~ her spirit went to heaven; her body to the wolves ~

Sydney | she/her | 30s Minors DNI

[soup-after-dark]

Howdy! I am no longer posting to this blog. Come be a freak on main with me over at @rat-with-a-cup-of-soup!

[livingdxadwriter]

I promise (if I’m being honest)

Hockey player!Reiner Braun x F!reader

Summary: When your best friend asked you to be her third roommate, you would have never guessed your innocent little crush would have led you to this. But after overhearing a conversation, you are forced to express your true feelings. Because why else would you be jealous? College roommates AU

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, oral (fem receiving), fingering, overstimulation, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), semi rough sex, he pounds you lovingly, first time together, size kink, reiner is bigger than you and you like it, soft dom reiner, sub reader, possesive behavior, pervy!reiner but you want him that way, scent kink, mating press, hes lowkey pathetic (he whimpers cuz the pussy is that good), a bit of jealous!reader

WC: 7.5k sorry not sorry

A/N: don’t even look at me. It is WHAT IT IS. This was to be expected. You cannot give me a tall pathetic and miserable man with pretty eyes and expect me to not fold. So here we are. This is probably flopping with my luck lately but for the two Reiner stans that want him as much as I do.

This is based on this fan art by niharikajerry (ur fan art is greatly missed pookie) (couldn’t tag the original cause I think her twitter is gone sorry)

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Pieck asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. You leaned on the palm of your hand, laptop sitting on the kitchen table and your iPad on your lap. Studying for an exam when you had been pissed off for days was not a great combination. 

“Mhmm. Just tired.” You offered her a forced ghost of a smile, but she was your best friend, she knew you weren’t really okay. But how could you tell her what was wrong? It was so fucking embarrassing. 

“Did you at least eat anything today?” She sighed in defeat, black strands falling over her forehead as she tilted her head at you like a mother scolding her child. 

Yeah, if you count two cups of coffee and a banana as food. You nodded slowly, drifting your tired gaze back to your scribbled notes. Eleven forty-five. You sighed to yourself, sensing today would be another sleepless night. But you weren’t going to tell her that. 

“Okay, well I’m going to my room. I think Pock is already in bed, so try not to stay up too late, okay?” She offered you a gentle smile and you couldn’t help but just stare at her. 

Yeah, and what of your third roommate? The man that was the owner of your thoughts and the culprit of your anger. He was probably out with her if it were up to him. You were sure of it and the thought made you want to crawl into bed and never come out. 

You gave her a tiny smile and a nod, your face dropping as soon as she walked away. Your chest was heavy with something so indescribable you couldn’t even concentrate. When you so joyfully accepted Pieck’s offer of moving in with her, her boyfriend and their friend, you would have never guessed that you would be so down bad for him . You couldn’t even look him in the eye most days. Not when he paraded around the shared space like he didn’t care what he was doing to you. You didn’t even think he had the faintest idea you would drool every time you saw him in the kitchen in those tight ass tank tops and loose pajamas pants. You cursed his name everyday wishing you could scream it instead. 

You leaned the side of your face, a look of disdain plastered on your face as you contemplated how pathetic you were in your predicament. The words on your screen blurred as you thought about how you got here in the first place. Six months of drooling after him, sputtering and stammering each time he spoke to you and pretending you didn’t get hot all over when he came home glistening with sweat after a run. Or that you didn’t think about him after his hockey practice, all sweaty, panting and breathless.

Six fucking months! 

It was your luck that you shared a couple classes together this semester, so you saw him more now than ever. You could only take so much. And when you decided to finally grow a pair and make a move, you overheard them talking about her. About Historia, that sweet and damn near perfect girl everyone always talked about. You could never compete with her. She was perfect in every way you weren’t, and if Reiner was infatuated with her the way you were with him, you had no fucking chance. 

You easily could’ve asked, it wasn’t like they were talking to you, you simply overheard Reiner and Porco while they were playing video games in the living room. From what you heard, it sounded like Porco was teasing Reiner about his crush on Historia and that was all you needed to have your stomach turn upside down. You didn’t stay to hear the rest, all but running away to your room before you bursted into tears.

That was a week ago. You haven’t said a word to Reiner since. 

So mature of you, obviously. 

You lost track of time after a while, all but forcing yourself to return to your studying since that beat suffering over a man who so clearly didn’t want you that way. You nearly dropped your iPad from your lap when you heard the front door close. You didn’t even hear it open. You had nowhere to escape to, your stuff was sprawled out on the kitchen table, your legs crossed and tucked under you, you couldn’t run away in time. 

He spotted you, his eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise. You wanted to punch him so badly. Your eye nearly twitched at the sight of him, black tank top clinging to his chest, sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips and his short blonde strands stuck up in different directions. You noticed his gym bag was hanging from his shoulder. You huffed softly, assuming that’s where he was. 

“Hey, what’ya doing still up?” He asked casually, taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t have time to run away from him this time. You watched him as he dropped his bag by the table like it had insulted him and he strided around the kitchen in that same way that made your stomach turn and your thighs clench around nothing. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” You answered shortly, praying he would leave you alone. You didn’t have the energy to do this with him right now. “So I’m studying for our neuroscience exam.” 

“Yeah, me either. Went to workout for a bit.” He told you as he rummaged through the fridge before he lifted his head to look at you. “I’m starving. You wanna eat something, then we can study together?” 

Your lips parted open and your eyebrows were pulled into a frown. Why did he have to be nice? It made it all the more difficult. 

“Uh… No. I’m uh… I think I’m okay.” Your tone was a bit unsure, hesitant as you slowly closed your laptop as you prepared to make your escape. You caught the genuine look of hurt in his golden eyes and he straightened up, shooting you a questioning glance. 

“C’mon, my treat. What do you want? Just tell me.” He closed the fridge for a second before it started beeping as he waited for your response. Something in his tone made your face flush, heat rushing to your cheeks. If only you could tell him what you truly wanted. 

“Really, Reiner. ‘m fine. I’m just gonna go to my room.” You tried to be nonchalant, keep your obvious urgency as hidden as you could. You avoided his puzzled eyes as you stood up, ready to all but run to your bedroom where you could be safe and away from this torturous feeling. 

Reiner didn’t think today would be the day he confronted you about whatever it was that had been brewing between you. All he knew is that he was genuinely bummed you had been avoiding him. He loved talking to you, seeing you, he loved when you cheered him on at his games. He remembered how you all but jumped into his arms at his last game, all excited that they had won. It took all of his energy to not kiss you right then and there. 

That was exactly why he didn’t understand why you suddenly didn’t even want to be in the same room as him. But if he has to corner you in this kitchen to get an answer out of you he will. 

“Don’t tell me you’re tryna hide from me again?” He was in front of you in two strides, big arms crossed over his chest all up in your face. As if this predicament wasn’t bad enough already. You completely missed the genuine hurt in his eyes and the tiniest pout on his lips. 

“I uh, have no idea what you mean by that.” You sighed, your head falling to the side as you avoided making eye contact with his persistent eyes. But something told you he wasn’t about to move or let you leave. “Reiner c’mon—” 

“Did I… do something wrong?” He cut you off, the words leaving him sharply, yet slowly, like he was scared to hear your answer. You couldn’t quite see it, but there was the slightest bit of panic flashing on his face as he thought of all the possible things he could have done in the last three months that upset you. And he would never want to upset you, out of all people. 

You actually looked at him, and you were utterly shocked to find this six-foot-something grown ass man filled with genuine panic, almost like he was going to drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness right then and there. Your lips parted open in genuine shock. Now you genuinely felt bad. It didn’t cross your mind that he would notice you had been avoiding him. 

“What?” Your forehead scrunched up into a frown and he started sputtering nonsense.

“ Fuck , what did I do? Whatever it was, I’m like, so sorry.” You tilted your head at him, nose scrunched up in confusion, you couldn’t even process what he was stammering about. “I can do your chores for you? Do you want to get dinner? Just say the word, don’t want you to be mad at me.” 

“ Reiner .” You said his name firmly, a soft laugh leaving your lips at his panic and without thinking, you placed both of your hands flat on his chest, hoping to calm his racing mind. Your touch did, quite the opposite to say the least. “I’m not mad at you. Like at all.” 

His tense shoulders loosened a little, and his eyes softened with relief, but his chest was still heavy and he looked unsure, more than normal. 

“So… what’s up?” He tilted his head down at you, fingers ghosting over your elbow, which definitely did not go unnoticed by you. Your throat bobbed slowly as you swallowed, trying to force the words out knowing how stupid it was. 

Reiner said your name softly but sternly and you couldn’t really help but do as he said when he used that tone with you. 

“Okay… Fine. I am a little upset… With you.” You said quietly. Almost under your breath, but he was leaning so close to your face he heard you anyway, his eyes grew big again. 

“ Shit , I knew it. What did I do?” His tone was careful and hesitant as he waited for you to chastise at him over whatever it was that he did. Little did he know, he did nothing at all, knowingly, at least. 

“God, it’s so fucking stupid. I shouldn’t even be upset.” You laughed in disbelief, shaking your head hoping he would drop it, but his eyes never left you and the way he was looking at you, you were scared he would go into a panic, again . So you figured you would get on with it. “The other day I heard Pock make fun of you.. Over your crush on Historia. He said you should ask her out and stuff.” 

God, the words left such fucking sour taste in your mouth as they left your lips. You knew damn well it was so stupid, and yet you didn’t want to hear what he had to say about it. Though, by the puzzled look he gave you, you weren’t entirely sure what he had to say.

It took Reiner a collective ten seconds of utter silence to process just what the fuck you had just said. Did you seriously not see it? How he looked at you any time you walked into the room? How he so casually offered to cook dinner for you too, but never bothered to offer Porco or Pieck? He even offered to carry your bag on your way back to your place after class for fucks sake. He thought he was being way more obvious than this. He almost wanted to laugh at you, relieved that the only thing he did wrong was something he could easily fix, or so he hoped. 

“Seriously?” He sounded relieved, amused, even. He even had a humorous grin on his face, and you weren’t sure why. 

“Well-I-I mean… Yeah, it hurt my feelings a little..” You didn’t want to look at him, you were sure your face was flushed in embarrassment and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole. This wasn’t the way you wanted him to learn about your feelings. “Not that I blame you, I mean, she’s like perfect, you know? She’s sweet, smart, pretty— blonde. And I’m—“ 

“—Fucking gorgeous.” He cut you off without a second thought, like the only part he heard was that. He said it almost breathlessly, infatuated. 

“Huh?

It somehow still wasn’t clicking in that unsure brain of yours. You were so smart, he loved hearing every thought that came from that mind of yours, but Gods, were you clueless sometimes.

“You’re literally the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.” His voice was low, deep from his chest and laced with something primal, like he was five seconds away from throwing you over his broad shoulder. And you would let him. “I mean, yeah I’m not blind, Historia is cute, and I did have a crush on her once, but that was before— I haven’t thought about another girl like that. Just you.” 

You were sure you looked so stupid right now, so pathetic and so silly for choosing to just avoid him entirely instead of just accepting your feelings. Your eyes were wide, blinking slowly and your lips were parted as a scoff of annoyance left your lips. Your hands turned into fist on his chest and your forehead fell forward in defeat. Reiner breathed out a chuckle above you. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that before?” You huffed, defeated and embarrassed and he almost snorted in response. 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“You make me… Nervous.” You admitted, your voice soft and so quiet. A deep sigh left his chest as one of his hands moved to grab your face, long fingers under your jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes, the golden hazel in them almost completely blown out. 

He made you nervous, but you made him feel things that he would be ashamed to speak out loud. 

“Oh, yeah?” If you weren’t shaking before, you definitely were now. You were drooling a little even, his low words laced with arousal shooting straight to your cunt. You nodded slowly, holding your breath in your chest.

Fuck off— you wanted to say. “ Please, touch me.” Is what actually left your lips, damn near throwing yourself at his chest, desperate to feel something— anything. 

“Oh, fucking gladly.” 

He forced your head back with his grip on your jaw and met you in the middle, dipping his head to smash his lips into yours. You melted right into his chest immediately and threw your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer, until your chests touched. His other arm snaked around your waist, squeezing you into his hard fucking body like he wanted you to mold into him. He pulled a gasp from you and took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. 

What started as something unsure and experimental quickly turned into something desperate, all hands and all tongue, sloppy kisses in between ragged breaths. His body pushed you damn near on the table, leaning into you like he wanted to trap you, leaving you with nowhere to go. 

“ Fuck, I’ve wanted you like this for so long.” He admitted, his lips trailing down to your neck. “I jerk off to the thought of you, on my bed, pinned underneath me.. God, I even stole one of your panties..” 

Your eyes shot open, your lips parted into a gasp as he sucked on a particular spot on your exposed collarbone, his large hands groping the plush flesh of your exposed thighs. His most obscure confession left his throat, voice wrecked and shaky, and feral. 

“ Huh—?” You panted softly, shaken and aroused, one of your hands grabbing the side of his face as he continued exposing his deepest secret to you.

“ I know.” He almost growled with a mixture of shame and primal arousal. His cock nearly twitched at the thought of it. “I’m so sorry. Couldn’t help it. I saw one of your panties in front of the laundry machine and I just couldn’t help myself.” 

Your ass was half on the table, enough for Reiner to force your thighs open and stand between them. You couldn’t even pay mind to the fact that you were in your shared kitchen, and either one of your roommates could walk in on this sight at any moment. And yet, all you could focus on was him almost grinding himself against you as he continued with his filthy words. 

“I knew they were yours—“ Of course he did, he had seen you a couple of times running from the bathroom in nothing but your underwear because you forgot your towel. Though, you never quite realized he saw it happen. “I was gonna give ‘em back—I swear. But fuck, I just couldn’t help it. I still have ‘em. It would’ve been weird if I gave ‘em back a week later, right?”  

Yes, a week later, after he fucked himself with them wrapped around his large hand until it no longer smelled like you. Albeit, he did wash them after, but it would have been weird nonetheless. 

He’s not a pervert! No, you just do this to him, absolutely devoid his mind of all logic and morals and it was your fault. You had to know that, right?

“Jesus, Reiner.” You sounded drunk, slurring out your words and your eyes were half-lidded as he grinded his hard-on more and more against you with each word he slipped. You grabbed the back of his head, fingers laced in his short strands. He looked absolutely fucking feral. And you? Your tongue stuck out between your lips and your eyes wide with the same feral look he had. You weren’t sure of much in life, but you were very fucking sure of this. “Fuck me instead. Use me, do whatever you want with me, I don’t care. Gods, I don’t fucking care, just take me.” 

It was like a switch flipped in his head, feral and wrecked he hoisted you around his waist. Your stuff was left tossed around the table, but you couldn’t care less about that right now, not with the way he kissed and sucked at your neck, his breath heavy on your skin and fingers gripping your thighs as he carried you to his bedroom. Without so much as saying a word he tossed you on his bed, almost instantly forcing your thighs apart to accommodate his big fucking body. His desperate lips were on yours again as his hands groped and touched everywhere they could. His sheets smelled just like him, so intoxicating like his presence. And the thought of him taking you, on his bed, made you clench around nothing. 

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbled against your neck, his large hands gripping your waist as he slowly lifted your tank top. His nose pressed against the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent so deeply it made him dizzy. “You smell really good, too. Can’t believe you thought I wanted someone else when I have you right here. ”

He wished he could say he was being gentle about the way he undressed you, but he wasn’t. He tore your clothes off you with urgency, tossing them somewhere in his room. And what a sight you fucking were. You were so pretty under him, his cock was so incredibly hard at the sight. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, promise.” He mumbled into your neck, leaving yet another mark you would complain about having to cover later. His hand slipped into your panties, finding you already so wet, much to his amusement. “You’re gonna let me, right? Gonna let me have you? Make you mine?” 

His words sent a wave of arousal straight to your core and you breathed out a whine in response. “God, yes. Please, I need it so badly.” 

The sound that rumbled in his chest was raw--almost animalistic. With urgency he slipped down the bed and settled between your parted thighs, his legs hanging off the edge of his bed a little. He bumped his nose against your clothed clit, inhaling deeply one more time before he tore off your panties down your legs. He tossed them behind him, with the hope you wouldn’t be able to find them later. A breathy gasp left your lips, your legs instinctively closing around his head. 

“C’mon, don’t hide.” He chuckled, greedy eyes meeting yours as he forced your thighs apart, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fight against his hold. Holding your gaze, he stuck out his tongue and licked along your slit before running it over your clit. “You’re so perfect.” He muttered, more to himself, as he wrapped his lips around your swollen clit.

He licked and sucked at you like a starved man, filthy sounds rumbling in his chest as his spit rolled down your cunt and onto his sheets. The sounds of him lapping at your pussy was downright sinful and you were trying so fucking hard to stay quiet, biting down on your lip and pressing the back of your hand to your mouth. But you were sure the moan that left your throat when he pushed in one of his fingers into your hole slipped past your hand. 

“ Shit , you're so tight.” He breathed out, watching with glazed eyes as his finger slipped in and out of your pussy, glistening almost immediately. He lapped at your clit again, spit dripping down to his fingers, which he used to slip a second finger into you with ease. “Takin’ my fingers so well. Can’t wait to see you take my cock.” 

You clenched around his fingers at his words, having spent so long just fantasizing about the day he would fuck you silly. You craved it. A throaty whine left your lips as your thighs threatened to clamp shut, but Reiner had his other hand flat on your thigh for the exact reason. 

“You want that, huh?” He tilted his head at you, his fingers curling so perfectly you wanted to run from them. You definitely wanted to crawl away when his tongue began lapping up at your clit again, sucking and licking at it like he wanted to make-out with your pussy. “Look how well she’s taking my fingers. You think she can take my cock this well? Hmm?”

You didn’t know if he expected you to say something—not like you could say anything , really. Not with how his fingers curled and scissored you open. That, paired with his mouth all but making out with your clit, you couldn’t even think. Your stomach was starting to burn with something familiar, though the way your thighs were shuddering and the way your body wanted to run away was unfamiliar. 

“R-Reiner.. W-wait.” You managed to whimper out, your eyes fluttering back as his fingers curled into that one spot you could never reach on your own, the one that left you silent and shaking uncontrollably—yes, that one. 

“ No , you’re not going anywhere ‘til you come on my face.” He draped his arm over the underside of your thighs, holding you down on the bed and all sprawled out for him while his fingers all but fucked you open. “So get back here and take it.” 

Well, what the fuck. You don’t even think anyone has ever eaten you out like this before. So sloppy and messy, damn near moaning into your pussy like he was the one getting off. He spat right over your clit, watching it drip down your folds before he licked it. Over and over until your pussy clenched his fingers tighter than before and your thighs shuddered uncontrollably under his tight hold. 

Reiner closed his eyes, his cock twitching as your release coated his face and hand. It was so much he wondered if you had squirted on him. But he wasn’t going to embarrass you further, not today, at least. When he looked up, his fingers slowly leaving you, he found you with your hands covering your flushed face and you were panting heavily as you came down from your blinding orgasm. Without so much as warning he slipped his tongue into your dripping pussy, his nose bumping into your clit each time he pushed his tongue back in. A ragged sound left your throat at the overstimulating sensation and one of your hands flew to pull at his blonde strands, attempting to pull him off you.

“ Shit— Reiner— Aghh—” the words died in your throat as your pussy throbbed under the pressure of his tongue. You felt like you wanted to cry. A satisfied grunt rumbled in his throat as he licked you clean before he begrudgingly pulled himself back, his cock starting to become unbearably uncomfortable in his sweats.

His face was flushed bright, a dust of red on his nose and cheeks like it does after a game. His face was glistening with you, and he wiped mouth with the back of his hand, suddenly self-aware and a little embarrassed. Blushing, he crawled over you, his breath heavy as he looked down at you, a bit scared he did too much. 

He would be insane if he thought you would tap out before he fucked you with his cock. 

Fuck that.

“You okay?” He asked a bit shyly, golden eyes wide and glossy with arousal. You nodded almost instantly, already reaching to tear off his tank top.

“Mhmm.” You bit down on your lip, almost giggling at the sight of him. Gods, he was even more gorgeous than you had imagined. You knew he would be well toned, that man was at the gym twenty-four-seven, but your mental image didn’t do him justice. His broad chest was dusted with blonde hairs, as your eyes traveled down his abs you were met with a trail of hair under his belly button that led to the waistband of his sweats. They were dark and blonde. You nearly wanted to moan at the sight. “Can you please fuck me now? Please ?” You weren’t sure where this confidence came from, but you sounded to cock-drunk already and it made Reiner groan.

“Yeah? How does my pretty girl want it then? His words were low and rough with restraint as he leaned back to pull down his sweats and boxer briefs. You were already drooling.

“However you want. Want you to use me however you want. Fuck me any way you want to. I just need you. I have needed you ever since I met you, you don’t even understand how badly I want you.” He was speechless, his lips parted and his eyes wide and feral as he listened to your breathless words. He breathed in deep as he freed his cock almost angrily and so pent up. 

“Fuck, baby. Don’t say that shit to me. What if I like it rough, hm?” His words left him heavily as he gripped his cock. Your mouth nearly dropped at the sight, it was thick and heavy , the tip red and angry, you were almost scared of how the fuck he was going to fit all of it.

“Then..” You blinked softly, already spreading your thighs open for him to sit between them, and even then, he had to force them apart even more to accommodate his body. He watched you carefully, his eyes squinted and breath heavy as you continued. “..I like it rough. I don’t care. Just want you.”

“Fuck… Fuck . I would give you anythin’ you want. With that pretty face I would kiss the ground you walk on.” He grunted, forcing your thighs apart and all you could do was watch him, your eyes drifting to his cock in his hand, so heavy that it didn’t even touch his stomach. You clenched around nothing in anticipation. “You think you can take it, pretty girl?” He used his arm to hold himself above you as he casually spat into his other hand and rubbed it on his heavy cock.

“ Yes. God, yes. Please, Reiner. Give it to me, I can take it.” You sounded so pathetic, so desperate. You didn't even think you could handle it, but you didn’t care, if he was going to split you open on his cock then you would take it— gladly .

Reiner all but moaned at your words, growing so impatient that he pushed his head ever so slightly into your hole without so much as a warning. “I’m gonna fucking break you if you keep saying that shit to me. Fuck.” 

You gasped, your eyes immediately growing wide at the intrusion, and you breathed out through your nose. A soft fuck left your lips as you adjusted to the burn. You had to admit, he was bigger than anyone else you had ever had, and it wasn’t like you had been with a lot of people to begin with. 

“Shit, you’re tight, even after I stretched you out on my fingers,” he breathed out a chuckle, pushing himself a little deeper as he pushed your legs back until your knees were touching your chest and your pussy was all spread out for him. “Squeezing me so tight. I swear, it’s like you were made for me .”

It almost felt like an eternity as he filled you inch by agonizing inch. He was just so thick he had to stop each time to give you time to adjust. You already felt like he was splitting him wide open and he hadn’t even started pounding you how you told him to. In hindsight, you should have chosen your words carefully. His thumb was rubbing slow circles on your clit to ease you as his other hand gripped your thigh almost possessively as he held back the urge to just slam all of himself into your needy hole.

“ Shit . You’re s-s’big. Is it all in?” You dared ask, not even daring to see for yourself. Reiner bit down on his lip, eyes half-lidded as he looked between you where his cock was bullying its way into your pussy, still some left. He breathed out a laugh. 

“You’re takin' me so well, baby. Just a little more, yeah?” He reassured sweetly, unlike what he was about to do to you. He gripped your hips tightly, breathing heavily and leaning down to use his body as leverage over yours. You looked up at him with panicked eyes, your mouth falling wide open when he sank all the way, his hips flush against yours. And he just stayed there, sat so deep inside you you could feel him in your stomach as he pressed your forehead against yours. 

“Reiner..” You gritted out after a minute of him sitting still, his fingers digging into the flesh on your hips, surely to leave the imprint of his fingers. You had to force down a moan, not wanting your roommates to hear. “Move.. Please..” 

“Mhmm, yeah? You want it?” He teased as he planted one of his arms next to your head as he leaned more of his body into you, his crooked nose (from the amount of time he has broken it over the years) bumped yours as he rolled his hips, but didn't quite move. You nodded harshly. “Say it then.” 

“Mmpph—need it, Reiner. Need you to fuck me. Please, please.” You complied, ragged breaths leaving you as you gripped the back of his hair and moved your hips the slightest bit, desperate for something—anything. 

Just then, he moved . And you were sure the moan that he pulled from you resonated through the walls. Reiner tisked at you as he gave you deep, harsh thrusts that made your breath hitch in your throat and your thighs shake.

“Your pussy feels so good— what the fuck,” He cursed his breath, his cock hitting so impossibly deep with each stroke. Your pussy was squeezing him so tight, pulsating around him, he couldn’t believe it took him this long to make you his. “Gonna fuck you so good you won’t remember what it felt like to be fucked by anyone else. Promise .”

His possessive words made you feel things you couldn’t even describe, it was almost like it was him that had been jealous and not you this entire time. You felt so dizzy, breathing so hard and whimpering like your walls weren’t paper fucking thin. The way you gasped his name, it made him fuck you harder. You almost screamed, but his large hand flew to cover your mouth, not wanting to hear Porco bitch at him over the noise tomorrow.

“As much as I want you to scream my name, I don’t wanna hear Porco in the morning. Gonna have to fuck you like this since my pretty girl can’t be quiet.” He sounded almost smug, and he used the fact that your sounds were muffled to pound you harder, harsher. 

Your back arched off the bed, squirming like you wanted to run away. Reiner grunted at this, noticing a pattern. A perverted grin fell on his lips as he pushed you back down on the bed with his hand on your collarbone. You were definitely crying under his hand as he took advantage of you so hopeless under him. You couldn’t push him off, run away or tell him to stop. Not that you wanted to—but you couldn’t regardless. And yet, when lifted his head to look at your face, he didn’t see panic in your eyes. You craved this as much as he did. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it? That’s why you want to run away?” He huffed, making sure you couldn’t go anywhere, not with the way his body was so much bigger than yours, he was stronger than you, too. He caged you with his big fucking body and all you could do was take it. Take it until you drip all over his bed. “You wanted it, didn’t you? Pouting and shit at the thought of someone else wanting me. So take it like you own it.”

You wanted to tell him. That you were so close, that you were a shaking mess under him, your pussy pulsating around his cock each time he pounded into you. That it felt so good you wanted to cry. You wanted to tell him all of that, but you couldn’t. All you could do was claw at his back, surely to leave marks of your own and sob under his hand.

“Fuck, you’re close, aren’t you sweetheart? I can feel you clenching my cock. You want it, don’t you?” He grunted, sweat dripping down his temple, his cheeks flushed bright red. Noise be damned, he wanted to hear you. His hand left your mouth and instead he grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he pinned your arm above your head. “Wanna hear your pretty noises. Give it to me.”

You whined, incoherent, your hand squeezing his inhumanely tight he all but split you open on his cock. Your mouth was open, eyes rolled back and body jolting with each thrust he gave you. He used his free hand to hold one of your thighs up against his glistening chest, while your other leg fell on his waist. He effectively spread you out in a way that had him brushing his trimmed hairs over your swollen clit.

“O-oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck— ” you gasped, shaking uncontrollably under him, so utterly fucked out that your head is spinning as your orgasm slammed you. “Gonna… Gonna come. Yes— Reiner— fuck .” 

He fucked you through it. And he fucked you hard. So deep you were sure he bruised your cervix. He moaned, he fucking moaned as your pussy squeezed him so tightly he thought was gonna cum right then and there. His open mouth was on your neck, your jaw, your cheek. Everywhere at all once as you dripped around him. His headboard slammed against the wall, his bed frame creaked under his thrusts that had turned erratic. They definitely knew what you were doing now. 

“That’s it. God, that’s it. Squeeze me just like that. Fuck. Fuck , I’m gonna—” He was about to pull out, so close to his own release that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself even if you told him to. But you didn’t, your pussy squeezed him tightly, the leg hooked around his waist pulling him flush against you and he grunted like you had just punched him in the gut. “Don’t do that shit. Don’t do that unless you want me to fuck you so full of me you’ll feel that shit for days.”

“Want you to. Give it to me, Reiner.” You muttered, fucked-out and panting, but he heard you just fine. He fucking whimpered—broken and desperate as you tilted your head back to lick up his bobbing adam’s apple up to his jaw. “I have an IUD, it’s fine. Need it, please.”

“God, you’re such a good girl. My good girl. Want me to fill you, hm? So good for me. Fuck .” You had never heard a man moan like this, so desperate and wrecked. But fuck, you loved it. You whined his name in his ear, your abused cunt still leaking around him. Reiner was so fucking desperate, you couldn’t help the way you clenched him, either. “Ahh.. Oh.. Oh, fuck. Fuck, gonna come. Your pussy feels s’fucking good. Shit .”

He held you still, rutting himself into your pussy as he spilled himself deep into you. He fucked his cum into you, giving you lazy strokes as he dropped his face into your neck, not wanting a single drop to slip out of you. You could feel your sticky releases rolled down your thigh after some time and only then did Reiner pull out of you. A hiss left your chest as your lips parted open. He leaned back just enough to look at your face, and he looked just as fucked out as you—blonde hairs sticking up, pale cheeks coated with a deep blush and his chest was equally red and glistening with sweat. 

“God, you’re amazing.” He breathed out, leaning down to take your mouth in his, messy and sloppy like the mess you had made on his bed. “Can I keep you?”

You stared up at him, a look of amusement and bliss written on your face. You bit down on your lip softly and you reached up to grab his face lovingly. “Only if I can keep you.”

“Baby, I have your panties in my drawer, I think you had me for a while.” He breathed out a laugh, this perverted yet sheepish look on his face. You blinked at him, lips parted as you accepted that the man you wanted was fucking weird. But, weren’t you? 

“You are so gross.” You giggled, shoving his face playfully away from you. He narrowed his eyes at you, scoffing softly as he grabbed both your wrists in one of his hands and held you against his chest. 

“Yeah, and you would let me fuck you dumb all over again. So who’s in the wrong here?” He nudged his nose at your cheek, breathing in your scent now mixed with his. You smelled like him now. And he smelled like you. And that thought made him hard all over again. 

“Reiner.” Your eyes widened at the feeling of his semi-hard cock pressing against your thigh, mouth gaping at him and he just stared at you.

“You couldn’t have possibly thought I’m one and done, right? You better not be tapping out.” 

You truly did underestimate the stamina of a hockey player. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it sure as shit wasn’t this. Two more rounds and you were begging him to stop. He didn’t mind, he got what he wanted and now he got to hold you through the night. You weren’t going anywhere if he had a say in it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You don’t think your teammates are going to say something about this?” You winced softly, lightly tracing over the very distinct red marks down his freckled-dusted back. He shrugged, slipping his t-shirt all the way down. 

“I’ve seen Eren’s hickeys. Jean isn’t any better. Why should I care.” He said nonchalant, voice rough from sleep. You absentmindedly tidied up the mess you had left the night prior on the kitchen table, hoping neither one of your roommates had seen it. 

It felt a little surreal to you. Reiner had fucked you to literal tears the night prior, and today he was making your breakfast like he was your boyfriend. But he wasn’t your boyfriend? Right? You didn’t think so. You supposed that was a conversation for another day.

You leaned on the counter, silently catching him as he so expertly flipped some pancakes and stirred some bacon. It was almost hard to believe you refused to talk to him a day ago. He caught you staring at him, a soft pink dusted over his cheeks as he shot you a half smile.

“Do you want to study later? I can get us some food after my practice and we can hang out in my room.” He hummed, shooting you a perverted glance that reminded you of the way he looked at you last night. “Porco and Pieck have work tonight so.. I can make you scream my name all I want.” Andddd there it was. You gasped softly, a bit flustered, still not confident around him enough to take his dirty words with a straight face. “God, you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

With a soft grin, he leaned down to press a teasing kiss to your neck, then to your jaw, until his lips were on yours. You had to push him back slightly with a hand on his chest before he shoved his tongue down your throat.

“Dude, are you fucking kidding me.” You heard Porco’s grumpy morning voice, followed by Pieck’s hushed voice, telling him to be quiet. You immediately separated yourself from Reiner, to which he scoffed in response. 

“It’s seven in the fucking morning, Galliard, don’t start.” Reiner huffed, returning to the food on the stove, which he, of course, didn’t bother to offer to the two. You bit down on your lip, crossing your arms over your chest in embarrassment. 

“Yeah, and it was one in the morning when I heard banging against my wall. You couldn’t fuck in her room? Had to be yours where we shared a goddamn wall?” In the six months you had lived here, you heard the two bicker all the time, but never did they bring you into it. You were appalled.

“Yeah, okay well I’ve had to hear you two fuck for years . It’s only fair you have to put up with shit, too.” Reiner snapped back, glaring at Galliard for a second before he looked at Pieck. “Sorry Pieck, respectfully, I promise I don’t think about it like that. Your boyfriend’s just a dick.” 

Pieck shared the same look of embarrassment you did, her face was bright red as she sheepishly stood next to you. You both shared a mortified look. 

“I’m glad you finally will understand what I have to deal with these two.” She said so quietly only you heard, not that the two men in the room would, not with how they were bickering at each other. “You okay though? I was a bit concerned for you last night. It was pretty loud..”

“Ehhh… Heh… Yep, I’m fine. Sorry, we’ll try to keep it down.” You said sheepishly, blood rushing to your face. 

“It’s okay, trust me I get it.”

“Jesus, dude, the fuck are you on? You’re going to break her.” Your head snapped in Galliard’s direction, eyes wide. Suddenly aware of their side conversation. You blinked in disbelief, shooting Reiner a mortified look.

“No, I won’t. She’s fine.” He sighed, standing in front of you with a plate full of food, his eyes fully affectionate as he handed you the plate.

“I’ve seen you tackle Jean, she will not be fine.” 

“What now?” You looked up at Reiner in panic, eyes big as you hesitantly sat down on the kitchen table. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He said sweetly, leaning down to kiss your hair. Making sure the others didn’t hear this next part, he leaned down to your ear. “Might just break the bed, though.”

Oh.

[soup-after-dark]

The best part about having Reiner as a roommate is the mind-blowing sex, and the second best part is getting to watch Porco crash out every morning because of said sex 😂 The dynamic between everyone here was perfect. Poor Pieck. Poor reader. Get ready for the most tension-filled double dates of your life 🙈 Thanks for writing 🥰

[prettyinpeaches]

Best behavior

Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader | The Boys

NOTES: based on this ask, I took some creative liberties with the background plot but I think you'll love it

TW: smut, reader is a virgin, definitely manipulative ben but it's in a very delicious way, younger!actress!reader (they're costars), oral + fingering (f receiving), spitting in mouth, fingers in mouth, unprotected sex, coming inside, ben being yucky but also dreamy and perfect

Masterlist

It starts as a studio thing.

A clean, patriotic, Vought film—hero meets heart, Soldier Boy resurrected alongside a fresh-faced darling half his age. The press eats it up. You’re the ingénue; he’s the legend. Every photo op is gold. He keeps his hand at your back, not your waist. He pulls out your chair. He gives the quotes they want.

“She’s a real class act,” he says with a warm smile. “Don’t see much of that anymore.”

He calls you “sweetheart” in interviews, like it’s endearing. Like he’s harmless.

Off-camera, somehow, he’s even better.

Ben doesn’t crudely flirt. He escorts. He walks on the street side of the sidewalk. Orders your dinner before you get the nerve to pick something yourself—but somehow, it’s always what you like. He keeps you close without ever crossing a line. No rumors. No tension. Just steady, quiet confidence that settles somewhere in your chest and stays there. 

Sure, he can be a little rough around the edges, but he’s lived through so much—wars, real ones—and there’s something about that kind of survival that earns a little grit.

He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t push. Not once.

And you? You trust him completely and he’s never, not once, given you a reason to question that trust.

So when he invites you over after a late press run—low voice, light touch, “just dinner, sweetheart. just the two of us.”—you don’t hesitate.

Because it’s Ben. Because he’s been perfect. Because he’s made you feel safe in ways you didn’t know you needed.

And that’s exactly how he planned it. 

When he opens the door, you smile—because of course you do.

He’s still in a button down, sleeves rolled and collar loose, looking relaxed but sharp. Like someone who always knows where he’s going to end up by the end of the night. His hair’s neat. His smile’s warm. Everything about him says steady.

He greets you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. A hand at the small of your back. A kiss to your temple. The scent of something expensive still clinging to his skin.

Inside, the lights are low. Soft. The place smells like cologne and something expensive. There’s music—crackly, old-fashioned, just loud enough to feel intentional. There’s wine breathing on the counter. Plates already set out on the table. You’re so consumed by taking in the apartment that you hardly even notice that there’s not even food. 

Ben doesn’t ask if you’re hungry. Doesn’t ask anything, really.

He just turns toward the hallway, slow and sure, and glances back at you with that same unshakable calm.

“Bedroom’s through here, sweetheart.”

Not a question. Not a command. Just something said with the kind of confidence that’s impossible to challenge.

And you follow—of course you do. He’s probably just giving me a tour, you reason, he wants me to know his space.

Because he’s been nothing but perfect. Because he’s never once made you feel unsafe. Because that voice of his could talk you into anything.

You don’t even realize until later that he never looked to see if you were behind him.

He already knew you would be.

You don’t even realize until later that he never looked to see if you were behind him. He already knew you would be.

The bedroom’s warm—dimly lit, quiet. Nothing about it feels overt or pornographic. Not yet. Just soft shadows, crisp sheets, and him standing by the bed like this is simply the next part of the evening.

He turns, slow and loose, and crooks two fingers at you with that same easy calm that’s lulled you from the start. “C’mere.”

You smile before you even move. A little laugh slips out of you—nervous, pleased—and you step closer.

He brushes your hair off your shoulder, trails the backs of his fingers down your arm like he’s smoothing out static.

“Y’know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I’ve really been enjoying all this time we’ve been spendin’ together.”

You duck your head, grinning. “Yeah?” you say, light and breathy. “Me too. It’s been… really nice.”

His mouth twitches like he knew you’d say that.

“You’re just—” he chuckles softly, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe his luck. “You’re a real rare thing. Classy. Sweet. Soft.”

You laugh again, quieter this time. “You make me sound like a collectible.”

He hums, amused, thumb rubbing slow circles over your knuckles. “Hell, baby,” he says, “I don’t think I’ve met a girl like you in decades.”

Your chest warms at that. You preen without even meaning to, shoulders relaxing as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Well… I don’t know about that,” you say, smiling. “I’m not that special.”

His gaze sharpens—fond, intent. 

“Yeah,” he says gently. “You are.”

He steps closer, crowding your space just enough to make your breath hitch. Taller. Broader. Older. But still careful, still gentle in that way that makes you feel precious instead of cornered.

“And when you told me you’d never been with anyone…” His mouth brushes your temple. “Well. That just about drove me insane.”

You laugh, flustered, cheeks heating. “Ben—” you start, embarrassed. “It’s not like it’s a big deal.”

You feel him smile against your skin.

“It is to me,” he says quietly.

You still just a little, heart fluttering, and he feels it immediately.

“Hey,” he murmurs, soothing. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”

His fingers skim the hem of your blouse, slow enough that it almost tickles. You suck in a breath, half‑laughing again.

“You’re making it sound so serious,” you say softly.

“It is,” he replies, just as soft. “Doesn’t mean it has to be scary.”

He kisses just below your ear, lingering.

“But if you’re gonna give it up to someone,” he adds, voice dropping, “oughta be someone who knows what the fuck he’s doin’, don’t you think?”

Your laugh comes out smaller this time. You nod without quite realizing you are. “I guess,” you murmur, shy but smiling. “You do seem… very confident.”

That does it. He smiles—slow, satisfied.

“That’s my girl.”

Then his fingers are unbuttoning your top, methodical and practiced, brushing every inch of skin he reveals with open reverence. You let him, body buzzing, head light, enjoying the attention too much to question it.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs again, mouth warm against your collarbone. “I’ll be real good to you.”

And somehow, that makes everything feel inevitable.

It’s not until he has you stripped naked on your hands and knees on the mattress—his own knee nudging your legs apart, his hands gripping your hips like a man who’s waited for this—that something shifts.

His mouth is on you before you can even process it—hot, messy, filthy—and you cry out, twisting in the sheets, your face already flushed and slick with sweat. He groans into you like he’s starved for it.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, “look at this sweet little pussy.”

You whimper. You’ve never heard him talk like that about you before. Not even close.

“So fucking wet for me,” he says, thumb spreading you open while he presses his mouth right back to you, licking deep like it’s his.

You try to speak—maybe a gasp of his name, maybe something uncertain—but the only thing that comes out is a moan, helpless and broken.

He hums against you, pleased. “Told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

Then his fingers slide into your mouth—two of them, sudden and deep, pressing down on your tongue until you start to gag around them. 

“Deep breaths, sweetheart,” he drawls, the thumb of his same hand stroking the skin of your jaw.

He doesn’t rush it. Just holds you there, feeling you accommodate him, until your breathing shakily around his fingers, eyes watering, and your lips tentatively begin to close around them

“There you go,” he murmurs, pleased. “Knew you’d figure it out.”

You make a small, helpless sound around his fingers and he laughs quietly, fond.

“Easy,” he coos. “You’re doin’ just fine.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, slick with your saliva, and before you can even process the loss, his hand slides around your front to rest in between your breasts. He presses you up, his chest to your spine, mouth close to your ear.

His other hand comes around to your jaw, thumb settling at the hinge, tilting your face just enough.

“Open,” he says softly. Not a command—an expectation.

You do.

He spits into your mouth—unhurried, deliberate—watching it land like he’s savoring the moment. His thumb strokes your cheek, grounding, approving.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “That’s it.”

You gasp, overwhelmed, and he keeps his hand there, steady, making sure you don’t pull away.

“Swallow,” he adds gently. “C’mon now, be good, sweetheart.”

You do, because of course you do.

He smiles against your ear, satisfied.

“See?” he says quietly, guiding you back down to rest your weight on your palms. “Nothin’ to it. You just needed someone to show you.”

You don’t know why your thighs are shaking so hard. You don’t know when he started spanking you, either—sharp, rhythmic cracks to the side of your ass between long, indulgent licks of your pussy—but it’s blurring, all of it. His mouth, his fingers, his voice.

“Why…?” You ask breathlessly, your voice is soft and high pitched and whiny. You’re not even sure what you’re asking about at this point, everything that’s happened since your clothes came off has felt odd and overwhelming and other worldly in the weirdest, best way. 

“Because this,” he says between licks, “is what people do when they love each other so very much.”

Another slap. You jolt, whine, clench around nothing.

“And you do love me, don’t cha? I’m so good to you, sweetheart.”

You’re nodding, babbling, your voice wrecked.

“Yes—yes, I love you—”

You don’t even know if you mean it. You think you do, you’ve thought about it an awful thought recently. Ben was like your dream guy–well, you thought he was. You’d even imagined this moment, but you don’t think your imagination ever could have come up with something so… dirty like this is. You thought your first time would be sweet and soft, maybe that it’d even hurt a little bit. There’s nothing sweet or soft about what’s happening right now.

His hand slides up your back, palm splayed between your shoulders, pinning you down.

“Yeah, you do,” he murmurs. “That’s why you’re lettin’ me do all this nasty shit to you.”

You should be humiliated. Heck, you should be alarmed—but you’re not. 

Because this is still Ben. 

Because his voice is still calm. His hands are still sure. And somewhere in the blur of praise and filth, you believe him.

“That’s my perfect girl,” he says, mouthing over the back of your neck like he’s claiming you. “Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you. But fuck if you’re not made for this.”

You whine, gasping into the sheets.

“No wonder you never let anyone else get a taste,” he growls, lining himself up behind you now. “You’ve been waiting for me, huh? You knew I’d take such good care of you, no other limp dicked haircut could come close.”

And by the time he’s fucking into you—deep, rough, like he owns every inch of you—you’re so far gone you’d believe anything he tells you.

Even when he says:

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong about this, baby,” he murmurs, breathing heavy at your ear as he drives into you again, rougher now that he’s close. You can almost here the smirk in his voice when he speaks, “this is what true love looks like, afterall.”

Your whole body’s shaking, every nerve lit up and pulled tight. You’re gasping his name, fingers clawing at the sheets as the pressure coils and snaps all at once. It hits you hard—too much, too fast—and you cry out, hips jerking back against him as you come undone around his cock.

“That’s it, baby” he groans, feeling you clamp down, losing whatever control he had left. “Fuck—just like that.”

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t slow down. Just fucks you through it, chasing his own end with short, brutal thrusts until his breath stutters and breaks.

“Fuckin’ christ—” he growls, voice wrecked as he spills inside you, pressing deep and staying there, holding you open while it hits him in waves.

For a second, neither of you moves. Just heat and weight and the sound of both of you trying to breathe.

Eventually, he pulls out slow, deliberately, and groans like he’s never felt anything better.

You’re practically limp beneath him, face-down and trembling, your thighs still twitching, breath all hiccupy and uneven. There’s slick everywhere—your inner thighs, the sheets, his lower stomach and dick and thighs—and he just watches his cum drip out of you like it’s the best part of his night.

“Fuckin’ look at that,” he murmurs, dragging two fingers through the mess, rubbing it in with a low whistle. “You made such a pretty mess for me, sweetheart.”

You whimper into the comforter.

Ben laughs—soft, pleased, wrecked in the best way—and slaps your ass once, light, just to feel the bounce.

“Goddamn,” he mutters again, sitting back on his heels. “Didn’t think you’d let me take it that far, to be honest.”

You shift onto your side, stunned, your cheek hot against the cool comforter. “What the hell just happened…?” you breath softly, but your voice is raspy and cracks at the end.

“Hey,” he says, suddenly closer. His palm lands warm against your face, thumb at your jaw, turning your head so he can see you fully. “You alright?”

You blink up at him, wide-eyed, a little slack-jawed. You nod, but it’s faint—a dazed little gesture that barely gets halfway.

Ben coos. Actually coos.

“Aw, there she is. Still in there.”

His thumb strokes over your cheek, his hand big and solid under your chin, holding your face like it’s something delicate.

“You did so good, baby” he says, voice dropping low. “Y’ didn’t cry. Didn’t have to ask me to stop. Just laid there like a good girl and let me take care of you.”

He leans down and kisses your forehead—slow and heavy, like he means it—before flopping back on the bed beside you with a satisfied groan. His cigarettes are already waiting on the nightstand. He lights it in one motion, takes a drag, and exhales toward the ceiling, totally at ease.

“You want one?” he asks, holding it out to you.

You blink again. “I… I don’t smoke.”

“You didn’t fuck either, ‘til tonight,” he says easily, sliding the cigarette back between his lips. “You’re on a roll, why stop now?”

You’re quiet for a while until something crosses your mind and you can’t help but ask, “… is it always like that? Like, for everyone?” You muse absentmindedly, your eyes soft and unfocused

“Yeah, if you’re lucky and find someone who knows shit about sex.” He shrugs, giving your cheek a playful tap. “And you, sweetheart, are the luckiest girl in the fucking world for finding me. You should start buying lotto tickets.”

You laugh—sort of—but it’s more breath than sound. Your whole body still feels like it’s floating. Heavy and light at the same time. He watches you like he knows exactly what you’re feeling.

Then he reaches for the drawer in the nightstand and grabs a small orange pill bottle, rattling it with one hand.

“You need something to help take the edge off?”

Your head lifts, barely. “Something to take the edge off what?” You narrow your eyes at him in confusion.

“Klonopin,” he says slow, clearly amused. “Takes the edge off the comedown. Smoothes it all out, makes everything feel like glitter.”

You blink at him, still trying to catch up. “I don’t do drugs.”

“I know you don’t, sweetheart, but that’s what everyone,” he says, all grin and no shame. “Doesn’t mean you won’t.”

He tosses the bottle back onto the nightstand and picks up a glass of whiskey you hadn’t even noticed was there before—not that you’d exactly had a lot of time to take in his end table decor.

“Last offer,” he winked, “you want a drink?”

You sigh—this you could do—and reach for it, but your hand’s wobbly, so he guides it to your lips and watches while you take two slow sips. Then he pulls it away and downs the rest himself, smirking as he wipes his mouth.

“Atta girl, baby”

He leans back, one arm behind his head, the other reaching out to tug you into his chest like it’s automatic. You go without resistance. You’re too loose and warm and entirely out of your depth.

“You know,” he drawls, bringing his cigarette back to his lips, “I’ve been on my best fuckin’ behavior for you, right?” he says, smoke curling from his mouth as he speaks. “Since day one.”

You hum, dizzy and relaxed, letting your fingers trace lightly along the edge of his ribs.

“Didn’t lay a hand on you,” he continues. “Barely even let myself flirt. Made myself real fuckin’ tolerable.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your neck.

“You think that was easy for me?”

You don’t answer, and you don’t need to. You’re curled into him, pliant and trusting, and he knows he’s got you. 

“Worth it, though,” he mutters against your skin. “You’re so much better than I thought you’d be.”

“Thanks? I think?” You say confused, even more so when he just laughs.

His hand slides down to your hip, not to start anything—just to touch. To feel the body he just wrecked.

He’s still stroking your hip when he shifts, rolls you closer like he’s just getting comfortable. His voice, when he speaks, is soft again—warm and low and perfect, like all that filth never happened.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, “we look fuckin’ great together.”

You blink up at him, dazed, lips parted like you’re still trying to remember how to breathe.

“Can’t wait to show you off,” he adds, smiling like he means it. “Red carpets. Cameras. America’s fuckin’ sweetheart and her soldier.”

Your cheeks heat, even now. You laugh, breathless and a little shy. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grins. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong.”

There’s a pause. His thumb brushes the swell of your cheekbone.

“So what do you say, sweetheart?” His voice is warm again—sweet, almost bashful, like he didn’t just fuck you into the mattress. “You wanna be my girl? Officially?”

Your lashes flutter. It sounds so simple when he says it. So earnest.

Like you didn’t give him everything already.

You nod slowly, lips parted on a dazed little smile. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Okay.”

Ben grins—beams, really—like he just won the goddamn lottery. His hand squeezes your hip, thumb brushing the dip of your waist like he’s grounding himself in the moment.

“That's perfect, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “Knew you would.”

He lets the silence stretch a beat, just long enough for your pulse to settle, your breath to come back, for the ache in your thighs to really bloom.

Then, all easy charm and casual affection, he cuddles you even closer and asks—

“You still hungry?”

You blink, slowly. He’s already reaching for another cigarette from the nightstand like this is totally normal. Like this is just a regular Tuesday.

“Figured we could go out instead, maybe get some steaks,” he says, like it’s nothing. “There’s this little place up the block—old-school joint, real butter-heavy, they know me. You’ll love it.”

You can’t even process it. You’re still leaking him onto his sheets, still raw and sticky and half-drunk on the sound of his voice.

But his tone is light.

"After all, I did ask my girl over for dinner," he winks, "can't let you starve. 'Specially not after how brave you were for me tonight, sweetheart."

His smile is easy. And the way he’s looking at you—like you’re already his everything, like this is routine—makes your stomach flip in that dangerous, fluttery way.

You nod again, slow and dreamy.

“Steaks sound great,” you whisper.

He kisses your forehead and smiles.

And just like that, he’s got you all over again.

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GEN TAGLIST @spxideyver @tendertulip @n-o-p-e-never @fandomchik @tinas111 @0ccvltism @cupidzbunny @losers-clvb @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @thatg8rl @angelically-yours @dina-winchester @ilikw @lupinslibraries @kyleighsstuff @sadpods @mochminnie @spookyysinsanity @mindfulmesses @paristheonewhoreads @prettywhenipanic @mostlymarvelgirl @shortcyclicalstoner @dead-sirens @boba-is-a-soup @l3tholog1ca @allthingswickedpodcast @musesfromashes @mollymal @sh1a10

The Boys @wwvvii @suckitands33 @scrmqwn @k-illdarlings @never-brooks @maneaterarabella @lolajeane @fratboychrisera @ladykitana90 @pieandflannel @deans-yn @ohperiodtpoohhh @lunaleah @poisonivy2267 @k4marina @rxi-pop @cranberrysauce666 @billyipa @kimxwinchester

[soup-after-dark]

He's such an overconfident scumbag and I love itttttt 😍😍😍 I fear this would 100% work on me lol

"Ben being yucky but also dreamy and perfect" is literally the perfect way to describe this - I was giggling when I read that in your notes and I was giggling and kicking my feet when you portrayed it so incredibly! We love the soft corruption, we love Ben being sweet only to get what he wants, we love all of it 💕

Thank you for the meal, lovely author!

[chainmailstrapon]

google/men suffering

pornhub.com/men tied up and whimpering and suffering

ponrhub.com/men tied up with rope over their clothes and the clothes roughly pulled aside in a few places so you can see bruises and whelts and also they're whimpering and suffering and being crushed underneath a big leather boot and somehow being both so brave and so pathetic about it at the same time

[saetiate]

asking him if it’s all in yet only for him to take your hand in his and wrap your hand around the length that’s yet to slide into you

[saetiate]

I hope you dream of getting fucked nasty by that 2d fictional character

[moved-burekforsatoru-old-blog]

about tonight

march (fields of mistria)/f! reader | 7.4k | read it on ao3 march has a problem. he's got this frustrating feeling coming from the depth of his chest at the lack of interaction with you. so when he's already stomped off out of the inn barely having seen you all day, his anger is tested when the face he's been dying to see greets him by his front door. smut, dry humping, headlock, piv, thigh job, no use of y/n i highly recommend reading this fic as well, another march/reader so incredibly well done it has me in a chokehold (hehe)

⁺₊⋆main masterlist

the weather in mistria has only just started to become bearable again.

the forge is another story altogether, searing white hot metal never giving march any respite from the high temperatures, so when the gusts of colder wind started getting more common, he took a deep whiff of the early autumn air. yeah, it's getting better now. what hasn't been getting better, though, is the heat he still felt on the back of his neck, spreading down to his chest and up into his cheeks — the shade of which could rival that of his hair when freshly dyed — every time you came by to say hi.

really, he shouldn't have stuttered that much, not when all he did was echo your own words, but there's something about the way you seem to see him that has him stumble over his words and feet, not knowing where to look first, your smile or your outstretched hand that's handing him the most perfect iron ore he's ever laid eyes on or… something even more perfect. something that he definitely shouldn't be staring at like some kind of pervert, definitely shouldn't be plagued with images of how it would feel to touch, squeeze, kiss, bite, fuck… no, he definitely shouldn't be thinking about your breasts.

despite telling himself it's probably a normal reaction to seeing someone you're deeply attracted to — though it took him an eternity to admit even that to himself — march still feels a little bit of shame, awkwardness, an unsettling bubbling at the bottom of his stomach that keeps reminding him that he's no longer just satisfied being good at what he does… no, sometimes he curses the feeling of want that bubbles up in his chest and head and… abdomen. the want that follows him for the rest of the day when he's left there trying to remember what the glob of red hot metal on the anvil is supposed to be turning into.

you seemed to have become really good at this in such a short time, at scrambling his brains to the point where he stopped knowing when his thinking got sidetracked from work, work, more work, and work again. and work is the furthest thing from his mind now, when all he's focused on is the fact that you only came by for a second, already on your way to the museum… or the mines… or fishing. he didn't register the words you chirped at him and eiland. he couldn't have, when you waved and smiled and just… looked like that.

it bothers him now that you barely breezed past him all day today, he couldn't help but wonder when you'd come by to actually talk to him so he could talk to someone other than olric and ryis that he actually enjoys being around while he's sober.

not that he'd admit it, of course. at least not quite yet.

it's already so late that the street lights have started attracting bugs, everyone has gathered at the inn, and he's scanning the room in hopes of seeing your figure mingling with the townspeople, grabbing something to eat from reina, playing along with whatever elsie may be gossiping about, or really just sitting there trying not to get lost in the endless swirling sea of chatter. but nothing. not a peep, not a glimmer of your grin at the large door. the night keeps getting more and more hopeless for march.

the crowd stays as lively as ever, and he usually doesn't mind, not when he's slowly feeling lighter and lighter, gently swaying on his feet as he hiccups and slurs along with the rest of the townsfolk when they decide it's high time for a sing-along. tonight, though, whatever drink hits his tongue feels like ash, dead and grey and horrid, making his stomach turn.

"where ya goin'?" olric looks at him, one eye open and leaning back on his chair. a dangerous choice, march imagines at least five tragic outcomes of this action.

"home. not feeling well." he rubs a hand on his stomach to emphasise his point, though he's been sour all evening, nobody could doubt him even if they were sober enough to do so. and with a halfhearted wave of his hand he turns and leaves them all behind as he walks out into the night. march gives himself exactly two seconds to feel the breeze in the air before his face returns to the scowl that so many people know on him.

an entire day has passed, he thinks while making his way back home, and you barely came by. an entire day and you gave him the same smile that you give everyone else. even eiland got the same treatment, he got to smell your very light perfume as you fluttered past them on your way west with a sword strapped to your back. now his mood sours even more.

a rock lands a few steps ahead as he's kicking it on the way to his house, focusing more on its path to avoid his mind going to other places. the places he really shouldn't be entertaining. the places where his jealousy will get the better of him. where he'll imagine the rock is eil—

"fuck!" he groans, shaking the thought out of his head, knowing it will get him nowhere other than into a spiral of jealousy and hardly covered up aggression towards everyone that speaks to him — something he knows he should work on, but not when it means admitting that he wanted to be the special one, the person you'd smile at the most, the person that could make you at least as flustered as you make him.

"march, hi!" a voice as light as the breeze stops him as he's about to forcefully push open the front door. his head whips around, ears as hot as the sand in the summer, cheeks tingling with the blush that's spreading across them with no help from the beer this time.

"h-hi."

march tries, he really does, to keep a hold on at least some of that frustration, because what's coming for him may be worse. he keeps a grip on the corners of his lips, willing them not to rise. he keeps his fists balled up, not letting himself run a hand through his hair, though there's no point in fixing it since you've already seen him in all his sweaty and messy glory.

"back so early?" you chirp, leaning against the anvil by the entrance, standing at a very comfortable distance from him. maybe a little too comfortable.

"not feeling the crowd. and you? back so late?" he nods at you, keeping one fist against the door where he froze it when you caught up to him.

"got… a little sidetracked." you chuckle, a devastating sound. "not feeling the crowd either."

he lowers his gaze, seeing the way your leg slightly wobbles, almost struggling to hold your weight. the way you still smile at him despite so clearly being hurt is enough to make his walls drop, at least until he can be mad at you safely again.

"what's up with your leg?" he asks, as cold as he can make himself be when all he wants is to kneel in front of you and fix you up if you let him.

"ah! it's fine, actually, just a sprain probably."

"a sprain doesn't bleed." march scoffs, pushing himself off the door and allowing himself a few steps towards you, where he can now see just how tightly your fingers are gripping the edge of the anvil, knuckles going pale against the dark steel. "either you walk inside with me or i throw you over my shoulder. your choice."

he watches you squirm, not that bright and cheerful anymore, not when you need to accept help. from him. a breath of relief escapes him when you let go of the anvil and hobble along with him, walking into the shop while he secures the lock after you. march should be used to seeing you here at this point. it's been the place where you bothered him the most at first, always chatting away with olric while he was concentrating on very detailed work at his desk, but at the same time trying to will his ears not to perk up every time you giggled at something his brother said. he can't have been that funny…

every so often he caught you looking over his shoulder, trying to sneak a peek at his latest project, and every time he'd go to protect it from your view out of pure habit, not thinking you would be interested in what he's doing but instead tease him for it. it feels weird to him not to try and cover up everything he's worked on this time, to just let you limp over to his chair and nearly sit, but it slides away from you, and you're falling, falling…

"done playing brave and strong?" he huffs, having lunged forward to grab you before you managed to land on the floor. you serve him a smile, a sly little curve barely visible in the darkness before the lights flicker on, but he just clicks his tongue, refusing to feel the warmth that crawls up to his cheeks. it's not fair, not fair at all how you get him flustered at the drop of the hat. it's not fair how his heart keeps hammering against his ribs, so loud in his ears, echoing so hard he's half-certain you could hear it. his grip on you tightens, and without much ceremony he lifts you up, hooking his other arm under your knees.

that might have been a mistake on his part, because as he's making his way to his bedroom — where the bed he's planning to place you on won't slip from under you — all he can smell is your scent. in his head he's seeing you breeze past him like so many times already, making him want to drop everything and follow in your every step like a puppy, the same way that he wanted to drop his hammer this morning, eiland's requests be damned…

march grits his teeth, not caring that you can so clearly hear it as your head is leaning against his chest — a feeling he knows he'll definitely revisit when he's not trying to push down the betrayal rising in his stomach — but the sight of your brilliant smile as your light steps took you away today keeps flashing before his eyes. he pushes the door open with his knee, slowly lowering you down onto the edge of the bed where you immediately sink into the mattress with your wounded leg outstretched. without a word, he reaches for the box of random stuff he got from valen a while ago where it sits forgotten on the bottom shelf.

just from a quick glance your way — another mistake on his part — he decides not to believe his eyes. you most certainly, definitely, absolutely did not just check him out. at least as far as he's ready to believe. not when he's bent over like that, his trousers maybe a little too short now, in need of fixing some stitching… no, it must have been his mind playing tricks. he feels his cheeks warm up too fast, damn it, and he hides the colour in his face in the darkness, avoiding the little lamp on his bedside table as much as he can.

he puts the box down on the bed beside you, glad to have an excuse not to look you in the eyes as he kneels down in front of you, shrugging his jacket off and throwing it over the chest at the foot of the bed before carefully taking the leg you've been sparing into his hands and examining it. not too bad, he decides as the box opens and he fishes out everything he needs, just in a very awkward place. you shouldn't be moving your foot too much as you'd most likely just keep it agitated, not allowing the wound to close properly if it doesn't get any rest. and knowing you…

"how did you manage this?" he says with a scoff.

you shift on the mattress, no doubt trying to see his careful hands working the bandage around your ankle and calf with such precision.

"stupid rock exploded too close to me." you murmur, still looking down at him, a fact he's a little too aware of now, feeling your eyes pierce his skin like a million heated needles.

"i— exploded?" he lifts his head, furrowing his eyebrows. but that… that may have been the biggest mistake he's made so far with you. because what meets him there is your pretty face illuminated only by the warm glow of the lamp beside you, keeping half of your face hidden in the shadow, but the side that's light? golden. like the sun itself. march has to remind himself to breathe in that moment, replaying the last few seconds of your conversation to himself as if to restart at the last chapter. "what the hell is happening in those mines?"

you chuckle, sighing once he returns to tightening the bandage on your leg. "stuff i neither can nor want to think about right now. it's… interesting down there. full of wonders. oh, and—" you reach into your pocket and take out a small, but brilliant piece of what seems to be—

march inhales sharply, nearly dropping your leg on the floor. your heel rests on his thigh as his hands fly upwards to cup the item you're handing him. the most incredible, beautiful piece of gold ore he's seen in his life. gold. actual perfect gold ore. the exact size he would need to examine on his desk, too. he takes it from your hand, gulping as your fingers brush against each other, and leans over to the light to get a better view. his breath hits your hand, something he becomes aware mere moments after it happens. his chest is pressing against your legs, face so close to your thighs he can feel the warmth radiating from your body.

he dares not move for a while. even if it kills him.

pretty sure his heart stopped there for a few moments and started again when you cleared your throat and spoke, march pulls away to move from you. he busies himself with putting the rest of the bandages into the box and crawling away to put it back on the shelf, not trusting his legs to work after this.

"so you like it?" you ask, not letting your eyes leave his figure while he's making himself not return the gaze.

"like it?" he scoffs, finally sitting on the floor in front of you. "it's perfect. it's literally in the name. perfect gold ore. i love it."

however, his face drops when that quick mind of his lands on something he doesn't want to think about anymore. was this really for him or was it as fleeting a gift as your smile that morning. he can't believe he's still bothered by it, it shouldn't matter, not when you're right here in front of him, and if he were to look at you properly instead of relying on his peripheral vision, he'd see a softer version of that same curve on your lips, this time just for him.

"well good," you lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees as he puts the piece of ore away, "because i had a feelin' you'd like it. love it, whichever. that's the only reason why i went to get it." march tilts his head to the side, raising a brow at you. "what? i really did. knew i should've gone back up to the surface at that point, at least to catch you before you go to the inn but—"

the bed barely has time to creak before march shuts you up with his lips on yours.

his hand is warm, rough, cupping the side of your head almost too tenderly, as if he's afraid you'll melt like a piece of metal on his anvil. his lips are clumsy, trying to give and take at the same time, unsure of what he actually wants to do, but luckily you're moving along with him, letting him try to kiss you with the intensity that he feels in his chest. his breath escapes into your mouth between two very needy kisses, hot and quick, and it takes a second before you're reaching behind his back and tangling your fingers into his hair.

it's hard to stop once he starts, nearly impossible, because you're responding so perfectly. because all of a sudden march's knees are digging into the mattress too, and he's pressing you down into it, caging you between strong arms flexing when he's holding up his weight on them and the knee that's slotted between your thighs. your hands, your damn hands gently go along the back of his head, making his entire body shiver and nearly collapse on top of you. he's barely holding onto the reins his own desire, the beast that's been banging on the inside of his chest for far too long to be contained now, it's demanding to be fed, demanding to get satisfaction between your bodies.

your little moan against his bottom lip almost ends him.

march is almost completely surrendered when you slide his headband off and toss it aside, making space to trail your wandering hands all over his scalp. it's nearly burning up with excitement, but fear as well. fear that he's not doing it right, that he's messing up by being too eager — something he doesn't even know how to stop at this point — but your body arches up into him regardless, and that thought simply evaporates out of his mind.

it feels natural, having your curves pressed against his body, feeling your waist under his callused palm so warm to touch. march never thought he'd get here, feeling your softness and the goosebumps on your sides. but now that he is, he's not ready to part with the sensation.

until you tug on his hair.

and he fucking groans into your mouth.

and you buck your hips upward, rubbing yourself against his thigh.

and he's sinking deeper into this spiral of want.

and sinking.

and losing his mind.

and his lips find your neck, deciding to kiss it just to feel your pulse quicken under them.

driven completely by his body moving before he has time to think, he lowers his body against yours, not completely stopping you from rutting against his thigh, but making it a little harder, in turn feeling your movements against his crotch. he's beyond saving as soon as his hips move as well. rolling with the grace he never knew he had, what may only be described as a desperate rolling of waves one over another, he's breathing hard against your neck, fighting the urge to bite you — as punishment for making him so needy. as punishment for ignoring him. as punishment for being so tantalising with your soft yet strong body and your warm neck and your pretty, pretty moans that have him scrambling to stay alive.

the heat from his body seems to be pooling in his cheeks as well as in his abdomen, that tightness that he's somewhat used to now increasing at least tenfold, overwhelming when he's rolling his hips against you, and he's certain there is only one way this can end. march can't hold it in anymore, he licks a stripe up your neck and bites down, letting himself groan against your wet skin, gripping your pliant body like he needs it to stay afloat. the pleasure is quickly taking over him, taking over any and every molecule of his being that's telling him to pull back, pull himself together, pull away and stay calm. he's done staying calm.

the way you throw your head back might just be his undoing. he's moving faster, chasing after something he thought he shouldn't want while you helplessly lift your hips to rub yourself against his leg like that, moaning and whimpering in frustration, like it's there for you as well — that finish line glowing golden behind your eyelids. march tightens his hold on your waist, lying pressed against you while your fingers tug on his hair. it's right there, he can feel it, if only he can—

the whine that leaves your lips is heavy. he's never heard a sound so powerful, and with a stutter of your hips he knows you've found your peak. the heat is even stronger in his abdomen, he presses a little harder against you, replaying that tight sound in his mind until he's cursing into the warm skin of your neck, bucking his hips like a desperate animal while release takes over him, covers his brain with wool, stuffs his ears with it, until the only things he can feel are the echo of your pleasure in his mind and the cum leaking from his oversensitive cock.

the only sounds in march's room are two breathing patterns intertwined together as you lie trapped underneath him.

somewhat tentatively, your hand leaves the messy strands of his fiery red hair to glide down between his shoulder blades. he shivers at the tenderness with which your fingers touch him, sliding just under the fabric of his shirt to feel the muscles underneath. he should move. he really should. he should get off you and make sure he doesn't catch your leg that should be resting, get cleaned up… should he help you clean up as well? probably, maybe it would be the nice thing to do when he just used your body to get off, even if it is in his pants.

but you just keep… holding him there. not pushing him away, not making him get off you once you got your fill too, so he just tries to… lean into it. he lets go of your waist and instead digs his hands under your body to embrace you and hold you against him. he hasn't done that before, and yet the touch feels familiar. like something he's been craving but didn't know it. like something he might even be able to get used to.

but it soon comes to an end when you squirm underneath him, adjusting your hips so he's not crushing you completely.

"can you… i need to take these off." you request, and it takes him a moment to realise you mean your underwear. oh. he scrambles off you, cursing as he knocks the edge of the bed with his foot, and he helps you sit up. as he stands there in front of you he can hardly look away, not when you pause with your fingers hooked under the waistband of your pants, not when you chuckle and continue the movements anyway, not when he can feel the wet patch on his pants, not even when he gets hard again, only minutes after blowing his load to the feel of you.

"you're just gonna—" he starts, but one look at your smirk only tells him he should be making a move himself.

"are you not gonna give me something to change into?"

he's forgetting where his clothes are, where his mind has gone, where he is. quickly, he grabs the first thing he can reach, a change of clothes that should be okay for you, but there's no way he's letting you walk out of here, at least not tonight. wounded leg and all, of course.

you've already changed into his clothes by the time he decides he probably should've looked away, the blush on his face may as well be permanent, the way it creeps back as soon as he shakes off the dream-like feeling that wraps around his body and mind every few moments. wow, you must think he's some kind of a loser, the way he reacted as soon as you told him you had done something for him just because. and he might be… he very well might be. an absolute loser, who can't think much further than how he's going to do that with you again, get you to touch him like you just did, gently caressing his back like you don't want to ignore him and breeze past him in the mornings.

"come on." you murmur, and he notices that you've already got yourself into his bed.

into it. not on. covered with his duvet, pushing your hair to the side as you lie down on the cold white pillow.

"you want me to—" he points at the empty space behind you, and you wreck him by giggling.

"i'm not going home tonight, march." you say as if it's the most normal sentence in the world. "and i'm not sleeping on the floor. neither are you, come on."

march moves in slow motion.

his steps are a line of half-remembered movements that somehow lead him to the edge of the bed again. he grumbles as he takes his shirt off, throwing it over the jacket on the chest at the foot of the bed, following it by his pants and underwear that he replaces when he turns around to not risk you taking an accidental glance. almost naked, almost completely bare, he slides under the covers and immediately faces away from you, but there's no escaping the feeling of your body so close to him. surely there's no way he got addicted to feeling your touch after only a few minutes… surely, it must be something else, it must be the weather getting into the real autumn mood, the air cooling down enough to where he's going to have to think about wearing actual clothes to bed instead of barely covering himself in order to not soak the sheets with sweat.

then he feels the duvet shake a little as your body shivers.

"what was that?" he murmurs, half turning to your side of the bed. well, his side, but yours for the night.

"what?" you ask, pulling the covers over you a little tighter.

"you're cold?"

"yep."

he sighs, trying to find a way out of this. there isn't a spare blanket, but he could give you more clothes. he's about to get up and hand you some when your hand closes around his.

"come closer."

now a shiver runs down his spine. march turns his head and sees you curled up on the side of his bed, so still, odd when he's used to you fluttering around town always on your way to the next thing. but you're gently pulling him a little closer — and he gives in.

his body slots against yours like a puzzle piece.

march tries not to breathe as he lies down again, his chest pressed against your back, very keenly aware of the softness of your ass against his crotch. still hard. unlikely to go down soon. or ever. you don't let go of his hand, instead leading him to drape his arm over your torso, leaving his palm to just… sort of dangle there. halfway between your navel and your chest, and march knows where he'd rather have it — if he were brave enough, of course. still, he keeps a little bit of distance between his face and the back of your head, just so he's not forced to inhale your scent and get lost in it all over again. it has to get easier, he can't be aware of every heartbeat in these four walls forever.

"you're doing this on purpose," he accuses you, huffing as he flexes his fingers across the slightly uncovered skin of your stomach, "enjoy playing with my feelings?"

your laugh is quick, soft, and completely disarming.

"stars forbid a girl wants some body heat from a cute blacksmith."

march shakes his head, refusing to let the corners of his lips quirk up at that. "cute?"

"aren't you?" he can hear the smile in your voice. you're bold. toying with him like this when he doesn't even know where he stands with you… or even himself.

"shouldn't you tell me that?"

"i wouldn't do this… with just anyone, march." he rolls his eyes at you. "i'll tell you again… in the morning when i'm not as… tired." your voice keeps trailing off, so he knows you must be telling the truth, you're surely about to pass out any second now, what from the exhaustion of mining, what from the drop in adrenaline of… he chases the memory out of his head.

"sure. good night." march closes his eyes, trying to clear his mind of the images of you. you from just a few minutes ago, arching into him seeking release. you from earlier tonight, smiling at him like you're ecstatic to have run into him before he made it to bed. you from this morning, smiling at him — and only him in his head — as you waved and hurried off to find something to gift him. sometimes he feels like an absolute idiot, pining in silence and torturing himself instead of just laying it out there and giving you a chance to accept him as he is — flustered, clueless, and desperately horny for you.

march can feel your breathing slow down as the clock ticks on.

he's already used up his bravery for the day — hell, maybe even a month — but your skin is so warm he can't resist but slowly move his hand until it's resting above your heartbeat. there's something soothing about it, the rhythm even and constant, that makes march's head feel lighter, lighter, lighter as he rests with his eyes closed and finally decides he can let go of consciousness.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

the door to march's bedroom open with a loud creak.

olric stumbles into the room, apologising to the hinges, the floor, the wall, and march takes those few seconds to snap out of the initial panic and… panic even more once he realises you're still in his bed. that wasn't a dream, and he can't have his brother finding out about it, even if he is completely wasted by the sounds of it.

"h-hey march!" he slurs, half-yelling as he holds onto the door frame. "ya missed out! ha, reina mixed sum stuff an' let m' be her guinea pig!"

in a moment of sheer desperation, march tries to cover you up as much as possible, shielding you from view with his body and the covers. your soft, cold hand rests on his forearm where it presses against your neck, and only then does he realise he's got you in a headlock. but… you're not pulling it away. if he could show his reaction to you, he might even be shocked, albeit a little aroused as well, but you're holding his arm like this is the best placement for it.

"what the shit?" march mumbles, louder than intended. thankfully, olric took it as a reply to him.

"he-hey man, tomorrow! you gotta come t'morrow! don't ca— oh damn," he stumbles, barely saving himself from the fall by grabbing onto the door knob, "care if yer stomach hurts you goooootta come!"

you're quiet, march has to give you credit for it, but your pulse is quickening under his forearm, and it's doing something to him. he's getting uncomfortably hard, the bulge in his underwear precisely pressing against your body, the feeling of which is not helping him right now. march can feel your smile widen, the muscles on your cheeks shifting and he reflexively tightens his hold on you, saying this is not the moment. but you've never been one to listen.

with slow, barely there movements, you're lowering your hands under the covers and march has to try and move along with you to not put unnecessary attention to what's really going on in his bed.

"olric, leave me alone, i was just about to fall asleep." march grumbles, loud enough to cover up the sound of fabric being dragged along the sheets. you've successfully taken off the clothes that he gave you earlier. oh he's done for. rock hard and in a pickle, trying to be loud enough for his brother to not hear, but not loud enough to draw attention to his movements. "we'll talk tomorrow, just… let me sleep." his arm flexes against your neck, bicep twitching on your cheek to try and warn you, but you don't stop. instead, you're already shifting, hand reaching behind you to brush against his aching bulge, and he's doing all he can — which is really nothing — to stop himself from bucking into your touch.

he recalls the feeling of your pliant body as he was grinding his hips against you, your hands tugging on his hair, your moans… he needs it all again, but this time he's not sure he could be satisfied with just that. it's a slippery slope, having you here freshly undressed and looking for trouble, because you're already reaching into his underwear, wrapping that cold hand around his cock. his brother is apologising to the door for bumping into it again, but march can't even roll his eyes at it because fuck you feel so good, slowly stroking him so good he's instinctively pressing closer against you in search for more of your warmth. you're so soft, his cock is flush against your ass now and it takes him more self-control than he has available to stop himself groaning against the back of your head.

"you said sumthin?" olric murmurs, finally having finished his conversation with the door.

"no!" march exclaims, too loud, too panicked, "just go…" he can't take it anymore, not with your gentle hand guiding him, your legs parting slightly, your… your damn wet pussy just perfect as he nudges it with his tip when you release his cock. march is so gone, head swimming with desire, with the wish to feel you but also punish you for being such a temptation for him. for making him act like a fool, for making him scramble to make up a believable lie to his brother, for making him panic and try to hold you as close to his body as possible to not get found out, for enjoying his arm around your neck holding you in place.

his reward for holding out this long is just a touch away now, and all march has to do is to angle his hips a little, trying to be inconspicuous and not make a damn noise. it's proving to be more difficult than anticipated, especially when he feels your breath hitch, a dainty little huff against his forearm that he reflexively tightens and groans to cover up the sound of your moan.

"'m gonna go t' bed now," olric announces, to which march can't help but sigh in relief, "but… one more thing…"

march can't do it anymore, he nudges your soft folds apart, olric be damned, and now he finds himself in the warmest, softest dream he's ever had. his arm is tight around your neck, a warning not to be loud, and your hand rests on his forearm, as if grounding you while his cock sinks into you, pushing into your slippery, squishy cunt.

"… i know yer all sulky today because of the farmer not comin' by. 's a little obvious…" olric continues, and march can hardly take in half of his words as he's struggling to stay afloat while your pussy squeezes him as you adjust. "give 'er a break, march… she's doin' her best, so… maybe be nicer to 'er, yeah?"

march breathes heavily against the back of your head, pressing you into his chest as he tries to get enough breath to speak.

"yea. fine." he squeezes through his teeth. "good night."

without another word, but with plenty of stumbling noise, olric closes the door to march's room and leaves you all alone again.

"be…" you start, straining against his forearm, "nicer to me, huh?"

march huffs. you've made it all but easy for him. tonight and all the times before, with your fleeting smiles and offhanded touches, with your gifts and your attention and your goddamn teasing. he moves his hips now, slightly pulling back before snapping them forward like he's been dying to do to you.

"you liked that, did ya?" he grunts into your hair, holding you in place as he takes you like he wants. "liked bein' a menace while my brother was here? liked makin' me work extra hard to be quiet?" his hips snap forward again, this time not giving a shit if you squeal or not… in fact, hoping you do. "or did you wanna get caught?"

the noise you're making has him roll his eyes as your warm walls squeeze around him, making his hips stutter while he's moving them, repeatedly thrusting into you. his anger is bubbling up, frustration growing thicker in the air as he fucks into you, harder, harder, snapping quick punishing thrusts into your cunt like it doesn't matter that his heart is racing. because you will be the end of him with how well you take him. the pulses of your squelching cunt — and now he doesn't give a damn that you're noisy — the tiny little whimpers as your nails dig into his forearm, everything about you screams to him that you're right where you want to be, fucked out of your mischievous mind on his bed.

now, when the danger is gone, when the door to his room is shut, when the creaking of the bed is only between the two of you, he grunts and curses against your ear, baring his teeth as the tip of his cock hits a beautiful spot in you, the spot that has you whimpering into the darkness.

march really has no idea what he's doing. all that his mind and body are agreeing upon is that he simply has to keep fucking you as long as you're making those sounds and clenching around his shaft like that. and for now, that's all he needs to keep him thrusting. the symphony of your choked little breaths and stuttered curses keeps his rhythm steady, keeps his mission clear even when his brain is chock-full of static, the electricity sparking in the code of your name.

it's infuriating, the power you have over him, how he wants to have you even when you're doing your best to bring him down to his knees like he was mere hours ago when he wrapped your leg in bandages, to make him flustered like every time you say hi in that stupid giggly tone that leaves him stunned for a full minute.

a harder thrust, a higher pitched whine. he's enjoying turning the tables on you, now you're the one who can't even form a word that doesn't sound like his name, you're the one blushing and begging and tightening with every pointed thrust of his thick cock into your spongy walls, like you're trying to keep him there forever. oh how it feels to have the higher ground now, he grazes the shell of your ear with his teeth, just as he feels the pressure in his abdomen get impossible to handle without breaking into pieces. he won't choke you any tighter, though you sound like you're exactly where you're supposed to be — on the precipice of pleasure with him stuffed inside you.

"f-fuck march i'm gonna—" the sweetness of your moan mixed with the filthy slapping sound of his hips on your flesh makes for a concoction that march will never be able to get out of his head.

he shakes out of a haze at your words, gritting his teeth against the side of your head. "yeah? fuck… you're that filthy are you? getting off to me puttin' you in a headlock?" he struggles to taunt you any more, being so damn close himself. he's losing the thread, all the words he wants to say just turn into a long string of fuck please please need you in his mouth. your soft hand leaves its place on his forearm, reaching down between your legs to rub little circles on your swollen clit, something he heard felt good from juniper's countless tipsy lectures at the inn. seems like something actually stuck in march's head, because he's feeling the effects of your movements in the fast fluttering of your perfect pussy around him.

march is so close to tumbling over the edge with you when your entire body shudders and he feels his cock get coated in slick, warm release, fucking you through it all. you're moaning more softly now, all satisfied as you pulse for him, curses slipping from your lips like praises. he groans one last time as you squeeze around him and pulls out reluctantly, keeping his cock between your warm thighs as he thrusts between them, whispering nonsensical babbles and finally… finally letting go. orgasm wrecks him like a carriage, knocking him sideways as you squeeze your thighs together and his tip spills pearlescent white cum between them. he fucks your thighs all through it, stuttering in his rhythm as he feels more and more weightless, loosening his arm around your neck.

everything goes quiet.

save for your heartbeats.

there's no other sound that echoes in march's head, no other distraction from the feeling of your soft, sweat-slicked skin against his. he flexes his hand, until then tightly balled into a fist, and glides it down your torso, almost as if making sure you're really there and it hasn't been a sick trick of his imagination. your breathing gets a little deeper once your neck is free of the pressure of his forearm, and it takes only a few moments for your hand to reach his, resting atop his rough palm. it's no longer cold like it was when you reached for him to come closer, now it feels like comfort.

march is not thinking clearly. he presses his lips against your bare shoulder, instinctively trailing kisses up to your neck like he knows on some level it would beat with the rhythm of your heart and he would be able to tell that you don't regret this. he needs to know you don't regret this.

"march…" you begin, and he freezes. "not to be a pain, but… i don't wanna lie in a puddle of your cum."

he blinks the haze away, then blinks again, registering what you said. "my…"

"march—" you snicker, body shaking against his chest while his hand rests on the top of your thigh, gently squeezing, not even realising he's doing it. damn, the way you say his name in the bliss of pleasure does damage to his heart, stabbing it with arrows adorned with feathers of your voice, devastating him to the point he wants to make you cum again, and again, if anything just to hear that noise again.

"right… sorry." he pulls back, gasping as his softened cock slips from between your thighs, slick with your release. "but i'm not doing that now."

he can tell you're about to protest, but before you get the chance he grips you tighter and flips you over his body to the other side of the bed where you land unceremoniously, holding onto his forearms. once you're settled again, he pulls you into his chest, warm like you never left. like an overgrown cat, reluctantly accepting affection, he glides his other hand up and down your side, in what seems almost unconscious movements. it feels nice under his fingertips, though, the softness of your skin so different from the tools he is used to.

"gross." you wrinkle your nose and he really can't care less about the puddle currently drying on the other side of the bed.

"you're gross." he murmurs through what can maybe even be classed as a smile. a sweet, soft little curve of his lips as he buries his face into the back of your head. at least until the morning.

march doesn't think about what will come after. not about the explanation for why he's keeping olric staring at something on his desk while you take the chance to sneak out of the house, not about the annoying wash he will need to do to clean the sheets, not even about how the hell he will be able to function around you knowing about what you did tonight. instead, he thinks about tonight, not about tomorrow. all of that will happen at some later point, after he's done taking this moment and finally understand that he is special. at least a little bit. at least to you.

♡ if you enjoyed this, consider leaving a like, reblog, or a comment. interaction helps keep your writers motivated! also, feral or any other comments keep me giggling and kicking my feet, and you really want to do that i think. ♡ dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/cursed-carmine ⁺₊⋆ @pixelcafe-network

[soup-after-dark]

This was so sweet 🥰🥰 Also I really liked how you wrote them both getting swept up and carried away by the moment. Like whoops, now this is happening 🤭 I'm such a sucker for this grumpy grump of a man

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: [Obi Akitaru x Scientist Reader] A chance encounter with the charismatic captain of the Eighth Company leaves you more than a little enamoured. Obi Akitaru is nothing less than thorough in his own pursuit of you.

Contents: Romance, smut, humour, fluff, angst.

CW: Explicit sexual content (some rather ... inventive sex positions, inspired by the amazing @radish-breath - see end of fic for some the rejected position names, LOL)

WC: 12347

"Hey Licht, I've got the analysis of those samples you sent through. Call me when you get a chance. We need to talk."

Receiver pinched precariously between shoulder and ear, you adjusted the large box of files on the mahogany table.

It was the sturdiest table you'd been able to find. It needed to be, considering the sheer number of analytics reports that had piled up across its barely visible surface over the past few months.

Sighing, you ended the call which had re-routed for the second time.

Not that you were surprised.

Licht often outsourced analytics to your department here in the biodata sector of the Second Company. The Fifth often operated as an independent research unit, and seldom, if ever, took on such requests from other companies. 

While your lab was fitted out for biological analysis, the state of the art chromatographic apparatus, x-ray diffraction, and the scanning and transmission electron microscopes, were often commissioned for other companies, depending on the urgency of the requirement.

The characteristics of Licht's samples definitely fell under the category of 'top priority'. It would have helped if he actually attempted to answer his connecting line once in a while.

Sighing, you collapsed into your swivel chair, head tilted back to give your stiff neck some relief.

The phone dial tone sounded loud in the organised chaos of your office, and you fumbled past the notepad and assorted pens to reach it.

"Licht? Answer the damn phone when I - "

"Oh, hey, can't talk right now. In the middle of something."

"You asked for these results."

"And they're important!"

"So - "

"Our Captain's coming over for a division meeting. He said he'll pick up the documents."

Your fingers tapped out an impatient rhythm on the tabletop.

"Does your Captain have a scientific background?"

"Not in the slightest!" came the cheery reply.

Sighing, you switched the phone over to the other ear.

"Look, those samples from the battle site showed evidence that Doctor Giovanni has been in the Nether. Even if you don't have time now, I expect a proper meeting in the future."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Licht sniffed.

"Okay. We'll have our meeting soon. But I gotta get back to work."

Hanging up, you stared at your phone, frowning. It was almost as if your analytics had provided a result that Licht had already been aware of.

There was a sharp, cursory knock at the office door. Himiko peered in, spotting you behind the stack of papers.

"Captain of the Eighth company's here to see you. Said you had a report for him?"

Well, they worked fast, at the very least.

___________________________________________________________

The conference room was on the ground floor, away from the clinical sterility of the labs. You seldom ventured out here during the day, and the bustle of medical personnel through the corridors took you some time to navigate.

When you eventually reached the large double doors, they were open, a sign that whatever meeting that had transpired between the captains was now over.

A man was standing at the head of the long oval table, eyes trained on the various group photographs and portraits adorning the walls.

You recognised him as Captain Akitaru Obi, from the profile shots and grainy, black and white images on newsprint.

Then he turned, and there was little to no preparation for the way your bowels seemed to grow wings and swoop up into the region of your throat when he tugged at his tie and offered you a friendly lop-sided grin.

"Ahh, these meetings are kinda stuffy, huh? Are you the one Licht told me about?"

He was coming forward, hand outstretched, and you had no choice but to take it, thoroughly overwhelmed by the sight of him.

You'd heard by word of mouth, of course, about how the Captain was the epitome of charisma and strength, in spite of not possessing any ignition ability. Nothing had quite prepared you for this, however.

Now that he was standing directly before you, you could appreciate the sheer width of his shoulders, the way the fabric of his formal coat bunched over the shift of his biceps, his considerable height, all amalgamating to a form that should have been intimidating, but was not quite.

Warm, whiskey-tinted eyes were fixed on yours, putting paid to the idea that this man thrived off authority. He greeted you as a respected equal, even as his large, slightly roughened palm dwarfed your own.

His smile grew a trifle wider and you could have sworn that all the test tubes in your lab upstairs had begun to clink and chime off each other in some form of angel's chorus.

"So what are these reports Licht was going on about?"

You cleared your throat, not trusting that your voice would emerge as readily as you'd like.

"Uh ... ah. Yes. Licht sent me some samples for analysis, from the battle site where one of your men encountered Doctor Giovanni."

Obi's expression grew serious in an instant.

"Oh, yeah, he spent a lot of time at the scene afterwards. I don't know exactly what he was after, but I'm guessing you do?"

You summoned up courage you had no idea you possessed.

"Right. I think it'd be better if we went up to my office? Maybe we could discuss it more ... privately there?"

The conference room certainly wasn't ideal for this kind of talk, and you shoved down the traitorous thought that having him in your office would allow you to spend more time gazing without interruption upon this Adonis of a man.

Obi agreed immediately, and you found yourself leading him to the elevators, and to the office beside the lab that formed your hallowed domain.

You cringed internally at the sight of your desk. If you'd known who your guest would be, you'd have taken more time to clear up here.

Obi, however, looked about in what appeared to be excitement and appreciation.

"Oho, look at all this stuff! Is that a real B54 grenade? I thought they got rid of old stock."

You regarded him for a moment in surprise before nodding vigorously.

“It is! What you’re holding is actually the prototype. Our previous head of research improved on the design afterwards.”

Fortunately, the report for Licht’s analysis had been placed at the top of one of the piles of papers and folders, so you didn’t have to sift for an embarrassingly long time through them in order to find it.

“Please, take a seat.”

You perched yourself on the edge of the chair beside him, opening up the folder.

“Would you like the condensed version?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and you tried to tamp down your hyper-awareness of his breath along your cheek, the brush of his sleeve against yours.

“These samples show a very high concentration of iron, manganese and chromium, in a very specific ratio. The kind you’d expect to find in soil and residue from old subways.”

Obi frowned, taking the analysis sheet from your grasp.

“Subways? Like old train stations?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, there’s only one known sample that matches this ratio exactly.”

“Which is?”

“A sample we’ve obtained from the Nether.”

He sat back, letting out a low whistle. You watched him, allowing him to gather his thoughts. As disarmingly pleasant as he appeared, it was now that you could see the machinations of a true leader take over, the myriad possibilities that were being mapped out in his mind.

Handing over the entire folder, you tugged slightly at the hem of your skirt.

“When I spoke to Licht, he didn’t seem surprised. I suppose he suspected what kind of result this analysis would provide.”

Nodding, Obi pursed his lips before his eyes shifted over to you again.

“Anything else of importance?”

You hesitated, and he waited patiently.

Reaching over to the file in his lap, all while feeling like you were taking a massive liberty, you pulled out one particular set of stapled pages, an analysis you hadn’t been asked to run.

“I … took the liberty of running this heat distortion test. Licht didn’t ask for it, and it was probably unnecessary, but … I wanted to be sure. Some of the metallic fragments showed signs of recent heat deformation in their particle structure.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Meaning?”

“Someone’s been down there very recently. Someone who packs some serious firepower. Your team should take care when they … if they head down there.”

He regarded you steadily, and your spine straightened as his gaze wandered over your features, as if searching for something. Whatever it was he was looking for, it seemed something in your countenance had allayed his worries, because he grinned abruptly.

He really shouldn’t make faces like that all of a sudden. It was bad for the heart.

“Well, thanks a lot for the hard work from your side! We’ll put this to good use, for sure. And I’ll make sure Licht gets hold of these.”

He tapped the file against his knee, and you rose hurriedly, not wanting to keep him for too long.

“A pleasure, Captain.”

Obi waved off the formality, standing and glancing appreciatively around your office once more.

“No problem. I’d have looked through your collection of relics, if I had more time on my hands.”

“You’re welcome to. Any time. If you want to. I know how busy it gets.”

The words were out before you could reel them in, punching them down behind the remnants of your self-respect.

Who even says that?

Obi didn’t seem put out, though. He brightened at the prospect, a soft laugh escaping him, in spite of the gravity of your prior conversation.

“Well, over at the Eighth we’re all about forming bonds with those who’ll support our efforts. You didn’t have to use division resources to run the heat distortion test, but you did. That tells me all I need to know.”

He tucked the folder under one arm and shot you a conspiratorial wink that turned everything below your waist molten.  

“Look forward to working with you!”

Did he mean that?

Was he simply saying it as a formality, or out of politeness?

You sighed as the door closed, sinking into your chair like a deflating balloon.

It didn’t matter, even if he did. 

He was Captain Obi, figurehead of the Eighth company, a standout leader within the Fire Force. There was no earthly possibility of him even remembering your face once he’d stepped out of your office.

________________________________________________________

How very wrong you were.

The next encounter you had with Captain Obi was a chance one.

An annual clearance fair was being held, where a number of public and privately donated items were auctioned or sold off to the public to raise funds for the Fire Force.

Not every Company participated, as some needed to be on standby for emergencies, and others simply didn’t have the resources to spare on such an activity. Like every year, however, the Second was a standard instalment, under the insistence of Captain Huang.

Under regular circumstances, you’d be placed on duty with the second-hand books, but this year, you’d requested a change to music. Your collection of relics had yielded a jackpot, as someone had donated boxes of old CD’s, digital song archives and even LP’s and a record player.

Your excitement at such a haul meant that you’d spent hours of your free time cataloguing and sorting the items. You were sure that there were plenty of collectors like yourself who’d love to get their hands on such memorabilia.

The day of the fair proceeded much as you’d come to expect. It was a great turnout, and you’d spent a merry few hours sharing anecdotes with, and selling CDs to the people who came by your corner of the stall.   

Just as you were about to start packing up, a few members of other squads, who’d spent the day on duty, started to pitch up, examining the displays. Among them, you noticed some of the rookies of the Eighth.

Your encounter with Obi had rendered you ultra-aware of the members of his squad, and their activities. Not that you were following their exploits on purpose, or anything. 

“Hey, Captain Obi! There’s records on sale over here!”   

No, no, no, wait, hold on. You weren’t ready for this.

Straightening and dusting off your jeans, you spied Kusakabe Shinra, the talented new member of the squad, happily surveying the table you’d set earlier. He offered a friendly grin and wave, the sharp teeth a trifle disconcerting.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind. It’s just that our Captain loves these, and he – “

You waved off his concern.

“No, it’s no problem at all!”

“Oi, Shinra, what’ve you got there?”

Good heavens.

You’d recognise that towering form anywhere.

Obi was not wearing a suit today, and looked far more comfortable out of such apparel. The plain black t-shirt, which would not normally invite undue attention, fitted his form like carved cloth on a marble statue, barely concealing the ripple of his abdomen as he moved.

No, you couldn’t be caught staring like this.

Moving your gaze forcefully up to his face, you noted, faintly, that you were in the firm category of ‘lost cause’.

Out of the dim lighting of the station halls, his skin boasted a healthy tan, the wind slightly lifting the dark hair above the soft, bristly undercut he sported at the nape and sides. He dipped his head slightly in order to meet your gaze, an all-encompassing warmth trickling into your limbs like honey as the corner of his mouth curved in recognition.

“Oh, it’s you! Is this all part of your cool collection? Whoa, hey, Shinra, check this out. She’s got the Deep Purple triple LP and the original photographs of their live performances.”

Before you knew it, Obi was elbow-deep in your table of offerings, spouting trivia that would only be known to a true fanatic, while Shinra muttered apologies and attempted to neaten up the piles of items in his Captain’s wake.

You laughed and assured him that it was no issue.

“It’s fine, don’t worry, I’ll sort this out.”

 Obi waved a Led Zeppelin album under your nose.

“Huh? No way! Of course we’ll help you with all this.”

One of his large hands dropped onto Shinra’s head, ruffling the youngster’s hair.

“Shinra, we’re gonna make sure that this lady doesn’t lift a finger to pack these boxes ‘cos she’s been on her feet all day, right?”

“Yes sir!”

You could have sworn that before today, you’d never wanted someone to be the father of your hypothetical children.

Coming to a decision, you produced your secret weapon.

No, you hadn’t been saving this one for a rainy day, when Obi might have decided to visit your office again. It was just … buried rather deep.

“This one’s a real treasure, Captain. I don’t think there are many remaining copies of – “

Just like that, Obi was looking over your shoulder, no barrier of musical paraphernalia between you any longer. Distantly, you heard Shinra complaining because he’d moved the table out of the way in his excitement.

“Is … is that Ride the Lightning?”

 “It is,” you all but croaked.

He reached around you, and you were subjected to the highly intimate sensation of his bicep curling across your arm, the clean scent of his aftershave.

“You’re right,” he whispered, and you chanced a glance up at him, at the softly reverential look in his eye. “I’ve been searching for this one for … “

“Hey, Captain, don’t get carried away! You gotta pay for all this stuff and you splashed out last week arranging that barbeque, remember?”

Shinra’s oddly responsible reminder broke Obi out of his trance. He looked down at you, breath fanning across your cheeks, and something about the nature of your current pose, so close to each other with his fingers half engulfing yours as you both held onto the precious album, seemed to knock him back to the realm of propriety.

He cleared his throat and retreated a step, leaving you immediately longing for the pleasant heat he brought.

“Ah, you’re … very, very right, Shinra.”

His attempt to match the caution of his young subordinate was terribly endearing.

Obi made his way back to the other side of the table, reminding you strongly of a giant, friendly guard dog that had just been told he would have no access to the frisbee in the neighbouring yard.

Catching his slightly forlorn look at the CD in your hand, you offered him a warm smile.

“Tell you what, why don’t we make it a bundle? You can have this CD for half the price, and these LPs for free, if you help me with packing up. They won’t last long in our damp storerooms, anyway.”

You knew, in that moment, that you’d never grow tired of watching this man’s face light up as it did then.

“You heard her, Shinra!”

“Sir!”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a pleasant haze (at least, for you) as the Captain, with the help of Shinra, sealed away the remaining stock in cardboard boxes and carried them over to the large trolley that would be wheeled back to the storeroom.

As you worked, you found that it was surprisingly easy to chat to him. He had that conversational manner of leaping from one related topic to another, chaining together a series of exchanges that fell into effortless camaraderie.

It was clear now why he was such a popular figure amongst his squad members.

You took the opportunity to quiz him on his music preferences, which of those he hadn’t obtained for his own collection and assured him that if you ever found those artists, you’d be sure to hold onto them for him.

You also tried your best not to show too much interest in the way the sinew stretched and muscle played beneath the tawny skin of his arms when he lifted each heavy box with little apparent effort.

By the time you’d returned to your office, there was an irrepressible smile etched on your face, one that you were quite sure made you look as if you’d been concussed with a CD the size of Amaterasu.

__________________________________________________________

Over the next few weeks, it seemed that the universe was intent on placing Captain Obi in your path in ways most unexpected.

More of Licht’s analyses were being routed to your office, for you to undertake personally. It also seemed that, contrary to your earlier belief, Obi remembered you just fine.

Considering the nature of the Eighth’s work in the field, they were more often than not being patched up at the Second, and with the recent increase in the squad’s number, this was becoming a regular occurrence.

On one of these occasions, Shinra and Arthur had been in the med bay when Obi had arrived unannounced at your lab.

You’d been in the middle of conducting the new batch of genetic tests, this time on the species of insect used by the white clad to carry out the Evangelist’s orders. Over the auto-mechanical hum of the autoclave and centrifuge, you hadn’t heard him enter through the double doors behind you.

He coughed to get your attention, and you spun on your heel, micropipette in one hand, eyes widening.

“Captain Obi!”

Placing aside your equipment, you hurried over to him.

“I didn’t know you would be coming today – “

He shook his head, taking in the laboratory around you.

“Nah, just decided to drop by. Some of the recruits are getting patched up.”

The ease with which he said it caused something heavy and hot to lodge in the region of your chest.

He’d just … dropped by?

Realising that you were standing expectantly before him, he slapped a hand to his forehead.

“Wait, am I supposed to be wearing a lab coat in here?”

None of the experiments you ran here were especially dangerous, and he was wearing his protective gear, but who were you to turn down such an opportunity?

“Well, sure, it adds to the experience of being in a lab, right?”

Grinning, you selected one of the spare coats that you always kept on hand in a cupboard nearby, choosing the largest size available for him. Obi stepped forward as you gestured to him, helping him into the garment.

He grunted slightly as it stretched over his shoulders, his fingers catching and tugging at the sleeves. You moved to the front to ‘assist’ him with buttoning up, but as you pulled the edges together, it was clear that they would never close over his formidable chest.

With some effort, you managed to squeeze one button in through its respective hole.

There was a moment of tense silence before the threads gave way and the tiny, plastic round zinged off into the echoing depths of the lab.

Taking in the now empty space where the button had been, you saw one of Obi’s pectorals pulse with deliberate intent as he stared down at them with regret.  

“Ah, sorry about that. Can’t get ‘em to stay still.”

Your mouth twitched.

Obi’s lips drew into a quivering line.  

The snort of laughter that escaped you was shortly echoed by one of his own, both of you shaking with repressed merriment.

Wiping away moisture from the corner of your eye, you placed your hands on your hips.

“I think you’ve just outstripped every one of our velocity tests.”

“Just give me a protein bar beforehand, and I’m your man.”

“Your services are that easily bought?”

“For you, maybe.”

Was he … flirting?

Maybe in jest, or as a quick rejoinder, but you were pretty certain you hadn’t misread the intent.

Trying not to stammer out something monumentally stupid, you straightened, glancing away from him. You were well aware of his eyes traveling over your profile, but you were not so sure that you could stand up to direct scrutiny right now.

“Would you … like me to show you around? While you wait, I mean.”

“Sure! Licht keeps his workspace shut down tight, so haven’t spent much time in there.”

You talked him through the basics of some of the instruments and specialised rooms in the lab facility, and he followed along, a rather adorable frown of diligent concentration taking precedence between his brows.

When you reached your current set of experiments though, there was no mistaking the shift in both your moods.

He stooped, eyeing the insect remains in one of the small, sterile sample jars.

“So this is it?”

“Not quite. This is a related species we found in the southern peninsula. They’re highly resistant to fire, so … I suppose I was hoping to find some clue in their genetic make-up as to how they’re being used.”

Nodding, he stepped back.

“Is this related to the experiments Licht is running?”

“There’s no overlap, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m conducting peripheral research while he focuses on the meat of the matter, so to speak. We’ve got the equipment here to enable fast output for larger amounts of data.”

“You’re okay with that? Not knowing what he uses your results for?”

Turning to him, you shook your head ruefully.

“I understand how it probably looks to you, but … I’ve never cut any corners with the analyses I run. If these are the tests requested, then I have to do my part and trust that the other companies will make good use of them.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Except for when you run tests you weren’t asked to?”

Your smile grew wider.

“Especially then.”

__________________________________________________________  

Captain Obi’s visit to your lab seemed to set the tone for your encounters with him afterwards.

Your respective duties were always top priority, but on the occasions when the Eighth company’s path crossed yours, he’d always made a habit of hailing you and filling you in on the exploits that had filtered through to the rest of the Force.

You’re not quite sure when you started to simply call him ‘Obi’ during your interactions. It was as natural as the way your body seemed to gravitate to his, the way his mannerisms ingrained themselves in your memory, the drift of one loose thread through the air until it tangled hopelessly and inextricably with another.

At some point, you’d registered that this had passed well beyond the well-trod boundary of a harmless crush, at least, on your part. You knew full well that the territory you’d set one tentative foot into was perilous and rife with potential hurt.

It was unlike you to court danger and the crushing weight of another’s feelings (or absence thereof), but there was something about Obi that made you want to take those risks.

It was perhaps, something about the manner by which he never turned away from his own duty, the barefaced rush of sheer determination and gall he displayed in the face of entities possessing far greater power than himself, that never allowed you to shy away from what you felt.

It was almost as if you were determined to prove that you were worthy of even possessing such desires for him. That was personal, something you could process without much in the way of return from him.

Surely this was for the best?

Without the shackles of expectation, there was nothing that could prevent you from talking to him freely, laughing with him, sharing stories and bonding over the latest albums or gadgets you’d managed to unearth.

There was nothing at all to act as a safety net for a free fall you had no desire to be rescued from.

There were times, you’d come to discern, when your spirit of abandon, your reckless freedom of affection, had visible results.

You were, after all, a scientist. Observation was your forte. In this case, however, the results were shelved without any thought for implication.

There were times when you’d catch him staring for longer than propriety would normally allow, or times when he’d slip in some small gesture that seemed oddly familiar and intimate.

For instance, when physical contact between you shifted from a platonic slap or fist to the shoulder, to touch that lingered on your elbow or branded the small of your back with brief, unconscious heat. 

There were silences between words that hung heavier in the air between you, especially when you knew where duty might take him next.

The brush of his skin on yours took on new significance when he watched for your reactions, when his teasing took on an edge of gentle magnetism, as if he were helpless to the way he drew you in further with the slow, steady pull of his own orbit.   

It was ironic that in a world filled with negative connotations surrounding uncontrolled fire in all its forms, that one of the bastions of your defence had ignited such a flame in you.

___________________________________________________________

Even if you told yourself that you were prepared for it, you weren’t.

You knew full well the risks he took each time he entered the fray. It was surprising, all things considered, just how fragile human existence truly was, even Obi’s larger-than-life presence that had become a near-constant in your life over the past few months.

When you received the news that this time, he’d been badly injured during a mission, you’d all but flung aside your tasks to make your way, helter-skelter, to the med bay.

Obi was lying motionless in the bed assigned to him, some members of his squad in neighbouring beds, some sitting nearby, covered in dirt and stains, but not much worse for wear.

You watched from the neutrality of the doorway for a moment, taking him in, the slow, laboured breathing, the smudges of crimson at the edges of his bandages, the soft fan of his dark hair across the pillow.

You’d known all along that he wasn’t, by any means, indestructible, but here you were, only able to watch him, with your fingernails digging hard into your palms.

It wasn’t your place. You shouldn’t even be here.

Turning on your heel, you started the slow journey back to your office when someone called your name.

A young officer, features deceptively delicate, violet eyed, was standing in the doorway.

Maki.

Her name comes to mind with ease, for all that she’s in another company. His company.  

“Did you … want to visit the Captain?”

“Oh, it’s not … I won’t bother you all now. I’m sure he needs his rest.”

She took another step towards you.

“But it’s no trouble at all. He won’t be awake for a while, probably.”

“I really don’t – “

Maki moved aside from the open doorway, gesturing for you to enter with an insistence that was hard to refuse.

“There’re plenty of chairs here. And I’m going out to grab something to eat. Please.”

She leaned into the room and had a hushed conversation, after which two other squad members shuffled out after her, their voices echoing down the corridor.

You gave yourself a brief grace period within which to recoup your dignity, before straightening and marching towards the room with determined steps.

When you took your seat near his bed, you were suddenly aware of the exhaustion that crept, light-footed, into your limbs. 

At some point, you must have drifted into a light doze, because when you awoke, pinching the bridge of your nose and inhaling deeply, you noted that Obi’s eyes were open and that he’d been watching you.

The bruising on his face and neck was heavy, one of his eyes almost swelled completely shut, but you didn't miss the fleeting expression of heavy tenderness, hidden too late for someone with as open a countenance as he possessed. 

Choosing to put this aside for now, you leaned toward him.   

“Obi?”

His voice was hoarse, but no less vital, even its weakened state.

“Shedding tears for a big, strong fireman?”

You sighed dramatically.

“Is this the fate of every woman in a lab coat?”

“At least bring a lace handkerchief.”

“I don’t own anything in lace.”

“I can fix that.”

“Easy, Captain, you can barely stand as is.”

He uttered a short laugh, followed by a heavy wince and you groaned.

“Okay, enough of that. You should be resting.”

“Hey, how are – “

“They’re all fine.” You cracked a small smile. “You’ve really raised a resilient squad.”

“They’ve practically raised themselves.”

You fell into a comfortable silence, the air between you no less electric with unspoken intent.

“A giant infernal?” you eventually query.

“Multiple cores. Took the entire squad to take it out, but they pulled it off.”

He caught the tap of your fingers against your knee and turned further on the pillow to face you.

“Licht’s probably going back to the scene.”

“All right, then this time, I’ll go with him.”

“Keep alert. Whoever created that infernal is still out there.”

“They probably won’t hit the same place twice,” you reassured him.

It’s almost a reflex, the way he reaches for you, less to keep you beside him as much as it is a means to anchor himself.

There is a lurch somewhere inside you, a feeling of being off-balance, for him to show such vulnerability so openly. You know his nature well enough, and yet, it never fails to bring your heart to a momentary halt.

Akitaru.  

You want to say his name, the way not many do, but you can’t, not yet. You still haven’t earned the right.

Instead, you take his hand, registering the heaviness of it. You trace over the hardened knuckles with your thumb, allowing the calluses on his palm to catch on your own skin.

This is a hand that knows the weight of taking a life, and in doing so, releases suffering beyond measure.

Without much thought, you tuck your hair behind one ear and stoop, pressing your lips to the top of his fingers. You let the contact linger for as long as the message needs to be conveyed, noting the slight catch in his breathing, and then you’re standing, making your way to the door.

You’re not sure if he calls out to you, but you know that you can’t look back.

You’re nowhere near as brave as he is.

________________________________________________________

Two days later, you were sorting through the mass of analytics to be forwarded to Licht in your office.

You’d been somewhat on edge during the field survey, but following Licht’s lead, you’d rapidly become absorbed in obtaining samples from the battlefield. There was, indeed, a plethora of new data to process.

Stacking another set of gas chromatography results in their respective folder, you stood to stretch your back when you heard a commotion out in the hallway.

The door to your office swung open and hit the wall with a smack.

Obi’s imposing form filled the entryway. 

Behind him, Shinra and Arthur, who had also been recuperating in the rooms below, jostled each other as they attempted to look past his elbow.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Should any of you be up?”

“See, I told you that we shouldn’t – “

Shinra hissed, interrupted by Arthur’s shove.

Obi folded his arms and regarded you sternly, the kind of look he’d use for reprimanding a junior officer.

“Why didn’t you come see me when you got back?”

Arthur raised a hand.

“Because she reports to Captain Huang, not – “

This time, Shinra stepped on his foot.

You shoved your hands awkwardly into your coat pockets.

“Uh … caught up in running some samples?”

“That’s not an excuse! When you return from site, you need to report back.”

“Now, hold on – “

“And you just … kissed my hand like a … a fairy prince and hoofed outta there!”

“Holy Sol, lower your voice!”

Arthur looked dumbstruck.

“She … but … chivalry is … “

Your ears were about to undergo their own form of combustion.

“All right, I admit that I could have handled that better.”

Obi’s bandaged hand was now propped on his hip.

“That’s right. At least let a guy know you think he’s hot before you pull a stunt like that.”

“Wha – That’s not – “

Shinra snapped to attention as if he was undergoing inspection.

“With all due respect ma’am, please admit that Captain Obi is the hottest man in the eight divisions!”

“Oho!” Obi slapped his shoulder, “Always a hype man, Shinra.”

What on earth –

No. No, this was a test of your will, and perhaps, your sanity.

Inhaling sharply, you matched Shinra’s posture.

“Captain Obi!”

He raised his eyes to yours, full of that proud, gentle kindling you realised he’d never tried to conceal.

“You’re the hottest man in the eight divisions!”

The grin that split his face could probably have given rise to a new sun faster than the white clad’s machinations.

“You’re pretty hot stuff yourself, Miss Analyst.”

He raised an arm, leaning his elbow on the doorframe, eyelids lowering slightly, and suddenly your breathing felt a trifle laboured.

“Take you out for dinner at six?”

“Ask me again when you can actually hold chopsticks.”

 _______________________________________________________

Contrary to the assumptions of many of your colleagues, you did know how to dress for a date.

When you were sure that Obi had fully recovered, and had a day off, almost two weeks had passed since the rather bizarre confrontation in your office.

True to his word, he made sure that he confirmed your meeting.

Logically speaking, you knew that you had no reason to be nervous at all, considering the man you were going to be spending the day with. Obi would be sure to put you at ease almost immediately, and it would, in all probability, be a relaxed and informal outing.

The coil in your abdomen was more the effect of anticipation and excitement. You could hardly believe that this was going to occur.

You’d arranged to meet Obi at the central square not far from the Eighth’s headquarters. By the time you reached there, it was early afternoon and the weather looked perfect for a stroll.

Obi was waiting for you near the fountain, leaning against the low boundary wall, looking relaxed and gut-wrenchingly handsome in fitted jeans and a striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up, unbuttoned at the collar to reveal the white vest beneath.  

He brightened immediately upon seeing you, raising a hand to his chin and looking you over with blatant appreciation.

“A lovely lady approaches. Should I ask if she comes here often?”

 You adopted a similar thoughtful pose.

“I don’t know. What does the firefighter’s manual say?”

“That I should sling you over my shoulder and haul you away.”

 “Like a pile bunker?”

 “You’re much prettier than a pile bunker.”

“You like me that much?”

He threw back his head and laughed, eyeing you with honest affection as he gallantly offered the crook of his elbow.

“Let’s get going!”

“Where to, Captain?”

“Oi. None of that Captain stuff. You know what to call me.”

His skin is shockingly warm under your touch, and you try to tamp down the sweet pang of desire that spikes so naturally as you take in the way he’s attempted to neaten his hair, the intoxicating scent of his body, the way he leans toward you so that the considerable curve of his shoulder presses reassuringly against yours.  

“Akitaru, then.”

He beams and squeezes your hand gently against his side.

“Now that’s better. There’s a new place I wanted us to try out. It’s got a great view over the water.”

Indeed, it does.

It’s a small café, serving seafood and simple, hearty meals. Obi watches you fondly as you eat with enthusiasm before tucking in to his own spicy stew.  

“Good?”

“Delicious!”

You level your chopsticks at him.

“Arthur told me that his favourite meals are the ones you buy him.”

He looks down into his bowl with a soft grunt of amusement, but you can tell that this information pleases him deeply.

“Yeah? Well Arthur told me he’d have nothing but court food, right before he ate enough to clean out my wallet.”

“Are you that easily taken advantage of?”

“By kids and beautiful scientists, apparently.”

“When have I ever taken advantage of you?”

“Hooked me with that CD … “

“You wanted it!”

“And then with your eyes.”

You still couldn’t fathom by what means he made the corniest pick-up lines sound sensual and dreamy.

While waiting for coffee, you watch the pale lines of sea foam ebb across the bay beyond, the silence that stretches between you acknowledged as a space within which a myriad possibilities exist.

When Akitaru’s hand closes around yours, thumb running across your wrist, it’s as if he’s returning a warmth you never knew had been missing. Resting your chin in one palm, you take him in, allowing yourself to revel in his presence.

“I didn’t think you’d want … this. You know. To go on a date,” you offer, in response to his questioning look.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re on the Force. You’re a Captain. I thought you might not have much time for things like this.”

He is silent for a moment, staring out across the placid water. The wind stirs the stray locks of dark hair that are already curling out of their neatened state. He tugs your hand a little closer to him across the varnished surface of the table.

“I mean … you’re right, in a way. I haven’t paid too much attention to relationships. And the job itself is pretty high risk.”

He turns his gaze on you, earnest and searching.

“But you know … I like seeing the people around me safe and happy. What’s the Force safeguarding if it isn’t something like this? Just being able to sit by the sea with someone you care about and have a good meal. It’s worth it, right? I like being alive, and I like that you’re here with me, and that’s enough.”

The simplicity of expression belies the depth of sacrifice and duty you know full well he possesses, down to the core.

In that moment, you want to be closer to him than ever, and from the soft darkening of his gaze, he’s reading you with an ease that you’ll always find breathtaking.

Akitaru brings your hand up slowly, brow furrowing as his eyes drift shut. He traces firm, slightly chapped lips over your fingers, your palm, the inside of your wrist.

Such delicate actions seem, somehow, incongruous coming from someone like him, and are all the more alluring for it. 

The feather-light touch, the dizzying caress of his breath and the way he holds you in place to receive his attentions, all brings to mind the suggestion of how he could pin you down in other ways.

You sit with him for a while, not speaking, basking in the way his eyes drink you in.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, even when you leave the café.

The evening air is still and pleasantly warm, and Akitaru shifts his grip from yours to the small of your back. The steady heat of his large, open palm steals into you, steals away coherent thought as he guides you back to the familiarity of your apartment.

In your open doorway, a passage to something heavenly, he pauses and hovers before you, tilting his head down to yours in the way you’ve grown to love.

You know, in that instant, that he won’t come inside, that he wants all the sweet, heavy fullness of romance with you, specifically, before he can indulge any further. You suppose that the joys of living, within the precious confines of drawn-out time, can be found here too.    

Your mouth opens like a flower beneath the weighted press of his. Fingers curling around the broad breath of his neck, you lean into it, show him how you’re willing to take him, tugging lightly at his control.

Before the kiss grows messy, he parts from you with a soft, wet sound, breath blowing across your cheeks in a heavy wash. You take some satisfaction at the small break in his voice, the way he licks his lips to retain the taste of you.

“Go out with me again?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

His forehead brushes yours, touch tracing like a shadow up the side of your body and you feel the curve of his smile.

“Doesn’t hurt.”

“Yes, Akitaru, I’d love to go out with you again.”

He taps you gently under the chin before stepping back and away, making his way down to the street, taking with him some loose thread that threatens to unravel and spill you all over your own threshold.     

_______________________________________________________

There's no other term to adequately describe it: Akitaru courts you, in what he obviously thinks is the proper way.

He makes you laugh until your sides protest, waxes lyrical about his dreams, loves to talk about his squad, and never fails to make you feel a part of his many-faceted life.

He has decided that you belong, and you've taken the only place you could occupy as far as he's concerned; a partner, a lover, a friend.

The more you learn of him, of what many would perceive as his myriad flaws, the more your desire and deep affection for him grows.

He loves to potter about in a vest and low-slung tracksuit bottoms, singing off-key, occasionally shooting you a dopey glance as he hits some particularly romantic lyrics.

He tries to fix things at his home, or at work, and invariably makes them worse (much to the dismay of his lieutenant), after which he stands back, hands propped self-righteously on hips, and blames the original construction.

His apartment, once you've seen it, is exceptionally neat, a reminder of his formal firefighter training and disciplined lifestyle. It is, however, dotted with mismatched items he'd picked up as memorabilia, a dented helm from his first official mission, the candid photographs of his squad, a battered basketball, miscellaneous workout equipment and, of course, an extensive record collection.

He's a competent cook, not as skilled as Hinawa, from what you'd heard, but able to hold his own with basic ingredients.

It's something he loves to engage in when you're over, giving you what he calls the 'full experience', with brawny arms on display as he chops and tosses, clearly showing off.

The only complaint you had was that he was almost a little too considerate when it came to the physical aspect of your relationship.

You'd certainly progressed beyond the chaste kiss in the doorway on your first date.

When you were curled up on the couch beside him, fingers interlaced as his arm hung over your shoulder and down to your side, there were many occasions when the soft kisses exchanged grew to something more heated.

You could feel it, in the way his breathing grew heavier, the way his torso lifted slightly under your touch, the way he'd groan against your lips when your fingers grazed through the delicious, shorn expanse of his undercut.

It wasn't that he hadn't been sexual with you either.

You remembered clearly the evening when the gentle drag of his teeth against your shoulder, the slide of those roughened palms underneath your shirt and along the length of your sides, had left you clutching at him with almost embarrassing intensity.

He'd brought his hand around to your front, resting on your stomach just above the waistband of your jeans, a wordless request for permission.

You'd traced over his lips, marveling at how the passage of those eyes left you so incredibly sensitized to the light contact.

Of course, you'd nodded.

He'd exhaled, hot against your throat, before his fingers had slid down, down, tracing a line of fire beneath the hem of your underwear, to where you needed him most.

The spasmodic jerk your body had given, your faint gasp, had earned you another nip, this time just below the collarbone.

Then, he'd touched you, parting your soaking folds, finding his way with unerring, steady ease to the glistening pearl at the apex.

Your thighs had tightened, quivering, against the movement of his palm as he'd stroked you, pleasured you, gripped your waist to hold you effortlessly in place as your head fell back against the sofa.

You'd realised then, as one digit breached you and you'd uttered a cry of delight, that if his fingers were any indication of the size of him, then you were certainly going to have your limits tested when the time came.

Right then, you'd been more concerned with the way he'd insisted on maintaining eye contact as he'd spread you, plundered you, running on pure instinct as he'd watched the changes in your expression, switched to different angles to see what response he'd elicit.

As in everything he did, Akitaru was thorough, eager, ceaseless.

When he'd finally tipped you over the edge, into a golden, molten-edged free fall, you'd scrabbled helplessly at his shoulders, mouth opening in a silent scream, the pounding of your pulse loud as a drumbeat.

The kiss he'd snared you in then was searing, teeth knocking against teeth, on the verge of primacy, adoring in spite of that, and yet ... he'd never truly given in.

There was still restraint, cording his neck with effort, escaping his lips in low pants, in the hunger with which he watched the harsh rise and fall of your clothed breasts.

He wanted, but wouldn't allow himself, not yet.

You saw in this a boundary of his own making, a war he wouldn't lose against the same unfettered power of nature that he faced daily in his duty.

Even as much as you'd wanted him to let go, to be with you fully in that moment, the duality of brute strength and tenderness, which defined him in every sense, was even more intoxicating to you.

It served as a constant reminder as to what he held inside himself, your Akitaru, an inferno greater than any your mind could conjure.

_______________________________________________________

It was a rainy evening, and with the final rush of the day over, you made your way back to your apartment.

Akitaru's company had been called out to deal with reports of infernal activity in the Nether.

You told yourself that it was useless to wrap yourself in a mantle of anxiety and ceaseless worry, but logic seldom asserted itself in your mind where he was involved.

The tasks of the day fled from your grasp as quickly as they’d arrived, and before you knew it, the day was done.

There was still no word from the teams sent underground.

You reached your apartment, switched on the lights, dropped your satchel in a corner.

The rookies were down there too, in the dark.

Their faces flashed through the sorting deck of your memory. All so young. Practically kids. You knew exactly why Akitaru cared so deeply for them, for their training and preparation for the field.

He'd do anything for his squad.

The thought was supposed to bring you comfort.

For the rest of the evening, you attempted to regain some measure of a regular routine. It's what he would have expected of you.

You cooked, and watched the food cool on your plate, and the one you'd set out for him, before transferring both portions to containers for storage.

You cleaned the bathroom, ran a load of laundry.

Then came the pacing.

At 2 am, your phone buzzed.

Half asleep, you snatched it from where it sat on the small side table, next to the sofa where you'd temporarily dozed off.

"Akitaru?"

Your greeting was firmer than you'd expected. You took pride in that.

He sounded exhausted, voice rough-edged and hoarse with the kind of emotional vulnerability he wouldn't reveal readily.

"We're back. All safe, but ... Shinra. He's in a critical state. They're doing all they can to save him."

You nodded in the emptiness of your apartment.

"I'll be right there."

He didn't dissuade you.

________________________________________________________

The next few days are a blur.

The expedition into the Nether yielded explosive results, including the revelation that Shinra's younger brother was a top priority rescue target from the white clad.

Shinra had survived a terrible injury, thanks to the efforts of your own division's Captain Huang.

While the samples and data for analysis had rolled into your lab by the bucket load, Akitaru had been occupied with collating all the intelligence into a comprehensive report, to be presented at a meeting of the top brass.

Through your assistance of Licht, you'd managed to summarize the mountain of analytics into a more digestible form, easily discussed and dissected.

You hadn't expected Akitaru to drop by your place on this particular evening, the day of the meeting.

When you answered the door, it took you a moment to process his presence, so unused as you were to seeing him in his Captain's uniform, a navy suit and tie replete with the badges of his station and level of command, as he’d looked when you’d first met.

He remains still for a moment, imposing and professional, before he crosses the threshold and steps into the enfolding circle of your arms.

You hold him as tightly as your strength allows, taking in the scent of him, the crisp shirt that rustles with unfamiliar texture beneath your cheek, his warm, solid form beneath.

Akitaru tips his head downwards, kisses you, and you know that this time is different.

You almost don't register the way he shoves the door shut with his foot before his arms wrap almost convulsively around you, his hat knocking against the top of your head and tumbling off to the floor.

He'd never been this hot, this urgent in his attentions before.

You can barely breathe beneath the force of his lips, and you find that you don't really want to.

When he breaks away for air, you bracket his face between your hands.

"You - "

"Need you. Please."

It's almost as if some wild, ancient spirit has sliced you both open down the middle, flooding both your veins with unadulterated, primal desire.

Your cardigan joins his hat in an untidy pile, followed by his coat. He kicks off his shoes as he backs you further into the room.

The husky plea in his voice, the near desperation in those infinitely warm, amber-shot eyes, the way his fingers dig into your hips, are like a dozen golden arrows that pierce, dripping with molten intent, right through the core of you.

You must have given him some signal, because in an instant, he stoops, grasping you firmly just above the knees, lifting you with an ease that twists your gut in knots of anticipation.

You're now met with the enticing sight of his broad back, rippling under the confines of his shirt, as he carries you in a classic fireman's lift. He ignores your impotent slaps against his shoulder as you protest, breathless with laughter.

Akitaru hones in on the bedroom like an amorous missile, unstoppable in his intent.

In an instant, the world seems to tilt as he tosses you down on the sheets. You prop yourself on your elbows, biting your lip as he surges forward to hover above you.

"What's this Captain? Not even going to give me a show?"

Your coy smile turns to an open-mouthed gasp as he presses you into the mattress under his body, overwhelmingly powerful, gentle at the same time. Something hard, hot and rigid slots right against you, the tip sinking into the gusset of your underwear.

"Aki - "

It's almost embarrassing, how needy he turns you in the space of a few seconds, just by kneading his erection directly over where you're most sensitive.

His mouth is right next to your ear, soft, eager pants and groans easing their way out. You take some pleasure in the idea that he's just as lost in these sensations as you are.

"Oh, God I'm - wanna take you so bad."

Pressing a palm to his cheek, you redirect that lust-hazed glance back to you, drawing on his focus.

"Do it, then. However you want. Akitaru, please - "

Your begging takes on a high edged note as he grinds down into you again, letting you feel the size of him.

The frenzied desire to be bare, to render him so in turn, takes precedence in your mind.

Fingers tug impatiently at buttons and zippers. Your sleep shorts and top join his trousers on the floor beside the bed, his belt still hanging from the loops.

Akitaru's hair grows even more wildly disheveled as you push through it, encouraging him as he impatiently slides down your underwear and flings it somewhere in the region of the pillow.

Surprisingly, you're nowhere near as self-conscious about your nude state as you imagined you'd be.

In spite of your breathless urgency, Akitaru takes a moment to look you over, spread out before him like a feast to dine on.

The look he is wearing is enough to keep you wet for as long as he wants. 

It almost feels wrong, for someone with such an open, lovable demeanour to look like this; one corner of his mouth crooked in an inviting smile, the carved planes and dips of his body gleaming in the dull light, the flush of arousal on his face and neck.

Somehow, the sight of him far outshines the image you'd built in your mind. Now, you can see the light scattering of hair across the broad chest, thicker between the pectorals, forming a dark line of heavenly anticipation down the middle of his abdomen.

Scars litter his powerful form, dark and slightly refractive from exposure to intense flame, lighter and raised above the skin where he'd suffered lacerations.

This is a body to be revered by a lover, to be touched, tasted, spanned a hundred times over by teeth, tongue, splayed palms and devouring eyes.

At leisure, you'd trace each and every one of those testaments to his bravery, but right now his hand is already dipping between your legs in a remembered dance.

Placing one of your fingers between your teeth, you bite down to suppress your moans as he spreads you once again.

Akitaru sits back slightly to appreciate the sight of you, neck arched, gripping the eiderdown above your head, legs apart, the gleaming coating that covers his exploring digits.

By the time he adds a third curling, stretching, dipping appendage, you're writhing, begging him, one of your arms snapping down so that you can claw at the smooth curl of his bicep as he works you.

He leans forward, pressing his face to the side of yours, groaning heavily.

"Can't wait any more, beautiful."

"Then don't. Please, inside me, now."

You lift your hips off the bed, wanton and eager, bucking under his touch. Within a matter of seconds, you register that he'd separated himself from you, fingers sliding out with careful consideration, even now.

Breath hitching at the feeling of emptiness, you struggle to even your breathing as he fishes through the pockets of his retrieved trousers for a condom.

Upon finding it, he raises his eyes to you, warm and mischievous.

"Wanna see me get out the hose?"

You clap a hand over your mouth, before shifting it aside, expression growing serious.

"Can you do it double time, Captain?"

He tears the wrapper carefully, pulling down the hem of his briefs.

"You got a fire that needs dousing, ma'am?"

Arching your back, you cup your breasts, fingers fanning over your ribs.

"It's spreading really, really fast, Captain. Need you to plug up the source right now."

His grin is boyish, delectable, even as his cock springs free, jouncing from the motion of his underwear, and he palms the condom over.

"Looks like I'm gonna be putting out fires all night."

He places his hands beneath your knees, drawing you effortlessly across the bed towards him. You squirm and utter a small, breathy laugh as the heftiness of him smacks against your lower abdomen.

He isn't overly long, thankfully, but he is thicker than anything you've seen in your fairly limited experience, broad around the middle, curving slightly towards the head. When you reach down to wrap a hand around him, the heat of his flesh and the sheer weight of him makes your legs fall further open of their own accord.

Akitaru slips a hand beneath the small of your back, raising you before he draws you forward, into his lap.

"Easier if you're on top."

The words are now grated out as you settle on him, bracing your arms on his shoulders. His control is hanging on by a thread, and the sight of him like this, subject to your will, gives you a sense of power that is arousing beyond measure.

You are conscious of how wet you are, inner thighs already slick and frictionless. He can feel it too, as you slide along him, working up the swivel of your hips.

Nose to nose, his adoring scrutiny is almost too much as he watches you, each contortion of your features as he slides between your labia, uttering a soft grunt as he registers your heat.

Then, the tip breaches you, pushing in with a hard, slightly uncomfortable stretch. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders as he works himself in, sweat beading his brow, the tendons of his neck standing out as he whispers soft curses.

You take a moment, breathing heavily, to adjust to his size. After the initial entry, his width makes you feel beautifully full, on the edge of overwhelming, that slight curve allowing him to drag against you in ways that make your calves tighten.

You start the slow undulation of your hips, to help both him and you, walls fluttering and squeezing as you swing in a small circle, taking him further in.

"Fuck, that feels - "

He closes his eyes and hisses, holding onto your waist as if he's attempting to control a runaway train.

Somehow, you know exactly what will draw these reactions from him. There's something about Akitaru, the upstanding, heroic leader, coming apart inside you, that turns you more than a little wild.

Still swaying, holding onto him with everything you have, you widen the circle, you lower back and thighs taking the strain. He slides deeper, almost fully inside, and now you lean back, hands landing firmly above his knees. 

The sounds coming from where you are joined are positively sinful as you sway and buck, drawing the kinds of pleasured, pleading moans from him that could fuel your dreams for decades.

Then he grasps you a little tighter, drawing you against him, and at this angle, he hits a place inside you that draws out a loud cry, your body jerking, rhythmic movements cut short.

"You like that?"

Shuddering, your gaze falls to him again, noting the change, the assertiveness now surfacing, even as lust possesses him to this degree.

You nod and he surges into motion beneath you. You're not sure what he intends, but you utter a soft complaint as he pulls out, leaving you with an ache that needs to be remedied immediately.

Then he turns you around, pushing your thighs apart, pulling your back into the solid wall of his chest, and your eyes widen slightly as you take in the new arrangement.

You're facing your bedroom vanity table, the long mirror over the top giving a prime view of the bed and both of you on it.

"Akitaru, what are you - "

"Giving you a show, sweetheart."

Your arm curls upward, over his shoulder as he rubs against you, and your abdomen tightens at the sight, the flushed head of his cock pressing forward, disappearing, and then he's raising you, the breadth of his shoulders so much wider than yours.

Your hand flails in the space between your bodies, before you snare him, guiding him in once again.

A choked gasp escapes you as this time, you're seeing and feeling it all at once.

Eyes glistening, you watch as he splits you open, an explosive groan escaping him as he also takes the sight of you in, labia parting, the slick length of him moving back and forth as he stretches you open again.

You've never done anything like this before in the bedroom, and judging from the misted, drunken look he wears, this is a first for him too, perhaps saved away in the corner of his mind for an occasion like this.

The curve of him catches you at a different angle, all the more excruciating for how slowly he draws the motion out, bringing you back down until you're completely sat over him.

Akitaru leans back, letting the inhuman strength of his abdomen and hips do the work for both of you. The angle between your thighs widening further, the view you gain turns explicit in ways you cannot process.

There, you can see him, the slow rise of his pelvis impaling you, labia pushed apart to accommodate each thrust.

He takes his time in spite of his earlier urgency, dipping, lifting, grinding inside you in small circles, mimicking your earlier movements. The pearly evidence of your arousal is now seeping past the base of his cock and coating his sac.

Your head falls back, but you fight the urge, arousal and mortification warring across your face as you determine to keep your gaze on the magnificent sight he's gifted you with.

It's clear, from his expression, that Akitaru thinks this is possibly the best thing he's done since forming the Eighth Company.

The sensations grow more intense as he increases his pace and depth, spearing into you with devastating precision. You cling to him, keeping the rhythm as best you can, but it's clear that he is taking steady control.

Heat spreads through your lower body, coiling tightly just below the navel, and now the bed beneath you is slowly gaining a sizable patch of damp, spurred on by his reckless, relentless attentions.

Between the delirium he has induced, you note that Akitaru's arm has come up, bracing along the back of your neck. His knees push against yours until you're completely at his mercy, moaning, gasping, swearing at him, begging him to give you everything he has.

"Aki - oh God - please - I - "

"That's it, angel, take it like that - "

"Fuck, I'm - you're so deep - "

"Pussy so wet, so good, I can't - "

"I want it, all of it, fuck me - "

"Gonna give it to you just how you like, my - "

Some vital checkpoint has been reached because the world shifts once again, and you realise that you're being moved forward, off the bed.

"Wait, what - "

He lets out a huff of amusement against your ear.

"Lemme see if I can - "

Your eyes snap open as you feel one of his feet hit the floor.

He couldn't be -

The arm that had been propped across your shoulders now descends, hooking around the back of your knees as he lifts, taking your entire weight.

He is standing, holding you aloft with one arm, cock still buried inside you.

You're taking great sobbing breaths, torn between disbelief, hilarity and gut-wrenching, animalistic arousal as he resumes his punishing pace with no apparent effort.

It isn't rapid, simply a slow, deep rut, each thrust spreading you open to your limits, forcing the air from your lungs.

Your hands clutch fiercely at those rippling shoulders, raking up marks which he takes little to no notice off, your mouth falling open in ecstasy as he takes you for a ride that nothing else will ever compare to.

The wet slap of your flesh against his echoes in the bedroom, compounded by the close, intimate visual he is now providing in the mirror of the plunge of his cock, the way he moves slightly from side to side, churning, earning throaty, near-panicked cries from you.

It's ridiculous, it's driving you to the brink of insanity, it's tearing up every expectation you had of sex with him, and it's Akitaru all over, overthrowing what should be physically possible with the sheer strength he possesses.

Each mounting pulse of pleasure, the pressure against that low, white hot spot that sets you quivering every time he strokes it, the sweet words of encouragement, juxtaposed with how thoroughly he fucks you, is enough to rip you from the confines of building euphoria and hurl you straight into its waiting jaws.

There is a moment where you have no recollection of where you are or how you arrived there, the raw, blinding bliss of an orgasm that faintly registers as a Richter Scale nine across the quaking landscape of your body.

Then another hits you, less sharp, leaving you shuddering helplessly in his hold again. He leaves himself inside, pressing snug against you, locked in the vice of your spasm.

You hear his ragged moans of approval, the hoarse, heated whispers of how good you are, how tight around his cock, so beautiful when you come, easy angel, just like that.

Finally, he lowers you, moving you both towards the bed.

You slump forward, elbows hitting the covers, now aware of the fact that your thighs are completely soaked with the after-effects of your orgasm. Akitaru leans over you, grounding you with the comforting weight of his body.

As he moves to pull out, you realise that he's still hard, almost painfully so, given away additionally by the labored heave of his breath.

Boneless with pleasured exhaustion as you are, you won't let that slide. Your hand shoots out, clasping his bare hip, and he startles before letting out a low sound of amusement, hot breath intimately stirring the hair near the shell of your ear.

"Giving you a break, sweet thing."

It takes you a moment to recall how to speak, throat dry and heavy from the noises he's been dragging out of you.

"Dont need ... a break."

"But you just - oh, fuck."

The last was a drawn out, sensuous hiss and your devious smile is hidden by the blanket beneath you.

While he'd been focused on your voice, you'd managed to keep your balance, bent over the bed, feet bracing on the floor as you cross your ankles. The squeeze you'd exerted had certainly been noted.

Akitaru had best learn not to underestimate you.

Raising yourself again, you arch your back, presenting him with the tantalizing view of your raised rear.

You push back on him, the sensitivity from your orgasm receded to a dull ache during the brief respite he'd so graciously given you.

Shooting a coy glance over your shoulder, you take in his sculpted form, muscles gleaming with a sheen of sweat from his exertions. His hair is plastered to his forehead, peaked nipples rising and falling beneath the telling flush that has spread down, all across his chest.

What a magnificent sight he presents, and you wouldn't miss the grand finale for the world.

He keeps still for a moment, head thrown back, seeming overwhelmed, but then his chin drops and the look he levels at you serves as an immediate reminder of the fact that you're still very much at his mercy.

You're prepared for it, though, and you ride it out once again, lip caught between your teeth as he presses his large palms to the mattress on either side of you, taking what you've given him.

You clutch at his wrists, uttering short, sharp cries as he fills you, pace increasing, the bed rocking beneath the steady pounding he gives you.

Keeping your ankles tightly locked, you urge him on, reaching up to the side of his face, his skin hot and damp under your fingers.

You're not exactly certain about the words that spill from you, an endless stream of praise and desire, that he's so big, so good, to keep fucking you like that, to never let it stop.

His hand shifts beneath you, pressing on your abdomen, tilting you so that he can probe deeper, and your speech devolves into incoherency once more.

Two hard thrusts and Akitaru comes with a stifled roar, teeth gritted, fisting the blankets as his hips still their movement. He lets out an explosive groan before his head drops to your shoulder, chest shuddering with each shaky exhale.

It takes a while for you both to regain some form of movement, which involves him sliding sideways, collapsing on the bed beside you, while you turn to face him.

Another minute passes before the broadest, practically uncontrollable smile curves your lips, and he echoes it with a wide grin of his own.

"Uh ... sorry about - "

You bury your face in the soft covers, shoulders shaking with laughter.

"What the fuck was that?"

"It was - hey, but you enjoyed it, right?"

"You need to give it a name. Right now."

He raises himself on one elbow, cocking an eyebrow.

"You ... wanna do it again?"

"Yes."

Akitaru runs a hand through damp hair, giving it serious thought.

"How about ... "

"It had better be nothing to do with a power cobra."

"But baby - "

"No."

He blows out a petulant breath, eyeing you sideways. You stroke his cheek.

"Come on. Think."

“The Pile Bunker?”

“Isn’t that your weapon of choice?”

“Among others.”

It's not every day that you see a big, strong fireman recoil from the smack you aim at his arm.

He twirls a finger in the air.

"How about ... Captain's Hoist?"

"Hmm. Getting there."

He sits up abruptly, pads naked across the floor to the shelf where he keeps his memorabilia. You watch him curiously, not least because of the highly engaging way his backside flexes as he moves. 

Producing one of his LPs with a flourish, Akitaru approaches the bed again. You recognise it as the Led Zeppelin collection you’d sold to him, on the day of the fair. 

“Got an idea?”

He points out the list of songs on the jacket, tapping against one in particular. 

“Think I got you here?”

You cover your mouth with false modesty. 

“Oh my, what would Burns have to say about this?”

His grin takes on a decidedly devilish aspect. 

“That I’m a false prophet, sent to tempt you with my juicy pecs and - “

He cuts off with a stifled laugh as you tug him down onto the bed beside you (no easy feat). Your fingers stroll across said pecs before he playfully nips them, drawing you close against his side.

“So, it’s settled then? ‘Stairway to Heaven’ has a nice ring to it, huh?”

“As long as you’re the one helping me ascend, Captain.”

_______________________________________________________

Later, he lies with his head cradled against your chest, one sizable arm draped across your middle.

He is drifting off to sleep, combined exhaustion from the long hours at work, the high-stakes meetings and the mission that the Eighth Company was still recovering from (and the sex), all working hand in hand to transport him to the softer world of dreams.

You card your hand through his hair, now freshly washed, and remember a time when his presence wasn't a constant.

That time seems so distant now, when he's here, heated skin against yours, breath fanning across your throat, the solid, vital weight of him pressed against you.

Even with the state of the country as it was, torn apart by forces yet unknown, with the risks he took every day as part of his job, you know that Akitaru was meant for this, for returning to his squad, and to you, where he was safe, warm, treasured and loved.

For every other uncertainty you faced, this was one scientifically verifiable conclusion that you'd stake your reputation on.

After all, you'd barely scratched the surface of exploring every possibility laid out before you both, like a road fabricated from gold, and the 'Stairway to Heaven' wasn't even the half of it.

_________________________________________________________

Bonus: A list of sex position names that @radish-breath and I brainstormed for this fic:

Obi One

Drill Tower

Heave Hoe

Bambi Bucket

Towering Inferno

Tower of Babble

Core Blaster

Adolla Squirt

Doppelbanger

High Rise invasion

The 9th Pillar

[soup-after-dark]

Just finished reading this and I'm actually swooning. Like I'm lightheaded, genuinely. Also my phone is on 3% so I'm gonna be RUSHING to get all my thoughts down. But you know what, that's just an accurate representation of how UNHINGED this fic made me. I need to put the rest of this under a cut because it's just a mess. I'm so sorry OP.

I knew this was gonna be peak the second you nailed Lichts' characterization. Because when even the goddamn background characters are a 10 outta 10 portrayal? Oh my god. You KNOW shit is about to go down 😍😍😍

Aaaaaaaand I was proven absolutely right. I can't get over how good this was. Good is actually not a strong enough word. This was amazing, incredible, fantastic! There are not nearly enough Obi x reader fics in the world, but this beautiful fic almost singlehandedly makes up for all of the ones we're missing out on. It scratched every previously-insatiable itch that I have for this man, and then some. I've been searching for years and this was well worth the wait!!

One of my greatest joys in life is smut that's not afraid to get a bit goofy. And you absolutely nailed it with this - exactly what I hope for and completely in character for him. Like this man is a DORK and it's one of the sexiest things about him. I will fight anyone on this. He ABSOLUTELY WOULD BE MAKING FIREMAN PUNS in the bedroom and I think we should all take some time to appreciate that more.

All the humor was so well written, speaking of which - not just the smutty parts. But the setup too; I was giggling and kicking my feet from the very beginning. It felt very true to canon, where characters will just be saying the most out of pocket things in the middle of an otherwise normal conversation. Shinra telling the reader to say Obi is the hottest guy in the eighth sent me 😂

One of my favorite parts:

“I don’t know. What does the firefighter’s manual say?" “That I should sling you over my shoulder and haul you away.” “Like a pile bunker?” “You’re much prettier than a pile bunker.”

All the banter is honestly just making me feral - I looooveeee good banter and this IS IT 🥰

The background story for reader was also so so so enjoyable to read. We love women in STEM; I am eating this up with a spoon.

Finally, gotta give a shout-out to your list of brainstormed sex position names. I snorted at all of them 😂 The name you actually ended up with was so cute and on theme, but in my heart of hearts I am forever going to think of this as the Drill Tower 🤣🤣

In conclusion, I'm sorry for screaming like a wild animal in your reblogs. I hope that it convinces at least one other person to check out this fic. I will be reading this again for sure, just as soon as I pick my brain up off the floor 🙃

❤️❤️❤️

[rahuratna]

@soup-after-dark I just woke up to this wonderful comment and my heart is so full. This. Everything you mentioned and picked up on here is what I wanted to convey about our beloved, sexy fireman.

I was pretty unhinged (and horny on main for this guy) when I wrote this, LOL, and I wanted to share my headcanons with everyone who appreciates and loves his character!

You're so right about how goofiness manifests in the bedroom, especially with someone like Akitaru, who represents everything brave and good in the world of Fire Force, but never takes himself so seriously. He knows he has to be the heart and soul of his Company, and I wanted to show that same playfulness, devotion, humour and passion in his budding relationship.

LMAOOOOO, you are 100% entitled to call it the Drill Tower! It was SO hard for me to decide on a name! I had to rope my friend in and we eventually settled on this, but Lord, it was a close one. My personal favourite is Adolla Squirt 🤣🤣🤣

Please never apologize for screaming in the reblogs, because I do the same (unashamedly) 😂😂

Thank you so much for this absolutely delightful comment (that made me kick and scream under the blankets myself) and I'm so, so glad you enjoyed reading it. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[soup-after-dark]

@rahuratna thank you for accepting my unhinged screams with such grace 😂 Picture a woman curled up with her phone held three inches or less from her face, frantically typing at 2AM. That was me leaving this comment.

And although now we're here in the stark light of day and my phone is charged enough for me to actually type out a coherent thought, I am no less unhinged about this fic. I will never be normal about it, I fear 🥰

I do have to take some time to genuinely compliment you on your writing style though. I forgot to mention it last night in my mad ramblings (I wonder why 😂). But the way you write is so clear and pleasant to read. And yet at the same time, your sentences are beautifully complex. I'm like actually taking notes on your word choice and sentence structure because it's so 🤌🤌🤌🤌 Makes my brain go brrrrrrr 😋😋

Adolla Squirt is also incredible 🤣🤣🤣 Presenting Company Eight's newest and most preferred method for putting out flames 💦💦😆

Thank you again for taking the time to share this wonderful fic with us. You deserve a thousand more rambling comments on it!!! I'll also def be checking out some of your other work, because I ❤️ Nanami and I'm super excited to see how you write him as well! So I'm sure you'll be hearing from me again 😂🥰

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: [Obi Akitaru x Scientist Reader] A chance encounter with the charismatic captain of the Eighth Company leaves you more than a little enamoured. Obi Akitaru is nothing less than thorough in his own pursuit of you.

Contents: Romance, smut, humour, fluff, angst.

CW: Explicit sexual content (some rather ... inventive sex positions, inspired by the amazing @radish-breath - see end of fic for some the rejected position names, LOL)

WC: 12347

"Hey Licht, I've got the analysis of those samples you sent through. Call me when you get a chance. We need to talk."

Receiver pinched precariously between shoulder and ear, you adjusted the large box of files on the mahogany table.

It was the sturdiest table you'd been able to find. It needed to be, considering the sheer number of analytics reports that had piled up across its barely visible surface over the past few months.

Sighing, you ended the call which had re-routed for the second time.

Not that you were surprised.

Licht often outsourced analytics to your department here in the biodata sector of the Second Company. The Fifth often operated as an independent research unit, and seldom, if ever, took on such requests from other companies. 

While your lab was fitted out for biological analysis, the state of the art chromatographic apparatus, x-ray diffraction, and the scanning and transmission electron microscopes, were often commissioned for other companies, depending on the urgency of the requirement.

The characteristics of Licht's samples definitely fell under the category of 'top priority'. It would have helped if he actually attempted to answer his connecting line once in a while.

Sighing, you collapsed into your swivel chair, head tilted back to give your stiff neck some relief.

The phone dial tone sounded loud in the organised chaos of your office, and you fumbled past the notepad and assorted pens to reach it.

"Licht? Answer the damn phone when I - "

"Oh, hey, can't talk right now. In the middle of something."

"You asked for these results."

"And they're important!"

"So - "

"Our Captain's coming over for a division meeting. He said he'll pick up the documents."

Your fingers tapped out an impatient rhythm on the tabletop.

"Does your Captain have a scientific background?"

"Not in the slightest!" came the cheery reply.

Sighing, you switched the phone over to the other ear.

"Look, those samples from the battle site showed evidence that Doctor Giovanni has been in the Nether. Even if you don't have time now, I expect a proper meeting in the future."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Licht sniffed.

"Okay. We'll have our meeting soon. But I gotta get back to work."

Hanging up, you stared at your phone, frowning. It was almost as if your analytics had provided a result that Licht had already been aware of.

There was a sharp, cursory knock at the office door. Himiko peered in, spotting you behind the stack of papers.

"Captain of the Eighth company's here to see you. Said you had a report for him?"

Well, they worked fast, at the very least.

___________________________________________________________

The conference room was on the ground floor, away from the clinical sterility of the labs. You seldom ventured out here during the day, and the bustle of medical personnel through the corridors took you some time to navigate.

When you eventually reached the large double doors, they were open, a sign that whatever meeting that had transpired between the captains was now over.

A man was standing at the head of the long oval table, eyes trained on the various group photographs and portraits adorning the walls.

You recognised him as Captain Akitaru Obi, from the profile shots and grainy, black and white images on newsprint.

Then he turned, and there was little to no preparation for the way your bowels seemed to grow wings and swoop up into the region of your throat when he tugged at his tie and offered you a friendly lop-sided grin.

"Ahh, these meetings are kinda stuffy, huh? Are you the one Licht told me about?"

He was coming forward, hand outstretched, and you had no choice but to take it, thoroughly overwhelmed by the sight of him.

You'd heard by word of mouth, of course, about how the Captain was the epitome of charisma and strength, in spite of not possessing any ignition ability. Nothing had quite prepared you for this, however.

Now that he was standing directly before you, you could appreciate the sheer width of his shoulders, the way the fabric of his formal coat bunched over the shift of his biceps, his considerable height, all amalgamating to a form that should have been intimidating, but was not quite.

Warm, whiskey-tinted eyes were fixed on yours, putting paid to the idea that this man thrived off authority. He greeted you as a respected equal, even as his large, slightly roughened palm dwarfed your own.

His smile grew a trifle wider and you could have sworn that all the test tubes in your lab upstairs had begun to clink and chime off each other in some form of angel's chorus.

"So what are these reports Licht was going on about?"

You cleared your throat, not trusting that your voice would emerge as readily as you'd like.

"Uh ... ah. Yes. Licht sent me some samples for analysis, from the battle site where one of your men encountered Doctor Giovanni."

Obi's expression grew serious in an instant.

"Oh, yeah, he spent a lot of time at the scene afterwards. I don't know exactly what he was after, but I'm guessing you do?"

You summoned up courage you had no idea you possessed.

"Right. I think it'd be better if we went up to my office? Maybe we could discuss it more ... privately there?"

The conference room certainly wasn't ideal for this kind of talk, and you shoved down the traitorous thought that having him in your office would allow you to spend more time gazing without interruption upon this Adonis of a man.

Obi agreed immediately, and you found yourself leading him to the elevators, and to the office beside the lab that formed your hallowed domain.

You cringed internally at the sight of your desk. If you'd known who your guest would be, you'd have taken more time to clear up here.

Obi, however, looked about in what appeared to be excitement and appreciation.

"Oho, look at all this stuff! Is that a real B54 grenade? I thought they got rid of old stock."

You regarded him for a moment in surprise before nodding vigorously.

“It is! What you’re holding is actually the prototype. Our previous head of research improved on the design afterwards.”

Fortunately, the report for Licht’s analysis had been placed at the top of one of the piles of papers and folders, so you didn’t have to sift for an embarrassingly long time through them in order to find it.

“Please, take a seat.”

You perched yourself on the edge of the chair beside him, opening up the folder.

“Would you like the condensed version?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and you tried to tamp down your hyper-awareness of his breath along your cheek, the brush of his sleeve against yours.

“These samples show a very high concentration of iron, manganese and chromium, in a very specific ratio. The kind you’d expect to find in soil and residue from old subways.”

Obi frowned, taking the analysis sheet from your grasp.

“Subways? Like old train stations?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, there’s only one known sample that matches this ratio exactly.”

“Which is?”

“A sample we’ve obtained from the Nether.”

He sat back, letting out a low whistle. You watched him, allowing him to gather his thoughts. As disarmingly pleasant as he appeared, it was now that you could see the machinations of a true leader take over, the myriad possibilities that were being mapped out in his mind.

Handing over the entire folder, you tugged slightly at the hem of your skirt.

“When I spoke to Licht, he didn’t seem surprised. I suppose he suspected what kind of result this analysis would provide.”

Nodding, Obi pursed his lips before his eyes shifted over to you again.

“Anything else of importance?”

You hesitated, and he waited patiently.

Reaching over to the file in his lap, all while feeling like you were taking a massive liberty, you pulled out one particular set of stapled pages, an analysis you hadn’t been asked to run.

“I … took the liberty of running this heat distortion test. Licht didn’t ask for it, and it was probably unnecessary, but … I wanted to be sure. Some of the metallic fragments showed signs of recent heat deformation in their particle structure.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Meaning?”

“Someone’s been down there very recently. Someone who packs some serious firepower. Your team should take care when they … if they head down there.”

He regarded you steadily, and your spine straightened as his gaze wandered over your features, as if searching for something. Whatever it was he was looking for, it seemed something in your countenance had allayed his worries, because he grinned abruptly.

He really shouldn’t make faces like that all of a sudden. It was bad for the heart.

“Well, thanks a lot for the hard work from your side! We’ll put this to good use, for sure. And I’ll make sure Licht gets hold of these.”

He tapped the file against his knee, and you rose hurriedly, not wanting to keep him for too long.

“A pleasure, Captain.”

Obi waved off the formality, standing and glancing appreciatively around your office once more.

“No problem. I’d have looked through your collection of relics, if I had more time on my hands.”

“You’re welcome to. Any time. If you want to. I know how busy it gets.”

The words were out before you could reel them in, punching them down behind the remnants of your self-respect.

Who even says that?

Obi didn’t seem put out, though. He brightened at the prospect, a soft laugh escaping him, in spite of the gravity of your prior conversation.

“Well, over at the Eighth we’re all about forming bonds with those who’ll support our efforts. You didn’t have to use division resources to run the heat distortion test, but you did. That tells me all I need to know.”

He tucked the folder under one arm and shot you a conspiratorial wink that turned everything below your waist molten.  

“Look forward to working with you!”

Did he mean that?

Was he simply saying it as a formality, or out of politeness?

You sighed as the door closed, sinking into your chair like a deflating balloon.

It didn’t matter, even if he did. 

He was Captain Obi, figurehead of the Eighth company, a standout leader within the Fire Force. There was no earthly possibility of him even remembering your face once he’d stepped out of your office.

________________________________________________________

How very wrong you were.

The next encounter you had with Captain Obi was a chance one.

An annual clearance fair was being held, where a number of public and privately donated items were auctioned or sold off to the public to raise funds for the Fire Force.

Not every Company participated, as some needed to be on standby for emergencies, and others simply didn’t have the resources to spare on such an activity. Like every year, however, the Second was a standard instalment, under the insistence of Captain Huang.

Under regular circumstances, you’d be placed on duty with the second-hand books, but this year, you’d requested a change to music. Your collection of relics had yielded a jackpot, as someone had donated boxes of old CD’s, digital song archives and even LP’s and a record player.

Your excitement at such a haul meant that you’d spent hours of your free time cataloguing and sorting the items. You were sure that there were plenty of collectors like yourself who’d love to get their hands on such memorabilia.

The day of the fair proceeded much as you’d come to expect. It was a great turnout, and you’d spent a merry few hours sharing anecdotes with, and selling CDs to the people who came by your corner of the stall.   

Just as you were about to start packing up, a few members of other squads, who’d spent the day on duty, started to pitch up, examining the displays. Among them, you noticed some of the rookies of the Eighth.

Your encounter with Obi had rendered you ultra-aware of the members of his squad, and their activities. Not that you were following their exploits on purpose, or anything. 

“Hey, Captain Obi! There’s records on sale over here!”   

No, no, no, wait, hold on. You weren’t ready for this.

Straightening and dusting off your jeans, you spied Kusakabe Shinra, the talented new member of the squad, happily surveying the table you’d set earlier. He offered a friendly grin and wave, the sharp teeth a trifle disconcerting.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind. It’s just that our Captain loves these, and he – “

You waved off his concern.

“No, it’s no problem at all!”

“Oi, Shinra, what’ve you got there?”

Good heavens.

You’d recognise that towering form anywhere.

Obi was not wearing a suit today, and looked far more comfortable out of such apparel. The plain black t-shirt, which would not normally invite undue attention, fitted his form like carved cloth on a marble statue, barely concealing the ripple of his abdomen as he moved.

No, you couldn’t be caught staring like this.

Moving your gaze forcefully up to his face, you noted, faintly, that you were in the firm category of ‘lost cause’.

Out of the dim lighting of the station halls, his skin boasted a healthy tan, the wind slightly lifting the dark hair above the soft, bristly undercut he sported at the nape and sides. He dipped his head slightly in order to meet your gaze, an all-encompassing warmth trickling into your limbs like honey as the corner of his mouth curved in recognition.

“Oh, it’s you! Is this all part of your cool collection? Whoa, hey, Shinra, check this out. She’s got the Deep Purple triple LP and the original photographs of their live performances.”

Before you knew it, Obi was elbow-deep in your table of offerings, spouting trivia that would only be known to a true fanatic, while Shinra muttered apologies and attempted to neaten up the piles of items in his Captain’s wake.

You laughed and assured him that it was no issue.

“It’s fine, don’t worry, I’ll sort this out.”

 Obi waved a Led Zeppelin album under your nose.

“Huh? No way! Of course we’ll help you with all this.”

One of his large hands dropped onto Shinra’s head, ruffling the youngster’s hair.

“Shinra, we’re gonna make sure that this lady doesn’t lift a finger to pack these boxes ‘cos she’s been on her feet all day, right?”

“Yes sir!”

You could have sworn that before today, you’d never wanted someone to be the father of your hypothetical children.

Coming to a decision, you produced your secret weapon.

No, you hadn’t been saving this one for a rainy day, when Obi might have decided to visit your office again. It was just … buried rather deep.

“This one’s a real treasure, Captain. I don’t think there are many remaining copies of – “

Just like that, Obi was looking over your shoulder, no barrier of musical paraphernalia between you any longer. Distantly, you heard Shinra complaining because he’d moved the table out of the way in his excitement.

“Is … is that Ride the Lightning?”

 “It is,” you all but croaked.

He reached around you, and you were subjected to the highly intimate sensation of his bicep curling across your arm, the clean scent of his aftershave.

“You’re right,” he whispered, and you chanced a glance up at him, at the softly reverential look in his eye. “I’ve been searching for this one for … “

“Hey, Captain, don’t get carried away! You gotta pay for all this stuff and you splashed out last week arranging that barbeque, remember?”

Shinra’s oddly responsible reminder broke Obi out of his trance. He looked down at you, breath fanning across your cheeks, and something about the nature of your current pose, so close to each other with his fingers half engulfing yours as you both held onto the precious album, seemed to knock him back to the realm of propriety.

He cleared his throat and retreated a step, leaving you immediately longing for the pleasant heat he brought.

“Ah, you’re … very, very right, Shinra.”

His attempt to match the caution of his young subordinate was terribly endearing.

Obi made his way back to the other side of the table, reminding you strongly of a giant, friendly guard dog that had just been told he would have no access to the frisbee in the neighbouring yard.

Catching his slightly forlorn look at the CD in your hand, you offered him a warm smile.

“Tell you what, why don’t we make it a bundle? You can have this CD for half the price, and these LPs for free, if you help me with packing up. They won’t last long in our damp storerooms, anyway.”

You knew, in that moment, that you’d never grow tired of watching this man’s face light up as it did then.

“You heard her, Shinra!”

“Sir!”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a pleasant haze (at least, for you) as the Captain, with the help of Shinra, sealed away the remaining stock in cardboard boxes and carried them over to the large trolley that would be wheeled back to the storeroom.

As you worked, you found that it was surprisingly easy to chat to him. He had that conversational manner of leaping from one related topic to another, chaining together a series of exchanges that fell into effortless camaraderie.

It was clear now why he was such a popular figure amongst his squad members.

You took the opportunity to quiz him on his music preferences, which of those he hadn’t obtained for his own collection and assured him that if you ever found those artists, you’d be sure to hold onto them for him.

You also tried your best not to show too much interest in the way the sinew stretched and muscle played beneath the tawny skin of his arms when he lifted each heavy box with little apparent effort.

By the time you’d returned to your office, there was an irrepressible smile etched on your face, one that you were quite sure made you look as if you’d been concussed with a CD the size of Amaterasu.

__________________________________________________________

Over the next few weeks, it seemed that the universe was intent on placing Captain Obi in your path in ways most unexpected.

More of Licht’s analyses were being routed to your office, for you to undertake personally. It also seemed that, contrary to your earlier belief, Obi remembered you just fine.

Considering the nature of the Eighth’s work in the field, they were more often than not being patched up at the Second, and with the recent increase in the squad’s number, this was becoming a regular occurrence.

On one of these occasions, Shinra and Arthur had been in the med bay when Obi had arrived unannounced at your lab.

You’d been in the middle of conducting the new batch of genetic tests, this time on the species of insect used by the white clad to carry out the Evangelist’s orders. Over the auto-mechanical hum of the autoclave and centrifuge, you hadn’t heard him enter through the double doors behind you.

He coughed to get your attention, and you spun on your heel, micropipette in one hand, eyes widening.

“Captain Obi!”

Placing aside your equipment, you hurried over to him.

“I didn’t know you would be coming today – “

He shook his head, taking in the laboratory around you.

“Nah, just decided to drop by. Some of the recruits are getting patched up.”

The ease with which he said it caused something heavy and hot to lodge in the region of your chest.

He’d just … dropped by?

Realising that you were standing expectantly before him, he slapped a hand to his forehead.

“Wait, am I supposed to be wearing a lab coat in here?”

None of the experiments you ran here were especially dangerous, and he was wearing his protective gear, but who were you to turn down such an opportunity?

“Well, sure, it adds to the experience of being in a lab, right?”

Grinning, you selected one of the spare coats that you always kept on hand in a cupboard nearby, choosing the largest size available for him. Obi stepped forward as you gestured to him, helping him into the garment.

He grunted slightly as it stretched over his shoulders, his fingers catching and tugging at the sleeves. You moved to the front to ‘assist’ him with buttoning up, but as you pulled the edges together, it was clear that they would never close over his formidable chest.

With some effort, you managed to squeeze one button in through its respective hole.

There was a moment of tense silence before the threads gave way and the tiny, plastic round zinged off into the echoing depths of the lab.

Taking in the now empty space where the button had been, you saw one of Obi’s pectorals pulse with deliberate intent as he stared down at them with regret.  

“Ah, sorry about that. Can’t get ‘em to stay still.”

Your mouth twitched.

Obi’s lips drew into a quivering line.  

The snort of laughter that escaped you was shortly echoed by one of his own, both of you shaking with repressed merriment.

Wiping away moisture from the corner of your eye, you placed your hands on your hips.

“I think you’ve just outstripped every one of our velocity tests.”

“Just give me a protein bar beforehand, and I’m your man.”

“Your services are that easily bought?”

“For you, maybe.”

Was he … flirting?

Maybe in jest, or as a quick rejoinder, but you were pretty certain you hadn’t misread the intent.

Trying not to stammer out something monumentally stupid, you straightened, glancing away from him. You were well aware of his eyes traveling over your profile, but you were not so sure that you could stand up to direct scrutiny right now.

“Would you … like me to show you around? While you wait, I mean.”

“Sure! Licht keeps his workspace shut down tight, so haven’t spent much time in there.”

You talked him through the basics of some of the instruments and specialised rooms in the lab facility, and he followed along, a rather adorable frown of diligent concentration taking precedence between his brows.

When you reached your current set of experiments though, there was no mistaking the shift in both your moods.

He stooped, eyeing the insect remains in one of the small, sterile sample jars.

“So this is it?”

“Not quite. This is a related species we found in the southern peninsula. They’re highly resistant to fire, so … I suppose I was hoping to find some clue in their genetic make-up as to how they’re being used.”

Nodding, he stepped back.

“Is this related to the experiments Licht is running?”

“There’s no overlap, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m conducting peripheral research while he focuses on the meat of the matter, so to speak. We’ve got the equipment here to enable fast output for larger amounts of data.”

“You’re okay with that? Not knowing what he uses your results for?”

Turning to him, you shook your head ruefully.

“I understand how it probably looks to you, but … I’ve never cut any corners with the analyses I run. If these are the tests requested, then I have to do my part and trust that the other companies will make good use of them.”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“Except for when you run tests you weren’t asked to?”

Your smile grew wider.

“Especially then.”

__________________________________________________________  

Captain Obi’s visit to your lab seemed to set the tone for your encounters with him afterwards.

Your respective duties were always top priority, but on the occasions when the Eighth company’s path crossed yours, he’d always made a habit of hailing you and filling you in on the exploits that had filtered through to the rest of the Force.

You’re not quite sure when you started to simply call him ‘Obi’ during your interactions. It was as natural as the way your body seemed to gravitate to his, the way his mannerisms ingrained themselves in your memory, the drift of one loose thread through the air until it tangled hopelessly and inextricably with another.

At some point, you’d registered that this had passed well beyond the well-trod boundary of a harmless crush, at least, on your part. You knew full well that the territory you’d set one tentative foot into was perilous and rife with potential hurt.

It was unlike you to court danger and the crushing weight of another’s feelings (or absence thereof), but there was something about Obi that made you want to take those risks.

It was perhaps, something about the manner by which he never turned away from his own duty, the barefaced rush of sheer determination and gall he displayed in the face of entities possessing far greater power than himself, that never allowed you to shy away from what you felt.

It was almost as if you were determined to prove that you were worthy of even possessing such desires for him. That was personal, something you could process without much in the way of return from him.

Surely this was for the best?

Without the shackles of expectation, there was nothing that could prevent you from talking to him freely, laughing with him, sharing stories and bonding over the latest albums or gadgets you’d managed to unearth.

There was nothing at all to act as a safety net for a free fall you had no desire to be rescued from.

There were times, you’d come to discern, when your spirit of abandon, your reckless freedom of affection, had visible results.

You were, after all, a scientist. Observation was your forte. In this case, however, the results were shelved without any thought for implication.

There were times when you’d catch him staring for longer than propriety would normally allow, or times when he’d slip in some small gesture that seemed oddly familiar and intimate.

For instance, when physical contact between you shifted from a platonic slap or fist to the shoulder, to touch that lingered on your elbow or branded the small of your back with brief, unconscious heat. 

There were silences between words that hung heavier in the air between you, especially when you knew where duty might take him next.

The brush of his skin on yours took on new significance when he watched for your reactions, when his teasing took on an edge of gentle magnetism, as if he were helpless to the way he drew you in further with the slow, steady pull of his own orbit.   

It was ironic that in a world filled with negative connotations surrounding uncontrolled fire in all its forms, that one of the bastions of your defence had ignited such a flame in you.

___________________________________________________________

Even if you told yourself that you were prepared for it, you weren’t.

You knew full well the risks he took each time he entered the fray. It was surprising, all things considered, just how fragile human existence truly was, even Obi’s larger-than-life presence that had become a near-constant in your life over the past few months.

When you received the news that this time, he’d been badly injured during a mission, you’d all but flung aside your tasks to make your way, helter-skelter, to the med bay.

Obi was lying motionless in the bed assigned to him, some members of his squad in neighbouring beds, some sitting nearby, covered in dirt and stains, but not much worse for wear.

You watched from the neutrality of the doorway for a moment, taking him in, the slow, laboured breathing, the smudges of crimson at the edges of his bandages, the soft fan of his dark hair across the pillow.

You’d known all along that he wasn’t, by any means, indestructible, but here you were, only able to watch him, with your fingernails digging hard into your palms.

It wasn’t your place. You shouldn’t even be here.

Turning on your heel, you started the slow journey back to your office when someone called your name.

A young officer, features deceptively delicate, violet eyed, was standing in the doorway.

Maki.

Her name comes to mind with ease, for all that she’s in another company. His company.  

“Did you … want to visit the Captain?”

“Oh, it’s not … I won’t bother you all now. I’m sure he needs his rest.”

She took another step towards you.

“But it’s no trouble at all. He won’t be awake for a while, probably.”

“I really don’t – “

Maki moved aside from the open doorway, gesturing for you to enter with an insistence that was hard to refuse.

“There’re plenty of chairs here. And I’m going out to grab something to eat. Please.”

She leaned into the room and had a hushed conversation, after which two other squad members shuffled out after her, their voices echoing down the corridor.

You gave yourself a brief grace period within which to recoup your dignity, before straightening and marching towards the room with determined steps.

When you took your seat near his bed, you were suddenly aware of the exhaustion that crept, light-footed, into your limbs. 

At some point, you must have drifted into a light doze, because when you awoke, pinching the bridge of your nose and inhaling deeply, you noted that Obi’s eyes were open and that he’d been watching you.

The bruising on his face and neck was heavy, one of his eyes almost swelled completely shut, but you didn't miss the fleeting expression of heavy tenderness, hidden too late for someone with as open a countenance as he possessed. 

Choosing to put this aside for now, you leaned toward him.   

“Obi?”

His voice was hoarse, but no less vital, even its weakened state.

“Shedding tears for a big, strong fireman?”

You sighed dramatically.

“Is this the fate of every woman in a lab coat?”

“At least bring a lace handkerchief.”

“I don’t own anything in lace.”

“I can fix that.”

“Easy, Captain, you can barely stand as is.”

He uttered a short laugh, followed by a heavy wince and you groaned.

“Okay, enough of that. You should be resting.”

“Hey, how are – “

“They’re all fine.” You cracked a small smile. “You’ve really raised a resilient squad.”

“They’ve practically raised themselves.”

You fell into a comfortable silence, the air between you no less electric with unspoken intent.

“A giant infernal?” you eventually query.

“Multiple cores. Took the entire squad to take it out, but they pulled it off.”

He caught the tap of your fingers against your knee and turned further on the pillow to face you.

“Licht’s probably going back to the scene.”

“All right, then this time, I’ll go with him.”

“Keep alert. Whoever created that infernal is still out there.”

“They probably won’t hit the same place twice,” you reassured him.

It’s almost a reflex, the way he reaches for you, less to keep you beside him as much as it is a means to anchor himself.

There is a lurch somewhere inside you, a feeling of being off-balance, for him to show such vulnerability so openly. You know his nature well enough, and yet, it never fails to bring your heart to a momentary halt.

Akitaru.  

You want to say his name, the way not many do, but you can’t, not yet. You still haven’t earned the right.

Instead, you take his hand, registering the heaviness of it. You trace over the hardened knuckles with your thumb, allowing the calluses on his palm to catch on your own skin.

This is a hand that knows the weight of taking a life, and in doing so, releases suffering beyond measure.

Without much thought, you tuck your hair behind one ear and stoop, pressing your lips to the top of his fingers. You let the contact linger for as long as the message needs to be conveyed, noting the slight catch in his breathing, and then you’re standing, making your way to the door.

You’re not sure if he calls out to you, but you know that you can’t look back.

You’re nowhere near as brave as he is.

________________________________________________________

Two days later, you were sorting through the mass of analytics to be forwarded to Licht in your office.

You’d been somewhat on edge during the field survey, but following Licht’s lead, you’d rapidly become absorbed in obtaining samples from the battlefield. There was, indeed, a plethora of new data to process.

Stacking another set of gas chromatography results in their respective folder, you stood to stretch your back when you heard a commotion out in the hallway.

The door to your office swung open and hit the wall with a smack.

Obi’s imposing form filled the entryway. 

Behind him, Shinra and Arthur, who had also been recuperating in the rooms below, jostled each other as they attempted to look past his elbow.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Should any of you be up?”

“See, I told you that we shouldn’t – “

Shinra hissed, interrupted by Arthur’s shove.

Obi folded his arms and regarded you sternly, the kind of look he’d use for reprimanding a junior officer.

“Why didn’t you come see me when you got back?”

Arthur raised a hand.

“Because she reports to Captain Huang, not – “

This time, Shinra stepped on his foot.

You shoved your hands awkwardly into your coat pockets.

“Uh … caught up in running some samples?”

“That’s not an excuse! When you return from site, you need to report back.”

“Now, hold on – “

“And you just … kissed my hand like a … a fairy prince and hoofed outta there!”

“Holy Sol, lower your voice!”

Arthur looked dumbstruck.

“She … but … chivalry is … “

Your ears were about to undergo their own form of combustion.

“All right, I admit that I could have handled that better.”

Obi’s bandaged hand was now propped on his hip.

“That’s right. At least let a guy know you think he’s hot before you pull a stunt like that.”

“Wha – That’s not – “

Shinra snapped to attention as if he was undergoing inspection.

“With all due respect ma’am, please admit that Captain Obi is the hottest man in the eight divisions!”

“Oho!” Obi slapped his shoulder, “Always a hype man, Shinra.”

What on earth –

No. No, this was a test of your will, and perhaps, your sanity.

Inhaling sharply, you matched Shinra’s posture.

“Captain Obi!”

He raised his eyes to yours, full of that proud, gentle kindling you realised he’d never tried to conceal.

“You’re the hottest man in the eight divisions!”

The grin that split his face could probably have given rise to a new sun faster than the white clad’s machinations.

“You’re pretty hot stuff yourself, Miss Analyst.”

He raised an arm, leaning his elbow on the doorframe, eyelids lowering slightly, and suddenly your breathing felt a trifle laboured.

“Take you out for dinner at six?”

“Ask me again when you can actually hold chopsticks.”

 _______________________________________________________

Contrary to the assumptions of many of your colleagues, you did know how to dress for a date.

When you were sure that Obi had fully recovered, and had a day off, almost two weeks had passed since the rather bizarre confrontation in your office.

True to his word, he made sure that he confirmed your meeting.

Logically speaking, you knew that you had no reason to be nervous at all, considering the man you were going to be spending the day with. Obi would be sure to put you at ease almost immediately, and it would, in all probability, be a relaxed and informal outing.

The coil in your abdomen was more the effect of anticipation and excitement. You could hardly believe that this was going to occur.

You’d arranged to meet Obi at the central square not far from the Eighth’s headquarters. By the time you reached there, it was early afternoon and the weather looked perfect for a stroll.

Obi was waiting for you near the fountain, leaning against the low boundary wall, looking relaxed and gut-wrenchingly handsome in fitted jeans and a striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up, unbuttoned at the collar to reveal the white vest beneath.  

He brightened immediately upon seeing you, raising a hand to his chin and looking you over with blatant appreciation.

“A lovely lady approaches. Should I ask if she comes here often?”

 You adopted a similar thoughtful pose.

“I don’t know. What does the firefighter’s manual say?”

“That I should sling you over my shoulder and haul you away.”

 “Like a pile bunker?”

 “You’re much prettier than a pile bunker.”

“You like me that much?”

He threw back his head and laughed, eyeing you with honest affection as he gallantly offered the crook of his elbow.

“Let’s get going!”

“Where to, Captain?”

“Oi. None of that Captain stuff. You know what to call me.”

His skin is shockingly warm under your touch, and you try to tamp down the sweet pang of desire that spikes so naturally as you take in the way he’s attempted to neaten his hair, the intoxicating scent of his body, the way he leans toward you so that the considerable curve of his shoulder presses reassuringly against yours.  

“Akitaru, then.”

He beams and squeezes your hand gently against his side.

“Now that’s better. There’s a new place I wanted us to try out. It’s got a great view over the water.”

Indeed, it does.

It’s a small café, serving seafood and simple, hearty meals. Obi watches you fondly as you eat with enthusiasm before tucking in to his own spicy stew.  

“Good?”

“Delicious!”

You level your chopsticks at him.

“Arthur told me that his favourite meals are the ones you buy him.”

He looks down into his bowl with a soft grunt of amusement, but you can tell that this information pleases him deeply.

“Yeah? Well Arthur told me he’d have nothing but court food, right before he ate enough to clean out my wallet.”

“Are you that easily taken advantage of?”

“By kids and beautiful scientists, apparently.”

“When have I ever taken advantage of you?”

“Hooked me with that CD … “

“You wanted it!”

“And then with your eyes.”

You still couldn’t fathom by what means he made the corniest pick-up lines sound sensual and dreamy.

While waiting for coffee, you watch the pale lines of sea foam ebb across the bay beyond, the silence that stretches between you acknowledged as a space within which a myriad possibilities exist.

When Akitaru’s hand closes around yours, thumb running across your wrist, it’s as if he’s returning a warmth you never knew had been missing. Resting your chin in one palm, you take him in, allowing yourself to revel in his presence.

“I didn’t think you’d want … this. You know. To go on a date,” you offer, in response to his questioning look.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re on the Force. You’re a Captain. I thought you might not have much time for things like this.”

He is silent for a moment, staring out across the placid water. The wind stirs the stray locks of dark hair that are already curling out of their neatened state. He tugs your hand a little closer to him across the varnished surface of the table.

“I mean … you’re right, in a way. I haven’t paid too much attention to relationships. And the job itself is pretty high risk.”

He turns his gaze on you, earnest and searching.

“But you know … I like seeing the people around me safe and happy. What’s the Force safeguarding if it isn’t something like this? Just being able to sit by the sea with someone you care about and have a good meal. It’s worth it, right? I like being alive, and I like that you’re here with me, and that’s enough.”

The simplicity of expression belies the depth of sacrifice and duty you know full well he possesses, down to the core.

In that moment, you want to be closer to him than ever, and from the soft darkening of his gaze, he’s reading you with an ease that you’ll always find breathtaking.

Akitaru brings your hand up slowly, brow furrowing as his eyes drift shut. He traces firm, slightly chapped lips over your fingers, your palm, the inside of your wrist.

Such delicate actions seem, somehow, incongruous coming from someone like him, and are all the more alluring for it. 

The feather-light touch, the dizzying caress of his breath and the way he holds you in place to receive his attentions, all brings to mind the suggestion of how he could pin you down in other ways.

You sit with him for a while, not speaking, basking in the way his eyes drink you in.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, even when you leave the café.

The evening air is still and pleasantly warm, and Akitaru shifts his grip from yours to the small of your back. The steady heat of his large, open palm steals into you, steals away coherent thought as he guides you back to the familiarity of your apartment.

In your open doorway, a passage to something heavenly, he pauses and hovers before you, tilting his head down to yours in the way you’ve grown to love.

You know, in that instant, that he won’t come inside, that he wants all the sweet, heavy fullness of romance with you, specifically, before he can indulge any further. You suppose that the joys of living, within the precious confines of drawn-out time, can be found here too.    

Your mouth opens like a flower beneath the weighted press of his. Fingers curling around the broad breath of his neck, you lean into it, show him how you’re willing to take him, tugging lightly at his control.

Before the kiss grows messy, he parts from you with a soft, wet sound, breath blowing across your cheeks in a heavy wash. You take some satisfaction at the small break in his voice, the way he licks his lips to retain the taste of you.

“Go out with me again?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

His forehead brushes yours, touch tracing like a shadow up the side of your body and you feel the curve of his smile.

“Doesn’t hurt.”

“Yes, Akitaru, I’d love to go out with you again.”

He taps you gently under the chin before stepping back and away, making his way down to the street, taking with him some loose thread that threatens to unravel and spill you all over your own threshold.     

_______________________________________________________

There's no other term to adequately describe it: Akitaru courts you, in what he obviously thinks is the proper way.

He makes you laugh until your sides protest, waxes lyrical about his dreams, loves to talk about his squad, and never fails to make you feel a part of his many-faceted life.

He has decided that you belong, and you've taken the only place you could occupy as far as he's concerned; a partner, a lover, a friend.

The more you learn of him, of what many would perceive as his myriad flaws, the more your desire and deep affection for him grows.

He loves to potter about in a vest and low-slung tracksuit bottoms, singing off-key, occasionally shooting you a dopey glance as he hits some particularly romantic lyrics.

He tries to fix things at his home, or at work, and invariably makes them worse (much to the dismay of his lieutenant), after which he stands back, hands propped self-righteously on hips, and blames the original construction.

His apartment, once you've seen it, is exceptionally neat, a reminder of his formal firefighter training and disciplined lifestyle. It is, however, dotted with mismatched items he'd picked up as memorabilia, a dented helm from his first official mission, the candid photographs of his squad, a battered basketball, miscellaneous workout equipment and, of course, an extensive record collection.

He's a competent cook, not as skilled as Hinawa, from what you'd heard, but able to hold his own with basic ingredients.

It's something he loves to engage in when you're over, giving you what he calls the 'full experience', with brawny arms on display as he chops and tosses, clearly showing off.

The only complaint you had was that he was almost a little too considerate when it came to the physical aspect of your relationship.

You'd certainly progressed beyond the chaste kiss in the doorway on your first date.

When you were curled up on the couch beside him, fingers interlaced as his arm hung over your shoulder and down to your side, there were many occasions when the soft kisses exchanged grew to something more heated.

You could feel it, in the way his breathing grew heavier, the way his torso lifted slightly under your touch, the way he'd groan against your lips when your fingers grazed through the delicious, shorn expanse of his undercut.

It wasn't that he hadn't been sexual with you either.

You remembered clearly the evening when the gentle drag of his teeth against your shoulder, the slide of those roughened palms underneath your shirt and along the length of your sides, had left you clutching at him with almost embarrassing intensity.

He'd brought his hand around to your front, resting on your stomach just above the waistband of your jeans, a wordless request for permission.

You'd traced over his lips, marveling at how the passage of those eyes left you so incredibly sensitized to the light contact.

Of course, you'd nodded.

He'd exhaled, hot against your throat, before his fingers had slid down, down, tracing a line of fire beneath the hem of your underwear, to where you needed him most.

The spasmodic jerk your body had given, your faint gasp, had earned you another nip, this time just below the collarbone.

Then, he'd touched you, parting your soaking folds, finding his way with unerring, steady ease to the glistening pearl at the apex.

Your thighs had tightened, quivering, against the movement of his palm as he'd stroked you, pleasured you, gripped your waist to hold you effortlessly in place as your head fell back against the sofa.

You'd realised then, as one digit breached you and you'd uttered a cry of delight, that if his fingers were any indication of the size of him, then you were certainly going to have your limits tested when the time came.

Right then, you'd been more concerned with the way he'd insisted on maintaining eye contact as he'd spread you, plundered you, running on pure instinct as he'd watched the changes in your expression, switched to different angles to see what response he'd elicit.

As in everything he did, Akitaru was thorough, eager, ceaseless.

When he'd finally tipped you over the edge, into a golden, molten-edged free fall, you'd scrabbled helplessly at his shoulders, mouth opening in a silent scream, the pounding of your pulse loud as a drumbeat.

The kiss he'd snared you in then was searing, teeth knocking against teeth, on the verge of primacy, adoring in spite of that, and yet ... he'd never truly given in.

There was still restraint, cording his neck with effort, escaping his lips in low pants, in the hunger with which he watched the harsh rise and fall of your clothed breasts.

He wanted, but wouldn't allow himself, not yet.

You saw in this a boundary of his own making, a war he wouldn't lose against the same unfettered power of nature that he faced daily in his duty.

Even as much as you'd wanted him to let go, to be with you fully in that moment, the duality of brute strength and tenderness, which defined him in every sense, was even more intoxicating to you.

It served as a constant reminder as to what he held inside himself, your Akitaru, an inferno greater than any your mind could conjure.

_______________________________________________________

It was a rainy evening, and with the final rush of the day over, you made your way back to your apartment.

Akitaru's company had been called out to deal with reports of infernal activity in the Nether.

You told yourself that it was useless to wrap yourself in a mantle of anxiety and ceaseless worry, but logic seldom asserted itself in your mind where he was involved.

The tasks of the day fled from your grasp as quickly as they’d arrived, and before you knew it, the day was done.

There was still no word from the teams sent underground.

You reached your apartment, switched on the lights, dropped your satchel in a corner.

The rookies were down there too, in the dark.

Their faces flashed through the sorting deck of your memory. All so young. Practically kids. You knew exactly why Akitaru cared so deeply for them, for their training and preparation for the field.

He'd do anything for his squad.

The thought was supposed to bring you comfort.

For the rest of the evening, you attempted to regain some measure of a regular routine. It's what he would have expected of you.

You cooked, and watched the food cool on your plate, and the one you'd set out for him, before transferring both portions to containers for storage.

You cleaned the bathroom, ran a load of laundry.

Then came the pacing.

At 2 am, your phone buzzed.

Half asleep, you snatched it from where it sat on the small side table, next to the sofa where you'd temporarily dozed off.

"Akitaru?"

Your greeting was firmer than you'd expected. You took pride in that.

He sounded exhausted, voice rough-edged and hoarse with the kind of emotional vulnerability he wouldn't reveal readily.

"We're back. All safe, but ... Shinra. He's in a critical state. They're doing all they can to save him."

You nodded in the emptiness of your apartment.

"I'll be right there."

He didn't dissuade you.

________________________________________________________

The next few days are a blur.

The expedition into the Nether yielded explosive results, including the revelation that Shinra's younger brother was a top priority rescue target from the white clad.

Shinra had survived a terrible injury, thanks to the efforts of your own division's Captain Huang.

While the samples and data for analysis had rolled into your lab by the bucket load, Akitaru had been occupied with collating all the intelligence into a comprehensive report, to be presented at a meeting of the top brass.

Through your assistance of Licht, you'd managed to summarize the mountain of analytics into a more digestible form, easily discussed and dissected.

You hadn't expected Akitaru to drop by your place on this particular evening, the day of the meeting.

When you answered the door, it took you a moment to process his presence, so unused as you were to seeing him in his Captain's uniform, a navy suit and tie replete with the badges of his station and level of command, as he’d looked when you’d first met.

He remains still for a moment, imposing and professional, before he crosses the threshold and steps into the enfolding circle of your arms.

You hold him as tightly as your strength allows, taking in the scent of him, the crisp shirt that rustles with unfamiliar texture beneath your cheek, his warm, solid form beneath.

Akitaru tips his head downwards, kisses you, and you know that this time is different.

You almost don't register the way he shoves the door shut with his foot before his arms wrap almost convulsively around you, his hat knocking against the top of your head and tumbling off to the floor.

He'd never been this hot, this urgent in his attentions before.

You can barely breathe beneath the force of his lips, and you find that you don't really want to.

When he breaks away for air, you bracket his face between your hands.

"You - "

"Need you. Please."

It's almost as if some wild, ancient spirit has sliced you both open down the middle, flooding both your veins with unadulterated, primal desire.

Your cardigan joins his hat in an untidy pile, followed by his coat. He kicks off his shoes as he backs you further into the room.

The husky plea in his voice, the near desperation in those infinitely warm, amber-shot eyes, the way his fingers dig into your hips, are like a dozen golden arrows that pierce, dripping with molten intent, right through the core of you.

You must have given him some signal, because in an instant, he stoops, grasping you firmly just above the knees, lifting you with an ease that twists your gut in knots of anticipation.

You're now met with the enticing sight of his broad back, rippling under the confines of his shirt, as he carries you in a classic fireman's lift. He ignores your impotent slaps against his shoulder as you protest, breathless with laughter.

Akitaru hones in on the bedroom like an amorous missile, unstoppable in his intent.

In an instant, the world seems to tilt as he tosses you down on the sheets. You prop yourself on your elbows, biting your lip as he surges forward to hover above you.

"What's this Captain? Not even going to give me a show?"

Your coy smile turns to an open-mouthed gasp as he presses you into the mattress under his body, overwhelmingly powerful, gentle at the same time. Something hard, hot and rigid slots right against you, the tip sinking into the gusset of your underwear.

"Aki - "

It's almost embarrassing, how needy he turns you in the space of a few seconds, just by kneading his erection directly over where you're most sensitive.

His mouth is right next to your ear, soft, eager pants and groans easing their way out. You take some pleasure in the idea that he's just as lost in these sensations as you are.

"Oh, God I'm - wanna take you so bad."

Pressing a palm to his cheek, you redirect that lust-hazed glance back to you, drawing on his focus.

"Do it, then. However you want. Akitaru, please - "

Your begging takes on a high edged note as he grinds down into you again, letting you feel the size of him.

The frenzied desire to be bare, to render him so in turn, takes precedence in your mind.

Fingers tug impatiently at buttons and zippers. Your sleep shorts and top join his trousers on the floor beside the bed, his belt still hanging from the loops.

Akitaru's hair grows even more wildly disheveled as you push through it, encouraging him as he impatiently slides down your underwear and flings it somewhere in the region of the pillow.

Surprisingly, you're nowhere near as self-conscious about your nude state as you imagined you'd be.

In spite of your breathless urgency, Akitaru takes a moment to look you over, spread out before him like a feast to dine on.

The look he is wearing is enough to keep you wet for as long as he wants. 

It almost feels wrong, for someone with such an open, lovable demeanour to look like this; one corner of his mouth crooked in an inviting smile, the carved planes and dips of his body gleaming in the dull light, the flush of arousal on his face and neck.

Somehow, the sight of him far outshines the image you'd built in your mind. Now, you can see the light scattering of hair across the broad chest, thicker between the pectorals, forming a dark line of heavenly anticipation down the middle of his abdomen.

Scars litter his powerful form, dark and slightly refractive from exposure to intense flame, lighter and raised above the skin where he'd suffered lacerations.

This is a body to be revered by a lover, to be touched, tasted, spanned a hundred times over by teeth, tongue, splayed palms and devouring eyes.

At leisure, you'd trace each and every one of those testaments to his bravery, but right now his hand is already dipping between your legs in a remembered dance.

Placing one of your fingers between your teeth, you bite down to suppress your moans as he spreads you once again.

Akitaru sits back slightly to appreciate the sight of you, neck arched, gripping the eiderdown above your head, legs apart, the gleaming coating that covers his exploring digits.

By the time he adds a third curling, stretching, dipping appendage, you're writhing, begging him, one of your arms snapping down so that you can claw at the smooth curl of his bicep as he works you.

He leans forward, pressing his face to the side of yours, groaning heavily.

"Can't wait any more, beautiful."

"Then don't. Please, inside me, now."

You lift your hips off the bed, wanton and eager, bucking under his touch. Within a matter of seconds, you register that he'd separated himself from you, fingers sliding out with careful consideration, even now.

Breath hitching at the feeling of emptiness, you struggle to even your breathing as he fishes through the pockets of his retrieved trousers for a condom.

Upon finding it, he raises his eyes to you, warm and mischievous.

"Wanna see me get out the hose?"

You clap a hand over your mouth, before shifting it aside, expression growing serious.

"Can you do it double time, Captain?"

He tears the wrapper carefully, pulling down the hem of his briefs.

"You got a fire that needs dousing, ma'am?"

Arching your back, you cup your breasts, fingers fanning over your ribs.

"It's spreading really, really fast, Captain. Need you to plug up the source right now."

His grin is boyish, delectable, even as his cock springs free, jouncing from the motion of his underwear, and he palms the condom over.

"Looks like I'm gonna be putting out fires all night."

He places his hands beneath your knees, drawing you effortlessly across the bed towards him. You squirm and utter a small, breathy laugh as the heftiness of him smacks against your lower abdomen.

He isn't overly long, thankfully, but he is thicker than anything you've seen in your fairly limited experience, broad around the middle, curving slightly towards the head. When you reach down to wrap a hand around him, the heat of his flesh and the sheer weight of him makes your legs fall further open of their own accord.

Akitaru slips a hand beneath the small of your back, raising you before he draws you forward, into his lap.

"Easier if you're on top."

The words are now grated out as you settle on him, bracing your arms on his shoulders. His control is hanging on by a thread, and the sight of him like this, subject to your will, gives you a sense of power that is arousing beyond measure.

You are conscious of how wet you are, inner thighs already slick and frictionless. He can feel it too, as you slide along him, working up the swivel of your hips.

Nose to nose, his adoring scrutiny is almost too much as he watches you, each contortion of your features as he slides between your labia, uttering a soft grunt as he registers your heat.

Then, the tip breaches you, pushing in with a hard, slightly uncomfortable stretch. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders as he works himself in, sweat beading his brow, the tendons of his neck standing out as he whispers soft curses.

You take a moment, breathing heavily, to adjust to his size. After the initial entry, his width makes you feel beautifully full, on the edge of overwhelming, that slight curve allowing him to drag against you in ways that make your calves tighten.

You start the slow undulation of your hips, to help both him and you, walls fluttering and squeezing as you swing in a small circle, taking him further in.

"Fuck, that feels - "

He closes his eyes and hisses, holding onto your waist as if he's attempting to control a runaway train.

Somehow, you know exactly what will draw these reactions from him. There's something about Akitaru, the upstanding, heroic leader, coming apart inside you, that turns you more than a little wild.

Still swaying, holding onto him with everything you have, you widen the circle, you lower back and thighs taking the strain. He slides deeper, almost fully inside, and now you lean back, hands landing firmly above his knees. 

The sounds coming from where you are joined are positively sinful as you sway and buck, drawing the kinds of pleasured, pleading moans from him that could fuel your dreams for decades.

Then he grasps you a little tighter, drawing you against him, and at this angle, he hits a place inside you that draws out a loud cry, your body jerking, rhythmic movements cut short.

"You like that?"

Shuddering, your gaze falls to him again, noting the change, the assertiveness now surfacing, even as lust possesses him to this degree.

You nod and he surges into motion beneath you. You're not sure what he intends, but you utter a soft complaint as he pulls out, leaving you with an ache that needs to be remedied immediately.

Then he turns you around, pushing your thighs apart, pulling your back into the solid wall of his chest, and your eyes widen slightly as you take in the new arrangement.

You're facing your bedroom vanity table, the long mirror over the top giving a prime view of the bed and both of you on it.

"Akitaru, what are you - "

"Giving you a show, sweetheart."

Your arm curls upward, over his shoulder as he rubs against you, and your abdomen tightens at the sight, the flushed head of his cock pressing forward, disappearing, and then he's raising you, the breadth of his shoulders so much wider than yours.

Your hand flails in the space between your bodies, before you snare him, guiding him in once again.

A choked gasp escapes you as this time, you're seeing and feeling it all at once.

Eyes glistening, you watch as he splits you open, an explosive groan escaping him as he also takes the sight of you in, labia parting, the slick length of him moving back and forth as he stretches you open again.

You've never done anything like this before in the bedroom, and judging from the misted, drunken look he wears, this is a first for him too, perhaps saved away in the corner of his mind for an occasion like this.

The curve of him catches you at a different angle, all the more excruciating for how slowly he draws the motion out, bringing you back down until you're completely sat over him.

Akitaru leans back, letting the inhuman strength of his abdomen and hips do the work for both of you. The angle between your thighs widening further, the view you gain turns explicit in ways you cannot process.

There, you can see him, the slow rise of his pelvis impaling you, labia pushed apart to accommodate each thrust.

He takes his time in spite of his earlier urgency, dipping, lifting, grinding inside you in small circles, mimicking your earlier movements. The pearly evidence of your arousal is now seeping past the base of his cock and coating his sac.

Your head falls back, but you fight the urge, arousal and mortification warring across your face as you determine to keep your gaze on the magnificent sight he's gifted you with.

It's clear, from his expression, that Akitaru thinks this is possibly the best thing he's done since forming the Eighth Company.

The sensations grow more intense as he increases his pace and depth, spearing into you with devastating precision. You cling to him, keeping the rhythm as best you can, but it's clear that he is taking steady control.

Heat spreads through your lower body, coiling tightly just below the navel, and now the bed beneath you is slowly gaining a sizable patch of damp, spurred on by his reckless, relentless attentions.

Between the delirium he has induced, you note that Akitaru's arm has come up, bracing along the back of your neck. His knees push against yours until you're completely at his mercy, moaning, gasping, swearing at him, begging him to give you everything he has.

"Aki - oh God - please - I - "

"That's it, angel, take it like that - "

"Fuck, I'm - you're so deep - "

"Pussy so wet, so good, I can't - "

"I want it, all of it, fuck me - "

"Gonna give it to you just how you like, my - "

Some vital checkpoint has been reached because the world shifts once again, and you realise that you're being moved forward, off the bed.

"Wait, what - "

He lets out a huff of amusement against your ear.

"Lemme see if I can - "

Your eyes snap open as you feel one of his feet hit the floor.

He couldn't be -

The arm that had been propped across your shoulders now descends, hooking around the back of your knees as he lifts, taking your entire weight.

He is standing, holding you aloft with one arm, cock still buried inside you.

You're taking great sobbing breaths, torn between disbelief, hilarity and gut-wrenching, animalistic arousal as he resumes his punishing pace with no apparent effort.

It isn't rapid, simply a slow, deep rut, each thrust spreading you open to your limits, forcing the air from your lungs.

Your hands clutch fiercely at those rippling shoulders, raking up marks which he takes little to no notice off, your mouth falling open in ecstasy as he takes you for a ride that nothing else will ever compare to.

The wet slap of your flesh against his echoes in the bedroom, compounded by the close, intimate visual he is now providing in the mirror of the plunge of his cock, the way he moves slightly from side to side, churning, earning throaty, near-panicked cries from you.

It's ridiculous, it's driving you to the brink of insanity, it's tearing up every expectation you had of sex with him, and it's Akitaru all over, overthrowing what should be physically possible with the sheer strength he possesses.

Each mounting pulse of pleasure, the pressure against that low, white hot spot that sets you quivering every time he strokes it, the sweet words of encouragement, juxtaposed with how thoroughly he fucks you, is enough to rip you from the confines of building euphoria and hurl you straight into its waiting jaws.

There is a moment where you have no recollection of where you are or how you arrived there, the raw, blinding bliss of an orgasm that faintly registers as a Richter Scale nine across the quaking landscape of your body.

Then another hits you, less sharp, leaving you shuddering helplessly in his hold again. He leaves himself inside, pressing snug against you, locked in the vice of your spasm.

You hear his ragged moans of approval, the hoarse, heated whispers of how good you are, how tight around his cock, so beautiful when you come, easy angel, just like that.

Finally, he lowers you, moving you both towards the bed.

You slump forward, elbows hitting the covers, now aware of the fact that your thighs are completely soaked with the after-effects of your orgasm. Akitaru leans over you, grounding you with the comforting weight of his body.

As he moves to pull out, you realise that he's still hard, almost painfully so, given away additionally by the labored heave of his breath.

Boneless with pleasured exhaustion as you are, you won't let that slide. Your hand shoots out, clasping his bare hip, and he startles before letting out a low sound of amusement, hot breath intimately stirring the hair near the shell of your ear.

"Giving you a break, sweet thing."

It takes you a moment to recall how to speak, throat dry and heavy from the noises he's been dragging out of you.

"Dont need ... a break."

"But you just - oh, fuck."

The last was a drawn out, sensuous hiss and your devious smile is hidden by the blanket beneath you.

While he'd been focused on your voice, you'd managed to keep your balance, bent over the bed, feet bracing on the floor as you cross your ankles. The squeeze you'd exerted had certainly been noted.

Akitaru had best learn not to underestimate you.

Raising yourself again, you arch your back, presenting him with the tantalizing view of your raised rear.

You push back on him, the sensitivity from your orgasm receded to a dull ache during the brief respite he'd so graciously given you.

Shooting a coy glance over your shoulder, you take in his sculpted form, muscles gleaming with a sheen of sweat from his exertions. His hair is plastered to his forehead, peaked nipples rising and falling beneath the telling flush that has spread down, all across his chest.

What a magnificent sight he presents, and you wouldn't miss the grand finale for the world.

He keeps still for a moment, head thrown back, seeming overwhelmed, but then his chin drops and the look he levels at you serves as an immediate reminder of the fact that you're still very much at his mercy.

You're prepared for it, though, and you ride it out once again, lip caught between your teeth as he presses his large palms to the mattress on either side of you, taking what you've given him.

You clutch at his wrists, uttering short, sharp cries as he fills you, pace increasing, the bed rocking beneath the steady pounding he gives you.

Keeping your ankles tightly locked, you urge him on, reaching up to the side of his face, his skin hot and damp under your fingers.

You're not exactly certain about the words that spill from you, an endless stream of praise and desire, that he's so big, so good, to keep fucking you like that, to never let it stop.

His hand shifts beneath you, pressing on your abdomen, tilting you so that he can probe deeper, and your speech devolves into incoherency once more.

Two hard thrusts and Akitaru comes with a stifled roar, teeth gritted, fisting the blankets as his hips still their movement. He lets out an explosive groan before his head drops to your shoulder, chest shuddering with each shaky exhale.

It takes a while for you both to regain some form of movement, which involves him sliding sideways, collapsing on the bed beside you, while you turn to face him.

Another minute passes before the broadest, practically uncontrollable smile curves your lips, and he echoes it with a wide grin of his own.

"Uh ... sorry about - "

You bury your face in the soft covers, shoulders shaking with laughter.

"What the fuck was that?"

"It was - hey, but you enjoyed it, right?"

"You need to give it a name. Right now."

He raises himself on one elbow, cocking an eyebrow.

"You ... wanna do it again?"

"Yes."

Akitaru runs a hand through damp hair, giving it serious thought.

"How about ... "

"It had better be nothing to do with a power cobra."

"But baby - "

"No."

He blows out a petulant breath, eyeing you sideways. You stroke his cheek.

"Come on. Think."

“The Pile Bunker?”

“Isn’t that your weapon of choice?”

“Among others.”

It's not every day that you see a big, strong fireman recoil from the smack you aim at his arm.

He twirls a finger in the air.

"How about ... Captain's Hoist?"

"Hmm. Getting there."

He sits up abruptly, pads naked across the floor to the shelf where he keeps his memorabilia. You watch him curiously, not least because of the highly engaging way his backside flexes as he moves. 

Producing one of his LPs with a flourish, Akitaru approaches the bed again. You recognise it as the Led Zeppelin collection you’d sold to him, on the day of the fair. 

“Got an idea?”

He points out the list of songs on the jacket, tapping against one in particular. 

“Think I got you here?”

You cover your mouth with false modesty. 

“Oh my, what would Burns have to say about this?”

His grin takes on a decidedly devilish aspect. 

“That I’m a false prophet, sent to tempt you with my juicy pecs and - “

He cuts off with a stifled laugh as you tug him down onto the bed beside you (no easy feat). Your fingers stroll across said pecs before he playfully nips them, drawing you close against his side.

“So, it’s settled then? ‘Stairway to Heaven’ has a nice ring to it, huh?”

“As long as you’re the one helping me ascend, Captain.”

_______________________________________________________

Later, he lies with his head cradled against your chest, one sizable arm draped across your middle.

He is drifting off to sleep, combined exhaustion from the long hours at work, the high-stakes meetings and the mission that the Eighth Company was still recovering from (and the sex), all working hand in hand to transport him to the softer world of dreams.

You card your hand through his hair, now freshly washed, and remember a time when his presence wasn't a constant.

That time seems so distant now, when he's here, heated skin against yours, breath fanning across your throat, the solid, vital weight of him pressed against you.

Even with the state of the country as it was, torn apart by forces yet unknown, with the risks he took every day as part of his job, you know that Akitaru was meant for this, for returning to his squad, and to you, where he was safe, warm, treasured and loved.

For every other uncertainty you faced, this was one scientifically verifiable conclusion that you'd stake your reputation on.

After all, you'd barely scratched the surface of exploring every possibility laid out before you both, like a road fabricated from gold, and the 'Stairway to Heaven' wasn't even the half of it.

_________________________________________________________

Bonus: A list of sex position names that @radish-breath and I brainstormed for this fic:

Obi One

Drill Tower

Heave Hoe

Bambi Bucket

Towering Inferno

Tower of Babble

Core Blaster

Adolla Squirt

Doppelbanger

High Rise invasion

The 9th Pillar

[soup-after-dark]

Just finished reading this and I'm actually swooning. Like I'm lightheaded, genuinely. Also my phone is on 3% so I'm gonna be RUSHING to get all my thoughts down. But you know what, that's just an accurate representation of how UNHINGED this fic made me. I need to put the rest of this under a cut because it's just a mess. I'm so sorry OP.

I knew this was gonna be peak the second you nailed Lichts' characterization. Because when even the goddamn background characters are a 10 outta 10 portrayal? Oh my god. You KNOW shit is about to go down 😍😍😍

Aaaaaaaand I was proven absolutely right. I can't get over how good this was. Good is actually not a strong enough word. This was amazing, incredible, fantastic! There are not nearly enough Obi x reader fics in the world, but this beautiful fic almost singlehandedly makes up for all of the ones we're missing out on. It scratched every previously-insatiable itch that I have for this man, and then some. I've been searching for years and this was well worth the wait!!

One of my greatest joys in life is smut that's not afraid to get a bit goofy. And you absolutely nailed it with this - exactly what I hope for and completely in character for him. Like this man is a DORK and it's one of the sexiest things about him. I will fight anyone on this. He ABSOLUTELY WOULD BE MAKING FIREMAN PUNS in the bedroom and I think we should all take some time to appreciate that more.

All the humor was so well written, speaking of which - not just the smutty parts. But the setup too; I was giggling and kicking my feet from the very beginning. It felt very true to canon, where characters will just be saying the most out of pocket things in the middle of an otherwise normal conversation. Shinra telling the reader to say Obi is the hottest guy in the eighth sent me 😂

One of my favorite parts:

“I don’t know. What does the firefighter’s manual say?" “That I should sling you over my shoulder and haul you away.” “Like a pile bunker?” “You’re much prettier than a pile bunker.”

All the banter is honestly just making me feral - I looooveeee good banter and this IS IT 🥰

The background story for reader was also so so so enjoyable to read. We love women in STEM; I am eating this up with a spoon.

Finally, gotta give a shout-out to your list of brainstormed sex position names. I snorted at all of them 😂 The name you actually ended up with was so cute and on theme, but in my heart of hearts I am forever going to think of this as the Drill Tower 🤣🤣

In conclusion, I'm sorry for screaming like a wild animal in your reblogs. I hope that it convinces at least one other person to check out this fic. I will be reading this again for sure, just as soon as I pick my brain up off the floor 🙃

❤️❤️❤️

[thesirensspell]

SPLIT TONGUE??? FISHEYE!!! Someone write it before i do. BAKAOSJWKWK BARK BARK 😩

Ngl this & the gojo universe has been in my head all morning & now i wanna do a gojoverse series

Art by calypso.ice on tiktok/insta

[slutsenpai]

轟燈矢 ⸻ coming apart at the seams × todoroki tōya ⏾ʾʾ dabi

❥ happy valentine’s day !! dabi has a difficult time cumming after all of the damage that his flames have done to his body :c

content. f!reader, helping your sweet boy cum because he needs it and deserves it, hj, slight femdom before he fucks it out of you, oral (m&f!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, praise, piercings

and he has no idea why the fuck he confided in you about this — it’s something that he was never going to tell anyone. like, he would literally rather go the rest of his life without ever being able to bust another nut instead of getting any sort of help, if it meant not having to speak a single word of it to a doctor. and the fact that he would tell you, someone that he has to face every day, is unfathomable.

but here you are, and he’s splayed out on your big, comfy bed that smells like lavender and fresh laundry and you, letting you gently coax him out of his shell with your pretty little hands all over his big cock.

and his piercings — they’re gorgeous, and they’re all over. aside from the ones on his ears and nose, he has a tongue stud, the prettiest nipple barbells, navel piercing, a heart-shaped dermal that sits right above his trimmed pubic hair, and a frenum ladder that makes you drool just from looking at it. you’re gonna get your tongue on each and every one of those pieces of metal, gonna make him feel loved and appreciated and so, so good.

but he’s so insecure that he doesn’t even want your mouth on him. you’re too fucking perfect, too soft. you shouldn’t even be touching a disgusting freak like him, much less pleasing him. honestly, you’re in love with him, but any time that you show it, he convinces himself that it’s his affection-deprived mind trying to make something out of nothing.

and god, he wants to cum so fucking bad. it’s been weeks, if not months.

“t-that feels … mmph, fuck.” dabi moans, and it sounds so pretty.

he has one hand in your hair, the other on his chest before sliding it down his scarred, toned body, then sinking his matte black nails into your sheets, hissing through clenched teeth.

he’s anxious, but he’s still closer than he’s been in weeks; his entire body is molten, flames flickering against his palms and threatening to ignite because he has so little control right now .. it’s all yours, and you’re loving every second of it.

“such a pretty face.” you purr, looking up into his eyes through your long lashes while you stroke his long, gorgeous cock.

the pale skin on his face flushes and he looks away for just a second, pouting and drawing his brows. “s-stop — don’t say that.”

“why?”

“because it’s not true.”

“dabi, baby, you’re a pretty, gorgeous thing.”

strangely enough, that was more comforting because you called him a pretty thing instead of a pretty boy. there are tears in his gorgeous aquamarine eyes, mixing with the small rivulets of blood that catch along his stitches and tint his thick, snowy lashes a soft, diffused red. he looks like an angel.

“f-fine, I’m close, just please—”

“I told you to shut up and take it, did I not?”

“yes, mama…” he pouts, before crying out, “oh! fuck,” feeling you suck him into your heavenly mouth again. you slide down his shaft, your soft lips gently catching on his piercings and it makes him shiver in your hold. you have to use your hand to stroke his base because it won’t fit, your other hand kneading and cradling his balls. he’s a wreck, both hands now holding your face as you do your best to deepthroat him.

“oh my god..” he’s whining and you have to pull back for air, stroking his length as quickly as you can while you watch him carefully. his hips are chasing your touch off of the bed, eyes crossing as he finally, finally cums all over himself. you catch some in your mouth, but it’s too much, painting his perfect abs in thick, glistening white. the poor thing is shaking, practically crying as he tries to come down.

“good boy, dabi.” you praise him, still gently pumping his cock, leaning forward to lick up every drop of cum and it tastes so fucking good.

“call me toya, please.” and his voice is shaking.

“t… toya?”

he looks at you with the biggest, sweetest puppy eyes, his brows drawn from pleasure, whimpering deep in his chest. that’s his actual name? huh, cute.

you kiss around his navel piercing, humming against his warm skin. “yeah, toya? you did such a good job, baby. are you feeling better?”

he nods eagerly, abruptly saying, “I can keep going, I need more of you.”

“yeah? you’re certain it’s not too much?”

“it’s not enough … I’ve never even come close to feeling this good, baby, please, I need you.”

“you don’t have to beg for it, I just wanna take care of you, okay?” your voice is so honeyed and sweet, and you’re saying exactly what he wants to hear.

“then let me eat that pretty cunt, baby, please, I wanna taste you.”

“yeah? you like eating pussy?”

“I love it.”

he sounds confident but he swallows nervously, gently guiding you onto his face. his chest is still sticky with his cum, but he doesn’t even care. you have an insane hold on him, and he’s completely lost in you.

“mmm, toya, fuck.” you mewl, one hand in his hair and the other on his thigh. you’re perfectly arched back over his body, just the right angle to grind your clit on his tongue and that little metal ball, gently rolling your hips up and down while you both gasp and moan into the cold air.

he tongue fucks you just enough to fit two of his fingers, and you’re close, but you need him inside of you. you forgo the impending orgasm for something even better — his big, perfect cock stuffing you absolutely full.

“just fuck me, please.” you cry, pulling him away from your aching pussy by his thick, snowy tresses.

“oh, was it bad? I haven’t done that in a while—” he pouts, softly kissing your inner thigh.

“no, baby, not at all, i just need to feel you.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you—”

“toya.”

and that’s all he needed to hear. he sits up as you eagerly adjust to straddle him, laying your face against his warm chest, rubbing your glossy, soaked pussy against his tip. he shushes you softly as you whimper and whine, spreading you with his hands on your ass to help your tight pussy slide down onto him. his tip catches, and then his piercings — his cock is perfectly shaped, and the cool, smooth metal makes him feel like a living sex toy. the feeling is breathtaking, literally.

“toya, god, you feel so fucking good.”

( he whines whenever you say his name. )

you sigh in content once you’re seated fully, sucking on his neck as you slowly pull yourself up and back down, setting a languid pace that makes dabi’s head spin. you rotate your hips just enough so that you can feel each and every one of the barbels on his ladder piercing with each bounce, threading your hands through his soft, silky hair just to keep yourself grounded.

“you feel like heaven, baby, so good for me … I don’t deserve you.” he whispers in your ear between soft grunts and groans, lightly sinking his perfect teeth into your neck just to taste your skin. you whine and keen into him, riding his thick cock a bit harder now.

the dermal piercing on his pelvis bumps against your clit with each impact, making you want to melt into him and never let go. it’s like a soft little kiss with every drop of your hips to reward you for how good you’re riding him, and the added stimulation is pulling you even closer to the edge.

you’re both a mess, just kissing and panting and crying, with both of his big, pretty hands on your ass to help you keep pace. you pull away to flick your tongue against one of his cute, pink nipples, gently sucking the barbel into your mouth and he moans like a bitch in heat.

you do the same to the other side, and he almost cums right then with a deep, shuddering breath, but there’s no way that he’s going to let himself cum a second time before you do even once. he locks his hands around your waist and finally decides to take control. dabi doesn’t even pull out as he lays you down, sitting up on his haunches with one hand holding your hip.

you cross your ankles around his slutty waist, bringing him just a bit closer. his thumb searches for your clit, and his touch feels so much better than the pelvic piercing. it makes your back arch off of the bed so pretty, and dabi leans over you, his free hand stabilizing himself on the mattress by your hips while he fucks you even harder.

each push and pull has your tight pussy holding onto him for dear life. you can feel every ridge of him, be it his veins or the metal, as he desperately drags himself through your warm, velvety walls. his strokes feel ethereal, and his tip grazes your cervix if he gets just the right angle.

dabi is silently in awe of the perfect expanses of your soft skin, and he almost wants to dig his nails in to ruin it, to create bloody red tracks amidst the silken canvas but it’s you — and you’re allowed to be perfect, even if nothing else is … even if he wants to destroy absolutely everything else.

“god, you look so fucking pretty on my cock … my perfect angel girl.” he exhales, readjusting his hips upwards so that his tip hits your sweet spot. “I’m already so fucking close again, baby, doin’ so good for me.”

your toes curl and you nod, just letting yourself feel everything. “just like that, toya, just a little bit harder, you won’t break me, I can take it — o-oh!” and god, is he desperately obeying every single one of your words, just trying to make you feel good, to feel your pretty cunt squeeze and flutter around his big cock when you finally cum for him.

all of your nerves are buzzing, your stomach in scalding knots as the pressure continues to build. you’re close, but it’s not until he lays one of his palms flat across your pelvis to feel himself moving inside of you that your body can’t take it anymore. dabi is pressing on that little squishy patch from both inside and out, which makes you cum with a loud, unrestrained cry.

“oh my god, so pretty.” he’s practically whimpering, settling as deeply inside of you as physically possible, grinding that little heart-shaped piercing against your clit while your pussy soaks all over his cock, but you wrap your hands around his back and pull him in.

“keep fucking me until you cum again, I need it inside.” you tell him, and it’s way more intimate than you intend. you’re friends, but it’s not like your relationship will ever be the same after this. not when you make each other feel this good, not when you’re the first partner to ever make him cum, and it was so easy for you.

“you’re so fucking good to me.” he kisses you again ; it’s messy and heated, no thinking, just satiating his need to taste you.

it’s a lot, it’s too much, but you need him to feel good, and you need him to stuff your pussy full of his cream. the overstimulation is almost numbing, and you feel like you’re floating in a warm, gentle ocean while dabi’s body laps against you just like waves hitting the sand.

“fuck! gripping me so tight like you were fucking made for me, doll, your pussy is too fucking perfect, shit, I can’t—”

“cum, toya.”

he shivers in your hold, groaning into your mouth as you feel thick, hot ropes flood your cunt. he pulls away to rest his face in your neck and a shimmery, sticky line of spit briefly connects your lips. he’s panting, trying to collect himself while he listens to your breathing and you play with his hair, but he can’t stop shaking, it’s too much.

“that’s it, baby, good boy.” you shush him and he whines, nearly collapsing on top of you before pulling you into his arms. he brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your blushed cheeks.

you’re quiet for a few moments, just feeling him against you, letting him come down, gently running your fingertips along the stitches near his jaw .. but you can’t stop yourself from teasing him just a bit : “you’re buying the plan b.”

( this was only supposed to be a handjob .. and possibly head if that didn’t work … )

“hm? yeah, I guess we better stock up.”

“toya!” you whine, pouting so cutely that he has to kiss you. “sorry, sorry .. I’ll pull out next time.” he relents, feeling slightly guilty. you sigh, but you’re not actually annoyed, smiling when you look over at him. “fiine, I’ll refill my birth control just for you, pretty thing.”

先輩 ⸻ written by senpai with love

notes. I worked really hard to have this ready for valentine’s day, so I hope that u liked it :3 bakugo, kirishima, megumi, and yuji fics soon !! if you liked this, please consider reading my ↬ dabi headcanons :D

( I love love love love him and writing about him !! )

[ @slutsenpai ⨯ my masterlist ] — likes, reblogs & comments much appreciated! ◟♡ do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing anywhere for any reason

[soup-after-dark]

So the image of Dabi's eyelashes tinged red from his own bloody tears will live rent-free in my mind forever now 🫠 Thank you for what you've done; this is a gift lol

The whole concept of this fic is so sweet, and so hot. I'm melting into the floor, actually ❤️ I just want to wrap this crispy chicken nugget man in a big blanket. And then give him a hug 😭

[soup-after-dark]

Hmm the last three things I've reblogged on this account have all been art of shirtless men. Should I reevaluate my life choices?...Probably not

[paperapplesxyz]

thirst trap caleb............ yea

[eth5real1]

Best Duo

[reinnnyz]

College AU Geto with piercings - he def has a few more hidden ones…

[johnknowswhathedid]

"why are his fans so thirsty-" because that emo twunk is flying around in a a leather harness, what did you expect???

[alizha]

On the mat

synopsis: You sign up for a beginners yoga class at your gym. The instructor is not what you expected. featuring: yoga instructor!levi ackerman x fem!reader word count: 4.2k contents: N/SFW, 2nd person pov, no use of y/n, modern au, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected piv sex, inappropriate use of yoga poses a/n: this was born from this little idea/headcanon thing a while back

⁀➷ read it on ao3 | masterlist

It was impossible not to notice that one fitness trainer at the gym you signed up for last month. He was compact and ridiculously sculpted. He looked like he was made of solid lean muscle. He could probably throw a 6’2 dude onto a mat without breaking a sweat.

You’d seen him around the gym in passing, wrapping his hands with tape or holding pads while some poor soul attempted to perform a side kick to his standard. His presence was definitely a highlight of your new membership. You even bent over backwards trying to subtly read his name from the tag dangling from his lanyard—Levi.

He taught some of the classes, too. Of course, the thought of joining a Muay Thai class, or whatever combat-related thing he led, just to nab him as an instructor was a little intimidating for your tastes. You ended up signing up for beginner yoga instead, feeling that it was a safer option.

The evening of your first class, you stepped through the studio door, feeling mildly proud of yourself for showing up early wearing a tatty oversized T-shirt and some comfortable leggings, and instantly stopped dead in your tracks. There, at the front of the room, stood Levi himself, barefoot and stretching in a fitted black sweat-wicking shirt.

“Oh, sorry,” you said as he looked up, cheeks warming. “I must be in the wrong place.”

Because, of course you were in the wrong place. You had been expecting an instructor with a ponytail and flowing linen pants, maybe a beaded bracelet. It didn’t even cross your mind that Levi would be the right man.

“You here for beginner yoga?” he asked before you could completely turn on your heel.

“Yes?” you said hesitantly.

He stood, raising one eyebrow. “You’re not lost. Grab a spot. Class starts soon.”

The class went about as well as you could have expected. You wobbled on your mat near the back of the class as Levi ran everyone through a relatively simple flow, consisting mostly of poses you’d seen before. Cat-cow, downward dog, cobra.

He made them all look easy as he demonstrated. Then, he’d occasionally walk through the room to inspect and adjust people’s poses. He seemed to be keeping an extra eye on you, stopping during nearly every pose to correct one thing or another. Your shoulders during Warrior I, your knees during Trikonasana.

Maybe he was just being extra attentive because you were the newbie in class. That was what you reasoned to yourself, anyway. But then, he came over to adjust your hips from behind during one downward dog while you were bent on your hands and feet, ass in the air. His fingers pressed lightly at your hip bones, very nearly startling you into tumbling onto your face.

“Lengthen your spine,” Levi told you, making the barely perceptible adjustment with his fingers, coaxing your ass higher.

Your breathing stumbled over itself, pulse ramping up as you tried to concentrate on the stretch in the back of your legs. He stepped away a moment later, and the rest of the class passed in a blur of trembling muscles and heated cheeks. When the final pose came, you sank gratefully onto the mat in relief.

As the rest of the class milled about a while longer, taking their time chatting and sipping from their water bottles, you scrambled to roll up your mat and make your escape. Apparently, Levi noticed because he called after you.

“See you next week?”

You nodded, nearly tripping as you backed toward the door. “Uh, yeah. See you next week.”

“You’ll only get better if you keep practicing,” he added, already turning away to another attendee.

“Right,” you said, your thoughts a tangled mess as you left.

After that first class, you started arriving to weekly classes in your nicest gym sets. No more oversized T-shirts with weird stains on them. You told yourself it wasn’t on purpose—you were just trying to blend in better with the other attendees. But if you were trying to get Levi’s attention, it had the intended effect.

Oh, Levi noticed, all right. He couldn’t help raking his gaze over you as he greeted you by the door. Cropped tops that showed off cute sports bras underneath, cupping whatever was underneath for his viewing pleasure. Leggings with the seams on the back that hugged your ass just right. He could barely keep his eyes off you any time you shifted from posture to posture. It was distracting, honestly. He caught himself watching the subtle flex and lengthening of your muscles, how you’d fight to imitate the poses he demonstrated.

Needless to say, he caught every detail. And he figured, if you were so determined to improve, he wouldn’t deprive you. If your stance was off, he was there at your side in a flash, palms sliding, fingers nudging, insistent.  All the while, he thought he was being helpful, but he only succeeded in making you more and more flustered.

“You’re putting too much weight on your wrists,” Levi told you, again during downward dog. “You should be clawing your fingers into the mat. Bend into your knees if you can’t keep your shoulders aligned.”

You let out a frustrated huff and tried to correct your angle. His thumbs stroked the backs of your thighs, causing your skin to jolt. He sighed, disappointed.

“You’re too tight. You need to be stretching out your hamstrings,” he muttered as he pressed his thumbs a little deeper, almost kneading the stubborn tightness at the backs of your legs.

You bit back a moan, embarrassment flaring that you nearly let out such a shameful sound. Levi’s palm smoothed down the curve of your thigh before falling away, apparently giving up.

“Just breathe through it,” he said. “Don’t force anything.”

Humiliation burned through you as he moved on. You desperately wanted to get the poses right. Why was this so hard for you? Was everyone else getting this level of attention? You didn’t dare look; you didn’t want to know.

Levi stopped you after class one day to give you a list of poses to practice on your own at home. "You'll see a difference if you stick to these,” he said. “Most people don’t put in the work outside of class.”

It was as if he had sensed your mounting frustration. You brightened, hoping your smile didn’t come off too eager. “Thanks. I will.”

The week crawled by. You were sore in places you never thought possible from fighting your way through the stretches Levi had recommended in your living room. It was probably pathetic as hell that your primary motivation to improve had become a merciless 5’3 gym rat, but hey, at least you were still consistently going to the class you were paying extra for.

Plus, you were getting pretty confident now. You were setting up your mat closer to the front now, showing up in skimpier exercise clothes with sheer panels and generous cut-outs, arching your back with extra gusto during cat-cow whenever Levi looked your direction.

“Good, that’s better,” he said as his palm flattened against your back during your erstwhile nemesis, the downward dog. “You’re making progress. That hamstring work is paying off.”

You bit your lip, your head upside-down and hovering above the mat, staring at his well-built calves between your legs. This position was way too provocative—him standing behind your bent form, hands at your hip and back. It was practically vulgar. Unable to help yourself, you rocked backwards, just enough to briefly brush your ass against his crotch.

“Oh, sorry!” you said, affecting surprise, as if you weren’t expecting him to be standing so close.

“Don’t apologize. That’s what adjustments are for.”

He sounded entirely unbothered, but his cock was already stirring in his gym shorts. Christ, you really shouldn’t have done that. He’d been holding back for weeks, thinking you were only coming back to class again and again strictly to improve, and the last thing he’d wanted to do was scare you off. But now, Levi couldn’t ignore that heat between you any longer.

His hand slid firmly down over the globe of your ass, giving it a light but deliberate squeeze. Your face flooded with heat, your eyes darting around the room, but everyone had their heads down, focusing on their breathing and form.

“Let’s move into puppy pose,” Levi announced.

There was a rustle as the others lowered down onto their knees. Skin prickling, you followed suit, walking your hands forward while keeping your hips over your knees to melt your chest into the mat. You felt your upper body stretch into the pose.

“Keep breathing. Chin to the mat, weight should be in your hands,” Levi added, addressing the whole class, but you could feel him closing in behind you.

You swallowed a gasp as he knelt, hard abs brushing against your ass as his hands slid up your sides and over your ribs. He was so close you could barely think, hyperaware of how compromising the position of your two bodies likely looked from the outside. Levi pressed the tips of his fingers into you, right beneath the edge of your sports bra.

“Open up through here,” he said, his low voice rumbling just beside your ear.

You breathed in shakily, feeling your chest expand into his palms. Fuck, you were in trouble. You could feel the wetness blooming between your legs. The tight leggings you wore tended to show off everything, so you had opted for a barely-there thong. What if you were soaking through the fabric?

“That’s it,” he said, thumbs gently drawing circles into your skin before leaning in closer. “Stay after class. I think you need a private lesson.”

Then, he was gone, moving off to another mat and leaving you trembling.

“O—ohh—!” You were supposed to be reaching over your head for your toes, but your hand flew to your mouth to stifle your noises.

“Feel that side stretch? Good, lean into it.”

It was just you and Levi in the studio now, the doors locked and the lights dimmed. The class had drawn to a close, and the gym was winding down now that it was nearly closing time. You were sitting sideways on your mat, right leg extended, left bent with your foot trembling against your inner thigh. One of the easier poses for you now after so much practice, to be honest, except it was really fucking difficult to hold with Levi distracting you.

He was kneeling behind you, pressed up against your back, his hands running everywhere all over you. Caressing your hips, brushing over the inside crease of your thighs, along your ribs and beneath the damp, stretchy fabric of your sports bra to fondle your tits. Your top had been flung off and forgotten, leaving your arced neck exposed for Levi’s tongue to loll out and lick a cool stripe up your heated, shivery skin.

“You’re supposed to be reaching.” He grabbed the hand cupping your mouth and guided it back to the right place, ignoring your whine of protest. “Keep your spine long and the left sitz bone down. Don’t fight it. Here, let me help.”

He bore down on your left thigh with just enough pressure to keep your ass grounded to the mat. The deep pull along your hip was a sharp twin to the ache building low in your belly.

“F—fuck…Levi—”

“See? You’re flexible enough,” he said, his breath fanning hot over your ear.

He was supposed to be walking you through compass pose, a pretty advanced pose you were certain was outside of your reach. Levi had insisted you had improved enough to get close to it, and you had actually started to believe him. Until he started touching you like that.

Presently, his right hand slipped its way past the elastic waistband of your leggings, easily bypassing the wet strip of your thong to find your pussy. The sensation of his fingers parting your folds startled you, shivering down your spine and forcing a too-loud moan from your lips. You glanced, panicky, toward the door out of the corner of your eye, wary of passing gym workers or custodians.

“So sensitive,” Levi said, tilting your head back against his shoulder with his free hand. He leaned in and kissed you, slow and open-mouthed.

You let out a muffled squeak as his tongue traced yours. His fingers dipped down to gather the humid wetness at your entrance and smeared it up over your clit, beginning to slowly spiral over the swollen bundle of nerves. He pressed his mouth into yours, tongue coaxing for a long moment before breaking the kiss and licking another slow stripe up your neck. You gasped, arching further into him.

“That’s good,” he murmured, tugging your sports bra up to bunch beneath your armpits, freeing your tits to the cool studio air. “Stay with your breath.”

His thumb found your nipple and rolled it between his fingers until it stiffened under his touch. A shudder ran through you, and you could barely remember to keep your leg extended, the stretch wavering.

“Don’t lose the line,” Levi scolded gently, doing nothing to mitigate his effect on you.

You bit down on a desperate moan, your hips bucking, thighs straining as he toyed with you. Fuck, you were absolutely dripping, making a mess of his hand wedged in the sweltering confines of your leggings.

Levi gave your nipple a final teasing twist before releasing it and guiding you by the ribs to sit back upright. “Focus. We’re moving onto the leg cradle.” He pressed a kiss to your nape, grazing his teeth along the tender skin behind your ear but refusing to withdraw his hand from your pussy. “Pick up your right leg and cradle it like a baby.”

Shakily, you followed his instructions, lifting your calf toward your chest. Levi pressed himself against your back and adjust your arm’s hold on your leg.

“Rock it from side to side. Let your hip loosen.”

You rocked awkwardly once, moaning at the friction of his fingers on your clit, then froze. Something thick and semi-hard was nudging into the cleft of your ass. Levi shifted behind you, letting his cock grind more deliberately against you, making it clear the graze hadn’t been an accident. You felt your cunt practically gush.

“Relax. You’re much more open than you were a few weeks ago. Your body’s responding fast.”

He pushed two fingers into you without warning, feeling the slick heat of your pussy clench instinctively around him. Your head dropped back onto his shoulder, a ragged gasp tearing from your throat. Levi kept his left arm wrapped solidly around your waist, holding you steady so you didn’t collapse as he worked his fingers in slow, unhurried thrusts.

You were supposed to be rocking your leg, but all you could do was jerk and shudder, hips moving of their own accord as Levi searched for that sensitive spot inside you. He found it quickly, the soft, spongy patch that made you arch and cry out. Your reaction made his cock swell, the tip leaking and dampening the inside lining of his shorts.

“Good girl. Next step. You’re gonna hook the knee over behind your shoulder.”

“Behind the—?” His words cut through the hazy fog of pleasure. You swallowed hard, hips twitching against his steadily pumping fingers. “Levi, my leg definitely doesn’t go that way.”

“It does,” he said. “I guarantee it.”

“N—no, I don’t think so,” you protested as he moved his hand to your knee.

You yelped as he began to guide your leg up, up—

“Wait!” you said, heart hammering. You lost your balance, wobbling on your sitz bones and nearly falling over if not for Levi letting your leg fall and grabbing you.

“Tch. What’s the matter?” he asked, adopting his usual disapproving tone again. “Hamstrings too tight? Still not stretching properly, I see.”

You whined as he pulled his fingers out of you. He maneuvered you forward, arranging your body onto your hands and knees and roughly grinding the thick line of his cock against your ass.

“On your back,” he directed, voice gone hoarse. “I’m gonna stretch you out.”

You barely managed to turn over onto your back before he was kneeling between your thighs. Levi hauled your hips up into his lap like you weighed nothing at all. The mat bunched awkwardly beneath your spine as his hands dug into the backs of your knees, pushing your legs up and out, spreading you wide.

“Look at you,” he murmured, smoothing his thumbs along your sprawled inner thighs. “You wanna open up for me, don’t you?”

He kneaded at the tight muscles, teasing and pushing until you gasped in his hold. His biceps flexed against the tight short sleeves of his shirt, making you ache all over to be filled by him again.

“Focus,” Levi snapped, snatching your right leg against his chest and leaning forward over you.

You whimpered as he forced your knee as close as it would to go your chest, the deep stretch in your hamstring more pleasure than pain. He pressed his cock against your clothed cunt as he shoved your sports bra over your head, discarding it unceremoniously and lowering his head to take one of your tight, aching nipples into his mouth.

“Oh my—fuck!” you bit out, sinking your fingers into his soft, dark hair as he flicked his tongue back and forth against your sensitive peak. His body kept your thigh pinned high and open. You felt practically folded in half, exposed and dripping through the crotch of your leggings.

“See how much deeper you can go when you don’t fight it?” he said between hungry, wet suckles. “You’ve never been this open before, have you?”

You shook your head, lost for words. Levi rolled his hips, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against the desperate heat between your legs, only the barrier of spandex and polyester separating you. The friction was maddening. You arched up with a breathy moan, seeking more.

Levi let up with a growl, releasing your leg and sitting back on his haunches to yank your leggings down over your hips. They tangled at your thighs, your thong underneath stretched taut over your mound. In a frenzy, you lifted up to help him, wriggling your hips. He tore the clingy fabric past your feet and tossed them aside, then paused to admire you, his gaze devouring every inch.

“You’re soaked,” he said, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head to bare the glistening, taut muscle of his torso. For a beat, you could only stare, awestruck by the sculpted shoulders, narrow waist, and the tight vein that ran along his abdomen and disappeared into his shorts.

His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his shorts next, lowering them down just enough to free himself. The thick length of his cock sprang up, smacking audibly against his hard abs. You moaned, leaning back onto your elbows and eagerly spreading your thighs again.

“Not sure you deserve my cock,” he said, wrapping one hand around his length and crowding forward to rub the head of it through your slick folds. “I thought you were coming to class to make progress, and you’ve barely improved as much as I expected.” He gave a slow, disappointed shake of his head, stroking the head of his cock in a lazy circle against your clit. “You barely tried to keep your knee up. I told you I wanted to see that stretch.” 

“I—I was trying,” you whined, nudging your hips closer to attempt to rub yourself against him. “The pose is—a-ah—too advanced…”

Levi drew back, just out of your reach. “Excuses. But you do want it, don’t you? Want to feel me stretch you out for real?”

“Y—yes, fuck—I want it—”

“Well, c’mon. If you want it, show me,” Levi commanded. “You know how to beg, don’t you?”

You writhed, bucking your hips in desperation. His free hand pinned your hip down.

“Levi, please!” you begged, gripping the backs of your thighs and hauling yourself as open as you were able for him. “Please—fuck!”

He pressed in, just the tip, and the stretch sent a shock through you.

“C’mon,” he chided, rocking shallowly just at your entrance. “You know how to push through the burn now. Breathe for me.”

You sucked in a trembling breath as the thick head of his cock pushed deeper, splitting you open with gradually deeper thrusts. Levi watched your face, eyes locked on the pinch of your brows and the helpless roll of your head against the mat.

“That’s it,” he said. “You can take more, I know you can.”

He pulled out a little and paused before rolling his hips forward again, harder this time. The burn was sharp, but it melted into aching pleasure almost instantly. You gasped, clinging to the backs of your thighs, trembling to keep your knees spread wide.

Without waiting for you to adjust, Levi started snapping his hips, forcing your walls to adjust as he fucked himself in and out of you. Every thought fled your mind as he stretched you, stuffing your pussy impossibly full with each thrust. You felt like you were going to break in half, thanks in no small part to Levi’s hands pressing your knees even closer to your shoulders until you were practically folded up.

“Looks like all those forward folds paid off,” he said, pleased, watching his thick cock getting sucked repeatedly into your squelching hole. “See how deep you take me when you’re like this? Knew you’d take me so well.”

“F—fuck… deep—” you parroted back to him, thoughts incoherent.

Levi huffed an amused scoff and pulled out, turning you over onto your side and shoving his length back inside you again. Your nails scrabbled at the padding of the mat beneath you as he lifted your leg high, allowing him in deeper.

“Wouldn’t be able to do this without all those hip opening stretches, huh? Aren’t you glad I made you practice?” He reached down to tweak your nipples roughly as he spread you so wide you were nearly in a straddle stance.

You were dazed, lost in the rhythm of his brutal thrusts and barely able to register how easily he manhandled you. “Levi—ah! Fuck, Levi—”

The way he rutted into you without mercy rocked your entire body, the collisions of his hips jolting you rapidly and sloppily against the mat. The rubbery material burned your skin, but you were too delirious to notice, your frame racked with throbs of white-hot pleasure.

Levi groaned out his appreciation, eyes fixated on the way your body pliantly twisted and stretched for him. You were so good, so eager to please, letting him handle and manipulate your limbs as he liked. His good little student, so needy and trembling. He couldn’t resist giving your ankle a squeeze.

“Stay with me. Don’t slack off now. Open up for me.”

You fought to keep your leg up like he wanted, hands clutching at the mat. Your cunt clung to his cock, heat and wetness pulsing around him with every plunge. “Fuck, Levi, it’s too much—”

His grip on your calf turned to iron, holding you wide as he angled his hips, searching until he heard the gasp. You let out a shattered cry, leg straining against his grasp as his cock ground against that sensitive spot he found with his fingers earlier.

“That’s it. Right there, isn’t it?” he rasped. He shifted his free hand from your tits down to your pussy and began pressing firm circles to your engorged clit.

The pressure was sharp and direct, and you shrieked, quivering violently into his grip. “O—ohhh, fuck, fuck! Oh, god—!”

Levi hummed in satisfaction, pounding you dizzy into the mat. You were taking him so good, every inch of him. He couldn’t take his eyes off how your sloppy little hole clung to him so hard that he was practically struggling to pull his length out and in. Struggling enough, that is, that he gave up the tactic entirely to shove himself in and rock deep inside you.

“Don’t hold back,” he demanded. “Let me hear you.”

You keened at the fullness, too limp to do anything except take all of him. His tip bruising at your cervix and his girth reaching every inch of your walls, pressing up deliciously against your g-spot. Together, with the unrelenting attention of his fingers on yourclit, drove you higher, higher—

“Fuck! I’m cumming—I’m—” You broke apart, convulsing with the force of your orgasm with residual mutters of, cumming, cumming, cumming—losing all sense of your surroundings, vision gone white and heart hammering behind your ribs. Your leg kicked up, shaking frantically in his grasp, but Levi held you meanly oh, so open as your pussy pulsed hard around his pistoning cock.

He groaned out your name as he pulled himself free and stroked himself furiously over you, letting go with a hoarse sound. Hot ropes of his cum streaked across your tits and hip, dribbling down over your stomach and glistening in the dim studio light.

You rolled limply onto your back, sprawled out beneath him, breathing hard and quivering. Levi’s palm smoothed over your calf as he watched you, cum-smeared and sticky with sweat, the last shudders of his orgasm shivering through his tight abs.

“You see?” he said, voice thick with satisfaction. “Told you you were capable, didn’t I?” He ran his thumb slowly over your ankle, enjoying the way you twitched. “Now, wait until you see what kind of positions I can put you in if you keep practicing.”

Thanks for reading! likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

[soup-after-dark]

...I should really take up yoga again 🫠🫠🫠

This was such an amazing concept!! I need mildly disappointed yoga instructor Levi to tell me what I'm doing wrong in life at all times, please and thank you.

Speaking of which, the dialogue throughout this whole fic was so good. All the double entendres had me giggling! Him talking reader through getting a deep stretch in her hamstrings, but also definitely not just in her hamstrings lmao 🤭

Thank you so much for writing this; it was a very fun read!! ❤️