bombarded you with clingy or needy texts, or pushed you for more than you were comfortable with. he never asked for your inappropriate pictures, or drifted the conversation to one. if you took hours to respond, he understood. if he sensed that you weren’t in the mood to talk, he was more than willing to hear you out. 

anton was just always ready to pick up where the conversation was left off.

you found out that anton created his profile because of a bet—which he had lost a few hours prior to meeting you. and you told him your reason as well—boredom. he was also a student like you too, studying music performance (he didn’t tell you where though, but you understood). 

additionally, anton had a sense of humour like yours—he wasn’t boring, or dry, or had no personality like most handsome guys you knew. he also wasn’t always flirting—but he’d say things that let you guess how he felt about you. there were definitely moments where talking to him was too good to be true, but you’d quickly remind yourself that it wasn’t serious.

and then, one evening, it happened, 

anton lee: so… when are you gonna let me take you out?

you blinked at your screen. 

of course this would come sooner or later—it was only a matter of time before he asked. seeing the question actually came true made your stomach flip in all directions. you bit on your bottom lip, your thumbs hovering over your keyboard.

you wanted to say yes so badly, 

but a small, nagging voice in the back of your mind told you to think it through thoroughly. you had only been talking to anton for a few weeks, and you’d heard all the horror stories about meeting guys online—creepy messages, dates gone wrong, murders…

not that you thought anton would be like that… hopefully. if anything, he had been kind, patient, easygoing, and almost too normal. but… wasn’t that how it always started…?

on the other hand, maybe you were just overthinking it. what if it actually goes well? it’s like winning a lottery, you thought.

yn: i donno. are you as charming in person as you are over the text?

his reply came fast.

anton lee: only one way to find out

you didn’t realise you were holding your breath until his reply came.

anton lee: we can go to rain report in seongsu if you’d like. 

anton lee: they have good pastries there

okay, a cafe. it’s an open, safe, neutral ground.

yn: that sounds good.

anton lee: saturday at 5? 

you hesitated again for a split second—then shook the doubt away as soon as.

yn: okies, see you then?

it took anton a few minutes to reply.

anton lee: im looking forward to it yn :) 

you stared at his response, your grip still around your phone. they felt strangely heavier than they should have. 

you locked your phone and exhaled.

it was just a date. 

what’s the worst that could happen?

——

saturday came by pretty sooner than you’d expected. too soon, honestly.

you had spent the whole week trying not to overthink it. that it was just a date. a date with a normal guy. except this guy was intimidatingly handsome and chill. in hindsight, there was nothing to be nervous about, it was anton who had asked you out. but you woke up that morning feeling like your stomach had been tied into a thousand knots and twists.

you weren’t a loser by any means. in fact, talking to guys wasn't anything new to you at all.  but this was the first time ever that you’d be meeting up with a guy you’d only ever spoken to through a screen. one with a romantic intention.

that morning, while waiting for the perfect time to start getting ready, you distracted yourself by doing the laundry, studying—just whatever to keep your mind from spiraling. but the hours ticked by and the nerves started to creep back in. by 3, you started getting ready.

throughout the whole process of prepping, your mind went through every possible scenario that existed to a man—what if he thought you don’t look like your pictures? what if the conversation was awkward in real life? what if he prefers you over the phone? 

4:30. the distance between the cafe and your apartment wasn’t that far—but it’d be nice to get there early and calm yourself. make a nice first impression.

you took a deep breath, smoothing your clothes down one last time in front of the mirror. 

it’s just a date. but the nervous pit in your stomach refused to go away.

——

when you arrived there, anton was nowhere to be seen. for a split second, you thought anton stood you up. you hated that your heart sank at the possibility. it wasn’t like you were that desperate for the date to happen, but the idea of your date not showing up…

you scanned the cafe, trying not to look too obvious as you searched for a familiar face. people—teenagers and young adults your age, specifically, were chatting and laughing amongst themselves. but there was no sign of anton. 

you exhaled sharply and stared down at your phone, debating whether or not to text him. you decided to ask; and then—

“you’re early.”

the voice came from behind you and it made you jump slightly. whipping your head around, there anton was.

he stood just a few feet away from you. dressed casually in a dark blue sweater with his hands tucked into his jeans’ pockets, his hair was slightly tousled like he had run a hand through it. he looked exactly like his pictures—better in person.

your breath hitched, and you felt stupid for thinking he wasn’t going to show up—after saying he was kind and all.

“i—” you swallowed, feeling caught. you let out a small dry laugh. “i thought maybe you stood me up.” 

anton tilted his head slightly, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “why would i do that?” 

you didn’t have an answer. 

before you could think of one—anton smiled softly, god he looked so good.

“come on,” he hummed, nodding toward the open cashier. “should we order?” 

you nodded quickly and followed his lead as he made his way towards the counter. 

“what do you want?” he asked, glancing down at you beside him. the height difference was apparent. he was so tall too. you stared at the menu displayed on the television screen above, humming in thought.

“vanilla latte, i think.” anton nodded then turned to the cashier to order. he got himself a classic latte. the employee rang it up, and before you could even reach for your purse, anton was already tapping his card on the terminal. 

“oh, i could’ve paid…” you murmured softly, not wanting to say it outloud in front of the staff. you know it’s a thing where it is expected for a guy to pay on the first date—a gesture of chivalry. but still, you felt guilty.

anton gave you a soft smile and shrugged, tucking his wallet back in the back of his jeans. “don’t worry about it,” he said. “next date, then.” he added, casually.

your brain short-circuited for a moment. next date?

he said it so effortlessly like it was given. like anton had already known there would be a second one. you felt your face heat up, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. was it his sheer assumption that made you flustered?

either way, it didn’t seem like anton noticed. or he probably did and was just enjoying watching you squirm.

minutes later, after you both had settled at a nice, quiet table by the corner—and anton had grabbed the drinks from the counter—an odd silence sort of just… settled between you.

not awkward, exactly… just charged.

you wrapped your hands around your cup, focusing on the warmth against your skin instead of the man before you. anton, on the other hand, was a lot more calm—leaning back against his chair as he stirred his coffee absentmindedly. his eyes laid on you in quiet amusement. 

for anyone who didn’t know the context, it didn’t look like a date. 

“you always this nervous?” he asked, cocking his head to the side slightly as he tapped the mocha spoon on the rim of the cup before putting it down. 

“i’m not nervous.”

he raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was suppressing a smile. “really?”

you hummed and nodded before letting your eyes meet his’. “maybe a little. i’ve never done this before.”

anton leaned forward slightly, placing his elbow on the table. “meet guys from tinder?”

“yeah.”

he hummed in understanding, bringing his coffee to his lips. “don’t you wanna know why i swiped right on you?” he asked. you blinked at the question, slightly caught off guard. of course you do. so you nodded shyly.

anton set his cup down, his fingers traced the rim of the lid deliberately. “i thought you were pretty,” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “really pretty, actually.”

a warmth crept up your neck—you weren’t used to being complimented.

you wanted to thank him, but he cut you off. “and you looked cute too. i didn’t know you could look better in real life,” he let out a soft laugh, humming. “i’m so glad we matched.”

okay now, you were sure your face was as red as a tomato. blood was rushing, sprinting to your cheeks.

“thanks, wow,” you brought your cup to your lips, trying to conceal how flustered you were.  

anton smiled, just a little, “and i feel like i’ve known you.”

your breath hitched, “what?” 

anton tilted his head, studying your reaction. “i don’t know. i feel like i’ve seen you before.”

out of nowhere, something cold curled in your stomach. what did he mean by that? was it just one of his flirting pick up lines? you forced a small laugh, keeping your voice light. he looked way too calm, maybe you were just overreacting. “you… haven’t though, right?”

what is wrong with me? you thought, why couldn’t you shake off the uneasiness? 

anton didn’t respond right away. his eyes flickered over your face, and he wasn’t smiling. then, after what felt like hours long of pause— “no,” he finally said, lips curling slightly as he looked down on his cup. “just a feeling.” 

——

if you were being really honest, the date felt a little strange. 

you didn’t mean it in a bad way—anton was really nice. he never made you uncomfortable (in an obvious way), and he paid for your drink—oh, and he bought you some pastries to take home too. the conversation flowed as well enough, and you learned a lot about him. he had been playing the cello since he was young; and he was also a part of the swimming team during his school days. 

but there was just something—you couldn’t name it—about him that sat in your chest.

maybe it was the way anton looked, watching you when you weren’t looking at him. or maybe it was the way he spoke—so calm and collected, so nonchalant about the things he was saying. his mannerism, perhaps? the way he never broke off eye contact when you were talking about your university life? 

but then again, who were you to judge? you had never been on a proper date before. heck, you didn’t even know how a date was supposed to go, to feel. for all you know, it could be normal for girls to feel the way you did upon their first dates too. maybe you were just overthinking—so many maybes. 

anton lee: i had a really nice time today yn :) you looked even prettier up close. 

you found yourself smiling as you locked the door behind you.

yn: thanks! i had fun too ><

yn: you’re just as handsome anton 

it wasn’t a lie, at all. you did have fun, and he looked even better in person.

anton’s reply came just as fast. 

anton lee: i’d love to see you again soon.

you bit your lip, typing a response—that you too, looked forward to seeing him again.

 totally ignoring the way your stomach was twisting.

💭 AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH creepy anton ill probably proofread n edit this l8rrrrrr

[gummydummy19]

No one else

Summary: You see Price again for the first time after he went on mission…and after you slept with him months ago

Content Warning: mentions of smut, angst, age gap

Pairing: John Price x reader (NO GENDER/LOOKS SPECIFIED)

A/N: short, sweet and angsty, folks! this has been in my drafts for a looooong time, enjoy <3

Word Count: 1100+

“I…I haven’t...been...with anyone else, you know?”

“What?”, He looked down at you, your head resting on his sticky chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Since you left…I uhm….I haven’t slept with anyone else.”

It had been months since you last saw him.

You and John had been friends for years. Sure, he was a little older than you, but you never cared. He was handsome and smart and kind and he always knew what to do.

He was the one you called when your car broke down on the side of the road. The one who took you for a drink after a long day at work.

And last summer, he suddenly became the one who made you cum so many times you forgot your own name.

It was a one-time thing. A moment of heated passion between two friends. The fact that you'd had a crush on him for over a year played no part in the matter.

Besides, you didn't have much time to dwell, because the next morning when he got called into work, he was told that he was needed for another mission.

Well it turns out, that did actually leave you lots of time to dwell. Six months of it.

It had gone by incredibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time, but there he was, back home, taking sips of his beer on your couch while you cooked him his first decent meal in half a year.

You'd been eyeing each other all night. Small talk paired with small touches. After dessert, when there were no more dishes to be washed, no more stupid questions to be asked, nowhere left to hide, he kissed you.

And that left you here, in your bedroom. Tangled in the forest green sheets, sweaty and satisfied. His rough hands drew gentle shapes on your shoulder until you opened your stupid mouth.

“I havent been with anyone else…”

Price was quiet, with an expression on his face that gave little away.

The silence grew thicker by the second. An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach and you started to regret even saying anything.

You were about to mumble out an excuse, apologize, tell him never mind, and that it was silly. Your mouth opened but before the first sound could fly out of your throat, he broke the silence.

“Neither have I.”, he stated dryly.

“You haven’t?”, you sat up a little, getting a better look at his face.

“You thought I had?” He raised his brow a little, you could tell it was a reflex. He almost looked…annoyed.

"Yeah, I mean...no....I don't know", you babbled.

"Well, I didn't."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to." he replied with just a twinge of irritation, “Did you want me to?”

“No I just…I wouldn’t have been mad…if you had.”

His brows twisted in what can only be described as a dumbfounded frown.

“What the…” he grumbled, sitting up fully too. “So if I would have fucked some other lass, you would’a been totally fine with that?”

Your eyes darted around nervously as you tried to figure out how to answer that question.

“I just…you can do what you want. You don’t have any responsibilities towards me. I would have understood if you had…if…if you’d…”

The thought of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't have expected that of him. That he'd stayed loyal to someone he'd slept with once.

Well...twice now.

"Alright then, good to know how you feel," he said as he got out of bed, quickly grabbing his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

"W-, Price, where are you going?"

"I clearly got this all wrong, that's on me."

"No wait, please! I...I'm sorry I just...I..." you babbled. Your chest felt tight, that familiar feeling of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched him grab his stuff off the floor.

“Can you please just hold on a minute? Please?”, you pleaded, “John!”

That got his attention. His eyes locked with yours as he stood there brooding like an angry bear.

“I thought…” he started, you could tell he was trying to keep himself composed, “I thought we had something. I thought we were something. A thing. The pair of us.”

You sat there on the bed, with your thin sheet wrapped flimsily around yourself, staring up at him.

“John…I”

“I know we didn’t exactly have a conversation about it…but after what happened I just sort of assumed…and I shouldn’t have.”

“No! God, I’m such an idiot…I'm just expressing myself all wrong…", you tried explaining, “I wanted you to know I hadn’t been with anyone else…because I don’t want anyone else…but I also know we didn’t talk about it so I would have no right to be mad if you…if you had…”

“Screwed someone else?”, he damn near barked.

“Yeah…", you visibly flinched at the thought this time. "Can you please sit back down? Please?"

He obliged. The mattress dipped a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his back toward you. The room was quiet again. You didn't really know what to say or do...you had missed him so much...all you wanted was to be close to him, that was all you had wanted for months.

You were staring at the freckles on his back and you couldn't help but lean closer, your lips carefully brushing against the skin and pressing a loving kiss there. You felt him tense up, yet he remained quiet.

"The thought alone makes me sick..." you started, hoping he would get what you were referring to, "but I would have understood, you were gone for a long time and you didn’t make any promises to me”

You felt him tense up again when you said that last part.

“M'not angry at you sweetheart, I'm just angry at myself ", he turned around, his sweet, blue eyes gazing at you with nothing but love and affection.

"I promised my heart to you a long time ago, I was just too dense to tell you about it..."

"Oh, John..", was all you could muster, you reached out and gently put your hand against his bearded cheek. He leaned into your touch, placing his own hand over yours.

"I should have at least made it clear how I felt, sweetheart, instead of leaving you wondering if I was fucking someone else for six months. Because I wasn’t. All I wanted was to be with you. There’s no one else I want, love.”

You were at a loss for words, so you settled for a kiss. Not that he was complaining, because he immediately maneuvered you onto his lap, mumbling praises and apologies.

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo

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@secretdream2

[toyourheartandback]

SKINNY DIPPING (18+)

luke castellan x reader

in which luke loves winning

word count: 1.12k

MDNI! warnings: smut, handjob, fingering, swearing, nudity and reader has a female anatomy

a/n: i feel like i’m starting to have way too much fun writing smuts. hope you guys will enjoy it just as i much as i do!

you had made a bet with luke castellan. whoever won capture the flag could make the other do anything they wanted without negotiation or backing out. and that was how you found yourself on the edge of a small cliff, just outside of the protection of thalia’s tree, watching the head counselor of the hermes cabin strip in front of you.

“c’mon, beautiful” he said with a smug smirk on his face as he grabbed the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head, tossing it aside without a care. you let your eyes scan his toned abs a bit longer than you intended as the moonlight highlighted the sharp lines and faded scars. “it’s not like i haven’t seen it before” he drawled, fingers now working at the button of his shorts.

your hands hesitated at the hem of your own shirt. “i swear, if anything happens, i’m cutting your balls off” you warned, voice sharp despite the heat creeping up your neck. luke only laughed, clearly enjoying every second of his victory while his gaze never left you as you reluctantly peeled off your clothes. then you were both bare in front of each other. you could see all those hours he spent training were definitely paying off as the sight alone made your stomach twist, heat creeping in places you didn’t want to acknowledge. luke wasn’t any better, looking at you with unmistakable lust.

you took the hand he offered, fingers tangling together as you stepped closer to the edge. “you okay?” luke gently asked, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. his dark eyes were as soft as his touch. the night breeze ruffled his curls and for a split second you almost forgot to breathe. the drop below wasn’t even terrifying, but the handsome boy in front of you was. then you smirked. “don’t be a pussy, castellan” and before he could react, you yanked him forward, pulling both of you off the edge.

you flew for only a few seconds before the icy water swallowed you whole and a firm grip pulled you upward. “asshole!” luke’s voice was sharp as he surfaced in front of you, his wet curls plastered to his forehead. his scowl would’ve been more intimidating if you weren’t still laughing, breathless from the jump. “oh, come on” you teased, grabbing his wrist as he let you tug him toward shallower water.

his hands pushed wet strands from your face before cupping your cheeks, his touch surprisingly gentle. his thumbs traced your skin, sending a shiver down your spine despite the warmth of the water. “you’re gonna be the death of me one day,” he murmured, voice low and serious. your heart stuttered. his plump lips hovered dangerously close, so close you had to grip his biceps just to steady yourself. “you’re gonna be the death of me right now if you don’t kiss me” just as you whispered those words, luke crashed his lips against yours, claiming the space between you in an instant.

the kiss was desperate, heated, like he’d been waiting for this moment longer than he’d ever admit. and gods, you kissed him right back. his tongue slipped into your mouth, teasing, demanding, but there was no real battle. you let him take control, let him deepen the kiss until your head spun. his hands roamed your body, before settling on your ass. a firm squeeze had you gasping, your hips instinctively yanking against his. luke groaned, low and rough, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “you must really like me,” you teased, still breathless, “if you can get this hard in cold water.” a breathless giggle escaped before you could stop it. his gaze stayed dark and intense. his lips found your sweet spot on your neck, sucking just enough to make your knees threaten to give out. “you know it’s more than that,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with something deeper than lust as he pressed himself against your stomach, letting you feel every inch of him.

one of his hands slipped between your bodies, fingers tracing slow and teasing circles on your clit. each stroke sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, your body unconsciously following his lead. your hand found his cock, fingers wrapping around his length and the moment you started twisting your wrist, luke let out a guttural moan against your ear. “fuck,” he rasped, his voice thick with pleasure. the deep and desperate whines slipping from his lips alone had you aching for more. his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. “you’re already making me regret not bringing a condom,” a breathless giggle escaped you, but it was short-lived because just as you captured his lips in a kiss, two of his fingers plunged inside you. you loudly gasped, gripping his shoulders as he pumped them mercilessly, curling just right to hit that spot that had your vision blurring. the water around you swayed violently, mirroring the rhythm of both your hands.

it felt like the world had stopped. all you could process was luke. his woodsmoke scent, his hand gripping your hair, his starved mouth on yours, the warm slickness of his precum as you stroked him, and the way his fingers worked you closer to the edge. “guys!” it yanked you both back to reality just as you were about to come undone. “shit,” luke groaned, his grip loosening as you pushed him away, your brows furrowing in sync. “are you there?” chris’s voice echoed through the bay, and you silently prayed to every god on olympus that your friends hadn’t see you getting fucked by the hermes counselor through the dense trees. “weren’t they suppose to come later?” you whispered, your heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. “i don’t know,” luke muttered, looking even more spooked than you. “but I’m currently trying to think about the oracle to make this boner go away.” a laugh burst from your lips before you could stop it.

a few moments later, when he looked composed enough, luke finally called out: “we’re down here!”. within seconds, your friends came crashing into the water, completely naked. as they splashed around, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. “you bet I’m gonna get the rest of my prize later,” his voice was low, teasing, but the dark smirk on his face promised he was dead serious. you always honored your bets, but something told you luke would make sure you never stopped losing to him.

[blairxbear]

Game of Flirts

Part 1

A/N: GUYYYYYS, I am GAGGED. I loved writing this so much, I'll be releasing all parts this week! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I have! I am a sucker for this man.

Hawks was always a smooth talker, he knew how to ruffle feathers and get reactions from people with his outlandish comments. He thought you would be no different, oh was he wrong. You were about to turn the tables on him.

Pro Hero Hawks x Pro Hero Reader

Keigo Takami—better known as Hawks, Japan’s Number Two Pro Hero—wasn’t used to losing.

He was fast, he was smart, and he was devastatingly charming.

At least, that’s what he thought—until he met you.

You, who had the audacity to turn his own game against him.

You, who lived to see him squirm.

You, who had him completely, utterly, hopelessly flustered.

And what was worse?

You knew it.

It had all started as a simple game.

Hawks was a natural flirt—it was effortless, second nature. And when you first started working together, he had assumed you’d be just like everyone else—blushing at his winks, stammering at his smooth lines, melting under his unmatched charisma.

Easy.

Or so he thought.

What he hadn’t expected was for you to flirt back.

And not just flirt back—but do it so much better than him.

It had started with small things—little counters to his usual routine.

Like the first time he had leaned against your desk with a cocky grin, wings flaring just slightly, and purred, “So, what’s a gorgeous hero like you doing in a stuffy old office like this?”

You hadn’t even blinked.

Instead, you had tilted your head, dragged your gaze slowly down his frame, and smirked.

“I dunno, Hawks,” you mused, voice smooth and dangerous. “What’s a pretty boy like you doing getting all up in my space?”

He had choked.

Actually choked.

And the worst part?

You had just laughed, patted his shoulder, and walked away like it was nothing.

And just like that, the game was on.

The next few weeks had been absolute hell.

Keigo had spent his entire life being smooth, being in control—but you had thrown him so off balance that he could barely function.

You turned every single one of his flirty comments into something ten times worse—flipping the script, making him the blushing mess instead of you.

Like the time he had purred in your ear during a mission briefing, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll keep an eye on you out there.”

And without missing a beat, you had turned to him, smirked, and purred right back, “I’d rather you keep your hands on me, handsome.”

He had malfunctioned completely, wings flaring wildly behind him as his brain short-circuited.

You had winked.

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you had walked away, swaying your hips just to taunt him.

Keigo had actually had to take a lap around the building to cool off.

It was infuriating.

It was exhilarating.

It was driving him insane.

The worst part?

He knew exactly where this was headed.

Because this wasn’t just flirting anymore.

It was so much more than that.

It was the way you smiled at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

It was the way he watched you work, completely captivated by your focus.

It was the way his heart skipped a beat every single time you touched his arm, his shoulder—anywhere.

It was the way he ached for more.

And you knew.

Oh, you knew.

Because every time his breath hitched, every time his cheeks flushed, every time his wings twitched with pent-up frustration, you would just smirk—as if to say:

I got you again, bird boy.

And goddammit, you did.

Every.

Single.

Time.

One night, after a long day of flustering him to the brink of insanity, you were sitting on the agency rooftop together, enjoying the cool breeze.

Keigo let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his face. “You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

You grinned, That usual grin that made his heart soar,leaning back on your hands. “That a promise?”

He groaned, tilting his head back. “Oh my god.”

You laughed, and god help him, he loved that sound.

After a beat, you nudged his knee with yours. “We both know where this is going, Hawks.”

Keigo inhaled sharply, wings tensing.

Because yeah.

Yeah, he knew.

He knew that you were meant to be his. That was inevitable.

But this—this flirty, teasing, ridiculous phase—was so much fun.

So instead of agreeing, instead of finally giving in, he just smirked, rolling his shoulders.

“Eh,” he said breezily. “Maybe I just like keeping you on your toes.”

You laughed again, and this time, you leaned in, your face dangerously close to his, your lips just shy of touching his own. Finger placed under his chin.

He stopped breathing.

“Oh, Hawks,” you murmured, voice low and syrupy sweet. “We both know I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

His entire body erupted in flames.

And then, with a wink, you pulled back, stretched, and stood up.

“See ya tomorrow, bird boy,” you called over your shoulder.

And Keigo Takami, Number Two Pro Hero, untouchable flirt, smooth talker extraordinaire, sat there speechless, his wings flared behind him, his body on fire with frustration, his entire soul screaming for you.

He groaned, falling back against the rooftop with a dramatic sigh.He was so, so screwed.

Tag List:

@peachesvault @fallen-w1ngs @katsusoul @tipheeweefee @2kool4skoolll

[shoyododo]

short n' sweet.

+ h.shoyo x reader, timeskip, suggestive

short and sweet.

those were the words that came to mind if someone asked you how you'd describe your underclassman, hinata shoyo.

although he was only a year younger than you when you met him, you always saw him as just a cute and cheery kid. he was always full of energy and enthusiasm, and always so sweet to you whenever you interacted.

the two of you met your second year of high school through nishinoya. upon his request, you tried your best to tutor him and help raise his grades. honestly, you did it out of pity after seeing his horrifyingly low scores. in return, he personally invited you to his practices and games, introducing you to his fellow teammates. it wasn't exactly a fair exchange, you thought, but you humored him nonetheless.

the first time you agreed to watch, you remember nishinoya excitedly introducing you to his favorite underclassman. you were surprised to be met with what you could only describe as a mini nishinoya, though he was slightly taller and more polite. since then, hinata would always greet you sweetly and well-manneredly, and you would return his greetings with compliments on his plays. mainly because you thought the way he stammered and flustered when you praised him was so cute. your compliments were genuine, nonetheless. he really was without a doubt, an impressive player.

for the rest of high school, you would keep running into him between classes and at games. you two went from acquaintances to friends and you remember him quite fondly.

so to say that you were in disbelief about three years later, when your previously short and sweet hinata has you pressed against the wall of your apartment, towering over your figure, gripping your hips and hungrily marking your neck, would be an understatement.

what.

what.

sure, you know a lot can change in the span of a few years but you had no idea it could change this much. once a scrawny and adorable kid is now built, muscular, and to your horror, very handsome. of course you had attended his first official match and noticed the change, but seeing him up close and personal has you weak. or maybe that was due to his firm, large hands sliding under the hem of your shirt and going higher and higher.

this was certainly not the outcome you expected when he invited you to hang out "for old time's sake", but you can't exactly bring yourself to complain. especially not when he brings himself up from your neck to kiss you breathless, leaving you to grasp at his shirt, his hair, anything to keep your knees from buckling over.

"fuck y/n… y-you have no idea how long- i've been waiting to do that" he tells you softly between kisses.

your mind is still trying to play catch-up, fuzzy from the way he's been feeling you up. despite the shock, your mind is screaming to you. don't stop. keep going. fuck, this feels so good.

when he pulls back to scan your face for any signs hesitance or rejection, you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and whisper in his ear.

"show me then, shoyo".

when you move to kiss him on the cheek, you see him wide eyed and even redder than before. a second later, he's lifting you up by the thighs. you gasp at the sudden movement, as well as the fact that he's gotten so strong, lifting you with ease and carrying you to the bedroom without issue.

+ + +

when you wake up the next morning, sore and groggy, you notice he's already awake. the way he looks at you with such affection and softness was overwhelming. there is no awkwardness, only a fond, heartwarming feeling in your chest as he shyly confesses his feelings for you along with his intentions on taking you out on a date, spoiling you, and making you his. how can you refuse such an offer? you realize despite the drastic change in his appearance, he's still just as adorable as when you first met him.

you find it even more adorable when you go to use the bathroom and overhear him gushing to his friends on the phone about how he finally asked out his pretty upperclassman, the girl he's has a huge crush on since high school.

hinata shoyo is still your short n' sweet guy, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

did someone say shoyo carpenter!!!

[justaparsec94]

Three Words

Summary: You and Tech spend some alone time together and some words are said. Requested by Anonymous, written for the prompts: Accidental I Love You's During Sex and Nuzzling The Others Neck and Breathing In Their Scent.

Pairing: Tech x fem!reader

Word Count: 6,399

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Explicit

Authors Note: Finishing off the February Fluff Requests with a Tech-is-alive-and-gets-the-happy-ending-he-deserved-AU. I hope this one turned out ok, Tech might just be the clone I find hardest to write! Thank you so much to everyone who sent in a request during February! I had so much fun writing all of them and I hope you enjoyed reading :)

************************

A happy sigh escaped you as you stretched, your joints popping, a satisfying pull in your muscles as you moved. You smiled softly to yourself, revelling in the feeling of the sun warming your still-wet skin for your earlier swim in the ocean. The rock beneath you was hot from the mid-afternoon sun, soothing the mild soreness in your muscles. You kept your eyes closed as you bathed in the sunlight, listening to the soft sounds of the ocean waves and the nearby laughter of Omega and Lyana as they played in the surf. 

Another gentle sigh escaped you as the feeling of complete contentedness washed over you. After years of fighting and being on the run life on Pabu was something straight out of a dream. It was still hard for you to believe that such a peaceful and beautiful place existed, especially when it seemed like the rest of the galaxy had fallen to terror and ruin. There were still times when the fear that The Empire would return would creep back in, but on afternoons like this one, it was easier to push those thoughts from your mind. You were fairly certain that you could spend the rest of your life on this particular rock and be happy. The gentle breeze, the warm sun, the feeling of the salt water drying against your skin, it was all very quickly lulling you into a state somewhere between sleep and wake. 

You were moments away from sleep when a shadow suddenly cast across your face, darkening your vision and causing you to frown. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky when you had laid down so the sudden interruption was unusual. Reluctantly, you peeped one eye open to look for the source of the disturbance. The disturbance, it turned out, was a welcome one and took the form of a tall, handsome clone. Your frown instantly vanished, replaced with a soft smile, both eyes opening as you gazed up at Tech. One of the very few people who could disturb you from a sunshine nap without consequences. He was still a few feet away but his height had effectively cast a shadow on most of your upper body. You peeled yourself up from the rock slightly, resting on your elbows as you took in the sight of him. 

“Hi,” You greeted softly, your heart rate picking up at the sight of him, just as it always did. 

His goggled gaze was intense as he took another few steps closer to you. His eyes trailing over the lines of your body left fire in their wake and you felt your face heat at the attention. You were wearing your usual swimming attire: a pair of repurposed athletic shorts and a bandeau bra, which he’d seen before but judging by the soft flush on his face it was having some sort of effect on him today.  You took a moment to look at him in return, life on Pabu had been kind to him, his skin glowed with a deep warm tan from days spent out in the sun, and his hair was longer than you’d ever seen it, still short but beginning to curl at the ends, and the simple shirt and pants he wore highlighted just how lean and fit he was. Your face flushed further as your heart seemed to stutter in your chest. Some days it was still hard for you to believe how lucky you were to still have him in your life. 

After a long moment, he cleared his throat, shaking his head lightly before taking another step towards you, “I-I am in need of your assistance.” 

You sat up fully, frowning slightly as worry suddenly bubbled up inside of you. Your eyes scanned him closely, he didn’t look unwell. In fact, he looked the exact opposite but you were concerned nonetheless, “Are you ok?”

“Oh,” Tech replied, sounding somewhat startled by your question, “Yes, I - of course. Nothing is the matter.” 

You weren’t entirely convinced but you accepted the hand he had outstretched to you without complaint. It had taken Tech the better part of a year to recover from the injuries he sustained on Eriadu, and even still there were some residuals. Stiffness in the way he carried himself, an occasional stutter or jumbled word, lapses in a once flawless memory, and a near-complete loss of verbal filter. He was still irrevocably Tech though, still the man you loved with every single piece of your heart. 

“Are you sure?” You asked again as you watched him stoop down to retrieve the loose linen shirt you had worn as a cover-up down to the beach that morning. 

Even before he’d been injured he had always downplayed when something was wrong and that had not changed. Perhaps you were overly cautious, a likely byproduct of watching him be on the brink of death for weeks, but you also knew he didn’t want to worry anyone else when something was bothering him. If anything, that reluctance had only gotten worse since his injury. So you continued to ask, at the very least to soothe your own worries. 

There was a gentle smile on his face when he straightened back up. He had looked somewhat nervous when he’d first approached you, but now all traces of that were gone,  “I am certain. I am currently functioning at an optimal performance level.” 

You chuckled softly at his words as he held out your shirt, gesturing for you to lift your arms. With a smile you slipped in, face continuing to flush as he helped you re-dress. Your skin tingled as his warm hands brushed against your thighs as he straightened out your hem. You smiled up at him as his one hand moved around the small of your back, bringing you in closer to him with a gentle nudge of his hand, the other lifted to brush a stray strand of hair back from your face. Your skin tingled at the contact and you could feel the beginnings of desire starting to pool in your stomach despite the innocent nature of his touch. 

“I am sorry to have disturbed you, you looked very peaceful,” He said softly, his gaze was warm as he traced the lines of your face. 

Your smile widened as you shook your head gently, “You’re never a disturbance, Tech.” 

He soft chuckle escaped him, one corner of his mouth crooking up in a slight grin, “Well, apologies nonetheless.”  

Before you could say anything else he turned his head to look at where his sister and her friend were still splashing about near the shore. 

“Lyana, Omega!” Tech called out to them, “Shep would like you up at his domicile within a standard half hour. He requires your assistance with a task.”

“You got it Tech!” Omega called, throwing a quick thumbs up at him before turning her attention back to Lyana. The three of you often spent your free afternoons either down by the beach or out on a boat. You all loved the water, the clones on the other hand were more reluctant. It seemed a lifetime of living in rainy conditions had made them slightly hydrophobic. 

You turned your attention back to Tech, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, “It seems like everybody needs assistance today…” 

“It would seem so,” He replied casually, but the way he avoided your gaze had you feeling both amused and suspicious. Usually, Tech was incredibly upfront and to the point about everything, so his vague request for your assistance was unusual. Your eyes narrowed as you looked at him, a question on the tip of your tongue but before you could ask he was speaking again. 

“I will explain once we are home,” He said as he grasped your hand in his own, “Come, cyar’ika.”

You flushed at the term, squeezing his hand tighter and following along behind him willingly as he turned and headed towards the stairs leading up to the top of the island. 

The walk up to the home you shared with the rest of The Bad Batch was peaceful, occasionally the two of you would stop to say hello to a familiar face but for the most part, you went undisturbed. Every once and a while Tech would look over at you, a flush high up on his cheekbones and such warmth in his eyes that you found your curiosity growing by the moment. You gave yourself a mental pat on the back for refraining from asking any more questions as you reached the door of your small home. 

You paused as soon as you passed through the threshold, noticing immediately how quiet it was. Usually, there was one if not multiple people in the house at one time. You knew exactly where Omega was but at this time of day, the absence of his brothers was out of the ordinary. You wracked your brain, trying to remember if they’d mentioned their plans when you’d all sat down for breakfast that morning but you were drawing a blank.

“Where is everyone?” You asked as you shut the door behind you. 

Tech turned around to face you, the same, almost mischievous smile from earlier still on his face, “Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair are currently out helping harvest crustacean traps. They will be gone until this evening.” 

“Oh,” You responded automatically before the reality of his statement sunk in. You were alone. And in a small house with 6 people living in it, alone time was very hard to come by, “Oh.”

Tech chuckled, reeling you closer until your body was pressed up against his own, "Our time alone has been insufficient as of late. I thought perhaps we could spend the afternoon together.”   

You chuckled, shaking your head fondly at the secrecy he had been maintaining the entire walk, “You could have just told me that.” 

Tech smiled, his face flushing even more, “I believed the surprise would be more… romantic.”  

“I suppose you are correct,” You replied with a quick laugh before you were standing up on your tip-toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. He lifted his hands to cup your jaw, head tilting down as he hummed against your lips. He was so warm and solid against you that your body immediately ached at the simplest of touches. 

He pulled away after a moment with a sigh, one hand trailing down to grasp your own once more. He gave your hand another gentle tug before he turned, heading towards the stairs that led to the second floor where your bedroom was located.

The house was tiny, a gift from Shep after they’d returned from Mount Tantiss, but it was yours and you loved it so completely. You and Tech shared one room, across the hall from where Hunter and Wrecker bunked together, Omega was further down the hall, while Crosshair claimed the one room on the main floor. After having nothing for so long, the brothers had come to love having their own space. 

You paused as you passed through the threshold to your room, the sight that greeted you causing your eyes to widen in surprise. Normally, your room tended to look more like a workspace. Bits and pieces of whatever project Tech was currently working on scattered about the place, sometimes even finding their way into the bed. You had lost count of the number of mornings you’d tripped over something or gotten a limb tangled in wire. Now though, the room was completely spotless, everything in its proper place, his projects neatly confined to the desk over in the corner. There was even a vase of freshly picked flowers sitting on one of the nightstands. The window shade had been pulled down, blocking out some but not all of the afternoon sun, bathing the room in a warm, dim glow. Small lights, that looked like spare parts from one of his projects, were a new addition strung around the room.

You couldn’t contain the soft smile on your face as you looked between him and the lights, eyebrows raised questioningly. 

“Ah, yes,” He replied, catching your gaze as he adjusted his goggles, “I conducted some research this morning, however, candles are impractical and an incendiary hazard so I hope these will suffice.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his adherence to fire safety but your heart felt as if it was swelling inside your chest. Just when you didn’t think you could love him anymore, he would go and prove you wrong, “Wow, you’re really pulling out all the stops.”

“Well, yes, of course,” He replied earnestly as he toed the door close behind you before he returned to your side. His touch was gentle as he grasped your forearms, his expression achingly soft as he looked at you, “You deserve nothing less.”

You felt yourself flush at the intensity of his look as you took a step closer to him, resting your hands against his waist. You noticed the slight flush had returned to his own face as he lifted a hand to rest against the junction of your shoulder and neck, his thumb gently tracing against your pulse point and sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart was thundering in your chest, desire pooling in your core as he gazed at you. 

You both moved at the same time, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw while your hands slid beneath his shirt to his back, pulling him in flush against you as your lips met. You moaned softly as his nose brushed against your own, his lips were so soft, almost hesitant at first before he deepened the kiss. His free hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you in even closer with a gentle nudge. Your body became completely alive under his touch, every nerve ending singing from the sensation of his skin on yours. 

You nipped gently at his lower lip, pulling a deep moan from his chest. The sound was thrilling, this part of your relationship was still relatively new, so every new discovery you made about him made your heart race. Normally, Tech was always so unflappable, calm, and collected in every situation, so being the one to make him come undone was an incredible feeling. 

Your relationship had progressed slowly, mostly out of circumstance, not because of any lack of feeling. It had only been a few weeks after the two of you had finally admitted to having feelings for one another that Tech had been injured. Afterward, he’d been so unwell for so long that a relationship had been the absolute last thing on your mind. Now though, being able to explore this phase of your relationship together was the best thing in the galaxy. 

Tech’s thumb brushed gently against your jaw for a moment before he was moving, placing gentle kisses down the column of your throat. Your head tilted back on instinct, your body arching forward into his, your skin on fire beneath his lips. He nipped gently at the skin over your pulse point causing you to shudder in his arms, desire flaring in your lower belly. 

Suddenly the fabric separating the two of you was too much. You needed to feel his skin on your own, needed to feel how warm, how alive he was. You moved your hands already beneath his shirt until you were tugging up his hem. Tech caught on quickly, lifting his arms up over his head so you could slide off his shirt. You took a half step back as you tossed it somewhere in the room, eyes raking over him. He may have no longer been a soldier but he was still built like one, all lean muscle beneath golden brown skin. Scars littered his chest and stomach, some much newer than others, some a reminder of what had happened, of what he’d survived. By now you knew every single one and had kissed every inch of his skin, but the desire to do so each time you saw him was still as overwhelming as the first. 

You barely had the time to enjoy the sight of him before he stepped into your space again, the heat of his body radiating through the thin linen shirt you were still wearing. A squeak of surprise escaped you as he suddenly moved, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs and lifting you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he placed another soft kiss on your neck. He took a few steps back towards the bed until his knees hit the edge, lowering you both down until you were straddling him. Everything inside of you ached as he held you flush against him. You ground your hips against him, seeking the friction you so desperately craved and causing a soft moan to escape him. 

A gentle hand on your hip stilled you for a moment before it traveled down and then beneath your shirt, pulling it up and off of you swiftly, your bra following closely after. You shivered, the feeling of being skin-to-skin with him was nearly overwhelming and had you grinding against him once more as heat rushed through you. 

“Cyar’ika,” The word came out choked before he kissed you again, mapping a line from your shoulder to your collarbone, to your neck, to your jaw. Your fingers dug lightly into his shoulders at the feeling of his mouth and tongue on you, it was electric. It was both too much and not nearly enough. You wanted him so desperately you felt as if you might simply combust as he finally kissed your lips again, pulling your lower lip gently with his teeth as your hands wound into his hair. He groaned softly as you tugged gently on his curls before he tangled his tongue with your own. Everywhere your skin touched his ached, your pulse was racing beneath your skin as you deepened the kiss, nose brushing up against his own, the edges of his goggles pressing into your face. 

He pulled away after a moment and you had to bite your lip to keep in the whine at the loss of contact that threatened to escape you. He frowned before he lifted a hand and pulled off his goggles, tossing them haphazardly towards the nightstand beside the bed. They landed with a suspicious clunk but you were too busy looking at him to check on their wellbeing. You saw Tech without his goggles daily, he slept without them, but there was something different about seeing him without them in these types of moments. You didn’t mind but you knew he didn’t like the way they would sometimes press into your skin as you kissed and the slight distance they caused between the two of you. 

You lifted a hand to gently trace the lines of his cheekbone where his goggles normally sat, tracing the indent before moving down his face. Your hand paused momentarily, touch featherlight, as you reached the large scar beneath his left eye where his previous pair had cut into him. The wound had been terrible, so much so that even bacta hadn’t been able to fully repair the skin. Now it served as a faint, silvery reminder of everything he’d survived. Of how strong he was. 

“How did I get so lucky?” You asked softly as your thumb traced across his cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment at the sensation before meeting your gaze once more, the look in his warm brown eyes so soft it made your heart feel as though it were constricting in your chest. Before you had met him you had never believed it possible to love another person so much. He just really loved to prove you wrong.

“Technically,” He started, a slight smirk appearing on his face, “the concept of luck is illogical-”

“Oh, no,” You laughed, shaking your head, “Not this again,” Before he could continue the speech you’d heard many times before you were kissing him again, effectively silencing him.

He hummed against your lips once more, one hand reaching back up to cup your jaw as he tilted his hips up into yours, increasing the friction you had been desiring earlier. He was achingly hard against you and the feeling of him pressing against your core had you gasping softly against his lips. He lifted his free hand to trail up your side, touch ghosting against your skin as he made his way up until he gently palmed your breast. Your nipple pebbled against his calloused hand, your own fingers digging further into his shoulders at the overwhelming sensations. 

“Tech…” You groaned, head tilting back as he kissed his way down your neck to the hollow of your throat, both hands moving to wrap around your waist as he continued to kiss his way down your body. His lips were scorching against your skin, every nerve ending on fire as he pressed a kiss to the swell of your breast before taking you into his mouth. You moaned again, hips automatically grinding into his as everything inside of you turned molten, lost in the feeling of his tongue on you. He moaned against you as you continued to seek out friction, rocking your hips into his own.  

Suddenly he was moving, lifting you up and turning before placing you down gently, your back resting against the pillows at the head of the bed. His hand trailed down your body, fingers hooking beneath the waistband of your shorts. Catching on you lifted your hips to allow him to remove your shorts in one smooth motion. You mourned the loss of contact as he pulled away from you, your body aching with desire for him. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him better as he removed his own pants. He was so beautiful. Golden skin flushed with desire, hair mussed where your fingers had run through it, chest heaving slightly, warm brown eyes wide as he looked at you. It was thrilling to know you had done that to him. You wanted him just as badly. 

You smiled softly at him, cheeks flushing as you held out your hand to him. He immediately grabbed it, lacing your fingers together as he moved, kneeling on the bed until he was straddling you, long body hovering over your own. The heat of him was intoxicating and you squeezed your thighs together, able to feel where you were already slick and ready for him. 

“Beautiful…” he whispered before he bent his head to capture your lips with his own once more. You arched up into him, arms wrapping around his back, pulling him in close until your chests were touching once more. You shivered as his hand slipped between the two of you and paved a slow, torturous path down your body. You moaned, arching further into him as his hand found its way between your thighs. He hummed with pleasure at the wetness he found there, his thumb rubbing gently against your clit and sending all coherent thoughts from your mind. 

Normally, you loved his hands on you, he was an expert when it came to getting you off with those long, gentle fingers, but right now you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of you. You reached up to grasp the back of his neck, forcing him to look at you as you squirmed beneath him, your thighs shaking with desire as you clamped around him. 

“Please Tech,” You whined causing him to pause his ministrations, “I need you.”  

His eyes widened, his face flushing a deeper shade of red, as though your words had unmoored him. He moved his free hand to rest against your jaw, his thumb stroking at your cheek for a moment. His voice was full of emotion when he spoke again, his forehead tipping down to rest against your own, “Of course ner kar’ta. I’m yours.” 

You tilted your chin up to capture his lips with your own as he moved the hand between your legs to grasp the back of your thigh. He lifted your leg up and over his hip, giving him the space to slot between your thighs. He was painfully hard, the head of his cock gliding through your glistening folds as he rocked against you a few times. You gasped as he brushed against your clit, pleasure building to a nearly tortuous level inside of you. His breath was shaky between kisses, hair that was beginning to dampen with sweat falling across his forehead. He groaned as you nipped lightly at his lower lip, bringing it to your mouth. You canted your hips up just slightly, crying out with pleasure as he slid inside of you, filling you up so completely. 

The stretch of him was exquisite, it was a pure, blinding pleasure as he remained still for the moment, letting you adjust. His breathing was ragged, the lines of his body taut as he hovered over you. He let out another soft groan, his nose pressing against your own before he slowly started to move inside of you. 

“Gods, Tech,” You moaned as he found his rhythm. You felt as if you were on fire, your skin hot and flushed. Every touch from him made you shiver, your body becoming a squirming mess beneath him. He kept one hand on your thigh, keeping your leg up as he set a slow, even pace. The other went to the hollow of your throat, his thumb resting gently against your pulse point. The pressure inside of you was building at a blinding pace as he moved to kiss you again. 

It wasn’t enough to tip you over the edge of the orgasm that you were teetering on, you needed more. Sensing your desperation his pace increased as you locked your leg around his hip, bringing him in closer to you so that every thrust has him rubbing deliciously against your clit. You moaned, tilting your head back into the pillows as you canted your hips even further, meeting his thrusts. At that angle, he was hitting that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust. It only took a few more thrusts for you to go toppling head-first into ecstasy. 

You cried out his name as your orgasm washed over you, clenching tightly around him, holding him close as pleasure rippled through your body. His pace faltered for a moment and he nipped lightly at your neck, tongue soothing over the spot a moment later as he let you ride out the tail end of your pleasure. Every nerve ending inside of you felt electric, blind pleasure making you feel loose and wonderful in all the right places. 

Finally, as you came back into yourself you lifted a hand to thread through his hair, holding him close as he continued to kiss your neck, your shoulder, down to your breasts. He started moving slowly again once your breathing evened out. The same slow, even pace from before, but you could feel the tightness in his body, feel the control he was trying to maintain as his own breaths were ragged, sweat glistening against his skin.

“Wait,” You whispered after a moment as a new desire suddenly filled your mind. 

Tech paused instantly, pulling all the way out of you and looking at you questioningly. You used his momentary stillness and your own momentum to your advantage, tangling your legs with his own and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. With strength that surprised even yourself you turned you both, pinning him beneath you on the mattress, your legs on either side of him. You smiled down at him victoriously as you braced your hands on his chest. He looked completely surprised, his face flushing red as he looked up at you with wide eyes that were swimming with desire. 

“My turn,” You replied cheekily, leaning down to kiss him deeply before you moved your hips and sunk down onto him.

A choked groan escaped him, his hands flying to your hips as you took him to the hilt. You took a deep breath, head tilting back as you adjusted to the overwhelming sensation of being filled by him in this position. Slowly you rose, finding a steady pace, your fingers digging into the muscles of his chest as you rode him. Within moments Tech was squirming beneath you, his grip on your hips wonderfully tight as he began to meet you thrust for thrust. His skin was incredibly flushed as you placed a kiss on the column of his throat, his breathing even more ragged than before as you slowly began to increase your pace. 

He let out a soft swear, which had your own eyes widening in surprise, Tech never swore. You faltered slightly, wondering if maybe it was too much but his grip only tightened, his voice a raspy croak when he spoke, “Please, cyar’ika, do not stop.” 

It felt as if your heart skipped a beat, your own desire increasing rapidly as you watched him come undone beneath you. You resumed the same pace as before, leaning in closer to him to kiss along his jawline, nipping and lathing at his skin in equal measure as whispered swears and terms of endearment continued to slip out of him. 

In this position you were rapidly building towards another orgasm, your body clenching around him with each thrust, the exact right amount of pressure rubbing up against your clit. Tech leaned up to place a kiss against your collarbone as one hand moved from your hip to around your waist, keeping you close as you continued to ride him. A shaky exhale of air left him as he swore softly once more. His thrusts up into you become more frantic. 

The next words out of his mouth were so quiet you barely heard them, “Gods, I love you.”   

Your rhythm faltered momentarily as your brain caught up with the words he’d just said. Had he actually said that or had you just imagined it? 

Tech had suddenly stilled beneath you, a choked moan escaping his throat as your body clenched tightly around him. When you pulled your head back slightly to look at him his eyes were wide, his cheeks and the tips of his ears red. Clearly, you hadn’t misheard and he had just realized what he had said. 

You tried to ignore it, tried to find your rhythm again, but your thoughts were completely jumbled. The orgasm you had been building towards was now just a whisper of desire in your stomach. He’d never said that to you before. You knew that in his own unique Tech way he cared for you deeply, he called you just about every term of endearment in Mando’a, but the love word had never come up. You knew that it was just said in the heat of the moment, that you shouldn’t look into it too much but now that your brain had caught on to the thought it couldn’t seem to stop. 

A firm squeeze to your hip had you stilling completely. When you met Tech’s gaze he looked embarrassed, his face redder than you’d ever seen it. Your heart felt as if it was bottoming out inside of you at the expression on his face. 

“I-I apologize,” His voice trembled with emotion as he spoke, "I did not intend to make such an admission.”

“Oh,” You managed to squeak out, which was impressive considering the emotions that were welling within you suddenly were completely overwhelming. It was ok, you tried to tell yourself, he didn’t love you yet but maybe one day he would. This was enough, what you had was good, and you could live with this. 

“I have upset you,” He stated matter of factly, drawing your attention back to him. With impressive strength he pulled himself up against the head of the bed into a seated position, bringing you along with him. You moved off of him but remained straddling his lap while your heart pounded painfully in your chest. 

“No, no Tech it’s fine,” You replied, and it was fine. Everything was fine. 

“No, I misspoke,” Tech insisted, his voice taking on its typical clinical and straightforward quality.

You lifted a hand to rest against his face, trying to reassure him as much as you were trying to reassure yourself, “It’s ok, I understand. The heat of the moment and all that…”

Tech’s eyes widened and he shook his head, he lifted a hand to grasp the one you had on his face, pulling it into his own, “That is not what I meant,” He started softly, his eyes suddenly warm with emotion, “I had intended to make that admission in a more… romantic setting. Not during an amorous encounter.”

“Oh,” You started before the weight of his words fully sunk in, “OH.”

Tech chuckled softly as you looked at him in surprise, your voice a high-pitched squeak when you spoke again, “You love me?” 

“Well yes, of course,” He stated matter-of-factly as he lifted his free hand to push some loose hair away from your face. His expression turned serious as he continued, “Though I do not find that one word sufficient enough to explain the depth of my feelings for you.” 

For a moment you thought that maybe you had died, or maybe that it was all just a dream but then he was kissing you again with such passion that you knew it was real. He loved you. 

You hummed with pleasure against his lips, hands moving to wrap around his shoulders as his own arm banded across your waist, pulling you flush against him once more. You felt as if you were floating, your heart hammering in your chest as desire flared in your core once more. He loved you. 

You both moaned as he entered you again, heat pooled in your stomach as you met his thrusts, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you found a rhythm together once more. He moved his lips to your shoulder, kissing a line back up to your throat as he thrust up into you. The spark of desire in you had turned into an inferno, rapidly hurtling towards another orgasm as you increased your pace, taking him all the way into you before nearly rising all the way off. The pull of him against you, the way he filled you so completely was completely overwhelming. You ground against him with each thrust, your clit rubbing against the base of him, you were so close that it was nearly painful. 

Tech placed a kiss beneath your ear before pulling away just slightly, his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear as he spoke again, “I love you,” His free hand slipped between your bodies, and his words combined with the soft pressure of his hand against your clit had you tumbling over the edge once more. You cried out again as your orgasm washed over you, your fingers digging even tighter into his shoulders as your head tilted to rest against his own. You squeezed your eyes shut tight as you allowed the sensations coursing through your body to completely take over you. You felt his pace falter, his entire body went ridged for a moment as his hips jerked against your own. He moaned loudly, burying his face into your neck as his own orgasm followed. 

You were both quiet for a long moment, heads resting together as you both tried to regain some control over your breathing. You felt as if you might just completely melt against him, satiated in a way that made your limbs feel completely loose. 

His hold on you was still tight as your breathing began to even out, he moved his head slightly, brushing his nose against you before pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. You sighed in contentment, there was really nothing more that you wanted than to spend the rest of your days in his arms. 

Eventually, he moved, rolling you both until you were lying side by side in the bed. You curled into him, your head resting on his chest as he pulled a thin sheet up to cover you both, the sweat on your skin was rapidly drying and leaving you with a slight chill. He made a content noise as you nuzzled further into him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent as he trailed a lazy hand up your spine. 

You pulled your head back just slightly to watch him as he reached for his goggles, putting them back into place before he turned to look at you once more. His expression was achingly soft as your gazes met. It made your heart twist in your chest, a soft smile forming on your face as you continued to look at him. You stretched your head forward to place a soft kiss against his cheek before you settled back down against his chest. It was quiet for a long moment, his hand continuing to rub gently against your back as you listened to the steady beat of his heart.

“Tech,” you said softly after a while, causing his hand to pause, “I love you too.” 

You tilted your head back up to look at him, meeting his wide-eyed gaze. He looked surprised by your admission which only made you chuckle softly. 

He shook his head after a moment, a small smile appearing on his face, “Perhaps, I am the lucky one, after all.”

Your eyes narrowed playfully at him but you were unable to keep a smile off your face, “You said you don’t believe in luck…”

“Yes, well, I may be convinced otherwise if provided with enough concrete evidence,” He said as he lifted his hand to cup your jaw, “And you being in love with me is very convincing.”

You laughed softly, heart soaring in your chest as you leaned up to kiss him once more. Of that, you were completely certain, despite all the odds you were together, you were happy, and both lucky in love.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Love You More Than Anything

@beef-brisket

In the beginning there was the Garden of Eden that housed the first humans, Adam and Lilith. They were each other's equals and meant to be each other's spouses.

But they did love each other and Lilith wanted to control Adam. Upset he fled the garden to be alone and figure out what he really wanted.

That's when he met the Seraphim Angel, Sera. She was intrigued by the strong willed human and had come to care for him like a mother would a child. She cared for him and taught him things but there was only so much he could understand.

Wanting more for the man she considered a son, Sera plucked an apple from the tree of knowledge to give him the forbidden fruit.

But things went so wrong so fast, Lilith and her new husband Evan were also given the fruit and this brought sin to the earth.

For ruining humanity Sera and Adam were cast out of the garden into the darkest depths of the Earth, where they could only see the worst humanity had to offer and never seeing the good.

Knowing she made an unforgivable mistake, Sera became deeply depressed.

Adam became determined to find a way to help make things better, not just for Hell but for his mama too.

-

It was extermination day and Adam, the prince of Hell always went out afterwards to survey the damage. Most people never took his help, telling him to fuck off, but he still offered it.

Adam sighed: Might as well head back.

He decided to take a short cut through an alleyway and that was when he saw him.

A blonde haired man was leaning against the dumpster clearly hurt and even though he clearly needed help Adam couldn't help but notice how handsome he was.

Adam went over: Are you okay? Do you want some help?

Lucifer opened his eyes and if it hadn't of been for the black and gold horns coming from brunette locks, he would have sworn he saw an angel.

Lucifer: Please.... I'm hurt....

Adam wrapped a head wound and helped him up: My name's Adam.

Lucifer smiled: Lucifer, it's nice to meet you..... Thank you.

Adam: You're welcome, let's get you inside. You can stay at my hotel until you're better.

[ella8rikii]

I wrote you a note, but I didn’t send it

Synopsis : Jungwon comes home from work to find an poem on the table, that you wrote.

Warnings : teary eyes, kissing, skinship, both of you guys are softy’s, nicknames, (let me know if I missed anything)

This is actually a poem I wrote for school about my dad:( so please do not copy it :)

—

Yang Jungwon walks through the door, tired after a long day at work. “Baby I’m home” his voice rings through the quiet apartment not getting a reply. He looks for you throughout the whole apartment but can’t seem to find you.

He decides to check your location, and he sees that you have gone to the supermarket.

Hes exhausted after a long practice and can’t wait to get to cuddle you and spend time with you. Missing you was an understatement.

He walks into the bedroom for a change of clothes and picks up a grey hoodie and black sweat pants. He changed and looked at the time “5:51” she should be getting home soon he thought.

As he was walking out of the room he saw a note on your vanity. Out of curiosity he went and picked it up. Jungwon looked at the note confused, it was a poem, u didn’t usually write poems but he decided to read it. On the note it read:

“Are you there?”

“I sat in the cold room, I felt you were there. I asked why you left. And answers I looked for.

I looked at the stars in the sky, And hoped you were there. That you could see me and make me feel better, But you’re no longer there.

But you were always here In my mind, in my heart, I will never forget you, even though you are gone.

You kissed me good night, And under the covers I crawled. But that was the last time I saw you. Oh how I wish you were still there.”

Y/n.

Jungwon’s heart stung reading the poem, it had a deep meaning. He felt his eyes tear up, and his cheeks getting red.

“Hey handsome” a voice suddenly says. Jungwon spins around quickly and sees you. You notice the tears in his eyes immediately. “Oh no, Wonie did you have s hard day at work?” Your voice was like an angel.

Jungwon was silent, looked down then held up the note. “Did you write this?” He asks voice cracking slightly. “Where did you get that?” Your voice was stern but soft. “It was on the desk, I saw it and read it. It’s beautiful, I didn’t know you were such a good writer” he truly means what he’s saying.

You pull him into a hug, you arms wrapping around his neck while his hands hold your waist tight, like he was afraid you’d let go, disappear. “Thank you, that means a lot” you say softly placing a tender kiss on his neck.

“My baby should be a writer” he says jokingly but also serious at the same time. You giggle at his comment “I am very happy with the work I do at the moment but thanks” you laugh.

He pulls away and leans in, lips inches away from yours, “I won’t kiss you unless you allow me to brag about this to everyone” his eyes are locked in with yours “you would have anyways” you chuckle. “True” is all he says before kissing you.

—

Here it is, kinda short~~ I’ve been on the worst writers block.. Let me know if you guys have any requests or ideass!!

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 70 Whelmed Posting

Subdued entry this time, dear void. And I'm back to form with a way-too-long yapfest.

Scans are too potato for me to TL the editor's notes this week, sorry. Might revisit when I can get a clean copy of the JP version.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter mentions a very sensitive topic happening in canon (toned down in EN) and I will be talking about it near the end. I'll have another warning reminder for those who'd rather skip that part.

White Purity Mechanics and a GILF(?)

Helloooo handsome.

Wasn't expecting to see this guy yet or get detailed mechanics for how the sword style he founded works in the middle of a fight, but hey, it's fine. I guess. Awkward time for that lore dump but powerscalers will surely be happy. I'm interested in the details myself as a world-building nerd.

Short summary of his name here: Shirakai Itsuo (白廻 逸夫), the master of the White Purity style. 白廻 (shirakai) could be roughly translated as "white game" and 逸夫 (itsuo) could be idle/elusive husband lol. At the very least, shira (白) means "white" so that's most likely where that part of the technique's name came from.

As for the rest of it...

居合白禊流 - read as Iai Byaku Gei Riyuu 居合 (Iai) is obvious, that's the type of move being executed here. We know that Byaku comes from the On reading of 白 [shira, "white"]. What are the last two? 禊 is misogi, a Shinto purification ritual; it also means ritual purification or ablutions in general, and/or "...the Japanese mountain ascetic* practice of ritual purification" (thanks, Wikipedia). 流 [riyuu] is simply "school" of method.

Anyway, Hokazono-sensei hit us in the face with a wall of technical terms for how this school works and I had to admit defeat until someone I trusted translated the yap page for it... dear God. Surely the official release will not mangle anything so I won't have to bother that friend for help with TL notes.

I've been thinking that Chihiro is essentially a DPS guy out of the "holy trinity" (DPS, Support, Tank) for a bit now. He's always been about hitting fast and hard without much room for error on his part if he unexpectedly gets hit in return. Thank you, Shirakai, for proving this dumb pet theory correct. Gotta Go Fast: The Move is all about being the fastest guy in the room because if you hit them first then they can't hit you back, right?

The difficulty of mastery part is pretty standard shounen to me in order to explain why someone can't just teach Chihiro how to use it the normal way. Two 18-year-olds picked up the style on their own fairly easily, so while I know we're supposed to see that as proof of how talented those guys are, it's not really anything special to me as a reader. It's unconventional and hard to use because it needs to be for the story more than anything else.

The real meat of this explanation was how changing the grip of the sword on the fly so quickly is ackshully a metaphor for being able to change your mindset. We are continuing the old vs. new themes with the sword style directly now, since Shirakai was mocked for trying to perfect this impracticably difficult Iai move. But the "new" won out in the end since he got the last laugh over all of his detractors. His distraction-free, flexible quick thinking outdid every traditional master that faced him, or so we can infer.

Shame the second coming of this fight left me wholly unimpressed outside of Iori.

(*If you don't want to look it up, then "ascetic" is similar to "austere" in meaning and is specifically for strict self-denial mostly for religious discipline, but can apply for personal discipline too.)

"Whatever," the Fight and Iori

All I could think of during this scene was the two of them chilling awkwardly as pleasant background music played.

I'm not really sold on this fight, honestly. All I'm thinking right now is "good, now that it's over maybe we can go back to the interesting stuff". The poses were cool and all but the theme just isn't hitting. We flew through the buildup to this confrontation and all we got out it was Chihiro winning again despite us being reminded that he's tired, pushing himself too hard, and that Hiruhiko's coming in much fresher and scarier after killing the master of a style.

Kagurabachi's biggest strength was doing character development, exploring core themes, and having sick fights at the same time. But ever since we took a sudden swing into this Iori subplot I've felt like the author is trying to speed run it as fast as possible.

Everything through chapter 59 was awesome. We took the time to introduce characters, set up plot points, threats, and motives, had spectacle fights to get insight into Chihiro's mindset- all the same great stuff that we'd all come to expect. Then we put all that on the back-burner for something related-but-different that wasn't exactly a welcome surprise.

The author primed us for Seitei War reveals and examining guilt as part of legacy. Then the he snapped our necks 90 degrees to witness this sideshow with geniuses, old vs. new, and another thematic foil to Chihiro. Iori was meant to glue this all together and strongly connect it to the main plot we left behind in chapter 59 but it didn't work. She's just a well-designed narrative device instead of a character and I'm still waiting for this stuff to finish so we can go back to what I thought the main event was.

And yet.

She did her best to save this arc.

I do love Iori. She's defending without killing, doing just enough to disfinger her enemies and get them out of the fight. Thanks to her example, Chihiro is able to choose a path that doesn't necessarily involve killing Hiruhiko to win. Yeah the clown is probably still going to be around (sadly for me), just hopefully in a less carnival side-show capacity and more as a proper enemy. Maybe even an object for redemption...

But this is probably going to be the foundation for Chihiro being able to redeem himself from guilt- choosing when to kill instead of thinking of it as the default option. She showed him the best swordplay comes from stilling the mind and heart to attack the reason the enemy bares their fangs, not necessarily slay them. Killing the reason they hold a sword is as effective as killing them but without all the murder stuff. Staying tuned to see if/when this comes back.

The Warning Section

Skip this if Hiruhiko's backstory reveal is not something you want to see a yap about.

The EN version toned it down but the JP and apparently some other languages are explicit. Let Hakuri protect you if you'd rather not read about a slightly different version of "assault"...

Hakuri buffer image for safety (it's super effective).

Alright. For anyone still here...

The FUCK was that about in Japanese?

In case the EN tones it down (bet they will): in the OG Japanese, the language used is very explicit: 手篭にしようと迫る成人男性を噛み殺した昼彦にとって

手篭め [tegome] is literally "rape/violation" and doesn't have any other connotations than what it says on the tin. So yeah. In canon, Hiruhiko was SA'd at 3 years old.

I'm very sensitive about how backstories involving CSA are used for personal reasons. The way it was used here for Hiruhiko did just about everything wrong, in my opinion. Completely wiped out the goodwill I had towards the author after how Hakuri's backstory was handled during the Rakuzaichi arc.

reinforced the stereotype of being SA'd as a child = deeply damaged/dangerous later in life

same-sex SA reinforced men as predators AND homophobic stereotypes

added with no context or buildup just for the easy shock value and pity points

I'm not okay with this at all. The nicest thing I can say is that it's used to explain the feral, bloodthirsty part of his nature and not the social ineptitude (which is probably a personality quirk and/or related to how he was raised). He's twisted but in a way that leans more towards empowerment through activating his survival instincts. Still not at all appreciated though.

100% of my hatred for this comes from my own struggles I'll admit. To see them reflected this poorly in a series I adore by an author I trusted to handle sensitive topics with care really did a number on me. I expected better from the author than to rely on negative stereotypes for this sort of thing and clearly I was wrong. That's my fault and I know better now.

It's fine to use CSA as part of a character's backstory but it needs to be treated with far more care than it was here.

If this had been applied to Chihiro, Hakuri, Iori, or any of the good guys instead I feel like it would have been fine. To show that even if it happens to you, it doesn't make you a bad person who can't function safely around others.

It also would have been fine if it was to show Hiruhiko's a true survivor that needed some help he probably didn't get afterwards- and that's what led him to be the freak he is. If Hiruhiko isn't dead after this chapter there's still time to get into that aspect, maybe even make a point that proper support makes all the difference in a person's outcomes after that kind of trauma. But even if that is the intent, dropping that sort of event without context is a terrible move.

To compare to other traumatic character backstories... basically, Hiruhiko's debut hint doesn't match up with the traumatic event behind it at all.

Chihiro

Give this boy all the hugs he can tolerate.

We see this early in chapter 2 and it's not really a surprise, since the premise of the story is that Chihiro is walking the bloody road of revenge. Something traumatic clearly happened to Kunishige due to the timeskip to "every morning I wake up with fresh hatred" Chihiro meeting Shiba alone on the train in chapter 1, so we were primed for this sort of thing. Batman origin story and all that.

Char

Protect her at all costs.

Char clued us in early on by appearing as a scruffy orphan in her debut chapter- whatever happened to her was not exactly pleasant. From there we slowly learned how she and her mom were experimented on, then separated forever. The logical flow of meeting her, seeing what happened, then watching Chihiro set her on the path to healing made sense. Thankfully she's going to be OK and she will never, ever have anything bad happen to her again (so help me God).

Hakuri

Someone give him all the love he's never had PLEASE.

I already wrote eight thousand words about how Hakuri's traumatic backstory was portrayed in a very realistic and hard-hitting way. The second thing we learn about him being that he "lost his family" five years ago while he's dripping soda out of his mouth on his lonesome was a good clue as to what happened, even if he and the author buried the lede on exactly how that happened and how bad he had it. He lost their love, twisted and manipulative as it was, and endured literal torture to try and earn it back until Ice Lady's suicide snapped him out of it. I honestly can't praise the writing for this character enough.

Iori

She chose her own path in the end...

Being dropped on us out of nowhere as Samura's daughter that everyone's forgotten about wasn't exactly a welcome surprise. But at least it let us know that she's got some difficult circumstances- which could have been expected since she's the daughter of the current arc boss to beat, but still. Her home was trashed and her dad abandoned her and we probably have more to see now that she's remembered everything. But all the reveals so far have been in line with the kind of trauma we'd expect to see given how she was introduced.

Hiruhiko

"Let's be friends, fellow murderer."

And then there's this guy.

Hakuri's the closest comparison to Hiruhiko in presentation with all the understatement going on. But we spent his intro to chapter 24 getting hints that there's something wrong with him that he wasn't talking about. Then we got context for his suicidal jump immediately afterwards, as well as even more hints that his issues go deeper than we've seen.

Hiruhiko's backstory had no build up to the reveal that he was SA'd as a toddler. We only knew he was a freaky, poorly socialised guy the same age as Chihiro who killed at the age of 3. Making us ask what circumstances would force and enable him to do such a thing was good- that's a decent hook to keep us interested in what his deal is while the immediate stuff is going on. Hokazono did it for all the other characters in this list too.

What flopped was the shocker reveal. That single line of "oh, he was assaulted by an adult man, anyway-" was pathetically delivered if it was meant to be an example of understatement. You cannot drop a heavy and sensitive backstory with no follow up. You cannot have it done by the omniscient narrator to launch into why he's such a battle genius.

The biggest problem really is that it's a convenient explanation more than something to explore like every other character's trauma was. When we got those horrific reveals, time was spent looking at them on the page and showing how it affected them. We saw Chihiro and Char crying and looking despondent, Hakuri internalising a harmful mindset about himself, now we've seen Iori pass out from the burden, waver, and will see more exploration of her difficult past to come.

But Hiruhiko, even if we do revisit this topic for him, got nothing except a long yap about what a genius of combat it made him. Nothing at all about his pain or the ramifications. If we still have more to learn about that incident then good, I fucking hope so. But it'll be too little to late for me. I don't know what I did to deserve the friends who helped pull me out of the tailspin this chapter caused, but I'm incredibly grateful to have them in my life.

So...

Current feelings. Also done after this, promise.

Hokazono-sensei isn't "cooked' or on a downswing, burning out early, deserving of being cancelled, or anything like that. I think we're just finally seeing the signs that he's a mangaka being serialised for the first time.

I still like the manga but I feel kind of isolated in being one of the apparent few that isn't having a good time with the story as it is right now. I've been waiting for the issues I've had with this arc to be resolved for a while but they seem to continue piling up. There will still be celebrations of hype moments and good writing but I'm not so keen on giving the author the benefit of the doubt any more.

I'm probably going to be more critical of the manga from hereon out so I don't mind if you unfollow me, dear void. I'm not above being a little anxious and upset when I see that folks have dropped me, but I also didn't start posting to gain a massive following. The idea was that I'd get my thoughts out there and hope a few folks were interested in what I had to say. That's happened and I don't want to chase validation through interaction numbers.

Right now I'm probably going to dial down the investment until either Hakuri comes back or we finally return to the Samura/Seitei War plotline. I feel like Hokazono tried to rush through this subplot with Iori and Hiruhiko as fast as he could to do just that, but that makes me ask a few questions.

What is the purpose of introducing Iori if we are trying to bumrush her big part of the story? Just to be a narrative tool? She's a contrast/compliment to Chihiro, a plot device, and a convenient excuse to get some fights on screen. But the execution was clumsy. It feels like she doesn't exist as a character herself but as a bundle of concepts to glue this arc's themes together and help the segue back into the main story.

Is this sort of thing going to happen every time the author wants to explore a new theme? Are we going to see Hakuri, Hiyuki, Shiba, Iori, and the rest shoved offscreen to introduce a new character tailor-made to explore things the way the author wants to instead of building on older ones? Hiyuki's a total unknown, why not use her? Why not give Shiba some screen time? I get that there are plans for them later on but frankly my patience has run out.

Are we going to see Chihiro running on fumes forever? Right now it doesn't seem like it matters that he's pushing himself too hard- he still got the better of Hiruhiko in round 2. I'm starting to get annoyed that we are being told Chihiro's exhausted, and sometimes shown it, but all of that goes out the window when it's time for him to look cool. Will this ever pay off in the narrative? If not, it's better to stop bringing it up so we stop thinking about it.

I'm still going to be here. I'm just not going to be glazing everything I like and hoping the things I don't like get better with future context any more. There's clear weaknesses in the writing that I can't overlook any longer. That said, I don't want each entry to become a negative rant, so moderation and objectivity as much as possible will be the name of the game.

Alright. If you got through all of this, thank you. Maybe see you next time if I'm still your cup of tea. If not, no hard feelings. Take care of yourself.

[spacehostilityy]

No bc meliodas obviously loves Zeldris and was never cruel to him but would have bullied the shit out estarossa. Like meliodas was CRUEL and zeldris just cared about gelda and Mel, they wouldn't have given estarossa the time of day lol

Seven Deadly Sins headcanon

Meliodas and Zeldria bullied the shit out of Estarossa. They 100% would have made jokes calling him adopted.

"Your way taller than both of us, you have white hair, can barely use demonic abilities, and cry about killing bugs. How the hell are we supposed to believe your actually related to us." -Meliodas probably

"None of that means anything"

"You are a whole FOOT taller than us, I think that means something." - Zeldris probably

Meliodas and Zeldris being annoying as shit and Estarossa going through classic middle child syndrome

Spoilers for Season 4 (season 3 for those not on Netflix)

Did you know that Estarossa is 6'6 and Mael is only 6'1 according to the wiki

[undercvrfan444]

You had been moping around the house all day, upset that Satoru left so early in the morning without telling you why.

All you remember is him pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead and telling you he’s going out before hearing the front door shut to your shared apartment. You whined in protest as he pulled away from your sleeping body causing him to giggle quietly when slipping out.

A few hours had passed and now you were really curious to see where your boyfriend had gone. You know he couldn’t have went out on a mission because he would have said something beforehand. No. When he left the house this morning he was dressed in a casual pair of pants and a hoodie with some sneakers so obviously it wasn’t anything important.

You had showered and gotten dressed for the day all so you could lounge around and wait for Satoru. It made you feel a little better about Satoru being gone because at least he’d come home to you somewhat presentable.

The sound of keys jingling and a lock switching out of place catches your attention. You sit up hastily on the couch and see your boyfriend’s large frame come into view. A small pout graces your lips when you see his hood on his face.

“Satoru what have I told you about wearing your hood? It makes you-“ The words cease to come from your mouth as soon as you see him take the hood off.

The reason for him leaving so early in the morning was so he could get a haircut. Now listen; Satoru was handsome with grown out hair of course, but something about his neatly trimmed mop and cleaned up undercut just did something to you.

Your boyfriend flashed his pearly whites at you while prancing over to you like a show pony. “How do I look baby?” Bending down, Satoru presses a kiss on your lips and pulls you up by your wrists to stand in front of him.

Silky white curls twirl in your fingers the second you touch them. Your pinky’s grazed the short hair in the back without a second thought. “Toru!” His name came out as an appreciative whine.

Truth be told it was hard for you to express how much you loved his haircut right away. However, the longer the day carried on Satoru can tell you love his new look because of the way your hands are constantly in his hair.

It’s impossible for him to go anywhere on his own in the house. Going to the bathroom? “Hurry up!” Getting thirsty and wanting a drink? Too bad because you’re gonna be right there behind him with your hands in his hair.

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[pseudowho]

Bedlocked

On a University city trip, someone's got to share a hotel room with Nanami Kento, the class's misunderstood loner...and it's going to be you.

Warnings: College AU! Nanami Kento x Reader, double loss of virginity, "just one bed", heavy make-out, PIV creampie, dry humping, fingering, handjob, both reader and Nanami aged 19

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento wore the awkward bearing of a young man who was surprised by the man he was growing to be. Being uniquely in possession of those excellent traits which were overlooked by girls, but adored by women, he had outgrown himself, from personality to hair, and was unsure how to wear it. Not yet having grown the confidence to lean into his character, and own it, he had been written off by the girls in your class as sullen, boring, miserable-- a downer.

All the girls, that is, except for you. And this was how you found yourself to be sharing a hotel room with Kento, on your thesis research trip to Kyoto.

"--made a mistake with the bookings, we're several rooms short--"

'--well we can share a bed, that's fine, but I'm not sharing with him--"

"--I dunno...I don't think he'd try anything, I just...want to have fun, that's all, and he's a bit..."

You scoffed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the other young women spoke amongst themselves. Kento had not arrived, and yet, was the talk of the group. As the only young man in the class, he had maintained a respectful, professional distance from the young women in it. It had earned him what you thought was a rather undeserved reputation.

Where the others saw uptight, you saw diligence. Where they saw boring, you saw reserved. Where others saw sarcastic, you saw hilarious. Where they saw grumpy, you saw rage against the machine.

In truth, you had long-since harboured an obsession with Kento. His hushed intensity was magnetic, and carried a mass you longed to draw you in. While others saw you as opposites, you saw yourself and Kento as each others' perfect foil. Matching puzzle pieces. Each others' missing ingredient.

And, god, you ached for him, alone at night with your hand drifting downwards. And you would not let him be treated like a leper.

"For goodness' sake, I'll share with Kento." You piped up, seeing the other girls all look round at you. Their eyes drifted, widening in surprise at something behind you, and you did not hear the hotel lobby door swing open and closed outside of your view. "In fact, I'd be delighted to share with him. I'm sure he'll be just as funny and respectful as he always is."

"You think I'm funny."

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the question framed as a statement, and spun round to face Kento...but not as you knew him. You stuttered.

"Oh, wow, Kento...your hair..."

Gone was the sloppy, loping fringe. Instead, Kento's honey-blond hair was neatly parted, undercut, framing his face. All of a sudden, he was so...handsome. Kento glowered down at you, impassive and unreadable. He gave one baleful hum at your assessment of him.

"I assume something happened with the room bookings, then. For you to wind up stuck with me." Before you could answer, Kento pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning back to the doorway with one enormous hand grasping his suitcase handle. "You shouldn't have to make a decision to your detriment. It's not your fault. I'll find somewhere else to sta--"

Kento was interrupted, by your hand clasping over his on his suitcase handle. A grunt of surprise left his lips, at the feel of your dainty hand on his. He looked down at them, his expression always somewhere between anger and irritation. You knew better.

"Stay with me. We...get along well. We always have." Kento scowled, his eyes flickering behind you to the other girls, who, while surprised by how a simple haircut could alter Kento so, were sticking to their guns.

"I don't need your pity." Kento sniped, his voice low and earthy, "I'm perfectly happy to le--"

"And I'm perfectly happy to share. Stop being so headstrong and listen to me."

Kento bristled, looking torn between argument and agreement. As the others collected their keys, filing off to their respective rooms, you awaited his decision. With a huff, Kento fetched your room key, and headed off down the corridor. You fizzed with excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him, but suppressed it, following him with an air of assumed solemnity.

The airs and graces were soon dropped, when the door to your room swung shut behind you and Kento, and you found it to have--

"...just one bed. Shit." Kento's face twisted in discomfort, his Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he swallowed. His eyes trailed down to you, and caught your blush as if it were contagious. He turned to grasp the door handle again, stuttering, so unlike himself.

"Couldn't possibly-- absolutely not appropriate-- my mistake entirely-- find somewhere else--"

"Will you? Find somewhere else, I mean?" Kento faltered, his grip on the door handle loosening. He looked at you with something akin to dread. "On cherry blossom week? In historic Kyoto?" By the time you were finished talking, Kento had deflated like a sad balloon animal.

Night had long since fallen. You heard the laughter, baths and showers running, from the girls in the adjacent rooms. Your confidence was a total mask, as you opened your suitcase, rummaging inside for pyjamas. Your heart pounded in your chest, made all the worse by Kento's silent, tortured appraisal of you. You realised, with a jolt, that you had brought nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear to wear to bed.

Beneath his eyes, you were transparent. He felt the tension roll off you in waves. Kento cleared his throat, his ears red, a youthful flush across his nose.

"I'll-- I'll go shower." He offered, considering trying to drown himself. He heard you hum, speaking absentmindedly.

"Go on. Smelly boy." You had barely registered what you said, hearing something like a laugh from Kento as he swung the bathroom door closed behind him. You threw yourself face down on the bed, muffling your cries of anguish into a pillow. Kento leaned against the shower wall as water tumbled down his back, trying not to think with his cock, and failing miserably, cursing his body for its feral stupidity.

You remained face down on the bed. Trying to think unsexy thoughts was murder. You had always wondered how Kento looked, long and tight beneath old band t-shirts. You'd had the briefest glimpse of his abs and happy trail once, when he reached above you to switch the projector on in class. How you had restrained yourself from leaning in and licking the soft skin of his navel was beyond you. The thought of the noise he would have made, alone, had kept you going for weeks. The way you caught him looking at you in class the next day, took you the rest of the way.

"Shower's free." You sat bolt upright, your brain short-circuiting to see Kento stood at the bathroom door in nothing but pyjama trousers, steam billowing out across broad shoulders and swept back hair. You forced your mask back into place.

"Thought you'd died in there." You offered, not as casual as you sounded. You fumbled your shower bag and pyjamas out of your bag, and made your way to the bathroom. You and Kento danced awkwardly, trying to skirt round each other. With a grunt of irritation, Kento grasped your upper arms, moving you effortlessly around him into the bathroom. His touch was scalding. You wouldn't possibly make it through the weekend.

By the time you headed out of the shower, tugging at your t-shirt to make it cover more of your thighs, you blushed to your toes to see Kento sat up in bed, bare chested and reading. He read the same sentence over, and over, and over, trying with broken determination not to track his eyes up your legs, and imagine how you tasted between them. Feeling you hurriedly slip into bed beside him made his cock jump, and he reached out with a fumbling hand, switching off the light without warning.

Only the faint bathroom light illuminated the room. You both lay, backs to each other, on opposite sides of the bed. The silence grew oppressively heavy. You felt lightheaded, barely breathing, hyperaware of every noise and movement your bodies made. You were paralysed by thoughts of his honey-rich voice, his lightly freckled shoulders itching to be touched, how it would feel to be trapped beneath him while he fell apart above you.

"I'm sorry." You blinked, hearing Kento's apologetic rumble.

"...what are you sorry for?"

"This...this situation. I know I'm no fun to be around. And I've made my peace with that. But you--"

"You are fun. Very fun. I'm...not going to punish you for being an introvert."

Kento was quiet on his side of the bed, but no more relaxed. You had gathered the guts to reach one hand across the sheets to him, before he threw the covers aside, and moved to sit up.

"You need your own space. I'll sleep on the sofa." The 'sofa' sat at the end of the bed, barely more than a loveseat, and you snatched a hand out, grabbing Kento round the bicep. You almost shivered at the hard cords of muscle there, thicker than your hand by far, barely grasping on as Kento tensed.

"No. You're taller than me. I'll sleep on the sofa--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--stop being such a fucking gentleman and let me--"

"--I'm not a gentleman, it's just basic manners--"

"--listen, I feel fine, just come and share--"

"--offer some mad girl a bed and suddenly you're a gentleman--"

"Kento, please just come to bed with me."

Kento's brain stuttered, now. He rolled to face you, his whole body on fire, trying to sound calm. He was an open book, to you. You felt every nerve ending of your skin put to the flame.

"...come to bed...with you?" You moved to roll away and cover your face with your hands, indescribably mortified. Kento couldn't allow it-- not when he'd daydreamed about this for so long. He grasped your hands, rolling you back over to face him. He looked awkward, not used to his own strength, as you flipped back over with a squeak, and a weak apology from Kento. You had never noticed the beautiful whiskey depths of his eyes, before.

You were lost for words. The tables had turned so suddenly, you had no idea on which side you sat. Kento scoffed, a faint blush on his high cheekbones, scowling into a corner of the room. The silence thickened again. Kento huffed a laugh.

"Go to sleep. I'll...I'll just play some games for a while." He did not want to. He wanted to flip you over again, to hear that squeak again, wondering if you'd squeak or moan when he pressed his weeping length into your--

"Oh...what games did you bring?" Your eyes lit up, sparkling, sitting up in bed with a bounce. Kento melted. He wanted to put you in his pocket. He could manage the urges, but the affection overwhelmed him and he stuttered, fumbling for words.

"Because..." Kento waited on bated breath, your lips plush and parted, crawling just-so towards him on the bed, seeing how your breasts shifted between your arms beneath that fucking t-shirt and maybe she would want this too fuck we wouldn't come out all weekend once we've tasted each other fuck if she were my girlfriend she'd be my whole world wouldn't ask for anything else ever again--

"...because I'm desperate for a Gengar actually but I haven't got anyone to trade my Haunter with and--"

"Oh. I need a Golem."

"Oh."

"Nice."

You both rummaged in your bags, grabbing your GameBoys, and you swore, trying to find the cable to connect them. Kento raised his eyebrows, scooting himself back beside you in bed, and crossing his long legs.

"Really? You brought one? Who did you think was gonna trade with you, one of them out there--"

"I'll be honest, I was relying on you, Kento, like I always do." Kento's ears reddened. He moved to sweep back the fringe he no longer had. Instead, his long fingers swept back through his neat parting, mussing commas of blond over his forehead, in a way that made you want to do the same until his hair was a mess and he was groaning.

You sat shoulder to shoulder, comparing Pokémon teams. Kento favoured Steel and Fighting types in a balanced, well-prepared team with no weak links. You favoured Ghost types and anything cute, in a weird mismatched set-up that surprised your enemies. With your short cable connecting your GameBoys, you sat thigh to thigh. You hadn't noticed your toes scrunching against Kento's, foot, stroking your skin against his. You felt him shiver and tense.

"What-- what are you doing?" Kento asked, his voice catching in his throat. His chest felt tight. His whole being zeroed in on where your skin stroked his. You caught yourself, and curled your toes away, to Kento's disappointment. "It-- it's okay...you don't have to stop." Your games were ignored now, defunct in distracted hands.

You swallowed, the air thick with tension around you. He was so close, you could smell the residue of his cologne, and the natural masculine smell of him, earthy beneath freshly washed skin. The side of your breast, bare beneath your t-shirt, rested against his bicep. You felt his bicep clench, grazing your nipple. He felt the pebbled snag of your nipple against his arm. He knew he'd combust if he didn't feel your skin on his soon; knew his fragile resolve was breaking.

Your foot cautiously stretched back down, the sensitive skin of your toes stroking against the top of Kento's foot. You felt him shiver again, putting his GameBoy down with a grunt, his eyebrows drawn together with am arm over his eyes.

"Do you...like it when I touch you?"

Kento grumbled under his breath, his mouth twisted in faint derision. "Don't be cruel." You blushed, reaching out for his hand. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing the back of your hand to his twitching thigh, and trailing featherlight fingertips over your palm and inner wrist, an erogenous zone you never knew you had until he elicited a shudder from you.

"See." Kento whispered, lightly stroking the spot on your inner arm that connected curiously to your clit and nipples, a fine gold thread of liquid arousal. "You like it, too. So if you don't mean anything by this, just stop. Don't...don't play games with me." He took his fingers away, and you almost whimpered, chasing his touch, begging.

"No, Kento, wait-- please...don't stop."

Kento short-circuited. He had never been so close to the fabled pleasure of anothers' body. Pornography had little impact for one without the flesh-memory of erotic touch. Kento's cock was thick, now, throbbing. You dropped your head to his shoulder, sighing with bliss as his trembling fingers resumed their butterfly kisses to your wrist. The growing tent in his pyjamas, and the way he spread his thighs aside to accommodate his erection, made your mouth water.

Kento shifted, his body moving on instinct, until he was tentatively leaning over you. He wanted to watch your face as he stroked your wrist, examining its fine little tendons and veins, and examining how you arched, your mouth parted, your t-shirt rucking up until he could see the warm squidge of your belly above your underwear. His voice was husky, thoughtful.

"You'd...you'd stop me, right? If you didn't want this?"

"Yeah, I...yeah. But I-- I don't want you to. I want m--"

Kenti bowed his head to drink the unfinished words off your lips, knowing you wanted more just as much as he did. He grunted against the taste of you, his lips shuddering and uncertain, only hoping his sincerity came through. Kissing him back hard, your lips and tongues clashed, both instinctual, hungry, tasting. You and Kento spurred each other on, your mutual desperation rising exponentially with each nip of the lips, each tongue thrust into each others' mouth, each moan snatched and devoured between kisses.

Your hands sunk into each others' hair, ruffling, teasing, pulling, and you whimpered into Kento's mouth at the massage of his fingertips over your scalp. You were drunk. You had to be drunk, so high off the spontaneity of a moment you thought would be planned to a T.

Kento's mouth wandered, pressing and sucking sharp little lovebites into you on his way down your neck. You had ended up tangled around him, beneath him, the tip of his cock almost escaping beneath his waistband. Riding on buckish young urgency, Kento's broad hand had risen to grope your breast, possessive, trembling against the urge to squeeze you too hard. When you whimpered, arching into his touch, his mind flew back to him, shocked and ashamed by his stunning lack of self-control.

"Sorry," Kento gasped, his mouth and hand flying off you as if burnt, "fuck, sorry, 'msosorry--"

He broke off at the sight of you. Strewn, your hair scrunched against the pillow, with love-swollen lips and roses blooming on your neck, you were serene; for him. Thrown like petals onto the sheets, all for him and his mouth and his hands. Kento felt the fog descend again, dampening his judgement, for the instinctual urge to fuck.

"Have you...have you ever..." You felt Kento's meaning. His voice was rough, deep as the valley, and hewn with stone. You shook your head, still supple and dopey from his attentions. Kento's held breath released in one husky groan. He swallowed, shaking his head down at you.

"No, I...me neither. Always wondered, always--" Always what? Always daydreamed about it almost constantly? Always chastised himself for being such a fucking animal? But, the look in your eyes as you drank him in. Kento and you met on that clouded bridge, in the middle. Your pussy ached with promise.

Kento's hand came to settle slowly on your breast again, delighted by the way you pressed into him. His fingers grazed down over your nipple, reaching the hem of your shirt, brushing upwards.

"I can...can I? Please?"

"Please. Please, yes please, god."

"Fuck...I can't...cant believe it-- finally--" Kento didn't seem to realise he was moaning his inner thoughts aloud, rucking your t-shirt up like unwrapping a gift. As your breast freed, Kento shuddered again, slanted brown eyes scrutinising your body with analytical intent, committing you to memory.

His hand ghosted over your tummy, tracing dimples and stretch marks on the way, before curling around your breast, giving the gentlest of squeezes. The noise that left his mouth was somewhere between a cough and a moan. Still possessed by a haze of need, his mouth dipped down, tongue flicking out over your nipple, before capturing it with his mouth as you arched again, keening. He pressed into your arch, one arm planted above your head, the opposite hand rolling your other breast between keen fingers.

He couldn't help but rock the straining underside of his cock against your barely-covered pussy. The material between you was so thin, you could feel the whole length of him, and the tapering shape of his bulbous tip as it snagged against your clit. Kento knew he'd cum like this, if he wasn't careful, and shivered at the idea of spilling his seed all over your belly. He brushed away his hurrying peak, so determined was he that you'd cum before him.

"--keep--keep doing that...Kentoooo--oooh, feels so good--"

A rush of competitive pride burned through him. He couldn't help but murmur against your spit-slick nipple, nuzzling it with his nose.

"Keep telling me...what feels good. Make sure I'm not selfish, 'cos I--I'll just take if you don't--"

Suddenly hyperaware of your own body and how you must look, dopey and blissful as you chased pleasure by rutting his length between your legs, you stopped, and Kento huffed.

"I can hear you--thinking you look stupid-- and you don't--" He scowled down at you, his voice hoarse and strained between heavy grunts of ecstasy. "Will you cum? Like...like that?" Kento nodded down towards where you had been rolling your pussy against him. You tried to pull an arm over your eyes, blushing, extraordinarily embarrassed. Kento tangled his fingers in yours, pressing them over your head.

"Hey-- hey-- listen, I'll...I'll let you see me cum...if you let me see you. Please." You swallowed, mouth watering at the thought of watching Kento break, such sincere fascination trickling down your spine.

"...okay." You answered, uncharacteristically meek. Kento huffed another laugh.

"Good girl." You blushed from hairline to toes, involuntarily bucking up against Kento with his words. He began to rut against you again, the friction good but not quite right, not as good as it could be. You threw caution to the wind.

"Hang-- hang on, I'll just..." You reached a hand down beneath your panties, parting your labia just enough for Kento's heavy length to snag harder against your clit.

Kento's eyes zeroed in on the creamy white discharge on your fingers as you pulled your hand out, and when he continued his motions, you fell supple and needy beneath him again, groaning with the pleasure of his bulbous tip and the ridge beneath it, catching your clit. Pleasure bloomed through you, so much closer to orgasm than you had thought.

"--don't stop--" You begged, arching up towards Kento until he fucked down harder with a broken growl, his own need to cum eclipsed by your pleasure. Drawing one nipple deeper into his mouth, and lubricating the other with his spit to roll it fluidly between his fingers, Kento learned fast, playing you like an instrument until your mouth gaped in a silent cry, your first orgasm received from another, roaring through you in waves.

Kento kept humping against you, not recognising that you had reached your peak. He faltered, hips stuttering and panting as you groaned, squirming and writhing, groping at him with desperate, fucked-out hands. Kento was obsessed, a spurt of pre-cum adding to the slick he'd already made between your legs. Utterly besotted, his slim eyes wide with blown pupils, he shakily raised one hand to stroke your hair, kissing your forehead through the bliss, shushing you with whispered praise.

"--so cute...look so pretty...thank you-- thank you--"

As you came down from your high, you heard him thanking you, and laughed, trying to cover your face as he batted your hands away, playful and smirking. Biting your lip, emboldened by post-nut confidence, you slid your hand down to grip Kento's clothed, pulsing cock. He stilled above you with a grunt, looking so angry again as that feral, desperate haze descended. You begged him, hushed and soft.

"Can I...feel it?" Kento's thoughts burst with single-minded relief. He nodded, breath catching in his chest, allowing you to roll him over onto the bed until you were lying on your side beside him. You stroked his clothed length, fascinated, watching every reaction with cruel innocence.

Unsure how to handle him, you faltered as your hand began to slip inside his pyjamas. Kento had one arm slung over his face, still scowling, wanting desperately to watch you play with his cock, but too self-conscious.

"Here, I'll--" Kento reached down, shucking his pyjamas down until his cock released. Kento seemed embarrassed by his size, distinctly bigger than average, and thick, his pink tip peeking out from beneath his foreskin. Mistaking the cause of your silence for disgust, Kento grimaced behind his forearm, apologising.

"--shit, 'msorry, I know I-I'm--"

"...wow." Your breathless little gasp, followed by your hand immediately circling round Kento's cock, sent his mind blank again, watching you with dumb adoration as you examined the weight of his cock in your hand. Your hand gripped him, stroking from ball to tip with an inexperienced squeeze that had Kento grunting, gasping and bucking beneath you. It didn't matter that you had clearly never handled an erection in your life; for Kento, who had never been stroked by a woman looking at his cock and face with hungry, adoring eyes, he was being rushed towards a toe-curling orgasm.

"--st--sta--stopstopstop, m'gonna cu--m'gonna cum--'m gonna--"

Your hand stopped immediately, and Kento snarled, before gasping, momentarily shocked by his visceral reaction to being teased just to the edge of completion. Your pupils dilated, obscenely aroused by the strange danger of a furiously needy man about to cum in your hand. You were lost in the tease, lowering your head and maintaining eye contact as you threatened your lips just over the tip of Kento's cock.

"...stop?"

Kento was glazed, eyebrows tilted, looking uncharacteristically concerned, darting between your mouth, and your eyes, and back again. His nose flared with hot little pants. A barely perceptible shake of the head. You smiled, laying the flat of your tongue against the tip of Kento's cock, and licking over the bulbous head with an incoordinate pump of his length.

Kento's moan rumbled from his chest outwards, muffled as he bit into his own arm, his mind blown by the wet little sucks of his cockhead that he'd imagined only in his wettest dreams. He hurtled with breakneck speed towards his peak, finishing with frantic bucks and begs.

"--oh my--fucking g-god--huuugh fuckfuckfuck sorry m'sorry--shit--"

Kento came with an uncontrollable roar of pleasure, both arms gripping the pillow beneath his head, biceps straining, balls clenching. You pulled free of his cock with a wet pop and a little cry of surprise, when the first spurt of cum salted your tongue.

You continued to stroke him, obsessed with the jerk of him in your hand, the way he groaned, low and long, with each stripe of thick, white seed up his belly. It was only after the twitches had ceased, his cock sluggish against his belly, that Kento began to gasp like a fish out of water and gripped his hand around yours.

"--sto--sta--stop...fuck...so...sogood sosogood..."

The words left your mouth before you even thought to stop them, a years old masturbatory kink suddenly within reach. "Can you cum like that inside me?"

Kento stared at you in mute shock, his neat new haircut mussed beyond repair. His post-cum brain struggled to process your request. You frantically babbled to reassure him.

"--I--I mean no condom--and hear me out hear me out-- I've got good protection-- and and I've never and you've never so we won't catch anything--"

Kento was above you, flipping you onto your back and suckling at your neck again within seconds. You heard his oddly grown-man chastisement into your neck, while his body moved in the total opposite direction.

"So fucking irresponsible-- just just "oooooh cum inside me Kento" just like that, fuck-- do you think I'm--I'm fucking stupid? Sh...shit...fucking yes please I can't believe I'm doing this--"

Kento's cock had barely softened, graced by the barely-there refractory period of youth. He was thick, heavy, and dragging down your belly. You were just as frantic as him, kicking off your underwear and watching Kento hyperfocus again; this time, on your bare sex, right before his eyes.

He knelt back, gripping himself in his fist as if holding himself back. Feeling his sharp eyes penetrate you, you moved to close your legs. Kento looked at you as if you were mad, batting your thighs aside with his knees as you covered your face, mortified.

"Beautiful." He berated, rubbing his fingers through the cum spattered on his belly, and sinking them down to glide cautiously between your labia. You gasped, squirming, and Kento watched his fingers coat with your slick with a gulp, feeling a fresh burst of blood engorge his cock until he ached.

He leaned to his bag, rummaging and cursing, before coming back up with a bottle of lube. You shot Kento a look and he shot you a look in return, berating you again with a voice stricter than fitting for his age; "I was expecting a room of my own."

"Oh yeah? How's that working out for you?"

"Very well actually-- stop laughing or I'll--"

"...you'll what? Make me?" You asked, coy. Kento let out a strangled little groan, and pinched the bridge of his nose as you laughed.

"...don't even...dont even know what you're asking...idiot--" Kento huffed as you drew a crooked smile out of him, your joyful muffled giggles a natural balm to his baseline rage. You stilled again, breathless as you watched him stroke his pulsing cock, your throat dry with voyeuristic anticipation. Kento panted, beyond embarrassment and hanging on by a thread.

Kento stroked some lube between your puffy folds, eyes heavy as you squirmed, prodding one finger softly at your entrance. You stilled beneath him, holding your breath. Kento tangled your fingers in his.

"Breathe." He hummed, and as you released a shaking breath, Kento began to ease one slick finger inside you. Your mouth dropped open, eyes closed beneath raising eyebrows, as Kento slid his long finger into you all the way to his knuckle. He hadn't realised he was holding his breath until he felt lightheaded.

"...you...you feel...fuck, incredible, so--so tight..." Kento whispered, his voice low and gravelly, that same primal urge to fuck immediately into you threatening to cloud his brain. By the way you gazed up at him, still and supple, you would probably let him too and he could just push right in and--

"...we'll take it slow," Kento reassured you, tight and tense, "...and I'll stop straight away if...if it hurts."

Your eyelids fluttered to feel Kento's thick tip prod at your entrance, sure he wouldn't fit until he pressed forwards, and you stretched like you'd never stretched before. You bit your lip against the faint sting, nodding urgently and gripping Kento's thighs as he looked at you in concern.

Kento was lost in the moment, his eyes zeroing in on where he gradually sheathed himself inside you. He'd never felt such exquisite pleasure, obsessed by how your plush walls moulded to the shape of him, sucking him in, slick and tight. You squeaked, biting into Kento's shoulder as he bore down on you, his cock almost sunk to the hilt. He stilled as he bottomed out, his fingertips bruising on your hip, trembling with jagged groans.

You felt so strangely placid, full, and wrapping your legs around the small of Kento's back to lock him inside you. The brief sting, the belly-deep ache, left you feeling like you had made a blooming transition from girl to woman in one deep thrust. Kento drank you in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to your lips and mumbling against them.

"...'m not gonna last long." Kento was possessed, pulling out a little before rutting into you again, delighted by your gasp, determined to break more noises out of you. His usual gentle nature was becoming quickly overrun by a firm, authoritative edge, not knowing yet how this would come to define him as a man.

Kento rocked into you, shallowly at first, before gaining the confidence that he wouldn't break you. By the time he had built a rhythm, pumping into you through sweaty pants, your breaths mingling together, he felt the drag of orgasm approaching him fast. Kento's imagination could never have matched up to the reality of dragging his cock through such nectar.

Any time Kento tried to talk, he broke off into anguished pants and groans into your throat, sinking his teeth there for a moment, seemingly irritated by how sloppy he'd become.

"...j'sso...uhnfuck...wet--best thing I--...huhnnn--"

Hearing you whimper and squeak as he moved within you offered him some condolence for being a speechless mess, at least.

Though you knew you wouldn't cum from this alone, you were lost in the addictive feeling of being full and fucked into by Kento chasing an instinctual high. You couldn't help but let your fingers wander downwards, rubbing your clit beneath them. The thick pressure in your belly made your pleasure three-dimensional, so much better than your fingers alone.

Kento was a quiet lover, saying more through heated glances and lingering touches than he ever could through words. Knowing he was holding back for fear of hurting you, you whispered against his ear, sending ripples down his spine.

"--harder-- pleasepleaseplease--"

"Fffuck okay...this?" Kento sunk into you to the hilt and jabbed, urging himself deeper, earning a guttural groan as his cockhead pressed against your cervix and soft-spot. He nodded into your neck, shuddering deeply. "Th-this...yeah...oh fuck, yeah..." Your toes curled against the back of his thighs, and you sobbed with the bone-deep adoration of his kisses to your womb. Kento's restraint snapped, tilting your hips as he gripped you, holding nothing else back.

Kento sped up, driving himself inside you with total abandon, his breaths coming out as spitting curses and groans. Finally, he strained above you, his moans breaking and peaking, unable to hold off any longer;

"--gonna...gonna...cum in you for--for-fucking-ever-- nnggh--"

Watching Kento break and spill himself inside you, his cock jerking with long, painfully pleasurable contractions, was the erotic vision you had sought your whole adult life. Hurriedly working your fingers until your own high hit you, had Kento collapsing on top of you to feel your pussy clenching around him, milking him of every little drop of seed.

Kento was silent, his corded back clenching over you. You nuzzled into his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw until he gave you his lips with a groan. Pulling gently out, and replacing his cock with his fingertips so he could feel how his seed dripped from your cunt, had Kento wondering vaguely how he'd ever use a condom now he'd tasted the ripe-peach of you without a barrier.

You nipped Kento's neck, jolting him back to reality. Glossy doe-eyes glimmered up at him in the dark; and you, desperate to feel full again, completely addicted to him as he was to you.

"...again?"

"...give-- give me a minute."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Heard some strange noises coming out of your room last night."

You kept your face innocently neutral at the breakfast table the next morning. You tipped your head to the side, inquisitive, as if you didn't feel multiple thick loads of Kento's seed soaking your underwear.

"Oh?"

"Mhm." A knowing stare from the other girls at the table. Kento sat down, clearing his throat, his plate piled with what should have been an embarrassing number of pastries.

"She's really good. At Pokémon battles." You had a single moment to admire Kento's absolute gall, the other girls looking at him with vague displeasure as he continued.

"Her Gengar's really strong actually. I wasn't ready for it. I thought Machamp would be a good choice, but--"

The other girls had already lost interest, turning their conversations elsewhere. Kento looked up at you from the other end of the table as you mouthed oh my god at him. He was inscrutable, apart from his twinkling eyes.

You were fortunate that none of these girls were at your wedding, years later. But you did occasionally still refer to making love as 'Pokémon battles', if just to hear your impassive, suited, quiet man laugh.

[rosiereveries]

Regency!John Price who inherited his brothers duke title, because his brother died without an heir. John was the second oldest son, and he never thought about being the successor to the title, so he chose a military career.

He was a captain who fought wars and won them, not some lord who fancied balls and dressed in fancy clothing. But now he doesn’t have a choice. John comes back home after he has been badly injured in the battle, he was shot in his leg, and he had to use a wheelchair for quite some time.

When he comes home, to the new house and staff who pities him, he doesn’t feel like a man he once was. At the first ball he must attend he can see everyone eyes on him as he stumbles with his cane. He absolutely hates it. So, he makes a plane, he has to quickly marry some girl, make an heir and go live to the countryside where everyone will leave him alone.

You were on the other hand the youngest daughter of noble family. You weren’t rich, but your sisters and brothers married well, so you could keep good family reputation. Now it was your turn to marry, and as you were introduced to the society you quickly came to the realization, that you will probably end as a wife of some old man, who could be your grandfather.

So, when your cousin Johnny mentions, that his loyal friend and mentor John Price is looking for a wife you are interested. He tells you that John is a duke now and that he wants to get married as soon as possible. From Johnnys stories you know that John is a good man, who will hopefully respect you and treat you well.

You don’t get to meet your husband till the day of the wedding. The whole engagement is short and feels very official. He writes you a letter with things that you should know about your new home and your mother and sisters help you prepare for the married life.

When you finally see your future husband standing in the church, you’re quite surprised. He is very handsome, older than you, probably in his late 30s, but you’re sure that if he waited a little, he could find a better wife that you will be. John on the other hand is smitten by you, he also doesn’t understand why you would choose to marry him.

After the ceremony you immediately leave the town. He is very quiet the whole ride to his mansion and even thought you have many questions you stay quiet too. You arrive late in the night, exhausted from the long travel, but the only thing that concerns you is the wedding night. You heard a lot of horrible stories told by maids about their first nights with their husbands. The only thing that John does is that he shows you your room, tells you which butler to call if you have any troubles and he is gone. You’re left in the huge mansion alone and confused.

The breakfast takes place in the dining room. You sit at the table so far from John that you would have to shout to get his attention. He ignores you most of the time. At first you don’t mind it, you finally have some sort of freedom, you explore the land, the house and you find a huge library with many books you want to read.

But after some time, you start to crave his attention. The maids don’t want to be your friends, they think that it is highly inappropriate, you as a couple don’t attend any balls and there is no noble lady in the near distance you could visit and be friends with.

So, you start to write a diary, you write about how you feel and how would you like your husband to actually acknowledge you. Sometimes you also mention that you find him very attractive and the romance novels that you found in the library don’t help your imagination.

One time you forget your diary in the library and John accidentally picks it up. He thinks its some book that he hasn’t read yet. When he realizes that it is your handwriting, he knows that he should put it down, it is not right to invade your privacy. But then he sees his name there and he must know what you write about him.

He reads the whole paragraphs about how your meetings in the dinning room leaves you all flustered and how you crave his attention. He didn’t think that a young girl like you could find him attractive, and he wanted to be a good husband and leave you as much freedom as you could want. He didn’t want to pressure you into any kind of intimate relationship even though he was pressured by the rest of his family to have an heir. John leaves your diary where he found it, without any evidence that he read it.

The next morning, he invites you to eat breakfast with him in the garden. It is far more intimate, and you finally have a conversation with him. He asks you questions about your hobbies, your family and if you like it here.

It finally feels like he is courting you and you leave every encounter with him with rosy cheeks and butterflies in your stomach. He invites you on walks where he holds your hand as you tell him about your day or about the new book you just left. You spend the whole days together learning about each other.  

John tells you stories about the war, the battles he fought. His leg heals up perfectly and now, that he is healthy again, he takes you with him when he goes riding. When you ask him if he likes the hight society he tells you the truth. He tells you how much he despises the formal event and the balls and suddenly it all makes sense to you.

You finally understand why he wanted to marry so quickly and why you live alone in the middle of nowhere. You tell him that you loved the dancing and the beautiful gown you could wear at balls but now you don’t mind the quiet life. Now you have him and that is all that matters.  

One evening he makes a ball just for you. He invites a musician to play, he buys you an expensive gown and you pretend that you are at some formal event. It’s just the two of you dancing, laughing and drinking expensive champaign he bought for the ball. You dance the whole night and after he walks you to your bedroom he kisses you. It is a soft kiss, just your lips barely touching, but it starts a fire in you, and you want more.

When John realizes that you’re not pulling away he deepens the kiss. He knows that you have no experiences, and he wants to show you that he will treat you well. He spends the night with you, showing you in many ways how much he loves you.

And when you finally fall asleep, he thinks how lucky he is to find a wife like you. When you wake up and you see your husband sleeping in your bad you are very grateful that you accidentally left your diary in the library open on the page that mentioned how hot he was. Such a shame you didn’t come up with the plan a little earlier.

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