#I wanted them to look like they came out of a picture book

[tusk-rumours]

surprise, baby ☄︎*.⋆ — sam winchester x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

summary: sams girl surprises him with something pretty, and sam can hardly take it.

warnings: nsfw, 18+!! fingering, p in v, swearing, shifts in dom/sub, incredibly horny writing

a/n: SURPRISE!!!! you thought this was over? lmao okay but seriously things happened and my need for sam got so bad that it healed my writing slump to the point that i picked up again so here's this!! it is taking a hell of a lot of bravery to post this so i’ll try my best not to delete it lmao, but man i want sam so bad i'm so hor— okay that's enough.

also i listened to the morning by the weeknd on repeat writing this, if that gives any indication as to where my mind was lmao. and this gif????? came.

Sam was honestly struggling to keep up with her. He loved it, god he loved it, but fuck it was a lot to handle. Couldn't she see what she was doing to him? She could. And that there was the problem. She relished in how he'd freeze when he saw her, how he'd fumble all over his words and stumble over his long legs when she beckoned him closer.

She'd been surprising Sam with lingerie constantly recently. Whether it was new sets she bought as a surprise, old sets, or even sets he bought her himself, Sam felt like he saw her in them more than actual clothes. There was nothing Sam could think of that would've given her this idea, nothing he said, nothing she said. But something had stirred in her cheeky brain a couple of weeks ago. Sam didn't know what the hell he did to deserve this kind of heaven, but he definitely wasn't complaining.

It started when she'd padded into the library in her fluffy dressing gown while he was researching. She'd stepped between his legs, pulling down the fluffy fabric at her chest and teasing a peek of the lace underneath. She let him unravel the knot like some sort of present, and soon enough he had the books on the floor, and her body laid out on the table with the fluffy fabric cushiony beneath her. He didn't know what the surprise was for, but he didn't question it, just relished in the treat he was getting.

Then it was the photos she sent while he was out investigating. In the bed they share, the camera angled down her lace-clad body. He almost choked on his drink when he saw that, quickly shielding the screen from Dean, before excusing himself. He stood in that bathroom stall for close to fifteen minutes, trying so goddamn hard not to pump himself right there with the picture of her on the screen in his hand.

Then it was the set she had on when he came back in the bedroom after some late-night research, perched on the bed. Then the path of her clothes from the library to their room, ending with her lacy panties by the door, which he opened to find her on the bed wearing nothing at all.

And then the several other times too.

She was being a tease. And he knew full well she was having more than just fun with this.

He should've expected it this time. Really, he should've. She'd been at the bunker researching all day while Sam and Dean were out playing FBI. Sam was already gonna drag her into bed that morning when she stood in front of him, doing up his tie and tightening it around his neck. She almost drooled when she saw him standing there, visions of that tie around her wrists, or even around his. Visions of those steam-ironed clothes crumpled on the floor, his bare hips snapping against hers. But not yet. That was for later.

By the end of a day of interviewing witnesses, assessing crime scenes and mulling it over in a diner, Dean decided to rest it over by spending the night at a bar. As for Cas, he very rarely dropped in without Dean there ever since he caught them both on the library table. She couldn't stop laughing, finding it even funnier whenever she looked up and saw Sam's red, mortified face. Cas had just stood there, before asking if they both wanted to be alone, which sent her into another fit, listening to Sam's exasperated 'yes!'. Once he left, they couldn't even pick up where they left off, Sam too horrified and she too hysterical.

So Sam had called her, telling her he'd be the only one home tonight, the ideas she'd get from that somehow slipping his mind.

So, yeah, he should've expected it when he shut the door of the bunker, heading down the stairs casually and into the library, before lifting his head up and stopping dead in his tracks. He stood frozen, his mouth open dumbly, his eyes just short of popping out of his damn head.

"...holy shit." He slipped out beneath his breath.

She giggled from where she lay on the couch. Stretched out on her back, her arms lazily on the pillows above her head. Her body in a pretty two-piece lace set that was completely sheer save for some embellishments here and there, with matching sheer thigh highs clad her legs up to her thighs, adorned with lace on the top.

He was gone.

His bag slipped off his shoulder to the floor with a thud, his mind lost in the way her legs shift, the way the mesh and lace cover her skin so perfectly. She just looked so sexy, it knocked the air straight out of his lungs.

He shut his eyes for a moment, huffing out a breath, steeling himself. Without a word, he's shrugging off his blazer. She bites her lip as she watches him, her fingers lightly feeling through her hair. The blazer falls to the floor, and those pretty fingers move to his tie, fumbling with the knot as he loosens it up, and god the way his veins flex with each little movement—.

She grins, watching him strip down in front of her. She didn't even have to say a word, or move, and she's already got him with his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his pristine white shirt. She throws her head back with a huffy laugh.

"God, you're so fucking sexy, Sammy," She shakes her head, her gaze turning to him. His cheeks pinken, abashed at the way she compliments him.

Beneath her amused gaze, there's a fiery hunger, and it makes Sam completely weak as his hands move to the hem of his undershirt, pulling it up and off his head in an instant, his muscles flexing. Then that adds to the growing pile too, and he's before her bare from the waist up, and the things she wants to do to him when she sees him like this.

One of her arms lazily extends out towards him, beckoning him closer. Once he's close enough, her fingers grasp at his belt, making him gasp, his skin shuddering where her fingers brush. Her fingers work at the buckle, undoing it swiftly, her lip between her teeth in anticipation. Then she pulls at the belt, glancing up at him cheekily as she drags it through the loops until it dangles from her hand.

His breath catches in a startled whimper when the belt clanks to the floor and her fingers dip beneath the waistband of his jeans, tugging him even closer. She rolls onto her side slowly, resting her head on her hand, looking up at him through her lashes, his clothed dick so close to her mouth now.

"...You sure the couch is gonna— h—have enough room?" Jesus, how does she reduce him to such a stuttering mess like this so easily?

She just laughs, her thumb rubbing the skin by his happy trail.

"You have a better place you wanna take me, baby?"

Oh, god.

Even though the bed, or even the table, or the goddamn floor might be more practical, he doesn't care. He can't spare another second. He's crowding her space, mounting the couch and settling down on top of her, his hand grabbing her head and guiding her into a consuming, passionate kiss. His tongue wastes no time invading her mouth, and fuck she tastes so sweet. The upturn of her lips and the moan she lets out into his mouth only makes his cock throb harder within his jeans. Their bodies shift and writhe against each other desperately, both of them so ridiculously turned on.

That sneaky hand of hers is moving between them, finding the button of his jeans and popping it free, her fingers brushing against his sensitivity as she drags down the zip.

"Shit," He hisses, his nose scrunching in that perfect way.

His hand finds hers and pulls it away, pinning it back against the cushion. He wants to worship her. How can he not when she looks this goddamn good? And for him?

He drags his lips away from hers, taking her in again.

"God, baby, you're stunning. So fucking sexy. When'd you get this one?" He's panting, his breath chasing his words.

"Today," She muses, rubbing her fabric-covered calf against his leg. "Hoped it'd get this reaction."

"As if I would react any less, seeing you in this," His eyes are full of wonder, like he can't quite believe this perfect body and beauty that is his girl is beneath him. He can't stand his mouth not being on her for one more second.

He dives into her neck, relishing in the way she moans, her head turning to expose her neck. He sucks and nips, wanting to leave hickeys against the faded ones. His lips, tongue and teeth work feverishly down her neck to her collarbone, teeth dragging against the chain of her necklace, down to her breasts, covered by the black mesh fabric of her sheer bra, which does nothing to conceal her hardened nipples. God, that sight was just so fucking sexy to him.

She throws her head back in a moan when he starts licking one of her nipples through the mesh and lace in long, firm licks before he's sucking with his lips. His big hand squeezes the other, feeling and rubbing the thin fabric. Then he swaps over, and she's writhing, her fingers threading into his hair. The warmth of his tongue against the mesh is just too good of a sensation.

"Sam, fuck," She breathes, needing more. Needs those jeans of his off. So she takes.

He pulls his mouth away when he feels her trying to tug at his jeans, helping her get them off quickly. It relieves some of the pressure, but there was still so much restriction. He wouldn't be satisfied until he was buried deep inside her.

It's frantic, the way they touch each other, fingers fumbling with clothes.

"Shit, I don't even wanna take this off you baby, its too pretty," Sam mutters out, his actions contradicting his words as he fumbles with the clasp of her bra, throwing it somewhere in the direction of the floor.

She bites her lip. She loves being exposed to him. In a space where she feels equal amounts safe and sexy. Her palms flatten and run along the large expanse of his back, shimmying her hips to help him pull down her lacy panties. He doesn't bother with her thigh highs, whenever she wears something like that, he always prefers it staying on.

"Please, oh—" She moans into his ear, hips writhing against his with need.

"Baby, I gotta — fuck — gotta prep you first," He chokes out. He wants nothing more than to be inside her, but he needs to get her ready first. And feeling her slick on his fingers and the warmth of her pussy is an opportunity he never passes.

And so his hand runs down her body, squeezing her breast along the way, feeling her stomach shudder underneath his fingertips, teasing above the area between her legs. Then the pads of his fingers slide down firmly, and her moan is all kinds of sweet and dirty at the same time. He gathers her slick, and she's so goddamn wet, spreading it along her folds, settling on her clit and rubbing tight circles.

She bites her lip, her eyes shut and hips rolling into his hand, completely lost in the pleasure, and the sight of her like this is so fucking sexy, he's blabbering and cursing under his breath.

"Shit, you— you look too damn good, y— so hot, I can't—" It's all so overwhelming, but he needs more, so his fingers move to her entrance, slipping inside, stretching her gently. Her mewls are like a symphony to his ears, so sweet and perfect he'll be thinking about them for weeks.

"That good, baby?" He smiles, his lips brushing against her temple, feeling the sheen of sweat forming at her hairline.

"Uh huh, uh hu— oh," She can't even form words, her walls squeezing as her orgasm catches up to her fast. He feels it, moaning at the way she clenches and flutters. He knows the exact moment she comes, from her sounds, to the way her body tenses, and the way her legs jerk.

He watches her with awe, the sight of her blissed out face otherworldly to him. Usually he'd give her a few minutes to come down, but he's thrown off guard when her fingers fumble with his boxers, tugging and pulling.

"These, off," She demands, and god, who is he to refuse her?

So they join the pile on the floor. Her tiny black lingerie against his FBI suit.

She bites her lip, her gaze moving back to him. He's so hard, and perfect, and she's been fantasising about this sight all day.

Her gaze drags back up to his, heavy-lidded and sultry, and Sam needs to see the way her expression changes when he pushes into her.

"Sam, fuck me now." Her voice lowers, serious and commanding, and Sam would do the most embarrassing things imaginable if she asked him like that.

"Baby, I don't— don't have a condom on me," He whispers back. Always a man of safety.

"God, Sam, does that matter? We don't need one, it's fine," She reassures him, her hand in his hair.

She's right. It definitely wouldn't be the first time they've done it raw, and Sam'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little obsessed with taking her that way. They know what they're doing. It's fine.

Without a word he lines himself up, pushing into her, watching the way she smirks, her eyelids fluttering.

"That's it, honey," She breathes, a soft moan accompanying her words.

He's close to bottoming out when her mesh-clad legs wrap around his waist tightly, pulling him into her. He hisses, his grip on her hip tightening.

"F—fuck, you're insatiable,"

She just smirks, breathing hard as her limbs curl around him tight. She makes sure she's got his eyes on hers when she reinstates his point, arching her back and rolling her hips into his.

The broken, loud moan he lets out into her ear has her grin widening.

She continues her ministrations, forcing his eyes not to shut and to meet hers, no matter how much he wants to bury his face into her neck. Soon enough he's rolling his hips into hers, meeting her movements, the sensations only heightened by the intimacy of their connection.

Her expression is hungry, powerful, taking what she needs, and Sam is fucking mesmerised by the way her body moves so smoothly and sensually beneath him.

"God, baby, I—" He groans, feeling her squeeze so deliciously around him. "What're you doing to me?" He chokes out, then his forehead drops against hers, his hips picking up the pace, thrusting deeper.

The pretty moan she lets out turns into the sexiest giggle he's ever heard, and jesus, how is being so deep inside of her almost not enough?

"Oh, fuck—" He hisses. He's so goddamn close. He can feel her squeezing him harder, like a fucking vice, and he'd stay with her like that always if he could.

"Come for me, baby,"

That bed voice she uses is going to ruin him. It's impossible to hold back when she gives him permission like that, and it's all so overwhelming when he fills her up, warming her walls.

The sensation of him coming inside her so deep is just so good, and her second orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, moaning so sweetly, the pleasure all-consuming.

Their chests heave, their minds still so hazy with pleasure. However, Sam has enough consciousness to guide his lips to hers, moaning against her lips, the feel of them feather-soft, the taste of them so sweet. His tongue slides against hers, kissing her like he needs to feel every inch of her mouth to breathe.

"I should've known," He shakes his head affectionately, his tongue slipping into her mouth again.

Her lips upturn against his, and he won't even try to ask why she's doing this this time around, because he'll get the same answer as every other time: 'you complaining?'. So cryptic his girl was. But god if her playfulness didn't drive him wild.

Their mouths disconnect, and her tongue flicks out again to clear up a bit of saliva on his bottom lip. This girl.

"So, this really that fun for you, sweetheart?" He asks instead.

"Uh-huh," She muses cheekily. Of course she's not gonna elaborate. His baby could tell him to step off a cliff with no other instruction and he might just do it. He'd run around in circles just to be near her.

His fingers fix her hair up a little, his body making no move for round two.

"Don't tell me you're done with me already," She giggles. "We've got a whole bunker to ourselves, many unchristened places, and I've got plenty of stamina left in me, baby. So, can you keep up with me?"

...Fuck.

taglist <3 : @lanadelreyscokewhor3 @mxilkyways @saltcxrcle

[wlwsoccerfics]

FirstDate(RachelDalyXSarahMaylingXTeenReader)

Warnings: migraines

Summary: you go on your first date.

"look at our Baby!" Your Mama(Sarah) said when you walked out of your room, wearing black jeans, a dark blue flannel and some black Vans. You had a little bit of Makeup on and a Heart necklace on.

"Mama i wore something like that before!" You replied and smiled softly.

"but you have Makeup on. You never wear Makeup! And you are going on your First Date!" Your Mom(Rachel) answered. You were going on a date with Jordans and Erins daughter Avalon. You both happened to Play for Aston Villa as well. Both of you were currently 16 years old.

"Avalon likes that outfit. So i decided to wear it. We are going for some ice cream and then probably to the Bookstore to pick books out for one another!" You explained.

"that's adorable!" Your Mama answered.

"but so fitting for the two of you! You and Avalon are probably the fastest reader i know!" Your Mom said. She wasn't wrong. Both of you read all the Maze Runner books in 2 days, while you had school and practice every day and basically only had like two hours per day for reading.

"can i go now?" You asked, blushing softly.

"yes of course! Stay Safe and If you need one of us to get you please let us know." Your Mama told you. You hugged them both before leaving to pick up Avalon.

"hey." You greeted her with a smile and she hugged you.

"hi!" She replied while you hugged her back.

"my moms are going nuts over our Date!" You let her know. Which had her giggle.

"Tell me about it! My moms are the same. My momma almost cried happy tears!" Avalon stated. Referring to Jordan. "And my Mom wanted to take a picture of me to remember that moment!" She added with a soft chuckle.

"i am so not surprised about that!" You admitted.

You walked to the ice cream shop and ordered some ice cream, sitting down.

"i am glad you asked me out, i always wanted to ask you but was scared it would ruin our friendship." Avalon told you. You looked surprised.

"really? If didn't know you were worried about that. I mean we have been friends since we were little, i don't think our friendship can be so easily ruined." You said softly.

"okay true. i have no idea what you could do that would break our friendship." Avalon stated.

"See me neither!"

You talked for a while and ate your ice cream. Then you paid for the two of you. Walking to the book Store Hand in hand. The walk took twenty minutes. In those twenty minutes you noticed that your vision became a bit blurry. Avalon seemed to notice it cause you were squeezing your eyes shut every now and then.

"y/n? Are you alright?" She asked. Clearly worried about you. Your head was pulsing at this point. The pounding against your skull felt like something from hell.

"my migraine." You whimpered out. She quickly pulled you close. Holding you. You were hiding your face in her shoulder. This wasn't your first time you had a migraine while the two of you were hanging out. You weren't Dating, just best friends back then. But she still knew how to help you. She made a quick call to your moms so they came and picked the two of you up around 10 minutes later. You sitting in the backseat while Avalon held you as close as possible. When you got home your mama carried you inside. Your Mom and Avalon close behind the two of you. She put you down on your bed, taking off your shoes while your mom grabbed a bucket for you. Cause usually it didn't take you long to get sick from the pain.

Good thing that bucket was there cause you started throwing up rather quickly. Your Mom rubbed your back gently.

"i got you angel." She told you. You had tears in your eyes. When you were finally done with throwing up you stayed in your mom's Arms.

"i hate this." You breathed out, it was shaky from the pain.

"i know sweet girl." Your mom replied. Your momma handed you your migraine meds and some water. You took it a small sip from the bottle. Avalon gently stroking your arm.

You ended up falling asleep in your Mom's Arms. Your momma taking Avalon home so she would get there Safe.

Thankfully you felt better the next day. And Avalon came over to ask you If you want to be hers officially. Which you of course said yes to.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Eri Reader meeting the Hashira, Tanjiro, Inosuke, Kanao and Genya’s Crows, Zenitsu’s Sparrow and Uzui’s Muscle Mice!

Tengen’s Crow is a fashion icon to the other crows (I cried from laughing seeing him all flashy and shiny)

Please take your time and get plenty of rest!

-You had been sitting in a quiet room, away from the meeting of the Demon Slayers, who didn’t want to scare you with the talks about going to war. You were holding a picture book Mitsuri got for you, as you were learning how to read, and you had been excited to be given books.

-You heard a funny sound from the open door leading out into the quiet garden and you looked over, seeing a couple of mice walking by, saying ‘Muscle’ repeatedly and you blinked in surprise.

-You came over, holding the book to your chest before you kneeled as the mice had stopped, noticing you as you held out a hand, “Mice?” they both flexed, saying ‘Muscle’ again and instantly you lit up, thinking they were cute, “You’re so cute! You look just like Papa Tengen!”

-Hearing your words, hearing your praise that they looked like the person they idolized instantly had them idolizing you, seeing what a wonderful person you were.

-You heard the cawing of crows, and you looked up, a smile appearing as several of the crows, who partnered with the Hashira, arrived onto the compound, flying down when they saw you, as they all liked you, knowing that you were a kind and gentle person.

-You heard another little chirp before you felt something on your head and you lifted your hands before Zenitsu’s sparrow hopped into your hand and you smiled warmly, greeting each of them warmly.

-You adored seeing Tengen’s crow with his mice as they were all wearing similar headbands, looking so flashy, just like Tengen and you couldn’t help but beam brightly, thinking they were all so cool looking.

-Shinobu’s and Mitsuri’s crows were cuddled up to you, cawing up at you in greeting before you felt a nudge on your hand and you turned, seeing Muichiro’s crow who was looking up at you before looking down at the book in your lap.

-You beamed, holding up the book so they could all see it, “Mitsuri got it for me. I’ll read it for you!” you opened the book, and the animals all sat there quietly, letting you read your book at your own pace.

-You didn’t realize you had an audience as the Hashira along with Kanao and Tanjiro were watching you, many of them covering their mouths as tears streamed down their faces, seeing how adorable the scene was with all their beloved companions with you.

[alexanderwales]

Game Review: The Roottrees are Dead

When I played Obra Dinn shortly after it came out, I thought "man, that was great, they should make a hundred of these, this should be a whole genre", and on reflection, that would actually be a terrible idea, because what made it great was the storytelling, the attention to detail, and the loving care that went into it. As I've learned from the wave of games that take inspiration from Stardew Valley, there are some genres that I only like if they have a lot of attention to detail and artistry.

The Roottrees are Dead very clearly follows in the footsteps of Obra Dinn, and while it doesn't quite hit the same highs, I think it's a worthy successor that forges its own path and helps to establish what's possible within the space.

In The Roottrees are Dead you play as an investigator in the late 1990s (1998 for the original, 1999 for Roottreemania), looking into the Roottree family to uncover some of there secrets. You do this almost entirely through a simulacrum of the early internet, with a pre-Google web search, periodicals, and checking out books from the local library. Gameplay entails combing through these documents to see what there is to search, then making some deductions to put information up on the sprawling family tree. Just like in Obra Dinn, you get your guesses "confirmed" after you've locked in some number of correct entries, which helps to narrow down the search space.

It's a good game. I recommend it if you like research and puzzles and deduction.

I think mostly I want to talk about how it feels to play this game, and what I think makes it work in a way that's totally different from other detective/puzzle games.

First, and I think this is very important, you can search almost everything, and you are often rewarded for this. Every name, every company, every book, all of them can be searched in one way or another. Sometimes it's the web search, and if that turns up nothing, sometimes you can search the periodicals, except that you don't start out knowing the names of the periodicals. And when you do get the name of one, it opens things up, because you can go searching using this new resource.

Sometimes the information isn't quite right, so you have to think it through. Use someone's maiden name, or find out what a book was retitled to for its second publication, or figure out how the thing you're searching for would be referenced. This is all the kind of thing that I find really enjoyable, and more so than in real life, because the feedback is instant. Even if you hit a dead end, the game will usually have some text for you, and sometimes it'll tell you it's a dead end with a little story, ending with "unfortunately none of this seems relevant to the Roottree family".

What you're ultimately doing is creating this whole web of information, picking up names from articles you read and tracking them down, which gives you more articles and more names. You have some understanding of these people and their relationship to each other. You get to know the history in this very unconventional way. It's pretty unrealistic, but my suspension of disbelief was mostly fine.

Locking things in feels great, particularly because it means that you're removing a possibility from your list of names, making everything easier in the next go. This was something clearly borrowed from Obra Dinn, and I'm glad, because it works so well and feels so rewarding. New here are "optionals" that get confirmed whenever a lockin of the main family happens, and this is a great evolution of the concept.

There are two places where the game let me down a little bit, and both have to do with the pictures. The first issue is that I wanted the pictures to be of a higher quality. The web version had AI images, which were a little wonky, and got flak for it, so the images were (apparently) hand-drawn for the release on Steam when people were paying money for it. And they're still a little wonky, which is surely a budget issue, and maybe a little bit an art direction issue. I don't like criticizing thing for their lack of budget, but man, there were places where I felt it here.

The second issue with the pictures is that these tend to be the worst kinds of clues. People just do not talk about appearance and clothing in these ways, and it always feels clunky in the way that other clues (usually) don't. They're necessary, because this is part of the core gameplay, matching pictures to names, but it feels to me like the weakest part.

New to the Steam version is "Roottree Mania", which deals with a crisis of "extras" to add to the family tree, those who are products of affairs. It's basically the same in structure, and proof to me that this concept has legs: the focus is different, but you're engaging in the same gameplay. I would say that overall, I enjoyed Roottree Mania about as much as the main game, even if the scope was somewhat less focused.

And like before, I find myself thinking "they should make a million of these", but I know that this is only as good as it is because there's significant dedication and care put into it, and you can't just "copy" it and expect for it to be playable or good. You need those little moments when things snap into place, when something confusing reveals itself to be well-ordered. You need puzzles to work out, inconsistencies to uncover, information working together. And that's hard, and it's something I'm happy this game was able to do.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Sooo i've been listening to necromancin dancing for a while and i suddenly have an idea.

How would the sdv/sve bachelors and bachelorettes react to their spouse used to being a necromancer who summons the dead by dancing around, maybe they could used to be a well known necromancer known as 'Necrodancer' who went into hiding because they had a change of heart about necromancing.

It's like someone looking through someone's else school year book picture and the person in the picture looks and acts completely different from what they are now.

Necrodancer... Haven't heard that word since back in 2016 when I played Crypt of the Necrodancer (fun rhythm game, but reeeealy hard, at least for me). Also this song is awesome btw, thanks for the recommendation!

I had fun with this ask as I couldn't decide whether to write headcanons more comical or more angsty, so it came out mixed, lol. Anyway, thank you so much for the ask! ❤️

SDV/SVE bachelors/ettes react to the fact that their spouse!Farmer is a former necrodancer

SDV/SVE bachelors:

Sam:

Sammy didn't catch the meaning of Farmer's words at first and thought they're confessing to him about their past as a member of a metal-rock band called NecroDancer. Like hey, another musician in town, that's cool, something Farmer had never told him. "Sam, I used to literally summon dead people from their graves with my dancing. Don't do that anymore, but still." Oh... Wait, is that true? Can his spouse prove it? No, Sammy changed his mind, no need to prove anything! Especially, he doesn't want to force his spouse to do something they've disowned. He apologises for asking them to prove anything at all. Even after discovering the truth, Sam's attitude towards Farmer won't change much (and it's kinda cool).

Alex:

Nce try, dear, but Alex doesn't believe in all those scary tales. Maybe if Farmer would have told the athlete this on some other day, not on The Spirit's Eve, he would have believed it. So the only way to prove it is to summon the dead man with a dance, which Farmer is not going to do. Perhaps the conversation will remain unfinished and the young couple will move on. Until Alex discovers notes or something else that proves his spouse's words. "You're a necromancer?!" Farmer admitted that to you from the beginning, Alex, like, seriously? Lots of questions, doubts, but they'll get over it. Farmer doesn't do that sort of thing any more, right? Then everything is fine, he thinks.

Shane:

"Don't know about these modern dances, so it doesn't say much to me, hon." No, Shane, your spouse wasn't just dancing with other members of some youth subculture, this is an actual necro dance. Like, a "fucked up dark magic and summoning the dead" kind of dance. "...What the fuck, Farmer." He didn't mean to be rude to Farmer, those words just came out in a rush. It wouldn't take long for Shane to be stunned at the very concept of being able to summon the living dead from the ground by dancing. But a little later, he would simply accept the fact and with his spouse move on with their lives. They no longer practice necromancy, have repented, and it's time to move on.

Harvey:

What? Ha ha, that's funny, Harvey now thought Farmer had just confessed to him about... What was that about again? "Raising dead people from their graves with dance?" But that's just absurd, right? Right? Why is his spouse now silent and hiding their gaze from him? Please Farmer, tell the doctor that it's just a bad, tasteless joke. Oh, Yoba... How should Harvey react now? It would be a lie if he said that this confession from his spouse doesn't bother him. He loves Farmer, but damn it - a literal necromancy! Building a relationship on lies is not a good start. On the other hand, Harvey understands the reason why they're reluctant to tell. It's- Oh goodness, it's all so complicated!

Elliott:

"I... I don't know what to say, it's... I... I need a moment." Sorry, Farmer, but Elliott needs to go outside for a minute. The writer's head is spinning from the information he's received and he definitely needs a breath of fresh air to gather his thoughts. Who would have guessed - a dark magician who mastered the art of controlling the bodies of the dead in a mad dance.... Sounds like an idea for a horror novel, except this is reality. Naturally, there would be a few uncomfortable questions, but the writer made sure that his partner would in no way practice necromancy again. Farmer that Elliott knows and loves is a completely different person now, not the one who did black magic without remorse in the past. They've changed.

Sebastian:

"Creepy. But kinda cool and hardcore." Seriously, nothing surprising - the famous A.S.S. trio of the Stardew Valley are more or less dabbling with everything mystical and occult. Sebby, though, unlike his friends, reacts more calmly to his spouse's truth, and immediately picks up on the gravity of Farmer's words. Understandably, they are uneasy about talking about their necromancer past, and feel remorse. Because the very concept of raising the living dead by dancing around isn't so much cool as rather disturbing after all. He will listen to whatever Farmer tells him and will try to understand their situation. It's not clear if things will be the same, but they both can try.

Magnus Rasmodius:

"You- What!?" Magnus went through a whole storm of emotions in a couple of moments: confusion, shock, anger, denial, hurt, sadness, anger again. When they- why had his spouse never told him this? Necromancy is strictly forbidden! An immoral use of magic, the desecration of the bodies of the dead... Even he, who knew quite a few branches of dark magic, was not allowed to practice it and would never practice this anyway! He... shouldn't have shouted at Farmer but... Magnus needs to know the truth. And so does the Ministry. Yes, Rasmodius understands everything, but high mages need to know about their 'necrodancer' past, so there are no sudden... surprises later.

Lance:

Lance is shocked, to say the least, and very, very unhappy with this discovery. The pink-haired adventurer doesn't need to tell Farmer that any form of necromancy is forbidden everywhere, his spouse already knows that perfectly well. It's all... *Sigh* Lance realises they've changed, he realises that such things aren't talked about openly, and if someone got wind of their past, the chase/blackmail would begin. But lying to him is no better. He loves Farmer, but there needs to be a serious resolution to this matter. Notifying at least Magnus or Camilla as senior wizard/witch, they should help how to solve such a delicate problem. But no more hiding the truth, okay?

Victor:

"You mean..." Victor owns a whole collection of rare books, featuring about brave adventurers, different kinds of monsters, and even schools of dark magic. He remembers the topic about necromancy perfectly, as the very concept, goals, and description of the spells in general made his blood freeze in his veins while reading it. "I dance, and the dead rise from their graves." Ah, phew, so Victor's spouse a "necrodancer". Well, it's not as bad as those who kill people and then resurrect them. Victor is still confused and worried, because... what if the Ministry starts chasing them if they find out the truth? What will happen to his spouse then?

SDV/SVE bachelorettes:

Abigail:

"That's metal as fuck!" Well, that's... not exactly the reaction Farmer expected from his wife Abigail after telling her truth. Though on the other hand, the purple-haired young woman is crazy about all sorts of occult stuff and magic, so necromancy is also something automatically cool to her, so there's nothing to be particularly surprised about. If her spouse starts dancing in a special way, the dead will start following them, right? Coooool! Oh... she noticed Farmer's sadness and immediately stopped. Abby naturally won't tell anyone or mention in conversation with her spouse if it upsets them. Still, inside her the voice will be screaming, because, holy shit, a necrodancer... is so cool!

Penny:

On Penny's face Farmer read the sheer terror, disgust and fear of them when they revealed the truth of their past to her. Considering that the young teacher already believed in magic (their farm was covered with obelisks and her spouse used a magic sceptre almost daily), she believed their words that they used to be a necrodancer right away, without any proof. It's all in the past, yes, but there's no way Penny can get it all out of her head. To the point where their entire marriage may be in question. Desecrating the bodies of the dead for your own purposes... Even after refusing to use magic again and repenting... Penny doesn't know what to do next.

Haley:

Farmer decided that confessing their past sins to Haley wasn't a good idea, since their dearest wife still wouldn't stop screaming, running across the room and throwing magazines at them. "It's not like I was killing people for my necrodancing! I was just raising them up from their graves with my dancing..." As if that makes a complete difference! Haley will calm down after all, but will still be very angry and... afraid of them. Which will make Farmer's heart crack, but they know they deserve it. Doing damn thing with corpses and lying to Haley all this time. Whether they will be able to live their lives the way they used to is unclear to either of them.

Maru:

Maru was shocked and horrified, though the picture after her spouse's words was quite different in her mind. After all, she believes in science, not magic (even living in the Valley with a literal wizard nearby, yes) and doesn't believe in the existence of "necromancy", regardless of what forms. So for the young inventor, saying "I was a necrodancer earlier" = "I dug up corpses and danced around them, believing I was doing dark magic". Farmer can, of course, prove to their wife that they do indeed possess such magic, but honestly, it doesn't get any better - there's corpse desecration involved here and there. Maru and Farmer need to have a serious talk about, well, everything, before making decisions.

Emily:

"Oh, some special dance that 'even the dead will dance'? Darling, you should definitely teach me, we can perform together at the Luau in a week!" Merciful Yoba... Emily, bless your heart... Farmer doesn't know whether to explain to Emily that this isn't what they meant, or to leave his wife in the dark, lest she be disappointed by the mistakes of her chosen partner. If Farmer chooses the truth, Emily will remain silent for about ten minutes, after which she will talk to her spouse about their past as necrodancer. The blue-haired young woman will forgive Farmer for not telling her the truth, and they will move on together. She believes they are truly repentant.

Leah:

"Farmer, what the heck do you mean you were a necrodancer?" Leah is angry, and to be honest, has every right to be - Farmer would be angry too, if their partner had only now claimed to have done this sort of thing in the past. But the artist would just as quickly calm down, and wait for the story to continue. If the revelations have already begun, she wants Farmer to tell her everything. Leah can understand them: even after their refusal to practice necromancy and remorse, there remains a fear of persecution and paranoia. But they had to tell her everything in the beginning of their relationship, no matter how difficult it was to talk about.

Claire:

Huh, Claire thought she was sleep-deprived and tired and couldn't perceive the real world, because the cashier heard her beloved spouse just confess to necromancy in the past. How strange. Well, Farmer was right earlier, she definitely should take a vacation, they could relax for a couple of weeks on Ginger Island, and- "Claire, you heard it right. It's true... I'm sorry." "......." Yup, holiday plans are cancelled. Is that... even possible? A special dance that makes an army of the walking dead follow Farmer around? It's a pretty creepy picture, and the cashier can't understand why Farmer was even involved in such a shady thing. She's scared and anxious, what should she do next? Who should she even ask for advice from?

Olivia:

Surprisingly, Olivia believes in magic (having communicated with Magnus earlier, but that another story...), so she doesn't doubt her spouse's words, whereas the other person in her place thought Farmer was crazy. She doesn't understand... Was Farmer forced to do such immoral actions to corpses, or was it of their own free will? What purpose did they have as a necrodancer? And why- What, inconvenient questions? Well, her spouse will have to answer, because the future of their marriage depends on their answers! They've already lied for a long time ("Didn't lie, just didn't say anything..." "Don't interrupt, Farmer."), it's time to tell the whole truth, and then... then they'll decide what to do next.

Sophia:

"Wait a minute, you're NecroDancer555! So you're the famous cosplayer who hides their face behind incredible video game/anime costumes and comes to Comicon?!" Um, no... Especially since Farmer and Sophia were together at the last comicon where that cosplayer was. "Awww... Wait, hold on-" Yeeeeeeep! Poor Sophia would squeal from the realisation of who her spouse really was, so much so that all the glass in the house would crack from the high notes. Well, at least she didn't pass out, that's good. But the thought of walking corpses and that Farmer had previously controlled them with their dance made the pink-haired girl very much afraid of her spouse.

Scarlett:

"Wow, so you really are-" No, Scarlett, Farmer is not the famous cosplayer NecroDancer555 who hides their identity behind masks and costumes on comicons. ".... Firstly, it wasn't necessary to be rude to me, Farmer, and secondly, again - what the actual heck." This... it's all a little too much for her. Well, not a little - too much for Scarlett to handle. Her spouse desecrated the corpses of the dead with some obscure magic, and now they've realised their mistakes, are genuinely remorseful, and are now just trying to live normally with her. Whether she forgives them or not - depends on the details that Farmer is about to tell her.

[ihaveasolutionbutyouwontlikeit]

I have been playing with geometric art this weekend, I love using spirographs! I want to show and create some with the kids and hang them from the fairy lights in the class room, like little spinny space objects.

It's been such a lovely unhurried but active weekend. The following is not in sequential order but as I remember and add it order.

Kid and I have spent so much quality time together (it's amazing what happens when screen privileges get temporarily revoked 😆). He, too, made me a spirograph picture!

We also went to the library looking for books about bats.

We painted ceramic and wooden sculptures and toys today, a spontaneous outing I had been gently requesting for months with minimal interest until now, added on to an errand. Kid painted a Demon Slayer artifact and a Venom inspired bug creature, and I painted a dark wood stained bug creature and a yellow and gold glitter palomino style wood horsie toy. Quality conversation was had with my star-in-a-human-suit snuggleupagus. He told me about something bothering him and we came up with a game plan to tackle it, and I asked his opinion about a biggish decision I've been mulling over.

We spent quality time with friends yesterday. Made camping style waffle cone s'mores for them. Kid enjoyed the big sis lil bro friendship dynamic immensely while enacting the hangs. I got a back massage that I hadn't realised I sorely (pun intended) needed.

I made a slingshot for a friend today. It works better than expected and I may need to fashion at least two more for personal and camping use. I look forward to giving this one to them, covertly, at work tomorrow. Globs forbid one of our chaos goblins gets their hands on it.

I'm still finishing my book on infinity, but dragging my proverbial feet now that I'm near the end of it, previously I had consumed the first half in one sitting (being able to read again is wonderful, even if it doesn't look and feel the same as it used to).

Started up a data table that I haven't finished calculating yet, but planning to create a graph from the results once that part is complete, but need to figure out how to display the data on the different axis'. But finishing computing data first, then will tackle graph problem.

Yes. 💛

[miaumiaoumao]

After a lot of hard work a new phone wallpaper is born Edit to add since I saw someone wanted to use it too as a wallpaper it is okay! Now I have to go outside and buy cat food and my cat has been fed!

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

the vitriolic hatred most people have for things that look weird is so upsetting to me sometimes :(

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’d like to entertain and enliven you now with the saga of my Slut Era.

I’ve always been a serial monogamist and my shortest long term relationships clocked in at three years. So perhaps that’s why when I finally broke it off with my ex I went insane on dating. Part of it was definitely just that between anxiety and loneliness I wanted to fill up my time.

This happened when I was living alone for the first time, no roommates, just me and my little cat Leeloo. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house so instead I set up dates.

Most of these were disastrous. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I had a lot more first dates than second because they’d seen enough, including the one where people aggressively complimented me.

But after a few months I had four people I was seeing simultaneously. I was up front with all of them that things were not exclusive, and they all agreed, so no infidelity took place here, just a lot of hijinks.

Here’s who was on the dating roster:

• An apprentice woodworker that we’ll call Jill. I honestly thought at 26 years old that her being 21 wasn’t a problem age gap and I quickly learned that there was a vast gulf of both maturity and life experience between us. Jill described herself as “heteroflexible” and had just dumped her first boyfriend to flirt it up with me.

• A married woman looking for a friends with benefits. We’ll call her Alice. I insisted on meeting her husband first to be sure I wasn’t part of a cheating mess and he gave me his blessing when I stayed over at her house. Years later when he and Alice had divorced I would go on to sell him and his new fiancée an engagement ring and we both realized at the end how we knew each other and it was wildly awkward. Alice was nice, but a hardcore vegan who insisted I brush my teeth if I so much as ate string cheese before I could kiss her. She was also unhappy in her marriage and was feeling out if I’d want to get serious.

• A bartender dubbed Snakebites, so called because of her signature piercings. She cooked me a steak so raw it was still mooing and some of the best asparagus I’d ever had. In our singular sexy encounter she bit my nipple and I never got over it. Really don't bite someone if you don't know their preference and work up in pressure. We weren’t terribly compatible but neither of us were willing to admit it yet. Truthfully I considered still dating her solely because I desperately wanted her bathroom. It had all black tile, black toilet, black sink, a rain shower in the corner and a jacuzzi tub. I may not have loved her but god I loved that bathroom.

And finally,

• My beloved, who I would go on to marry, who was dealing with a lot of personal stuff at the time. Obviously that meant I liked them the best of all the people I was seeing because we were both disasters at the time.

So that’s the cast of this little misadventure. Now, our story begins with Jill.

Jill was someone who heightened my anxiety. Each of the three times she came to my home she brought and left more stuff. A self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans collection of DVDs. It was like she was trying to move in. She also liked to deride my taste in things, frequently calling me a pleb when I mentioned a band or show I liked.

She was working on a gorgeous little decorative table in her woodworking program. The main wood for the top had a beautiful dapple of knots like jaguar spots, and when she showed me a picture I exclaimed how pretty it was.

“Do you want it?”

“Oh- I mean it’s lovely, I wouldn’t mind having it, but you should sell it and make some money!”

But she was adamant. She’d give me the little side table. At about this time, Alice was starting to get awfully lovey for a FWB. I knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but I also knew we were not a good fit. Fun fact: Alice and her husband were step siblings with a pretty hefty age gap. They got together when he stumbled upon a kink photo shoot she’d done with vegetables. None of their family was happy about the relationship but they weren’t related by blood so it was fine.

So I was fending off more overt romantic advances from Alice, and feeling increasingly like I needed to break things off with Jill. Snakebites wasn’t ever initiating communication and I decided to pull a lot of plugs at once.

I ghosted Snakebites, told Alice that I thought we should cool it, and in a move worthy of a rom-com I asked my beloved if I could pretend we were exclusive to put off Jill. They agreed and I texted Jill to let her know that I was no longer single.

I was not prepared for Jill’s response. She. Was. Devastated. She flew off the handle. She’d just been waiting for the right time to tell me how she felt about me! How dare I do this to her!

What about the table?!

“You should keep the table, it’s gorgeous, you’ll be able to sell it, but I don’t expect a free table.”

Silence met me after that text. I worried and fretted and eventually headed home.

There on my doorstep. The table.

It was a small little end table, reeking of oil and polish, but very beautiful. I brought it inside. The little drawer didn’t even have a knob or guide rails. But it did have a handwritten bill proclaiming that it was costing me $500.

“I can’t afford a $500 table, Jill!” I texted.

“Well you kept saying how nice it was. I spent a lot of time on it.”

“I’m not saying it’s not worth $500” (it wasn’t, it was a tiny side table made by an apprentice) “but I can’t buy a $500 table.”

“Make me an offer.”

I stared at the little table. I did actually like it, but I worried about the repercussions of entering into this deal. Hesitantly I typed back, “$300.” I didn’t think it was worth that much but I didn’t want to insult her too badly.

This suited her for the night. But the next day she informed me she needed a new bed, and that she’d take her $300 in credit toward a new mattress. I spent the whole next day basically wrangling with her over what she wanted and eventually she spiked back up to demanding $500 for the damn table.

“Let me just give it back,” I begged. It was not the first, second, or even third time I’d asked to return the thing but this time she finally relented and gave me her address. Since she lived with her parents still I’d never been over.

I called up my beloved and said, “Hey, I need moral support, can you run an errand with me?”

They agreed which is how we loaded up a self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans DVD collection, and the table from hell into my little car together. Jill had said to meet her at one o'clock. I intended to drop everything off at noon and be done with this madness.

But while my beloved and I were on the doorstep leaving everything I heard, “Jill? You’re home early,” through the door. Her mom opened it to peer at us in confusion.

“I was just bringing Jill’s stuff back!” I chirped in alarm.

With little tact and a lot of speed we left her with Jill’s collection of things and then I sped out of there like my tail was on fire. I handed my phone to my beloved as I zoomed away instructing them to block Jill’s number. I was free. The tabletross around my neck had been returned.

It was about a month after that when my beloved and I officially began dating exclusively. I had wrapped up all my messy dating threads and it was a relief to be in a relationship again. They went on a trip to Mexico shortly after we made it official.

So I knew they were out of town. But next morning I walked out to my car and beheld a lipstick kiss pressed to the drivers side window.

I was petrified. I had just dumped three girls at once and had an extremely messy back and forth with one of them. Did I have a stalker?!

Of the girls, Alice seemed like likeliest candidate, being of a stronger lipstick variety girl than Jill or Snakebites. We had ended things a bit stiffly, but still cordial. She just laughed when I asked if she knew anything about it. “Nope,” she said, “but good luck.”

I’d rather have walked over broken glass then text Jill, and I’d firmly ghosted Snakebites so I was scared to reopen communication to ask if she was stalking me. I had to drop it. But it haunted me, that lipstick kiss.

For months I was jumpy, wondering which of my spurned lovers had done it. And why. Was it a threat? A goodbye? I lay awake thinking about it, worrying about how everyone I’d dated knew where I lived, which car was mine.

Finally, nothing else happened and I moved on. The kiss would remain a mystery and I had to be content with that.

It was a year later when I finally started filling my mom in on my dating escapades that I finally got closure. She was hooting and laughing as I went over the table debacle. Then I paused and added, “And then this kiss showed up on my car.”

“Did you like it?”

“What? No! I’m pretty sure one of them was stalking me! Who else would leave a kiss on my car?”

My mom started bellowing with laughter. “I did!” She wheezed.

Apparently. My mother had been driving by my place. And decided that a cute little gesture would be to leave me a kiss. And then decided to never mention it to me even though she’s never done anything like that previously.

“It scared the crap out of me!” I yelled while she collapsed with helpless laughter. “I thought I had a stalker! How could I possibly have known that was you?!”

“How could I have known you’d just broken up with three girls at once?” She wheezed in rejoinder and like. Fair play.

So that’s how my mom convinced me I had a stalker and I got out of buying a $500 table.

[cheriecoke]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

[saintobio]

RIDE OR DIE .ᐟ

in a world where horsepower meets heartstrings, and bookstore meet-cutes lead to motorcycle mishaps, you soon realize that opposites do attract in ways that blur the line between fiction and reality.

▞▞ PAIRINGS. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

▞▞ GENRE. fluff, smut, established relationship, biker boy x book girl au, 18+

▞▞ TAGS. biker!kuna, backpack!reader, profanity, reckless driving, mentions of violence (not to reader), bruises, police, fellatio, cunnilingus, protected, explicit smut, sukuna being a cute bf

▞▞ NOTES. 8.3k word count. my biker!kuna fics are unstoppable atp 😮‍💨 and as an irl writer gf to a biker bf, this is a very self-indulgent fic. got lazy with the smut so i copied bits from my other gojo oneshot. reblogs are highly appreciated <3

▞▞ INSPOS. my fav biker boys on biketok: that10r, dylan.r.one, raven.coop, onyx_r7, senor_torque, blacchornets, aushendrivessafe, tiiidddooo, bongo & takaro 🖤🏍️💨

After dating you for six months, Sukuna realized that nothing in the world could capture your attention like your cherished collection of fictional books—except, of course, him. But before he entered the picture, you were always immersed in solitary bliss at the cafe or library, lost in the intricate worlds of your latest literary fascination to the point where it was almost impossible to pull you out of it. 

Yet, it became an unspoken understanding between you both; he respected your need for uninterrupted reading time, allowing you to lose yourself in stories populated by your favorite characters, while in return, you supported his desire for a thrilling experience of riding his bike despite the inherent risks that came with it. 

He vividly remembered the first time he saw you while riding his bike through the city. You were crossing the street then, carrying a bag of books you had just bought from Barnes & Noble, and the sight of you in a cute sundress had him completely distracted from the road. So in an attempt to catch your attention, he revved his bike to ‘flex’. But in his effort to impress, he missed the red light and had to brake abruptly, causing him to lose control and drop his bike to the ground. 

That was the very first time he had ever dropped his precious R1 after a year of riding it. If it had been his old R7, he wouldn’t have cared as much, but his R1—his expensive, still-on-the-loan, matte black, fully customized R1—hit the pavement along with him. For bikers, these kinds of things hurt.

Now, talk about embarrassing. You even stopped to look at him in concern that day and if only you could see his blushing face behind his helmet. But at least, looking back at your meet-cute, he could tell you that he did, in fact, fall for you. Literally.

And there can’t be anything truer than that.

“Aww, she’s cute,” Choso remarked, gesturing his chin towards you with a teasing grin as they dismounted their bikes at the parking lot. You were there sitting in a cafe with a book on your lap, unaware that you were being conversed about by these two men right outside.

Sukuna jabbed him on the side and motioned for him to stop staring. “Fuck off. She’s mine.”

As Choso lifted his helmet, a group of girls outside the cafe couldn’t help but swoon over the two bikers, whispering and commenting on how hot and attractive they looked. And being the fucker that he was, completely absorbed in the attention from the girls, Choso had momentarily forgotten about Sukuna as he swaggered towards them with a confident smirk, glancing back at his friend and playfully raising his eyebrows.

“You go ahead. I’ll go check out the scenery,” Choso said in his usual mischief, “Unless you want to join me?”

Sukuna, still sporting his helmet, smugly showed him a picture of you as his phone’s home screen. “Sorry, already got my hands full with my princess.”

“Whatever. Tell Y/N I said hi,” Choso replied with a chuckle, before turning his attention back to the admiring group of girls.

You sat in your customary corner of the cafe, near the window, with a barely touched cup of coffee before you. Your attention was still and all riveted to the pages of your current book, remaining oblivious to the world around you as it looked like you were just getting to the good part of the storyline. Sukuna decided it would be a charming surprise to approach you as he entered the cafe, his arrival catching the eye of another group of girls who noticed him immediately, but he ignored their glances when he made his way towards your small area.

In his usual black leather jacket, Sukuna pulled a chair backward and straddled it, casually resting his arms on the backrest. With both legs on either side, he settled in, observing you intently behind his black helmet. A faint smirk played on his lips as he quietly watched you absorbed in your reading, and for now, he said nothing and enjoyed the moment silently.

He gave it a minute or so for you to realize. 

5… 4… 3… 2… “L-Lovey?” By the time you finally noticed his presence, you saw your widened eyes at his reflective visor when you looked up at him. 

“Hey, baby girl.” Sukuna pushed the button to lift his visor, revealing his narrow eyes that were locked onto yours. He had that boyish grin sitting handsomely on his lips.

As for you, you looked like you were blushing. That, or perhaps there was some sort of fluttering happening inside your heart at the unexpected sight of him. It was probably taking you a moment to separate fiction from reality, because not long ago, you were too fixated on the fictional boy written on the pages of your book. Now, your very real and actual boyfriend was here. For you. “Um… How long have you been there?”

“Not that long,” he assured in his usual low, velvet voice. “I just arrived, actually. Didn’t wanna disturb my baby.”

Your curious eyes fell on the red tribal decals on his black Nexx SX100r helmet, reminding you of the same face tattoo designs he had mentioned wanting to get, but you were refusing to let him have. “New helmet?”

Sukuna nodded, smirking as he tapped the headgear with his gloved hand. “Yeah, you like it?”

“I do,” you replied, smiling. “It’s very you.”

“Thanks, baby.”

You glanced at his sleek black Yamaha R1 outside the window and immediately closed your chosen book for the day. “Okay, well…” You met his gaze again. “I have backpack duties today, don’t I?”

He was quick to dismiss it. “No, no. You can finish reading. I don’t mind just sittin’ here and watching you for a while.”

But, being the stubborn girl you were, you were already packing your book into your bag. You didn’t even listen to a word he said. “Did you bring my helmet?”

“‘Course, princess. Your helmet’s right there strapped onto the backseat.” Your boyfriend leaned in closer and pointed to his sportbike. Just as he took your bag from you, his eyes lingered on your lips for a moment. “So, you’re gonna be my pretty little backpack today?”

You mustn’t have realized it, but the two of you had become the subject of envious stares in the cafe. Most of the girls who looked your way were clearly jealous. Yet your cute, clueless self didn’t even seem to notice as you clung to his arm. “Yes, lovey. I miss being your backpack.” 

Did you know? Sukuna always melted from your enthusiasm. And he couldn’t even resist pinching your cheeks. “Alright, then.” His hand moved to squeeze your nose. “I'll be your personal chauffeur, and you’ll be my cute little backpack who’s clinging tightly to me the whole time. Sounds good?”

“Yessir,” you answered with a playful salute. 

“Good girl.” He then took your hand in his, leading you out of the cafe and onto the parking lot when he all of a sudden felt a tug on his arm. 

You had a visible pout displayed. “Lovey, wait!” 

“What is it, baby?” The question came out of him softly, tilting his head when he looked at you. 

“My kiss,” you said sweetly, making Sukuna feel like Cupid shot an arrow to his heart. “You forgot.”

How can one person be so unbelievably adorable? Just how? How on Earth did he land the cutest girl on the planet? The cuteness aggression was certainly urging him to fall on his knees right now. With the weakness he tried to restrain inside, he was trying his hardest to laugh it off on the outside. “Oh damn, you’re right.” He pulled his helmet up, leaning in forward to place a warm, tender kiss on your soft lips. He could hear the hearts of the surrounding girls breaking at the sight. “Can’t believe I forgot to give my baby the most important item of the day.” 

Satisfied with the kiss, you followed your tattooed boyfriend like a shadow to meet his bike, ‘Fury’, as he affectionately named it. The sportbike rocked a midnight black wrap and the cool customizations he added made it a standout even more. Of course, what kind of person would think Sukuna would stick with a boring base design? One of the best things about his R1 was its front light, infamous in the bike community, as it resembled a menacing face that added to its aggressive allure. It was also equipped with a powerful 998cc inline-four engine, leaving no questions why ‘Fury’ roared with a throaty exhaust note that echoed through the streets. Sukuna chuckled inwardly at the thought. He hoped you wouldn’t mind, but this big bad boy would have been the love of his life if you hadn’t come along. 

“Love, I was thinking,” you interrupted his trance as he slipped the smaller helmet over your head, deftly securing the straps under your chin, “Do you think we can swing by the bookstore on the way?”

His lips curved into a smile. “Sure, we can. You wanna pick up more books to read?”

“I do,” you confirmed, yet hesitated at the end of your tone. “Well, there’s this book I wanna read, but… it has eighteen plus stuff.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow in intrigue, his visor still up as he effortlessly lifted you onto the back of his bike with one arm. “Oh, so it’s a spicy book, huh?” he teased, recalling the discussions he had seen on ‘biketok’ where he went by the username r1.skn. His TikTok account was an unexpected blend of motorcycle enthusiasts and book lovers, and that unique intersection of interests amused him endlessly. “Think my followers would love to know what my backpack’s gonna read next.” 

Even with your helmet on, he could sense the shy smile behind it. “No, please don’t film our ride today!”

“Hmm… What kind of spicy book are we talking about, baby?” he asked, settling onto his bike and revving the engine. When your arms were securely wrapped around his torso, he took that as a go signal to hold the throttle and smoothly shift from first to second gear. “Is it very naughty?”

You hugged him tightly from behind. “Um, it’s about this biker guy and a bookish girl,” you introduced the plot coyly, “And yes, it has some steamy scenes.”

He glanced at you through the bike’s mirror, ensuring that you were safe and secured behind him. Sukuna then shifted into third gear as you entered an empty road, gradually picking up speed. The roar of his bike was louder than his voice. “Really? I bet the biker guy is a dominant one.”

“Yeah.” Your grip tightened on his compression shirt, almost as if you were trying to feel his abs through the fabric. “He’s got tattoos, too.”

What a tease. “You better picture me as that biker guy when you read that book, princess,” he playfully warned, “You’re mine, both in real life and in your fantasies.”

“Yes, but my lovey is hotter.” 

“Good response, baby. You have taste.” 

As you reached the stoplight in the city intersection, Sukuna slowed down and adjusted the small camera mounted on his bike to make sure it still had the perfect angle of you two. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he now had evidence of how touchy his cute, little backpack could get. You sensed him filming your interaction, but instead of pulling your hand away, you leaned further against his back and playfully touched his toned chest. He was surprised and amused at the action, gently pulling your hand down when your silly hands squeezed his chest, but you remained undeterred by placing them near his crotch the next. Your boyfriend hoped to God that none of the surrounding cars were recording you two for your affectionate display in the middle of the traffic. 

“Brat,” he teased back with a shake of his head. “A brat who always gets what she wants, especially in bed.”

Your whine followed, along with a light slap on his arm. “Hey!” 

Why was this red light taking too long? He was getting all bricked up the more he could feel your tits pressing against his back. Although, he considered it a blessing and curse, because the only distraction that was served to you two was when another bike pulled up ahead of cars lined up behind you. It was a white Kawasaki ZX-10R. And its owner? A jerk who had a clear death wish. 

“Hey there, sexy,” catcalled the rider of the 10R, stopping exactly where he could see your rear. “Cute helmet.” 

Sukuna knew you well enough to know that you were offering an uncomfortable, yet polite smile underneath the helmet. But it was the tug at your boyfriend’s shirt that made him glance over the biker with a hint of warning in his eyes. “What’d you say?” His voice carried a menacing edge. While he hadn’t been in a brawl in a while, he definitely didn’t mind the idea of one now. “Back off my girl or I’ll smash your head on the ground.” 

The ZX-10R rider chuckled, hands in the air like an idiot. “Alright, man. No harm meant.” 

“Shut it.” 

“Okay, jeez! How about a little race to settle things? See who’s got the faster ride?”

Sukuna scoffed, finding it hard to believe that a random guy, especially an obvious amateur, had the audacity to challenge him to a race. Didn’t he know? Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t nicknamed the King of the Streets for nothing. He had been riding motorcycles for twelve years now, starting with a modest 300cc and graduating to his current 1000cc superbike. His riding experience was unmatched. He also knew every biker in the area as it was his turf. Yet this ZX-10R rider had appeared out of nowhere with such laughable confidence. 

Thanks to him, your boyfriend’s competitive spirit was ignited. “You’re on.”

“Cool,” the other biker replied.

Meanwhile, you tensed behind Sukuna and gripped his shirt tighter than before. “Love, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He turned his head, gently held the top of your head, and gave you a sweet ‘helmet kiss’. “I’ll keep you safe,” he reassured, “Just hold on tight for me, okay?”

As soon as the light turned green, best believe the street became a racetrack. All the cars were left behind to dust with the roar of motorcycles as both bikers increased their speed, side by side, in a fierce race. Sukuna shifted into third gear as he passed the next intersection, then into fourth gear when the ZX-10R caught up to him. He could feel your hold around him tightening more than ever as the rush of the wind blew through your helmet’s visor.

He thought you might hate it, but you were surprisingly loving the thrill of the scene. 

“Go, baby!” you cheered, holding onto him for dear life. Cute. 

“Not bad, man!” the other biker shouted over the wind, pulling ahead slightly at Sukuna’s moment of distraction. “But try harder!”

Tch. Sukuna gritted his teeth and focused all his senses on the road ahead. He weaved through traffic, maneuvering his bike skillfully and taking advantage of every opportunity to gain ground. In no time, he caught up with the ZX-10R rider, and they soon raced neck and neck. They exchanged glances as they sped between cars, with the other vehicles blurring around them in motion. The thrill of the competition fueled their adrenaline, while you, as the passenger, felt your heart pounding with excitement.

Both bikes continued to zoom down the road. And it was also during that time when Sukuna locked his mind and body into analyzing the situation. Let’s see, he thought, should I push Fury to its limits?

He calculated his next move, feeling the strong breeze on his face and the vibrations of the powerful engine beneath him. The ZX-10R rider was good, but Sukuna knew he had the skills and the bike to outpace him. He just needed to time it right. Between a ZX-10R and an R1, a quick Google search would tell you that the 10R pulls faster than an R1 engine wise. While both bikes were top-tier, high performance vehicles with a 200 horsepower and a top speed exceeding 180mph, the 10R’s disadvantage is being 7 kg heavier, which instantly gave Sukuna an edge in this situation. Being the lighter bike between the two would certainly make him marginally better at handling and acceleration. 

With that, your boyfriend capitalized on his bike’s strengths and shifted into sixth gear at the next intersection, surging ahead and crossing the finish line just as the ZX-10R was left stuck at the last stoplight.

Sweet, sweet victory. Sukuna sped onto the freeway, shouting triumphantly into the air. “Woohoo!” He could feel the jolt of adrenaline satiating his need for a thrilling ride. 

“B-Babe.” You, on the other hand, tugged at his shirt in worry. “Babe, we’re going too fast. The cops—!”

The sound of the siren snapped Sukuna back to reality in an instant. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, frustrated by the abrupt interruption. “Can’t even have a minute to celebrate my win.” 

While he could have engaged in a high-speed freeway chase if he wanted to, especially having already escaped the police once, having you with him now made him opt for better judgment. His promise to keep you safe was his foremost priority here. So, swallowing his pride with a tightened jaw, he slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road as the police car trailed behind.

The officer swiftly exited his vehicle and approached you two. “Evening, folks,” the stern voice of the elderly officer broke the tension. “License and registration, please.”

Sukuna retrieved his wallet and handed over his license and registration, then turned to you, placing a protective hand on your thigh. He could tell his poor little backpack was feeling anxious. 

The cop then glanced between you and Sukuna, his gaze lingering on you with concern. “Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, his focus more on your well-being than on the biker himself.

You nodded, trying to appear composed despite the adrenaline still coursing through you. “Yes, officer. I’m fine.”

The officer soon directed his attention to the R1. “What’s the fastest you’ve been on this thing?”

Sukuna couldn’t resist a cheeky reply. “Speed limit.”

“Very funny,” said the unamused officer, who retreated to his vehicle to run Sukuna’s information while leaving you and your boyfriend to exchange glances once more.

His expression softened. “Sorry about this, babe. I didn’t mean to get us in trouble.”  

“It’s okay.” You reassured him with a squeeze around his waist. “I trust you.”

Interrupting the tender moment, the officer returned and handed back your boyfriend’s license. “Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked, receiving a shrug in response. A lecture that Sukuna heavily hated soon followed. “You were speeding back there. I clocked you going 20 miles over the limit. It’s always you fellas with the 1000cc bikes who think they’re invincible. Even 600cc guys are scared of the police. You need to slow down, especially with a passenger.”

With your insistent look, Sukuna nodded to the cop, apologetically. “Understood, sir.” 

The officer studied Sukuna for a moment before releasing a sigh. “Look, I get it. It’s a nice night for a ride. Just remember, it’s not just your life on the line. You’ve got someone else to think about.” He pointed at you while handing your boyfriend a ticket. “You’ve gotta take good care of her.” 

Only then did Sukuna’s cold mien soften up with the cop. “I’ll be careful next time, officer.”

“Right. I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but I’m writing you a ticket for speeding. Slow down, alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

The officer returned to his car, and Sukuna pocketed the ticket with a mixture of relief and frustration etched on his face. “We didn’t get to pass by your bookstore,” he lamented, giving you an affectionate caress on the back. “I’m sorry, princess.”

You touched your headgear to his, sharing a helmet kiss. “There’s always next time,” you reassured him with a smile in your voice. “Besides, this is a real-life experience that no book can ever give me.”

~~

By the time you arrived at your apartment, darkness had already settled in, leaving a cozy glow from the distant cityscape as you switched on the lights and placed your helmet on the nearby console table. Immediately, your British shorthair cat dashed toward you with a loud meow, his pretty auburn eyes gleaming with excitement at seeing his mom.

“Hi, Casper,” you cooed at the feline, but his attention swiftly turned when Sukuna entered your apartment a few minutes later—someone he clearly wasn’t fond of.

Upon spotting Sukuna, your cat hissed, expressing his displeasure toward your boyfriend, who playfully stuck his tongue out in response. “I’m back, asshole.”

“Don’t call him that!” You chuckled, attending to Casper by mixing up his food in his bowl. “He’s probably never going to warm up to you at this rate.”

Sukuna smoothly removed his jacket and flopped down on the couch. “Boo! Casper sucks,” he hooted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “He’s just jealous because you love me more.”

It had been a while since Casper had seen Sukuna since you were the one coming over at his place more often. Still, the cat’s disdain for your boyfriend persisted, and you suspected it was because Casper could detect the scent of Sukuna’s dog, a large Doberman, whenever he was near. You can only imagine how crazy your household would be should you and your boyfriend move in together in the near future. 

For now, his occasional visits sufficed. Although, there were days when his presence in your apartment stirred more thoughts in your mind than just simple cuddles and movie nights. How could you help it? He was oblivious to the thoughts running in your head as he sat lazily on your couch, his legs spread wide, lifting his compression shirt just above his sweaty chest. His toned abs were impossible to ignore, especially as he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily.

“Babe, it’s so hot,” he said, fanning his face, completely unaware of the chaos inside your head. “Wanna shower before bed?”

His suggestion was innocent enough, but your immediate agreement was driven by a different kind of excitement. “Okay,” you replied with a sheepish grin, “I’ll see if you have any clothes left in the closet.”

You see, you and Sukuna had just started dating a few months ago—precisely 6 months and 3 weeks to be exact, so the relationship was definitely still fresh and vulnerable. But needless to say, while he was indeed a sweet and dreamy boyfriend that you could only ever read about in your stash of fictional books, there was also a side of him that awakened the more mature side of you. 

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Sukuna was more experienced in the intimacy department than you. And him being your first did bring in thoughts of inadequacy in terms of your performance in bed. You haven’t done it enough to call yourself a pro, but you also did it enough to say that you already knew what, how, and where to please him the most. You owe that experience to the multitude of smut scenes you had read about on Tumblr and AO3, because those exact stories provided essential insights that guided your actions on your first time.

Now, whenever the sexy beast within you was unleashed, you didn’t even hold back anymore. 

The shower was already running when you stepped inside the small space, your boyfriend letting the cold water fall on his naked tattooed body in rivulets. Each drop of water sounded like rainfall, and with him pulling you closer by the arm, he began kissing you with a passion that made it feel like you were caught in a rainstorm.

“Lovey!” You giggled, pushing your palms flat against his chest. “You said we’ll just shower.” 

“You know what I meant by that, baby.” 

The water continued to cascade down your skin, your hair now damp and your body now wet. Sukuna’s eyes darkened in lust as eyed you up and down, his hands tracing the curves of your body, before crashing his lips back onto yours once more. This time, his kisses were more aggressive as he bit your lower lip, and took the opportunity of shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He was devouring you with rough and wide movements, allowing your tongue to roll around his in a playful tangle. And with his fingers now grabbing a fistful of your hair, and his other hand sliding down your chest to squeeze your breast, you felt a stretch on your scalp when he pulled you by the hair to look up at him. “You think you’re so innocent, don’t you?” he teased, kneading your right breast before his hand moved south to palm your dripping cunt, “Deep down, you’re just as naughty and wicked as me.” 

“N-No.” Your breath hitched when his lips traced light kisses around your neck. But it wasn’t just his kisses and touch that made your knees weak, it was the feeling of his hardened member pressed against your stomach, fully erect and ready to be inside you. “Mmh… You’re the naughty one.” 

Sukuna went in for another open-mouthed kiss before he nibbled on your earlobe. “I don’t deny that, princess,” he pivoted your body around, and made you lean against the glass wall so he could get a better view of your buttocks. While you, you could see your tits pressed against the glass from your reflection in the mirror, a sight that your boyfriend went absolutely crazy for when he looked up. “Ah, fuck. That’s so hot.” 

You could feel his fingers playing with your entrance from behind, and you watched him bite his lip through the mirror, his eyes dancing in lust as he wantonly stared at your body. “Ngh,” you bit back a moan, the feeling of his fingers teasing your entrance making you curl your toes, “I… I-I like that.” 

“I bet you do, baby.” Good lord. His voice was deep and raspy, and the sexiness of it was enough to make you wet. He even showed you evidence per se, when he pulled his digits out, spreading two fingers apart to show you the clear, slimy substance that coated it. You were already a blushing mess when he showed you your cum, and felt the heat in your cheeks worsening as you watched him, eye-to-eye, suck your juices from his fingers. “Aww, my baby tastes sweet.” 

“It’s the pineapple juice,” you joked, allowing him to cup your jaw and place a sloppy kiss on your mouth. “Mmm—I forgot to tell you.” You pulled away to look at your boyfriend. “I’m ovulating.” 

Sukuna tilted his head, squeezing your bum tenderly as he replied, “Are you suggesting I get you pregnant?”

“No, silly!” You chuckled shyly while he positioned himself behind you. “I was trying to say that I get extra horny when I’m ovulating.” 

He smiled, aroused more than ever as he heard you say those words out loud. “Too bad, I was thinking of creampie-ing you.” 

A gasp flew out of your lips when Sukuna’s long, slender fingers performed circular motions on your clitoris, stretching your labia apart so he could insert two fingers at your entrance. “B-Babe!” Your widened eyes were in great contrast to his lust-filled ones as he found entertainment at your submission to pleasure. You gripped his wrist and tiptoed when he started scissoring his fingers inside, forcing you to raise your leg so he could continue to move his hand in and out of your sopping cunt. “Ahh—ah! S-Sukuna!”

He hadn’t heard his name from you in awhile and he found that amusing. “Hm, baby? Saying something?” 

You squeezed your legs together to hide the clench that you were feeling inside, looking up at his crazed brown eyes and tracing his pectoral muscles with your fingers. You couldn’t hold it anymore, you were a willing slut ready to be pounded on by this tattooed man. “Please, f-fuck me.”

He reattached his lips back onto yours and pulled away just enough to keep your foreheads connected. “Not yet, baby girl.” A sly smirk spread off his lips. “That book you were reading earlier at the cafe,” he began, pulling his fingers away to turn you around, “It was smut, wasn’t it?” 

Feeling a wave of embarrassment as he brought it up, you responded with a coquettish smile. “Maybe.” 

Sukuna then pushed you down on your knees, letting you kneel down in front of his hard, veiny cock. He had stroked himself a few times—his other hand lifting your chin up—before he slapped his length against your lips. “Think you can show me how they did it in that book?” 

“Why…” you trailed off, wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping the long, meaty shaft before placing your tongue on top of the swollen tip. He was all crazed and aroused when you kept eye-contact and started putting his member inside your mouth.

“Damn.” Your boyfriend threw his head back, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Let’s make all your fantasies a reality, baby.” 

Well, he was sweet for that. But also mischievous, too. He knew you could be just as naughty as him because he had seen the books you were reading and most of them were definitely far from innocent. Could he blame you? Sometimes, reading about it was better than experiencing it. Yet with your boyfriend’s ego, he wasn’t one to allow your fictional men to be better than him in all aspects. Physically. Emotionally. Sexually.

You let him guide your hand into stroking his shaft before you ejected spit on the pink head, using it to lubricate his aching member while you lowered yourself further to fit his firm balls inside your mouth. It gave you utmost pleasure to hear his guttural moans when you swirled your tongue around his bollocks—tasting the same flesh that carried all of his sperm, and releasing it from your mouth to give his cock the same attention. At first, you kissed his swollen tip and treated it like a lollipop, then you started sucking every inch of his length by bobbing your head at a stable rhythm. “Mmm.” You could hear curses leaving his pretty lips as he held your head in place, snapping his hips forward until you were gagging from the intense penetration on your throat.

You learned all these after a single read at your favorite 18+ book.  

“That’s a good girl.” His praise rang in your ears like a sweet melody.

Even without a reflection to look at, this was the most erotogenic exchange you two had ever done as a couple. And along with that, his half lidded eyes were staring down at you, judging you and your every move. 

You did your best to give him a stellar performance, did your most at pleasuring his member, and did everything that he liked whenever you were sucking his cock. And just like that, thick ropes of cum were sent straight down your throat. The musky, metallic taste didn’t stop you from swallowing all of his seed and you had to show your tongue to make him know that you did a good job at taking all of his semen. Nothing was wasted.

Not even time, because as soon as you finished giving him a blowjob, he was already carrying you out of the bathroom without drying yourselves off. You were thrown into your double bed, manhandled into spreading your legs apart before your animalistic lover plunged his face onto your pussy.

“S-Sukuna—! Mmm—fuck!”

He had your back arching because of how deep his tongue was going inside, tasting your walls and kissing your cunt like he would do with your mouth. He was smooching off your labia like a hungry beast, eating you out as if he wasn’t satisfied by the juices that he was sucking from you. You were already in your seventh heaven, unable to think straight when he added his middle finger to the movements of his tongue. If fingering your pussy and lapping your clitoris weren’t enough to drive you crazy, maybe grabbing a fistful of pinkish hair was a sign for him to stop before you could truly lose it. You could feel fire pooling on your lower abdomen and your legs were already shaking uncontrollably, your toes curling wantonly—with the suction he was doing on your cunt, you ended up screaming for his name and engulfing his mouth with your Earth-shattering release.

“Haah! ‘Kuna, p-please…”

As he detached his mouth from your entrance, he started climbing up, visibly pleased with the way he ravaged your cunt. He was wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, pressing his lips down on yours to make you taste your own fluid. A string of saliva connected your mouth to his before he grabbed ahold of his erect member once again. It hadn’t even been more than two minutes and you were already being hauled into another position. “Let me fuck you from behind.”

“Lovey, w-wait.”

“Ass up, baby.” His patience was growing thin when he dragged your body by raising your hips close to his crotch and pressing your head down against the mattress. Your boyfriend cared none for the embarrassment that settled on your heated cheeks when he spread your buttocks apart so he could ogle at the exact hole that he was about to enter. 

“No, wait!” you begged, looking up at him with a plea, “Condom, please.” 

The realization hit his face. “I think I’m all out, baby. Let me check,” he said, pulling away and stumbling towards his discarded pants on the floor, hoping desperately that he would find an unused packet of condom. Just to his luck, he had one more packet hidden between the folds of his leather wallet. “Got it!” 

He hastily ripped the packet with his teeth, taking the rubber out, and rolling it slowly to cover his entire length. You remained on all fours, watching him as he ejected spit on his fingers, which he soon used to lubricate your entrance. 

Did he give you any time to adjust? That word didn’t even exist in his vocabulary when he sunk all seven inches inside of your cunt, wrecking you open to the point where you could feel a stinging sensation on your entrance after being stretched by his fully erect cock. “Best pussy in the entire world.”

You were suppressing your moans from coming out too loud while you bit on a pillow, nails digging on the sheets as your lover penetrated your tight vaginal walls. “Ahh! M-More… More.” He was treating you like a fleshlight as he continued to rut your sopping cunt with his fat cock, absolutely enjoying how your warm pussy was milking his full length.

“Can your fictional boys fuck you like this, baby?” he breathed, all deep and velvety as he gave you the most rhythmical skin-slapping thrusts. He was so deep in your cavern that you could feel the base of his cock slamming against your ass. You didn’t even notice the hand that was snaking on your front to massage your bouncing tit because you were far too lost in the shockwaves of sexual gratification. “No other man can fuck you this good.”

It was like he was riding his own bike. With how fast his pace was increasing, you were already too limp to feel his hard thrusts.

Your brain was short-circuiting from the amount of sensation that was entering your body, intoxicated by the waves of libido in your system that was heightening more and more as he continued to satisfy your insatiable heat. You could barely think straight. You lost your sanity. All the modest parts of you had completely dissolved into a bitch in heat. Like a needy little whore. You didn’t even have any control of your own words when you started telling Sukuna, “I… want… you to keep… fucking me… like this.” Another forceful slam elicited a mewl out of you. “A-Aah! Haah!”

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Your boyfriend held a tighter grip on your hips, your moaning face leaving an imprint on his mind as he propelled your body forward and raced towards his ecstasy. After yet another thrust or two, or three, or four… Spurts of warm seed started exploding into the rubber. Sukuna’s thrust had become unsteady, his body falling down on the bed but his member still remaining inside of you. “I can’t get enough of your pussy, baby.” 

You were catching your breath after he broke your mind into becoming this sex-obsessed freak. “Lookie! My bed’s all wet now.” 

He smiled and finally pulled out, only to lean down again and plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let me carry you to the couch,” he offered, but first he had to pull the condom out of his cock to reveal a cum-filled rubber. “Christ. I came a lot.” 

In other words, his cum would have been dripping out of your pussy for days.

You extended your arms, awaiting to be lifted like a princess by your lover. “Carry me now, please!”

“I will, baby.” Without hesitation, he scooped you up in his tattooed arms. He, too, was heavy breathing, but he still effortlessly held you. “I’ll take care of cleaning your sheets while you sleep.”

He was already walking towards the living room as you kicked your feet in the air, giving his cheek a gentle squeeze. “Can you clean out Casper’s litter box, too?”

Sukuna made a face of disgust, glancing at the cat before gently setting you down on the couch. “Only if he stops being an asshole,” he joked, but your pleading expression melted his resolve. “Alright, fine. I’ll take care of your bed, your cat’s litter... what else? You’re lucky I love you, you know.” He moved to the window, drawing the curtains closed to shield you from prying eyes. “Do you think your neighbors saw us fuck earlier? I forgot to pull the curtains on your bedroom.”

You laughed, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself. “Well, there’s this couple that’s been giving me strange looks lately, so it definitely isn’t the first time they’ve seen us do it.”

“It’s like that movie we watched,” Sukuna mused, trying to recall the title.

“The Voyeurs!” you both exclaimed in unison, sharing a laugh before you gestured to him. “Get dressed, lovey!”

Sukuna returned to tuck you in under the thin sheets, leaning down to give you a peck on the lips. “And you get some rest now, baby.”

~~

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as you woke up, stretching lazily in bed to find Casper purring next to you. That’s strange, you thought. Your cat normally wouldn’t go near you when your boyfriend was around, so you turned to your side, expecting to find Sukuna still sleeping beside you, but the spot was empty. Confused, you glanced around the room, noticing that his motorcycle gear was also missing from its usual place. 

“Lovey?” you called out through the empty apartment. “Where are you?” 

With no response received, you walked towards your bedroom and found the sheets had been changed and everything was tidy. Searching the bathroom yielded no clues to Sukuna’s whereabouts either. And a quick trip downstairs to check his usual parking spot confirmed your suspicion—he had left without a word. 

You frowned, reaching for your phone to send him an annoyed text.

YOU: love, where are you? 

YOU: i’m not some kind of booty call that you can just leave the next morning without a say

The minutes ticked by as you waited for a reply, feeling a mix of frustration and worry because of his absence. Were you overthinking this? Perhaps he was just out to get you lunch. Or maybe he had an emergency. You tried to calm yourself down by breathing deeply and thinking of any possible explanation other than the worst-case scenario. Maybe his phone died, or he got caught up in something urgent. But after an hour of no response, worry began to gnaw at you. Did he just ghost me? 

“Oh, God.” You paced back and forth in your apartment, checking your phone repeatedly for any sign of a message or call from Sukuna. “Oh, God. Oh, God! I’ve read about this a lot. Why are guys such jerks?” 

You tried to rationalize his absence, hoping for a reasonable explanation, but your mind persisted racing through various scenarios, with each one more disheartening than the last. Maybe he’d gotten tired of you, or perhaps he was scared of commitment. The frustration and confusion were almost unbearable. Was the sex last night not good enough for him? 

That situation lasted the entire afternoon. And you wanted to rip your hair out at the fact that your boyfriend had been gone for hours, his phone unreachable, and his friends having no idea where he was.  

So as the evening approached and your anxiety grew, you decided to call Sukuna again. It was the 47th missed call. But just as you were about to dial his number once more, you heard the familiar roar of his R1.

“What the hell.” You rushed to the window and saw your boyfriend pulling into the parking area. Relief flooded your system as you watched him switch off the engine, dismount his bike, and walk leisurely towards your apartment building’s lobby like he didn’t just leave an anxious girlfriend without a note the morning after he fucked her brains out.

You waited for him to arrive at your doorstep, your heart calmer but still ticking with anxiety as the clock rang in your ears. You were ready to give him a lashing for being unresponsive to your texts and calls. But as the door swung open, your boyfriend knowing your passcode by heart, you didn’t expect that your anger at him would end up being for a totally different reason. 

Because there he was, standing by your door looking slightly disheveled but with a sheepish smile on his face. He held a Barnes & Noble bag in one hand.

“Hey, baby—”

“What the heck happened?” You rushed to him, noticing the scrapes and bruises on his face. “Are you okay? I was worried sick!” 

Sukuna removed his helmet and winced slightly, the corner of his lower lip was smeared with dried blood. “Sorry, my love,” he spoke softly, going in for a comforting hug, “I wanted to surprise you, but things got a little complicated.” 

You pulled away to touch his bruised cheek. “You’re hurt. Why aren’t you answering my texts?” 

“Phone’s dead,” he answered, showing you his lifeless phone before handing over the bag. “And this is for you, my beautiful princess.”

Taking the bag, you said, “You didn’t have to do this.” Then your eyes scanned his face for any sign of serious injury.

“I wanted to,” he insisted, his voice filled with affection despite his exhaustion. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

You eyed the Barnes & Noble bag, realizing that the book inside was the exact one you had mentioned wanting yesterday. Your emotions swirled in a mix of frustration and tenderness. Should you lecture him for being so reckless, or cry because of how romantic it was that he went out of his way to get the book you had been searching for?

But first and foremost, how and where did he get all those bruises?

Before you could ask, he already had an answer prepared. “Long story, baby. Let's just say I had a little run-in with another biker who had the same idea as me.”

You grabbed his hand and guided him to sit on the couch while you hurriedly fetched your first aid kit. As you tended to the scrapes on Sukuna’s face, Casper the cat approached cautiously, sniffing his scent before surprising both of you by leaning against your boyfriend’s leg.

“Meow~”

“Casper!” Sukuna exclaimed joyfully, picking up the cat with a playful flourish like how Rafiki carried Simba in The Lion King “Babe, he finally likes me!”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and joined Sukuna on the couch, gently tilting his chin to examine his bruise. “Tell me exactly what happened,” you asked with a hint of sternness, “You went all over town just for this book?”

Your boyfriend carefully set Casper back down and nodded. “Yeah, it’s the last one they had. Had to fight for it, though.” He then rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I don’t even get a kiss or a thank you?”

At once, all your defenses crumbled. You let go of the gauze in your hand and pulled your boyfriend into a tender kiss, wrapping him in a warm hug afterward. “You’re insane, you know that? I was so worried about you, and now I find out you spent the whole day looking for this book.” You sighed, overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions the day had brought. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of love for the man who had gone to such lengths to make you happy. “But thank you, lovey. That’s really sweet of you.”

Sukuna, now grinning broadly, held you closer around the waist. “Always welcome, my baby.”

“Now, tell me about that biker,” you began, taking a q-tip and some ointment, “How’d you get into a fight?” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” he recalled, amused at the thought, “He was going to get the book for his girl, too. But I got there first, and he wouldn’t let me have it.” 

Jesus. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh at the absurdity of two bikers squabbling over a book in a bookstore. “You should’ve just let him have it.” 

“But baby!” he protested like a child, “I couldn’t come home empty-handed. I already feel bad we didn’t get to pass by the bookstore yesterday.” 

What a stubborn boyfriend you have. “I already told you it’s okay, lovey. You’re the best boyfriend already. I appreciate the effort and I’m even more in love with you now than ever,” you reassured, placing a light kiss on the tip of his nose, “Now, is there anything I can give you in return? As a thank you?” 

Oh, boy. You already assumed he would request for something concerning activities in bed. But his face suddenly lit up as if a lightbulb just appeared above his head. His idea was surely not what you had in mind. 

“How about I teach you how to ride my bike?” 

~~

The sun hung low on the horizon as Sukuna stood beside his Yamaha R1, patiently explaining the basics of riding ‘Fury’ to you. He seemed to be heavily enjoying this whole thing. Meanwhile, you, donning a helmet and gloves, were fully geared up, nervousness evident as you cautiously swung your leg over the bike.

“Ah, dammit.” Your boyfriend was grinning like an idiot as he saw you sitting on his bike. “You’re gonna be one hot biker girl. I can’t! You’re mine. Don’t let them see you like this, babe!” 

“Stop exaggerating!” you retorted, your voice tense with nerves as you gripped the handlebars tightly. “This bike feels… big.” 

“Like my cock?”

“Stop it.”

Sukuna erupted into a chuckle before proceeding to move closer to you. “Alright, babe. Remember what I showed you about the clutch and throttle control,” he encouraged, “Take it slow.”

Nodding, you started the bike and felt the powerful engine rumble beneath you. With your boyfriend’s guidance, you eased out the clutch and gave a tentative twist of the throttle. The bike lurched forward, causing you to panic and squeeze the brakes hard. 

“Oh, my God!” You let out a squeak of surprise. “Oh, my God! I’m gonna die.” 

“Easy there.” He held your waist protectively. “Let’s try one more time?” 

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the intimidating power of the machine beneath you and instead focus on Sukuna’s instructions. Even with his guidance, you found yourself repeating the same mistake where this time, you braked too hard again, causing your body to jolt forward dangerously. You would have fallen from the bike if not for your boyfriend catching you right on time.

“I can’t do this…” You shook your head, frantically. “I’m not cut out for this.”

Sukuna held you steady, his hands firm yet reassuring. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, looking into your eyes. “It takes time, alright? You’re doing fine. Maybe we should start with something smaller.”

You let out a heavy exhale as Sukuna carried you off his bike. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Like a lower cc bike?” he suggested, giving your helmet a playful tap. “Let’s start you off on a 150cc bike. Yuuji has a CBR150R we can borrow.”

“I wouldn’t want to wreck your nephew’s bike,” you teased, watching from the side as Sukuna effortlessly mounted his own bike.

He revved the engine and reached out for your hand, helping you settle in behind him. “Then, you can just stay being my backpack princess for now”

With your arms securely around his waist, the bike accelerated, the wind whipping against your helmet visor. The view of the sunset was perfect for this ride. “So, does that mean I’m not your ride or die anymore?”

Sukuna took your hand from behind, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “Nah. You’ll always be my ride or die, baby.”

[orphicmusings]

“give me ten minutes and a pillow for his hips”

18+ | MDNI

its not that viktor didn’t want to devour you. take you in the almost impossible positions he’d widen his eyes at reading about when he got bored in the library, attempting to anatomically sketch it out on a napkin to visualize how it would work hastily before anyone came in and caught him flipping through an erotic novel. and he would, through the pain, it would be so worth it— if not for your gentle consideration. the one thing sexier than your dazed face looking up at him, all heated cheeks and hooded eyes, was how perceptive you were— how well you knew him, how well you saw him. you were attuned to him now, an invisible string between you. a phenomenon he could never sit down and wrap his big head around, just how connected the two of you had become that you barely needed words to communicate sometimes. like, for example, an abrupt whine sneakily covered by the clearing of his throat.

you were both excited and apprehensive when he brought up wanting to be on top tonight. you knew he would be putting pressure on his bad leg and of course you brought it up, but the way his voice dipped in velvet and wrapped around you, the lyrical lilt in his accent becoming hushed and deeper as he detailed how he wanted you under him, he wanted to take you, claim you, devour you with no inhibitions. his silver tongue won against your worried left brain, twice technically, until you heard it— the slightest change of rhythm in the strum of your little connective string.

“viktor?” you lifted your head. “what was that?”

he took a deep breath and buried his head in the crook of your neck. “nothing, darling.” he punctuated his assurance was a distracting suckle on your skin. and god, you almost gave in again, almost, but you gently tilted his head up and looked into his darkened eyes. “didn’t sound like nothing.”

damn you and your perceptive skills. he loves them so much.

another deep breath leaves him, and before he could wave it off, you press him. “it’s your leg, isn’t it?” you ask, already knowing the answer, and he can’t lie to you.

“yes.” he breathed in surrender. “i’m sorry, my love i really wanted to-what are you doing?” he frowned, watching you roll out from under him and grab one of the pillows on his bed.

“armchair, now.” you pointed to the chair across the room, with the plush ottoman in front of it that you gifted him. he couldn’t help but let a smirk pull at the corners of his mouth.

“bossy.” yet, he obeyed and made his way over to you. you gave him the pillow, instructing him to put it under his hip as he sat down, making sure his leg was elevated on the ottoman. once you got him all situated, you didn’t even have time to ask if it felt better before he was grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you like a man starved. you melted into his touch, straddling him but careful not to apply too much pressure. “so fucking sweet.” he pants the praise huskily into your mouth. “too good to me.”

his hands traveled down your body to grip your hips, pulling you flush to him. you started grinding slowly, and he guided you, a shaky breath leaving your mouth before you even got to the main event. every noise from your mouth caused a shiver to run down his spine, striking him with irrational need— he didn’t care that the things he wanted to do to you would make him scream in pain, he felt that he would simply die if he couldn’t fuck you the way he pictured it in his head right now.

but then he looks at you, just as dazed and hungry on top of him as you were under him, and a smile creeps up on him. it doesn’t matter if he were to throw you down and ravage you like a love interest in those books, or if you were softly bouncing on his length, burying your little sighs and whimpers into the crook of his neck, he’s still pleasing you. he’s still enough for you. he exhaled a smirk.

“none of that, darling.” he lifted your jaw to meet his eyes. “wanna see you and hear you. can you do that for me?” you nodded, struggling to keep your head up in the throes of pleasure, but having no trouble letting your mouth run wild with curses and praises and whines and whimpers. and it was all music to his ears. “that’s it, sweet girl.” his voice came ragged as he reached his long fingers to press on your clit. you all but screamed, tugging gently on the curls of the nape of his neck. he whined and threw his head back.

“am i hurting you?” you asked hoarsely, your hand hovering over his hair. he shook his head adamantly, taking your hand and tangling it back in his hair himself. each thrust would earn a tug, and each tug would earn a pretty noise from him, causing another push to each of your edges.

“love you….” he whispered against the skin of your neck, pressing a kiss against it as you both reached your peaks, breathing heavily against each other. “love you so much.”

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝒐𝒍𝒅!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕!𝒇𝒆𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. unprotected sex, cream pie, rough sex, innocence kink, large unspecified age gap, daddy kink, smoking, alcohol consumption etc. beware—

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @anitalenia 💓

-

The thick smoke clouds could be cut with a knife the moment you entered his house the doors were left partly open so no harm right? You searched for him in the kitchen but you found him sitting by the fireplace in the living area. Manspread..Book in hand adjusting his reading glasses, cigar lazily resting between his lips. There he was.. the man who made your core pulse. That was a secret though.. nobody could ever know that you’ve been crushing on him ever since you moved next door to his house. He was not married, and he knew that for sure because every woman who ever ended up going home with him? Left the next day— you didn’t judge that of course. Maybe he didn’t want anything serious. Most men… are like that. No?

“Erhm.. Mr Howlett? My father asked me if you could come over today afternoon. The material arrived for the renovations..” you stuttered softly. He looked up from his book giving you a soft nod. “Of course kid, tell your father I’ll be there later” you nodded and hurried out of his house touching your chest as you ran over to your house walking in through the backyard. Your cheeks flushed softly red– the images reappeared in your mind, the way he smokes his cigars.

“C’on” you heard a frustrated groan from the kitchen. You peeked your head inside only to see Mr Howlett in a white vest, biceps glistening with sweat taking measurements of the kitchen cabinets. “Come here kid” he rumbles softly. You nearly tripped approaching him “how can I help?” You whispered looking at the tools “specs, on the table please” he motioned with his large hand. You nodded taking his reading glasses from the table passing them over “thanks sweetheart. Whatcha doing here? Heard your mother left to do shopping” you sighed leaning against the kitchen counter “I know I was just busy with housework” Your eyes were on his flexed muscles. You swallowed when he stepped right in front of you to take measurements again your face practically meeting with his large chest. “Sorry..” you breathed closing your eyes. “S’alright” he smiled small. Hand on the cabinet above your head the older man met your gaze. There was something in them… darkness.. perhaps something very forbidden.. you cleared your throat the moment you heard your father on the phone outside in the garden slipping past Logan scrambling quickly upstairs to your room. It was a shame.. you know nothing about men. He made you so curious, that your thoughts made you open your laptop and search pictures. First you typed ‘kissing’ the images came up blurred so you switched off the adult content button and returned back on the pictures your eyes widened in curiosity. So many moving pictures which were called ‘gifs’ the way some of the men kissed the women. You moistened your lips by licking them feeling familiar heat in your belly and butterflies. You never watched porn or anything like that but you saved some of those ‘gifs’ of couples kissing and moved onto the search bar to type ‘sex’ images came up some of the black and white and you gasped looking at the various positions women were put. The way the men’s hips clashed against the woman’s butt and the moaning expressions on their faces– you shamelessly bit your lower lip and closed your laptop. You imagined kissing Mr Howlett so many times. Maybe you could ask him to kiss you and do things to you.. to teach you how things like that feel. You thought of so many ways… but you also didn’t want to come out as a desperate girl forcing herself on an older man. How could you only do this?

Mr Howlett stayed for dinner. You didn’t expect him to but your mother and father insisted so you were seated next to him. You were heaving some veggies and steak.. it was one of your favourites but you didn’t think of anything else but the ‘gifs’ you saved. The kissing ones. You watched Mr Howletts forearms as he cut into his steak before your mother interrupted you “y/n it’s rude to stare.” You looked down at your plate face covering your hair so Logan couldn’t see your face. Your cheeks heated momentarily— stuffing your face with veggies you then excused yourself needing a breather outside on the front porch. Stealing one of your father’s cigarettes you lit sitting on the steps. Hearing the door open you sighed “Mom I’ll be in soon” apologising you heard footsteps approaching you so you hid the cigarette. “You should go inside it’s not safe here bub” Logan slipped on his jacket walking down the steps turning to you. “I’m not a little girl Mr Howlett.. thank you for your concern” his expression turned into a scowling one the moment he saw the cigarette. “Give it to me” he put his hand out. “No.” You muttered softly. “Y/N..” he grumbled approaching you “Smoking is fucking bad for you.” He continued. “Don’t care” you took a hit in front of him that made him scowl even more. “Stop being a fucking brat and give it to me” he let out a sigh and you narrowed your eyes. “Why do you even fucking care?!” Logan shook his head a disappointed expression spread over his face. Rubbing his bearded cheek he shrugged it off. “I don’t fucking care I don’t need this.” With that he walked away. He didn’t care.. that hit your heart. Why would an older man like him care? Tears welled in your eyes, you stomped on the cigarette and walked back inside the house.

You didn’t know Logan’s urges.

You didn’t know the things you make him feel when you look at him and the times you wear skimpy little skirts riding a bike around the neighbourhood with your girlfriends. Summer holidays were his favourite because he got to see you more, you were not attending university. That’s what you told him– he loves the way you throw your head back laughing with your friends. He loves the way you walk, he even loves the way you leave your curtains open in your room so he can look at your young body when you apply lotion to your legs after shower. He knows your breath hitches when you two are close and he enjoys every moment of your tiny sufferings. He doesn’t want to be the man of your dreams. He doesn’t want to make you cry and suffer because he cannot be yours. He doesn’t want to ruin you but that tiny innocence in your eyes makes him want to do things to you. How could you know all these feelings when he’s nothing but stern with you. Drinking away his thoughts he poured himself a glass of whiskey sitting by his fireplace thinking he was harsh with you. Weren’t you just a fragile soul? He was afraid to hurt you.. his calloused touch could mark your skin.

A knock on his door disturbed his thinking, so he looked out the window only to see you standing in front of his door practically shivering in your pyjama shorts and an oversized sweatshirt he swore he loved on you. It made you look tiny.

“What are you doing here kid?” He sighed opening the door for you. “I wanted to apologise..” you whispered. “The way I acted towards you.. I just-” you stepped inside his much warmer home looking around to find a cigar burning in the ashtray a bottle of half empty whiskey and a glass right next to it. “I don’t need your apology” he cut you off walking back to his armchair sitting back down taking his cigar to smoke it. His eyes taking in your naked legs making you shiver. “I just.. I wanted to ask you something” you mumble on making him raise a brow. “It’s pretty late, you should go home” he answers you wanting nothing but you to stay but he knew he had to make you leave. He held back so much..trying to control himself around you. “Mr Howlett you’re a good man my family says.. I was just wondering if you could help me with something” you asked him scratching your arm nervously. Pressing your thighs together “I get lots of butterflies when I’m around you.. and and.. I was wondering how does kissing feel like?” The older man nearly asked you to repeat yourself. “I am not a man for you kid..” he warned you resting his cigar between his lips. “I know.. I just.. you’re older and experienced and I don’t get butterflies with anyone else” you confessed. His rugged expression turned softer. “Come here bub.. let me tell you all about it.” He patted his knee and you approached him sitting on his knee. His big hand rested on your lower back and the other put his cigar out letting it rest in the ashtray. “I don’t know much about the female body.. but I’m sure when you have butterflies in your belly your tiny girl part gets wet” you nod quickly. “Yes.. yes Mr Howlett it gets very wet.” Your response made his cock heavy. It twitched with want– “where does it get wet sweetheart?” He whispered and you slowly spread your thighs. “Down here..” you show him. His big hand slowly itches closer to your pulsing mound and you look at him wantonly.

“Don’t look at me like that..” he breathed face leaning closer to yours and you closed your eyes ready for his lips on yours only to feel him kissing your cheek his beard prickling your tender skin. His fingers tracing your warm centre between your legs and you bucked your hips towards his hand “eager little thing..” he whispered you could hear the drunk in his voice but your hand softly caressed his veiny forearm. “Mr Howlett please..” you begged. “I won’t tell.. please destroy me” when he heard those words coming out of your lips he kissed the side of your neck sliding his big hand inside your sweatshirt to fondle your breast. You moaned, it felt differently when a man was touching you. “Just gettin’ started honey..” he licked his way into your mouth kissing you pouring out his needs before pulling away to touch your face in his one hand gently squeezing your cheeks “pretty little mouth.. do you think I could fit my cock in there nice and snug sweetie?” you nodded needing nothing but him and it didn’t matter how. Cock straining against his pants he grunted grabbing a hold of your shorts and panties pulling them down your legs dropping them on the floor. His fingers locating your sensitive bud circling it. You moaned against his neck as you clung to his shoulders. “There we go honey..feeling you tense already” he smiled, prepping you. “Open..” he groaned forcing your lips open by his fingers sliding them in your mouth to moisten them. You sucked on his fingers meeting his eyes feeling hot all over. Your juices drooling out of your hole. He tsked “So wet already?” You looked at your pussy the way he caressed your folds with his fingers slowly rubbing them in circles before stuffing them in your mound. You cried out at the feeling something so large like his fingers entering you. When he curled his digits and did a pulling motion your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head the wet sounds of your core only caused his fingers to move in and out of you faster the heat in your belly rising and rising until you cried out against his chest cumming undone on his fingers. His thumb expertly rubbing your clit, the older man smiled at you. The first you saw him smile so softly. “There we go..” you choked his fingers in you even though they weren’t as deep as you wanted him to go in order to do that he’d have to take your virginity. “I never.. I never..” you babbled lost in post orgasm as you looked at him cheeks reddening with arousal. “You’ve never..what?” Very slowly pulling his fingers out of your heat he sniffed them before slowly tasting them. You blushed deeper at his doings. “Never had sex..” you whispered shyly. “Never?” Logan asks again caressing your plaint thighs. You shook your head “never.. mr howlett can you show me it feels?” He hummed in response looking at your lips before leaning down to attack your mouth in soft kisses until you parted your mouth for his tongue. You whispered to the butterflies returning and he gracefully carried you bridal style to his bedroom.

Putting you down on your feet he helped you remove your sweatshirt leaving you naked. “I will teach you all about it sweetheart..lay down” the older man said softly and you climbed on his bed resting on your back spreading your legs for him. The sight of your glistening pussy had him growling. “Little girl hungry for old man’s cock.. that’s twisted..” he smirked teasing you watching your nipples go hard. You watched him remove his top, then undo his belt and jeans before taking them off along with his boxers. Cock bobbing, hard as a rock. The swollen tip drooling tears of pre cum. The colour of his cock made you tilt your head curiosity.. it was pink, looked swollen and hard. Just like on those pictures, your breath hitched in your chest “That’s going inside of you, bub..” he climbed on the bed nestling between your legs. You stared between your bodies as his warm swollen cock rested on your pussy. It was so big, thick.. veiny. “How.. how will it fit..?” You asked curiously hips bucking up to feel his cock even more. “Greedy little thing not know anything about cocks.. but is hungry for one..” he tsked lowering himself on top of you. You moaned at the feel of his chest, touching it with your hands. Logan groaned rubbing the tip of his cock between your folds “take a deep breath..” you did as you were told taking a deep breath before he sheated himself inside of you in one single push. “Shit..!” You cursed gasping and moaning the both of you at your unison. Your gasps were painful with discomfort because of your virginity but it faded away the moment he kissed you wrapping his arms around you. You felt so safe in his arms that you cuddled up to him pressing your lips to his shoulder arms curling around him keeping your legs open for him. You felt so full, so wet.. you felt your wetness drip forming a ring on the base of his cock. “Fuck.. ugh..” he buried his face against your neck pulling out of you leaving the tip inside before thrusting back in. Slow pace, but slowly increasing it leaving you whimpering and gasping for air “mr howlett.. it tingles, the butterflies.. Ughh ohhhh.. feels so good” you cried as he responded only in hungry growls grabbing your waist in his hands he snapped his hips into you fucking you. “Can’t hold back anymore..” he slurs peeking between your bodies watching his cock slide in and out of your ruined pussy and you cry out nodding “it’s okay daddy.. take what you need!!” logan moans under his breath eyes darkening something snapping in him hoisting your legs around his waist he grabs the pillows under your head pounding into you harder than before, more than before making your toes curl watching your pussy take all of his pounding before you claw his back “daddy.. it.. hurts.. but in a good way!! Need to cum” you breathe heavily your tits bouncing to his rapid trusts as he hovers above you breathing harshly too cock throbbing as he circles your clit “you gonna cum on my cock like a good fuckin’ girl” and you did, you screamed against his neck clinging to him nearly passing out as you did. Logan nestles your face against his neck as he snaps his hips into you growing into the pillow as his claws push out piercing the bed under you. “Fuck.. fuck.. fuck….!” He curses loudly shoving his cock deeply in you before cumming undone. The tip spurting hot streams of white in your womb breeding it full. You moan uncontrollably as you feel the warmness being released inside of you. His claws retreat moments later— using his hand to cradle your head finding your lips in a kiss. You both sweat so much feeling unbelievably tired. Logan pulls out of you, watching his cream pool out of you onto the sheets. “Let’s get you showered bub..” he whispers and you nod. He promised to take care of you. The way you called him daddy.. it repeated in his mind more than few nights..

-

liking, commenting, and reblogging means the world. please don’t hesitate to do so if you liked my fic.

(Apologies for any grammatical mistakes)

[writersdrug]

I need, need need neeeeed to know who you would picture bar owner price with 😩 picturing bar owner price has me week in the knees. I need more, how would he be around the bar when he was there? Supporting, bossy,silly? The possibilities are endless. 🥰

I'm loving how people are requesting things for the rest of the 141!!

Bar Owner!Price isn't there every day, and most often not during the actual shift. He's there some mornings, already at his desk on the floor above the pub, setting up the next inventory order and dealing out everyone's tips before Simon climbs down from his flat on the third floor. They both grunt at each other, tired and in need of a hot breakfast and some tea.

He helps set up for the shift - he likes being in the kitchen with Soap. He feels bad the man is back there all by himself, even though he says he doesn't mind it. "I get to cuss 'n bitch all I want back 'ere, sir." Still, Price spends a majority of his time back there with him, prepping burger patties and making sure everything is stocked and ready. Gets on his case about updating the menu, but Soap insists the customers like it the way it is.

Price makes an appearance on the floor every now and then, opting to help run food or bartend on the busier nights. He checks in with the regulars, leaning his forearms on the bar with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, laughing and chatting with them and occasionally offering to refill their drinks. Simon grumbles quietly about him being in the way, but Price doesn't take it to heart.

He doesn't stay late. John isn't that old, but he likes to be back at home by a decent hour. One ruined sleep schedule and he's a shot for the rest of the week. He likes to get back to his flat, make himself a sandwich and pour himself some whiskey, and be on on his sofa and reading his book no later than ten in the evening. Routines have always been a part of his military career, and what can he say? Old habits really fo die hard.

Then you came along.

You didn't just rock Simon's world - you'd gotten Price, too. Though introductions could have been smoother (you nearly beat him with a keg when he came in through the back door and scared you), he's grown fond of you. First, as a hard worker and go-getter; then, as a pretty little waitress with a dazzling smile that likes to keep him on his toes. You love poking fun at him, calling him "bossman" or "barmaster" (doesn't make sense to him, since he's hardly behind the bar - but he finds it cute). You tease him for the way he runs your food, then gets stuck at the table for five minutes just chatting up the customers. You ask him things like, "Who do you prefer, Cardi B or Nicki Minaj?" And laugh when he just stares at you with a furrowed brow. He'll happily let you tease him for being an "old" man just to hear your laughter.

Then Simon sent that photo in the group chat, and Price felt something stir in his chest: looking at you, posing all prettily for your picture, working to push your little idea out there and bring in a crowd. He's impressed, but he's also intrigued. He's got his sights on you, and he's dying to figure out more about his waitress.

"'S the post making any headway?" He asks one night, leaning on the bar next to where you sit. Your tips are finished, money waded into the pocket of your apron as you scroll on your phone, sipping on a screwdriver.

"Kinda..." You mumble, a pout on your face, creasing the skin between your eyebrows. "People are seeing it, and there are a few likes, but no one's really engaging. Not sure if this will do well."

Price hums thoughtfully, looking at your lips while you stare at your screen. He's holding back the urge to lean in and take a whiff of your perfume, afraid it might seem just a bit too strange. "Have you tried promoting it?"

You look at him, laying your phone on the bar top. "Well... I could, but..." You wanted to finish with 'it would cost money'. But then, you'd be insinuating that you expected him to pay you. You could boost the post yourself, but you'd rather not spend money on something that might flop.

"'S there a problem?" Price asked, leaning in closer to you.

"I mean... promoting a post costs some money. Like, for it to be advertised to five hundred people, you'd pay around one fifty. And I think, depending on how far you wanted the post to reach - like, literally, how big of a geographic area - that would cost even more."

Price chuckles. "You do realize how much business you've brought in since you've joined the team, hmm?"

That makes your cheeks warm, pressing your lips into a line to avoid grinning like an idiot at the compliment. "I mean... sure..."

"Go upstairs to the office and get my wallet." he says, standing up from his seat at the bar.

You watch with a stupefied expression as he walks to the POS and prints some blank receipt paper. "You- you mean it? Are you sure?"

He sits on a barstool near the kitchen door. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. Hurry up- before I change my mind."

You don't need to be told twice. You drop your phone onto the bar and bolt towards the stairs - you stop yourself, running back to where Price sits and hugging him from behind. He lets out a surprise grunt as you do your best to smother him.

"You're the best boss ever!" you squeal. Then, just like that - you're off to the office upstairs. He preens over the compliment as he hears you leaping two steps at a time.

"Be careful." he calls over his shoulder. He sits there a moment, staring at the paper in front of him. He's surprised he hadn't accidentally thrown you off of him purely out of instinct, but he can't say he isn't absolutely delighted by the hug. It lingers in his mind, his chest still remembering your arms around him. He shakes his head, reaching forward to grab a pen from behind the bar.

His eyes meet Simon's - the man is glaring daggers, his head framed by the window in the kitchen door, mask hanging from his ear. His lips are pulled down into quite possibly the angriest frown Price has ever seen. His nostrils flare as he exhales - Price wonders what sort of insults are flying through the bartender's head right now.

He glares right back. If Simon wants something, he'll give it to him. But he'll make him ask for it, like any normal human being. John isn't going to surrender just because Ghost is huffing and puffing, expecting his boss to back away from you just because he's stomping his foot and looking menacing. But how can he be sure that Simon really wants you, more than he thinks Price deserves you, if the lad won't say anything? It's only reasonable, right?

"If you want something, Simon, say something." Price calls out, never backing down from Simon's jealous gaze.

He huffs again and disappears from the kitchen window. Price can hear shuffling and banging, followed by Soap's irritated voice: "Oi, I got it! Get yourself outta my kitchen n' go your own shite, 'fore you break my stuff."

Price sighs, scribbling down some numbers on the paper in front of him. He'll cave, eventually.

[1d1195]

Independent

~10.6k words

From me: I know it's a long one, but it's a one-shot.

Warnings: angst, fluff. I've got about a thousand tropes in this one. Coworker Harry, Roommate Harry, love at first sight, he falls first and harder, one bed if you squint.

Summary: “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

Harry was tall, with soft brown locks that begged to have fingers run through them, and cool green eyes that reminded her of the sage green bridesmaid’s dress she wore to one of her friends’ weddings the year before. He wore a dark purple button down with sleeves rolled up revealing a bunch of tattoos on his left arm but only a few on the right. His voice was melodic. Smooth, like he was going to sing her a lullaby and warm like it could toast a marshmallow.

Her group chat with a couple of her office friends had been buzzing the moment Harry took residence at the desk across the aisle and one row ahead of her.

Holy fuck. Val texted. Office eye candy 😍

Do you hear that thundering sound? That’s my heart 😍 Rachel continued.

She smirked at the desks, shaking her head.

Don’t shake your head. Say something! At least you’re single, you have a chance! Val sent the messages in quick succession, making her desk partner, Hunter, look at her curiously each time it vibrated.

“Do you have an emergency?” He asked her.

She shook her head. “Nope,” she smiled. “Not at all.”

*

Harry met her and asked her out on the very first day he started his new job. They both worked in an office. Their desks only a short distance apart while they worked together. He assumed there were no rules against dating as there were several married couples within the office as he quickly found out from the shared last names and wedding photos of his coworkers lining one another’s desks.

It seemed, as long as it didn’t interfere with their work, there was no issue.

Which was fine by Harry.

He was happy to ogle her all day long and he would spoil her rotten outside of work. “Hi, m’Harry,” Harry took his opportunity to introduce himself when everyone else left for their lunch hour and she was finishing something up. Leaving them alone in the office. Harry analyzed her desk as quickly as he could.

Their office was wide open with desks back-to-back nearly identical on either side with a long aisle leading to the office of their boss at the back of the room. Her desk faced the front of the room while Harry’s faced his boss’ office. He was on the opposite side of the room, and he had a great view all day long to watch her profile as she worked. Her hair was half up, her beautiful eyes hidden behind glasses, and her mouth set in concentration as she focused on her tasks. He couldn’t see her whole body, but he watched her pull her sandy colored cardigan around her white shirt multiple times that morning, like she was chilled by the air conditioner. His eyes were drawn to her. Like she was a lighthouse, and he was out at sea. All he wanted to do was watch her, keep an eye on her, and admire how stunning she was.

She had a little plant near her window—a bunch of red poppies wrapped up in a burlap vase, tied with a red bow. He couldn’t tell if it was fake or not, but he suspected it was. There was a picture of a large group of friends right by her monitor where she was off to the side in it, one of her girlfriends had an arm around her. Her stationery was cool tones of blues, greens, and purples. Her handwriting was scribbled on a calendar in front of her and he thought the way she curved her L’s was loopy and pretty beyond belief and he wished he had one in his name just to see how it looked. But it made him want to know how she would write his name anyway. There was a date at the end of September that was marked with a heart and he wondered why. Was it an anniversary? A birthday? Or the day her favorite movie came out?

A book sat on the windowsill, and he wondered when she had the time to read it during the day or maybe it was a security blanket kind of thing. There were two paper trays stacked on top of one another to organize her work and sticky notes all over her monitor and desk with ideas, reminders, and even a couple that said things like, “we love you” and “you’re so sweet.”

“Hi, Harry,” she smiled up at him to introduce herself. “Welcome to the team, are you having a good first day?”

He nodded, smiled a little brighter and dove right in. “I think m’in love with you,” she released a laugh that was so unbelievably beautiful Harry thought it sealed the deal. “I wouldn’t laugh, kitten. M’serious,” he frowned with faux sadness. He knew he was being a tad bit ridiculous. Maybe it wasn’t right to say it while they were alone, but he didn’t want to say it in front of everyone either. Hopefully he could convince her he was harmless, even if what he said was true.

Her cheeks reddened and she smiled. “That’s... very forward,” she reminded him. “And you don’t know me.”

“I know,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I was going t’hold off on saying it until tomorrow, but m’unable t’contain it. You’re very beautiful and everyone seems t’go t’you when they need help, so I imagine you’re a lovely person,” he pointed at the sticky note that said we love you once more. She snickered again and looked away covering one cheek with her hand. “M’going t’go t’lunch before I embarrass myself further, but I jus’ wanted to tell you,” he shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned toward the exit.

“Nice meeting you Harry,” she called after him a smile on her lips.

He grinned and turned briefly to wave before he exited. “Don’t forget t’eat, kitten,” he called.

*

But now that Harry admitted he was in love with her, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched while she worked. Her eyes darted to his side of the room often trying to see if he was staring at her. He wasn’t each time which only made her feel guilty and worse. Maybe her standoffish disposition deterred him rapidly. It was probably for the best, anyway. For a lot of reasons.

Was it disappointment she was feeling from his lack of attention? That didn’t seem right.

“Harry!” Val called from behind her. “Are you enjoying your first day?”

“Immensely,” did his eyes drift over to her and her desk? She stared at her screen pretending to work while she listened.

“Did you just move to town?” Rachel was much further towards the front of the room. He turned to give her his full attention. It made her heart skip a beat with how kind it was. His politeness was a massive turn on.

Even if she wasn’t going to let herself admire Harry from across the way just because they worked together.

“I did, m’actually looking for a place t’live if y’know of any places. M’at a hotel until m’on m’feet.”

Her heart started beating about two hundred times a minute because she knew what was going to happen before it did. She could feel the bubbling excitement from her friends on either end of the room. “Mary Poppins has a room!” Rachel shouted.

Her cheeks turned bright red.

“Her roommate just moved in with her boyfriend like last week! How perfect is that, Mary? You were all worried about finding a normal roommate. I even did his background check, so I know he’s good to go!”

Harry chuckled. “Um... who’s Mary Poppins?”

The whole office giggled. “Miss Poppins, did you not introduce yourself?” Someone else called. Hunter snickered across from her and she glared at him.

This was mortifying. Wasn’t this supposed to be a mortifying day for Harry? His first day and all? How come she was being teased? She took a deep breath and turned from her monitor to make direct eye contact with Harry who was already looking at her. Like he knew exactly who Mary Poppins was without his coworkers needing to tell him. “It’s a two-bedroom apartment. One bath. There’s a nice kitchen, all new appliances.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as she spoke. Like he was surprised it really was her. “Val looks like she’s going to bounce out of her seat,” Hunter smirked as he whispered under his breath to her while she tried not to panic at the thought of living with someone so unbelievably attractive and just admitted he was in love with her.

“Tell him about your living room!” Val sounded like she was bouncing.

“Water’s included.”

“She’s the cutest interior designer. It’s so homey it feels like a warm hug when you walk in. Like living with a rom-com character,” Rachel continued.

“Rent would be about twelve hundred,” she ignored her so-called friends.

“She bakes something once a week too, so it always smells like sugar and Christmas. It’s seriously the coziest place I’ve ever been,” Val kept going.

“In-unit washer and dryer.”

“Then she brings whatever she makes for all of us here to devour. It’s incredible,” Rachel’s sentiment was answered with a hum of agreement from the rest of her coworkers. She even heard someone say remember her apple turnover pastries?

“You get your own parking spot,” she tilted her head and looked at the ceiling to see if there was anything else she had forgotten. “I think that’s it,” she met Harry’s eyes once more, holding his gaze briefly before she turned back to her monitor.

“Harry you should totally move in, you will fall in love with the place.”

“M’sure I would,” he chuckled. “Could I see it sometime?” He asked. His attention never strayed from her face. She could sense his gaze on the side of her cheek the whole time her friends embarrassed the crap out of her. “Whenever you’re free. Doesn’t have t’be today.”

“Today’s fine!” Rachel assured him. “She doesn’t do anything on Mondays.”

She rolled her eyes. “Today is fine,” she repeated and smiled sweetly. She scribbled on a sticky note and headed to his desk to drop the address off with him. Then she made her way toward the restroom because she needed to get out of the room. Needed away from everyone teasing her good-naturedly.

But mostly so she could keep herself from telling Harry that she was quite, very possibly, in love with him as well.

*

True to her friends’ words, the place was cozy as hell. There was a basket of throw blankets next to a sofa that looked like it was comfier than his bed currently in his storage unit. Artwork dotted the walls, board games stowed below her TV, and curtains pulled back from the windows letting in the afternoon sunlight. It felt like a home.

There were three boxes in the middle of the living room between the coffee table and the TV, but it was otherwise spotless. “You’re very clean.”

She nodded. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He chuckled. “Y’don’t need t’apologize,” he put his hands in his pockets, so he didn’t do something crazy like hold her hand.

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, is all. You can be... messy... I won’t have a freak out or anything. Unless you leave food in the sink then we get bugs. Then I’ll be kind of freaked out.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t do that. I like t’think m’pretty clean myself,” he assured her. “I also...” he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his head. “Y’friends kinda put y’on the spot. I know what I admitted at lunch was kinda out of... out of the blue,” he bit his lip. “Y’don’t have t’feel obligated t’house me.”

“I don’t,” she promised. “I need a roommate and like Val said,” she shrugged. “She did your background check so I assume you won’t kill me, probably. At least not because you’re a serial killer. Maybe because I’m too clean.”

He shook his head with a smile on his lips making the most adorable dimple dent his cheek. She wanted to stick her tongue in it. “Thank you, m’really appreciative.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome, Harry. Sorry we’ll be around each other a lot.”

That didn’t seem like a bad thing at all. “I think it’ll be okay. We didn’t really talk much today,” he shrugged. “If y’get sick of me, m’sure I can find another place t’live,” he winked.

She rolled her eyes. “Won’t be necessary. But okay,” she sighed. “You can move in whenever,” she grabbed her keys from the breakfast bar where she ate most of her meals and pulled a key off the ring and handed it to him. “I have a second job some nights, but if you give me a heads up, I can help you move your stuff.”

“S’very kind of you, kitten, but y’don’t need t’do that. M’not going t’have all that much stuff. M’friend Louis lives not too far from here. He’ll come help me.”

“Offer stands,” she assured him.

Harry’s eyes scanned the room again and landed on the three boxes once more. “Are those your old roommate’s boxes?” He asked.

She nodded. “Two of them. I’m supposed to bring them to her, but they’re super heavy so I’m like... working up my mental and physical strength to bring them to my car. It’s going to be two trips and I’m just being a little lazy about it.”

“I can bring them down,” he grabbed one. It was definitely heavy. It was evident Harry had defined biceps and triceps practically outlined by the pretty purple button down, but it was manageable for him while a struggle for her. “Still probably two trips,” he nodded.

“Oh, I can take—”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “Don’t want you t’hurt yourself. Let me,” he offered and snagged her car keys off the counter.

“Oh, thank you that’s... thank you,” she swallowed, feeling grateful.

“Not a problem,” he assured her and left immediately.

When he returned after putting the second box in her car to return her keys, she had opened the third box and begun laying out a bunch of fall items to decorate their place. “Do you mind decorations?”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Can I help?”

She blinked at him and tilted her head. “Um... I can handle it. If you need to pack or go... get dinner or something.”

“M’fine,” he smiled, setting her keys on the counter and glanced around the room. He noted there were hooks screwed into the wall at various points. “Can I hang something for you? M’good for height.”

Harry wasn’t that much taller than her, she was definitely taller than the average woman, but it still meant she needed to drag out a stepstool when she wanted to put up her art and decorations. “That would be awesome,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, kitten,” he smiled.

*

Harry had a dreamy smile on his face as they talked and got to know one another. He hadn’t brought up that he was in love with her. Nor did he make her feel the least bit uncomfortable. Like it had never happened.

Why did it feel like she was disappointed about the prospect of that?

Maybe he wasn’t in love with her. Maybe the initial reaction of seeing someone roughly the same age as him at work made his senses a bit wild for a moment.

No. She wasn’t disappointed. Everything about Harry being in love with her would be a recipe for disaster and it was for the best that he didn’t fall in love with her.

It was just something a little bit out of the blue to say to the only person who was single in the office. Everyone had a significant other they had met within the office or elsewhere. She was the last single person. The same was true with her friend group as well. Everyone in her life had been paired off except for her.

He was her coworker. He was going to be her roommate.

But right as he left, he sent her heart into a frenzy. They were by the door. She wanted to make sure he got to his car safely even though it was a safe neighborhood. It was just the way she was. “Will you go on a date with me?” He asked.

She stared at him in shock, her lips parting like she was mid-sentence, and he had interrupted. “Seriously?” She giggled reflexively, but her cheeks felt hot. They had a lovely evening together getting to know each other. Harry helped with all the decorations and yes, in its own way it was a bit intimate. But he couldn’t possibly think that it was a good idea to date his roommate.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Harry, I can’t date my roommate.”

“Pretty sure s’how most rom-coms start,” he smiled. “S’okay. I’ll ask again later. Have a nice night,” he grinned with a wave and walked toward his car. Leaving her jaw slack, as she watched her roommate head off into the night.

*

Harry moved in later that week. He asked her to come with him to his storage unit to see if there was anything she would want in the apartment, but she had pretty much everything. It seemed silly to bring a double of everything when she owned all of it already.

But Harry would forever be grateful and indebted to his sister for her kindness as he watched her examine some of his belongings. One in particular caught her eye making him think that he had won the lottery with how excited she was.

She couldn’t believe Harry had a stand mixer and she was nearly in awe of all the attachments to help bake and cook easier. “I’ve always wanted one of these. They’re so expensive,” she blinked. “How do you have one?”

“M'sister got one when she got married,” he explained. “But she doesn’t bake and said it was taking up space in her kitchen.”

“Can we bring it to the apartment? Do you mind?”

The way her eyes lit up at the sight of it? Pure joy and happiness? Yeah. It was going to the apartment. If he ever moved out, he would probably leave it with her too just so she could always look that happy. “Course. Anything else?”

She looked around the organized storage room sifting through the items in different bins while Harry searched for some of his own trinkets that he thought he would want after his initial move. His room and bathroom items had already been moved in with the help of Louis. “This is stunning,” her voice full of awe once more, grabbing a print from behind a shelf. Harry wasn’t sure where it was from. He thought his mum purchased it to make his old place feel like home. “This would look amazing in the living room.”

“Bring it,” he smiled. She tucked it under her arm and continued searching. Harry grabbed a few more odds and ends and she plucked out a few more things she thought would work with the apartment’s décor and mainly helpful kitchen tools.

“It’s your place too, Harry,” she reminded him. “Is there anything you want there?”

He smiled, shook his head. “Y’seem t’have everything, kitten. M’not picky.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a guest,” she pouted. “Like you should bring these,” she gestured to pictures of his friends and family in a bin. “I can move some of mine to my room so you can put them up.”

He grinned. “Sure,” he shrugged. “If y’think s’what I should do.”

“Alright, could we come back in a few weeks and see if there’s anything else you want once you’re settled a bit?”

“Course.”

They gathered as much as they could, Harry would have to come back for the stand mixer. Harry closed the trunk and moved to open the passenger door for her before her hand fully pulled it out of the way. He waited until she was tucked into the seat safely and he handed her the car keys. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” she smiled.

“Hey kitten,” he said leaning against the door before he left. “Will y’go on a date with me?”

“Harry,” she laughed the same way she did the last time he asked her. The same way she laughed when he told her he was in love with her. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” he smiled at the delight on her face. The pretty pink color rising to her cheeks. “Will you?”

“I can’t go on a date with you, Harry,” she looked at him with a bit of sympathetic pity. Like he was ridiculous for asking. Again. Which he was.

“Then I’ll ask again another time,” he shrugged, closed her car door, and headed to get the stand mixer that made her happy.

*

“Hey Poppy, did y’want t’go get lunch with me?” Her eyes didn’t move from her screen. “Poppy,” he repeated. “Poppy,” he sang. She glanced around and realized she was the only one in the room.

“Me?”

He chuckled. “Yes, you.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “Why did you call me Poppy?”

“Well, m’assuming s’your favorite flower,” it was a safe bet since there was a small bouquet right beside her. “Also, everyone else calls y’Mary, Poppins, or Miss Poppins. Which I still don’t know why, but I wanted t’be different. Want you t’know s’me when y’hear me talking t’you.”

Her heart raced. Harry was utterly adorable. “I see. Sorry,” she smirked.

“Anyway,” he came over to stand by her desk. “Do y’want t’get lunch?”

“Harry, I told you I don’t date.”

“M’not asking as a date. M’asking as your coworker who has never seen y’eat a bite of food while you’re at work. M’asking as your concerned roommate who worries y’don’t eat until y’get home for dinner. And I don’t even want t’think ‘bout how long y’go without eating when you’re at your second job.”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I don’t go out to lunch with everyone,” she explained. “I don’t know if you noticed, but people always seem to need me while I’m here,” she gestured to her desk. “Lunch is the only time I get a minute to myself. And I can get caught up a bit before the afternoon and everyone comes back.”

“Well do you bring lunch?” He asked, his frown deepening still worried she wasn’t eating.

“I do, it’s in the breakroom. I’ll get it in a minute,” she promises. “Go, you’re wasting your lunch hour.”

“Okay,” he sighed. He stopped in the doorway of the entrance to the office. “Hey Poppy,” he smiled.

“Yeah?” She asked without looking up from her screen.

“Now that y’mention it though, will y’go out with me?”

*

At home, Harry took the trash out because he said it was a boy-job and she shouldn’t be out in the dark by a dumpster. It made his skin crawl just to think about it. He made her promise that she wouldn’t take out the trash and he didn’t mind if he had to go out twice in one day. She thought it was ridiculous. But she agreed.

He cleaned up after himself checking with her to see if it was up to her standard. Even though she assured him he didn’t have to meet her standard. His cologne overtook their bathroom, and it was so comforting she took long hot showers at night just to amplify the scent filling her nose. Harry stretched across the sofa and scrolled through various show options but often didn’t find something that piqued his interest. Instead, he would put on some background noise and read on an eReader. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

Harry bought groceries and didn’t ask for any money from them. “M’sure you’ll buy stuff too,” he shrugged. Plus, she already had all the cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, dishwasher pods, and the like. Harry hardly had anything useful so buying groceries was the least he could do.

Except the stand mixer. People moaned about her cookies. Harry got to see her make them firsthand and the very scene with an apron around her body, her smile bright as she tested various stages of the dough, it did wonders for Harry. Some kind of nearly pornographic idea that only Harry would think was pornographic. “Will you try one?” She asked, hope in her voice.

Was he supposed to say no to her? Absolutely not. So, he tried one. “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

He frowned, faking his disappointment (although he was the slightest bit disappointed). “I’ll try again,” he shrugged and took three more cookies from her cooling rack before returning to the sofa to read.

*

“Mary!” Val sang. “Do you have the stain stick?” She called from behind. She opened a drawer, eyes unmoving from her screen and held it out behind her for it to be passed back by her other coworkers. Harry chuckled.

It killed her that she knew his chuckle without looking. “S’impressive,” he murmured quietly. But she could hear it from across the way.

“That’s nothing,” Rachel said from the other end of the room. “Miss Poppins,” she smiled delightedly. “I have a missing button,” she told her.

That was the other drawer, a small little sewing kit to fix a button.

“Hair tie!” Someone called from the other side of the room.

“Lint roller!”

They all called out items and she had every single one.

“Do you have anything stronger to put in this coffee?” Their boss was walking up the aisle and paused at her desk. She smirked, opened the bottom drawer and placed a mini bottle of liquid on the edge of the desk. The whole office laughed as he snatched it and headed to his office. “You’re getting a raise, Poppins,” he called.

Hunter turned to look at Harry. “I gave her the nickname,” he explained.

“I get it,” he chuckled.

“If you need it, chances are she has it.”

“If she doesn’t, she adds it,” Val explained.

Her smile was soft. Harry thought it was sweet how her coworkers adored her. It was clear she was loved by them. Her thoughtfulness was admirable. Harry wondered how he was supposed to top that. No wonder she didn’t want to go out with him. Why would she want to go out with anyone when she was ten times sweeter than anyone she knew?

*

Her best friend Josephine (Joey) was helping her in the bathroom when Harry got home from the gym one Friday evening. “Holy hell you said he was cute, not hot,” she gaped.

“Aw, y’think m’cute, Poppy?” He asked winking at her. Her cheeks flushed red, making it so she didn’t need any of the blush she was putting on her cheeks. He leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed over his chest. He was sweaty and really wanted to get in the shower, but he didn't mind a bit of time to stare at his sweet roommate.

“I should have known. Only a man that uses such high-end cologne would be this hot.”

“Didn’t you buy Matt high-end cologne?”

“Hence why I think he’s so hot,” Joey beamed. Her friend laughed quietly, shaking her head as she finished with her makeup.

“Sorry Harry, we’ll be out of the way in a minute.”

“Take y’time. M’not in a rush.”

“Oh, you should come out!” Joey squealed. “Harry, please! She’s always by herself keeping an eye on us it would be nice to have someone keep her company!”

“Thanks, Mom. I don’t need a babysitter,” she rolled her eyes. “No offense, Harry.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “I don’t want t’impose. Plus m’in need of a shower.”

“Don’t let us stop you,” Joey smiled widely gesturing to the shower.

“Can you not?” She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry with apologetic eyes.

He laughed again and shook his head. “Y’can call if y’need something,” he assured her.

“Harry, please come out! You can meet us there!” Joey said again.

She looked at him with a soft smile. A look in her eyes said he wasn’t going to get out of it. Not if he didn’t have a really good reason. But truthfully? He didn’t need a reason to get out of it. Spending time with her outside of work, outside of the apartment, and errands like the grocery store and running to the post office had him excited to see her in another frame of light. Did she let loose? He would love to dance with her. Even if it was only as friends, roommates, fuck as coworkers even. How did she act around her friends versus her coworkers? God, he was obsessed.

“I can wait for you,” she suggested, her voice soft. Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Poppy.”

*

Her eyes scanned for her friends as she sat on a stool at a high top beside Harry. It was like watching a teacher on a field trip counting heads to make sure everyone was still present. The table was littered with drinks all of which she minded just as intently.

Harry just gazed at her as he sipped his drink. He helped as needed pushing drinks toward her friends as they came back from dancing. “Y’don’t dance?”

“Oh...maybe later. I’m not very good,” she admitted. “I like dancing with Joey because she’s worse than me.”

She caught the eye of one of her friends, Hailey, approaching and she reached into her purse strapped around the front of her for something. Harry watched as Hailey made it to her. “Thanks Mary,” she gushed taking the bandage from her and made her way for the bathroom. It was pretty wild she could anticipate whatever her friends needed. It was like at work. Harry was a bit awestruck and looked at her with a surprised expression. She shrugged and continued sipping her drink.

Jaylen was next. Joey’s twin brother; they had the same facial expressions--mainly the smile that Joey had on her face when she suggested Harry shower in front of her and his favorite person.

The same smile appeared on his face and told Harry he was going to say something just as delightful as Joey had said of Harry. Sure enough, Jaylen draped an arm around her and leaned into her ear to whisper something over the sound of the music. She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. His face turned serious and he whispered something again.

She frowned. Then reached into her purse again. Out came a tampon which he slid discreetly into his pocket and then she glanced at his outfit twisting her lips to the side in disappointment.

After a brief thought, she pulled her purse over her body and laid it on the table. The long cardigan she wore came off next, leaving her in a black tank top that tucked into her jeans. It hugged her curves like a glove making Harry’s mouth water and he glanced away worried he would look like a creep. He finished his beer before Jaylen grinned and thanked her profusely and walked away. She took a deep breath and put her purse back into position before wrapping one arm in front of he protectively, gripping the front of her shoulder.

“Are y’cold?” He asked.

She shook her head.

But Harry was sitting beside her. He could see the goosebumps on her skin. She selflessly gave her sweater to her friend for whatever reason (Harry wasn’t totally sure, but he suspected it was menstrual related). But she was going to pretend like she wasn’t cold? Harry was definitely in love. In case it wasn’t obvious by the moment he met her. Boldly, Harry reached below her bar stool and tugged it toward him. She jostled a bit but he maintained her balance. Then he draped his arm around her body pulling her toward him further and he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t pull away. She didn’t make a sound and her facial expression didn’t change.

But Harry felt her body relax into his side, her head dipping ever so slightly toward his shoulder. He smiled softly and brought his lips closer to her ear so she could hear. “Y’don’t have t’lie t’me, Poppy. M’your roommate and all. I know y’like the apartment a toasty temperature.”

She smirked and tilted her head up. Their eyes connected, their mouths only two inches apart. “Thank you,” she said kindly.

Harry really enjoyed holding her.

*

At the end of the night, she rounded up her friends ensuring those who said they could drive actually could and if they couldn’t she called for Ubers until everyone was safely on their way home. Jaylen’s girlfriend, Maya, had her green sweater wrapped around her white pants. She thanked her profusely, drunkenly.

Joey and Matt waved goodbye. “Bye Hot Roommate,” Joey called waving to Harry specifically.

“Jesus, Joey,” Matt rolled his eyes. “Nice meeting you Harry,” he called.

Once everyone was gone, she rubbed her hands on her arms to keep the blood flowing and warming her skin. Harry wrapped his arm over her shoulders again and tucked her into his side as they headed for her parked car a couple blocks away. “Go on a date with me," he spoke straight forward. Hoping if he didn't look, it wouldn't seem like as a massive deal--almost like he would trick her into a date.

She elbowed him. “I can’t go out with a coworker, Harry. Or my roommate for that matter.”

He shrugged. “I’ll ask later,” he boldly kissed the top of her head. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind. Harry was sure to keep that in his head for future reference. He would most definitely be kissing her again. “You’re an extremely sweet girl, Poppy. Selfless, lovely, kind,” he listed. “Whoever y’end up with, m’going t’be very jealous,” he assured her.

She snorted and laughed quietly under her breath. “Thank you, Harry.”

*

For months it continued with similar routines, feelings, and questions. They grew closer as friends. At work he admired her from his desk from across the office. When she didn’t go to lunch, he reminded her to eat and not work too hard. At home, he grumbled that her loophole of taking the trash out in the daytime was not the point of his promise. He still bought groceries each week trying to figure out all the things she enjoyed eating.  

He helped her clean the apartment and when it was getting cooler outside, she asked to join him at the gym. Her outfits were cute and made guys stare at her as she worked out, unbeknownst to her. She asked for help from Harry which made him feel like he won an Olympic medal. His face was smug as the men in the gym finally stopped looking at her. Thinking Harry was lucky enough to be hers.

It made him happy to help her figure out new machines and with her sets of weightlifting (even though she didn’t like it).

Everywhere they went, people ogled her. She was so kind. Little kids would smile at her in grocery store lines and wave like it was a game of peekaboo. Dogs tugged on their leashes hoping to get a pet from her around the loop she ran in the neighborhood. Their elderly next door neighbor tried telling her a hundred times that she had a grandson her age and he would love to date her (that one drove Harry the most crazy).

She had her head leaning in her palm as she watched the stand mixer beat the brownie ingredients like it was the most interesting thing in the world. But Harry was watching her; so he was, in fact, watching the most interesting thing in the world.

He leaned against the wall just beside the kitchen entrance. “Poppy?” He asked. She looked up at him. “Go on a date with me, please," his expression soft.

She was finally getting used to it. She gave herself a lot of credit. It was pretty crazy she hadn’t caved yet. Harry was so lovely. Not to mention attractive. At the gym, his muscles rippled and glistened with sweat. The outline of every abdominal muscle was sinful. It was a miracle she didn’t drop her own weights or fall on the treadmill when she caught sight of him. It drove her crazy that the women there gazed at him longingly; like he was something to eat. But was she really any better?

She smiled, the blush on her cheeks still prominent, but not as deep. She was used to her heart skipping a beat, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he asked. “That's very sweet, Harry. But I don’t date.”

It was six months since he met her when he finally asked. “Why not?”

She shrugged. He thought she wasn’t going to say anything more, so he frowned, sighed, and headed for the living room to get back to his book. “I just don’t date, Harry. I like being friends,” she told him.

He grumbled something about still being friends even if they dated but she either didn’t hear or pretended not to hear. Either way, it was quiet for a few beats. “If I hadn’t told you I was in love with you that first day, would that have changed your answer?”

She giggled and shook her head. “No.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. Ever determined. He smiled widely at her. “I’ll keep asking then.”

*

When she got dressed up for a family wedding and clicked down the hall in heels and a dress that flowed over her like she was the bride (only wearing green of course, not white). Her hair was curled and pinned so prettily Harry thought he was seeing a real angel in the flesh. “Oh, come on, Poppy,” he groaned and covered his eyes with his hand dramatically. “S’not fighting fair,” he frowned.

She grinned, her cheeks warming more than they had in a while. “I look okay?”

“Stunning,” he grumbled. “M’so jealous I won’t get t’dance with you,” he pouted.

She shook her head. “I don’t usually dance at weddings when I go alone,” she explained.

“Well, y’should’ve told me. I would’ve been your date.”

“Harry—”

“Platonic date,” he rolled his eyes. “This is worse than when y’wore that pencil skirt t’work,” he reminded her. She snickered and shook her head while she looked at her phone. She sucked her lip into her mouth and sighed wincing slightly and then turned to her room again. After several minutes she returned in a different dress. She was equally stunning, but she looked a little forlorn. “An outfit change?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she shrugged. “My sister is wearing green.”

Harry frowned. “So?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just...” she shrugged. “It’s alright. I like this dress just fine.”

But it wasn’t green. She looked so pretty in green. It complimented her skin tone so perfectly. She looked stunning. Like she was a queen. “But—”

“Seriously, Harry. It’s fine.”

The muted purple dress looked lovely on her as well. But Harry thought the green made her look otherworldly. He wanted the happiness back in her eye. The light that sparked when he complimented her. “Well when can y’wear it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Season’s almost over for a wintergreen like that,” she shrugged. “Maybe next year.”

Harry frowned. But then he had a wonderful idea to help both her dress and himself. “Go on a date with me, Poppy.”

The smile reappeared on her face, and she shook her head. “I can’t, Harry.”

“Please? Do it for the sake of that dress,” he pleaded. “We don’t even have t’call it a date. An outing. An adventure. Whatever y’want. Y’jus’ need t’wear it before y’can’t.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Harry. But I can’t.”

He sighed. “You’re welcome, Poppy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll steal you a cupcake. I heard they come from this bakery that I love and if it doesn’t make it home to you, then we’re going to have to go there anyway.”

It didn’t replace a date. But he liked the way she smiled. And going to a bakery together was inherently a couple-y thing to do. So he would take what he could get.

“Sure, Poppy. I’d love to.”

*

She didn’t need people. Needing people had only ever broken her heart. She never asked for help ever. Well...only when they were at the gym but that was a safety thing more than anything.

Even when she should have asked.

Harry didn’t notice until he drove her to a house party that her friends didn’t invite her too. She was sleepy, it was obvious. Leggings, oversized sweater. Her hair was braided loosely and falling apart because she had woken in the middle of the night to answer a message. Harry was in the middle of a good book. Unable to put it down when she ventured into the living room. A yawn falling from her lips. Her eyes barely open. It took several questions and repeated convincing to let him drive her since he was awake, and it looked like she was going to pass out while standing.

Harry insisted on coming in even as she told him to stay in the car, but he refused. She found her friends, her voice was soft as she encouraged Jaylen to leave. A little over his limit and Joey and Maya were about just as gone and unable to convince Jaylen to go with them. A guy from across the room made a joke about Mommy coming to save him. As her pugnacious friend made a turn to deal with the offensive person, she stopped him. She was quick, grabbed his arm, and held tight.

When they returned to the apartment she corralled her friends into their sleeping arrangements. Maya and Jaylen in her bed, Joey on the sofa. “Sorry I took your reading spot,” she whispered as she tucked a blanket around Joey. She snagged another blanket and curled into the only other chair in the living room. “Thank you for driving,” she smiled, closing her sleepy eyes.

“You’re gonna sleep there?” He asked. She nodded, barely moving. Like she was already half-way to dreaming. Harry snagged her out of the chair, cradling her and bringing her to his room.

“Harry,” she protested.

“We’re grown adults,” he reminded her. “We can share a bed without it being weird. S’like a hotel room.”

“Harry,” she repeated, her objection evident in her tone. “I can’t—”

“M’not letting y’sleep in a chair or on the floor. So, it’s m’bed or y’aren’t sleeping,” he shrugged.

She sighed. Too tired to oppose any further, thankfully. Harry laid her atop the covers and draped another blanket over her. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and slid beneath his sheets and glanced at the sleeping angel beside him. He smiled. He liked the way she looked in his bed. Liked the way she seemed comfortable and sleepy beside him. His bed felt warm with her beside him. Even though she wasn’t touching him. She smelled good in his room too.

“Night, Harry,” she mumbled.

“Good night, Poppy,” he answered, reached out, squeezed her hand before releasing it so she wouldn’t break a piece of his heart by telling him they shouldn’t.

It was easy to fall asleep with her beside him.

It was even easier to dream of her with her intoxicating presence in his room as well.

*

Harry noticed how drained she seemed when the weather continued to get warmer. Her friends all had birthdays around the same time, and she was a mess of scheduling and reserving birthday dinners and planning things for all of them. Did Harry miss her birthday? He would have to ask. He hoped he didn’t. He hoped her friends would take the time to plan for her the way she did for them.

Work was approaching a busy season, and everyone kept coming to her more and more throughout the day. He could see the anxiety on her face as her growing to-do list looked nearly unmanageable. Harry tried to go to others if he had issues. But every time he asked someone else a question, they called out for Mary Poppins, and she would glance up and look at Harry with a sad smile asking how she could help.

Harry was worried she wasn’t eating her lunch. When everyone else left, her eyes were hidden behind those glasses, her face concentrating and relieved for the reprieve from people calling her name for help with work or needing something like a pen or a screwdriver. Sometimes Harry hated his job. Not because it was difficult. But it seemed like everyone in the office was incompetent. Or weaponizing their incompetence and foisting their tasks onto the lovely woman who would never say no to them.

Her friends did it too. With all the planning and such.

The poor thing looked exhausted. She didn’t join Harry at the gym and her second job seemed like the only time she got to herself. “I miss reading,” she grumbled when she got home late from her shift. She kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa. “My eyes are exhausted though,” she rubbed them for good measure. “I think I would fall asleep if I tried to read. I think I need to wake up earlier and read.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t burn yourself out, Poppy,” he rolled his eyes. “What are y’reading?”

“I’ve been trying t’read this book for months,” she pulled it from the shelf below the coffee table. He had seen it tucked there for a while. He grabbed it from her, skimmed the back of the book, and opened to the first chapter.

Then, he started reading.

Out loud.

“Harry,” she whispered her eyes wide.

“Yeah?” He asked, pointing at the sentence where he stopped and looked at her curiously. “M’starting over, because I want t’know what’s happening,” he smiled. Her face looked so shocked and confused. Sad even. Like she didn’t know what emotion she was supposed to feel.

“You don’t have to—”

He shook his head, and continued reading before she could finish her sentence.

Harry read three chapters before he carried her sleeping self to bed.

*

Something changed in Harry. He almost turned into a stalker. He tracked her movements and routines for a week. He knew most of them. But he really tracked them. The daily ones were easiest. She went for a run in the morning, he followed her lead and didn’t say a word. He went to her favorite coffee shop and paid for her favorite drink for a week’s worth of drinks in advance.

He wished they carpooled, but she was so busy. So he timed his arrival so that he was at the entrance door holding it open for her. When everyone left to get lunch, he heated up her food and brought it to her desk before leaving silently.

One day, there was a note on her dashboard saying she had a full tank of gas. When she arrived home after her second job, she noted her spare car key was on Harry’s key ring. At home, her laundry was in the wash. The shirts she didn’t like to put in the dryer were hung in the bathroom.

Harry could see it. She was cracking. It was the first time someone had done something for her it seemed. The first time someone so selflessly did things for her, anticipated her needs the way she anticipated everyone else’s.

Her throat felt tight as she looked at Harry in the kitchen, making her favorite dinner—a soup that took hours and hours to make.

He didn’t even know it was her birthday that day which made her heart feel sicker than ever.

“Poppy,” he smiled sweetly placing a bowl in front of her exhausted figure.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

If she wasn't so in awe, she would have realized where his tone was. What was coming next. “Go on a date with me, kitten.”

“I can’t.”

“S’not so hard,” he assured her. “You sit across from me and be yourself because m’already in love with you,” he reminded her sweetly. An impish grin on his pretty pink lips. That dimple she wanted to sink her tongue into on display. “I tell y’how stunning y’look, I pay for you t’eat. I feed you a dessert of your choosing that you’re probably too full t’eat and then I can kiss you wherever y’want. Lips, cheek, forehead,” he shrugged. “Then we come home, and I’ll read a chapter of your book. Y’can decide if y’want t’go on a second date.”

She giggled, her cheeks red. “I can’t, Harry,” she looked at him apologetically, but she felt herself melting as much as the soup warmed her insides. It was ridiculous to eat soup in the middle of the summer. But Harry made it for her anyway.

His heart deflated a little. He wasn't kidding. He was definitely in love. He had to be because there was no other way he could explain the feelings he had for her. Someone so thoughtful, so pretty, sweet, and funny.

Harry had asked her out at least a hundred times. Around Christmas, she got her hair cut and he always found her beautiful, but he asked her almost every day following her new hair style for a month straight. Each time she said she couldn't. She didn't date.

For the first time in the near year since he had first asked her, first met her, he realized she said she can’t go on a date with him. She didn’t date. That he was crazy.

Not that she didn’t want to. She didn’t say no.

Hope bloomed inside him.

*

She didn’t need anything. She didn’t need anybody. It was clear someone or maybe many had let her down so many times. He watched her doing everything she could to make this party as nice as humanly possible for Hailey. Not that Hailey didn’t deserve it, but no one had done anything like this for her. Harry only found out it was her birthday after the fact, and he felt like shit for it. Even though she assured him that was one of the best birthdays she ever had.

All he did was make her soup.

She deserved so much more.

It almost seemed too obvious that they hadn’t done anything for her remotely as lovely as she did.

“You’re staring, Styles,” she murmured without looking up from the chair while he lounged on the sofa.

“Go on a date with me,” he smiled.

She blushed, shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“You haven’t said no.”

"I've said no about a hundred thousand times, Harry," she rolled her eyes.

Why was it now? Why did he want to tell her what he was thinking about the whole situation now? But it was in his chest. He had to say it. Had to tell her.

“No, you’ve never said no,” he shook his head and looked at her head on, while she continued looking at her to do list, her planner. Her poor neglected book waiting to be read by Harry because her tired eyes couldn’t. She looked up at him and smirked. Ready to protest once more, but Harry shook his head again. “I remember everything you've said t'me. I would remember a 'no,' it would probably kill me t’hear y’say, no kitten. Y'call me crazy, y'say y'can’t or that y'don’t date. Never, not once, have y'ever said y'don’t want t'go on a date with me. Nor a flat out no. So m'going t’keep asking until y'say y'don’t want to. Because I think you do want t'go out with me but for some reason y'don't want t'allow yourself t'be happy. T'let someone else in. M'not going t'stop asking. Not until I hear y'say "Harry Styles I would rather die than go on a date with you. I never want to go out with you." Maybe that makes me conceited or creepy. M’sure it does make me crazy. But I don’t care. I want t'go on a date with you. I want t'go on a million dates with you, actually. So m'not giving up until y'call me creepy or y'say y'don’t want to.”

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. Her eyes didn't move from her lap.

"Kitten," he murmured. She didn’t look up. “Poppy,” he whispered. She finally met his green-eyed gaze again. His expression soft, pleading. “Go on a date with me,” his voice was soft. Harry swore his heart stopped beating because if he was wrong, if she really was saying no all those times, he wasn't sure he could ever stop asking her. The idea he would never get to take her out to eat and order her favorite dessert. He wouldn't see a movie and wrap his arm around her shoulders and that was completely unfair. He wanted to offer his jacket to her when it rained and hold her hand while walking through a museum. "Poppy," he repeated.

She bit her lip, her lips opening and closing like she wasn't sure which word was going to pop out. “I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes looking at him in a way that he could read right through her. They screamed at him, please don’t stop asking me.

As if he could ever. Harry smiled. "Okay," he shrugged, hope and adoration for her flooding him. "I'll ask again tomorrow."

A sad smile graced her face. "You're crazy," she whispered again.

"Only 'bout you, Poppy.”

*

Harry felt like he was getting sick. Probably due to the sweet girl in his apartment who had worn herself so thin and weary that she had inadvertently brought illness home to him. His head was killing him. His pillow was calling for him the way he wished his favorite stubborn woman would call him.

He didn't even know if she was home. But honestly, he was glad. If she knew he was sick, she would dote on him. Even if she was starting to fell unwell. The thoughts of her were never too far from his mind. He would never be too sick, too lost, too far away from her that she could leave his thoughts.

Sleeping was one of his favorite hobbies because he loved to see her in his dreams. Loved to see the unaffected, carefree, beautiful, stubborn woman. The angel that enjoyed affection both giving and receiving.

It was his nightly dream. The one where she snuggled with him, and it was like they had been together twenty years and not zero. The one where he could taste her lips (even if in his dream she tasted like nothing) he knew it was wrong. She probably tasted like chocolate or caramel or something deliriously sweet.

Unfortunately, his phone vibrated below his pillow pulling him from his perfect beautiful dream.

“Harry?”

He squinted at his phone. Head aching, throat sore. Curious as to why he didn’t have the number saved. “Speaking.”

“Oh, thank god,” the voice sighed. “It’s Joey,” she said. “Harry. Something’s wrong. She won’t stop crying and she won’t say anything but your name.”

He leapt out of bed. Illness forgotten even if he was dizzy. His heart thudded like a chorus of drums, and he didn’t even grab shoes as he raced out of his room, snagging his wallet and keys off the counter as he exited the apartment.

He listened to Joey say a few more things. Something about being out at a club. She never left the bar area. There was no way someone had hurt her. But Harry drove through the night with his heart in his throat like someone had hurt her. He wasn’t sure seeing her would even calm him. He knew where Joey lived, fortunately, so he sped as quickly as he could. The ache in his head and his throat was lost behind him along the drive.

He didn’t knock as he hurried barefoot into Joey’s apartment. Matt was coming from the kitchen and making his way down the hall. He looked at Harry sadly as he approached the main room.

“Poppy?” he whispered as he entered the room, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. "Kitten," he frowned and knelt in front of her. He picked her face up between his and he scanned her looking for signs of injury. Anxiety was in every inch of his body. But she fell into his arms before he could look any longer. Sobbing harder than when he entered. “M'here. M'here, baby. It’s okay. M'here," he kissed the top of her head, cupping the back of her head with one hand. The other arm winding around her and squeezing her tight to his body. “Oh kitten,” he sighed, sadness coating his voice. His heart ached. Like it was going to snap in half if she cried any longer. “M’sorry, baby. M'here. S’okay. Tell me. Please. I’ll make it better,” he promised.

Her sobs continued, like she was unable to speak. "Harry," she whimpered.

"M'here, Poppy, s'okay," he assured her even if it wasn't. "Baby," he frowned pulling away to look at her her tearful eyes. He tugged her back to his embrace and continued to soothe her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back hoping it was comforting as he hoped it was.

Harry caught Joey's eye, who looked over from the entryway and smiled weakly.

"You good?" She mouthed. Harry nodded and when he glanced back, her friend was gone.

*

Harry kissed the top of her head for the hundredth time. He continued rubbing his hand down her spine. His head was still screaming.

But she was well worth it. Her cheeks were streaked with salt lines. Her eyes puffy and red around the edges. He had pulled her to him so they could snuggle into the corner of the couch. Her body tucked between the back cushion and Harry's body. Like he didn't want anyone to see her if they entered the room.

“Harry?” Her voice was raw.

“Hmm?” He tucked her hair behind her ear and skimmed his fingertip along the same path repeatedly.

“Will you go on a date with me?” She whispered.

He smiled lazily. His heart exploding in his ribcage. “God, Poppy, I don't know. I have t'check m'schedule.” She smacked his chest with no weight behind it. He kissed the top of her head. “I’d take y’right now. Whenever y’want.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing t’be sorry for.”

"I have issues."

"We can work on them together."

"I don't know if you'll..." She trailed off.

"If I'll what?" He brushed his thumb on her cheek.

She took a deep breath. "I love love, Harry. I love watching people get married. I love when people have babies and grow a family. I want to have babies. I love reading romance novels and watching silly rom-coms where you can predict the ending before the movie even starts."

"Sounds pretty romantic and easy, Poppy," he murmured.

She swallowed continuing. "I will do a lot for you because I believe that's the way love is supposed to be. I want to make your life easier, and I want to do things that make you happy because I think happiness and love are in short supply and I want those books and rom-coms to be real."

Harry nodded. "Well—"

"I've never had that. I had a boyfriend for four years and..." she sniffled. "When we broke up, I said that I wouldn't do that again. I wouldn’t devote myself so completely to someone that wouldn't give me half as much. Then I met my next boyfriend and at first, I thought it was right, finally. It was equal. He loved me the right way, I mean. The way I thought I wanted, deserved... But then it was like he got tired of doing things. I don't know. Maybe my love language is acts of service. I don't know. I’m not making sense, I'm sorry. But..." she swallowed. "I broke it off after only two years that time. I just don't think I can be loved the right way... not forever. I don't know. I sound so selfish, don’t I? I don’t know why you want to go out with me so badly. I want someone to love me the way I love them, and I don’t think that’s...fair."

It was why she always had everything. Why she planned and hosted parties. Why she never drank and always took care of her friends. She loved everyone that was lucky to cross paths with her, with her whole, big, beautiful heart.

Harry tilted her chin up. "M’going to love you the right way,” he promised. “M’going to love you the way y’want because that's what y’deserve. If I love you anything less than you deserve then... well... I don't know what, Poppy. If that’s the case m’probably dead because s’the only possible explanation,” she snorted and tears dripped down her cheeks again but not like the night before. “But it's not going to be a problem, kitten. M’going to love you the way your books love. The way a rom-com loves. M’going to love you the way you love everyone that walks into your life. The way you so selflessly devote your kindness to them. M’going to love you the way you love," he promised. “Because s’an honor to love you,” he assured her. “S’an honor to be loved by you.”

She looked away from his gaze, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his chest. His throat was aching again. He was really tired, but he would suffer her wrath and frustration of going on about this later. He knew that she would be beside herself knowing he was sick and dealing with her anyway. But where else would he be? "Harry," she whispered finally. He met her eyes the back of his fingers skimming her cheek.

"What, Poppy?"

"Do you love me already?"

"Of course I do."

She sniffled, her face crumpling with relief. Like all of it had been a trick up until then. "Okay," she whispered. “Can we go home?”

“Course, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head and moved slowly to get up from the sofa. All of his muscles ached from sickness and from the awkward but perfect position of holding her all night in the cramped little space.

He held his hand out for her to take as she stood next. “Harry,” she whispered softly.

“Hmm?” He hummed and looked at her with a soft expression that made her stomach flip, her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, Poppy?"

“I’m in love with you too.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[reignpage]

Physics Tutor!Nanami

Law of Love: following the stars across the universe to you

Content: final chapter of the pre-relationship arc, fluff and smut, 18+ mdni, not proofread Word Count: 6.1k Guide

Nanami Kento is a man of science. 

Always has been, likely always will be. 

Everything is measured, from his coffee (exactly one and a half tablespoon of coffee grinds and three hundred millilitres of hot water, no sugar, straight off the boil), to the temperature of his shower (thirty-eight degrees) and even to the number of steps it takes to get from his shared apartment to his Monday morning lecture hall (one thousand, six hundred, and seventy eight usually). 

So, it would be no surprise to anyone that he’s counting down the seconds till the clock strikes five on a Saturday afternoon, phone in one hand in case you get lost, or universe forbid, bailed, and coffee in the other.

He should have done this a long time ago, should have invited you here, or invited himself over to your place, anything to get you alone. No, not in a creepy way. He just wants to talk, to get everything out in the open, to fix things. 

After an embarrassing night of drinking more alcohol than he really should have, he resolved to send you a message imploring you to come to the Eden Observatory. Nanami isn’t exactly sure why he chose this place of all places — a girl like you should be taken somewhere fancy, like a five star restaurant, dazzled on an ice rink, or led through a mall and told to choose anything and everything you want. 

Palms sweaty, he wipes them on his slacks. That’s another thing. He hasn’t opted to wear something cooler. Dressed in a plain, clunky sweater and overly formal trousers, he groans inwardly and regrets not having taken Haibara up on his offer to wear some of his hoodies and jeans. 

He can still picture his roommate’s lopsided grin and the enthusiastic thumbs up he gave which only made Nanami furrow his brows, feeling oddly like a child being dropped off at their first day of school. 

With the sun setting, he stands in front of the doors, fiddling with the keys, and waits rather impatiently. He’s booked it for the evening so there won’t be distractions. It’ll just be you and him and all the things left unsaid. 

A smile flutters on his lips. 

You came. 

You emerged from your car, a hot pink mini, and are walking up to him with a sway in your hips that is distracting him from the frown on your glossy lips. Dressed in a denim mini skirt and a thin sweater sloping off one shoulder, he wonders if you’re cold. It might not be full blown winter yet but it’s the kind of weather people usually sigh at. 

“That coffee better be for me because I desperately need it.”

“Is that so?” He hands you the coffee, a caramel frappe so sickeningly sweet he feels a toothache coming from just looking at it. You take it from him with manicured hands and pat his chest in a thank you, eyeing your surroundings. 

Rambling, you inform him, “I woke up at seven today. Seven, Kento! Like, actually seven. Why, you ask? Well, because I wanted to make sure I didn’t oversleep. Which is stupid because our meeting’s at five pm so I’m not really sure where I got the idea that I could somehow sleep through it from. And, like, I didn’t even sleep at all last night.”

“Oh, dear. That’s terrible.” Truthfully, Kento could tell you’re frazzled this afternoon; there are bags under your eyes and there’s a slight quiver in your hands. He’s clearly not the only one nervous. Strangely, that does nothing to soothe that ache in his chest. 

“And like, I really shouldn’t be here, y’know? It’s not smart, even my sister said so. But here I am anyways. Because apparently, I can’t get enough of sexy, blond nerds.”

Kento smiles, feeling content to stand outside, alone with you forever. The sun is peeking through the clouds, shining a warm beam on your face. You’re glowing. 

It’s the kind of scene a scientist gains nothing from seeing; it only highlights the daunting reality that there are mysteries in the world that will never be solved in one’s lifetime and can only be theorised, like a black hole. It’s all consuming, a rare and magnificent sight to behold, but one mustn’t dare get too close for once they cross it, they might never return. 

But your pull is so strong he just can’t help himself. 

“You were totally a pain in the ass last night, y’know?” You mutter, casually checking the chips in your nail polish. You’re just saying whatever comes to mind now. 

He grimaces. He remembers everything and gosh did he wish he didn’t. “I’m sorry for having been a bother.”

“It’s alright. God knows I’ve bothered you more often and far worse.”

Nanami wants to argue. He wants to say you’ve never bothered him, never once irritated him, but there’s nothing he could say to erase all those words he had spoken and wished he could erase. So, instead, he pulls open the door and offers his hand to lead you in. 

Immediately he regrets that. Why would you need his hand to cross through a doorway? Did he not get the memo that you’re living in the twenty-first century? 

Despite the twitch of his fingers, you give him a knowing smile before you grant him some mercy. Your hand is soft. So very soft. It feels light in his, and he worries that if he holds you too tight, he’ll break you like a beaker. Faint memories from last night come back to him, reminding him this isn’t the first time he’s held your hand. And he hopes it won’t be the last. 

“What are we doing here anyways? When you asked me to give you the opportunity to talk, I thought you meant in a cafe, or in your place. In fact, I was kind of hoping it’ll be in your place.”

He leads you through the grand foyer, the shiny marble floors perfectly polished despite the day guests. “I was hoping this would be somewhat like a date.”

“A date?” You screech. “Nanami, you didn’t tell me this was a date!”

“What difference does it make?” It sounds rhetorical, but you know better. He’s pleading, genuinely asking if making his intentions clear from the beginning would have made this outcome different, if you wouldn’t have come, and he would have been left wondering ‘what if’ for the rest of his life. 

Instinctively pulling your hand, you stumble into his chest when he doesn’t budge, doesn’t let go. Face burying between his pecs, you’re practically smothered in his hard body and his clean, musky scent. It’s so easy to forget that Nanami Kento, being a nerd and all, is actually an elite member of the List for a reason.

Your classmate isn’t like all the boys you’re surrounded by in frat parties. He isn’t a boy at all. The strength he carries in every limb and muscle reminds you of all the things he could do to you, of all the things you want him to do to you. 

He doesn’t push you away and you don’t make an effort to leave. Instead, he takes your frappe from your hand, worried that it’s dangerously close to tipping over onto your clothes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it was a date. I didn’t mean to trick you. And well, it doesn’t have to be one if you don’t want it to be. But I’d like for it to be a date. Our first date.”

“But why would you want to date me? Haven’t I been horrible?”

Nanami feels something break inside. He likens it to the feeling one gets when they receive an anomalous result which throws off their entire research. Sighing, he attempts to nudge you so he can see your face but you only bury yourself in his chest further. He waddles you both over inside the double doors on the right with some difficulty, bringing the straw of your drink to your lips when you lift your head. 

“You haven’t been horrible. Not at all. In fact, I fear I’ve been horrible.”

“No! You’ve been great. Brilliant, even. You could never be horrible.”

He shakes his head. “I snapped at you that night. I jumped to conclusion and acted irrationally and emotionally. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no. I was wrong for lying to you and luring you to the party. I was wrong for teasing you this entire time. It’s so mean and so stupid and I hate myself for it. But I just really liked you. You have the best reactions and I wanted to see them all. And it’s all just so stupid. Ugh, I’m sorry.”

A blush is rising up his cheeks. It’s clear neither of you are going to relent. Maybe you’re both to blame for the unnecessary back and forth, for this farce that eluded you in some cruel twist of fate. Maybe it’s neither of you. Maybe none of it matters. Not anymore. Not when you’re here, not when you came and you’re looking up at him like he’s…something. 

That trusting, longing expression on your face threatens to sweep his legs out from under him. He feels like he’s suspended in air, free diving with the ground nowhere in sight, and judging by the way his fingers twitch, seeking to touch your softness, he suspects he’s been falling for eternity.

“Don’t apologise,” he finds the courage to breathe out, “Not anymore. Let’s just enjoy what I’ve got planned.”

You beam, eyes darting to what’s behind him, the conversation already forgotten. Marvelling at the hall you didn’t even realise you entered, you pull away from him and spin around, trying to catch sight of everything. 

He’s led you to the planetarium. Having spent many hours doing demonstrations and lectures here to tourists, students on school trips, and for birthday parties, it was the only place he could think of that might impress you. And though he was worried you’d find this lacking compared to your other potential experiences, those fears vanish the moment your eyes fall on his again and a huge smile is pulling at your lips. 

“Ken! This place is beautiful.”

Nanami gulps. 

You just called him by his first name. No, by a nickname. Like before. Like how you used to. And he feels his knees wobble a little. Not even his family calls him by a nickname, and admittedly, he’s never been fond of people taking creative initiative on his name but he likes it when it comes from your lips. He’d consider changing his name to ‘Ken’ permanently if it means you’ll call him that forever. 

"Can you believe I've never been here before? That's actually like so crazy."

Space is projected above both of your heads, countless stars twinkling in the abyss, forming constellations and glittering around planets and galaxies. Ever so slowly, the picture moves, disappearing to the right and allowing more of the universe to be observed. 

He’s so thankful he pleaded his case to his manager, the elderly man who owns the place, arguing that it’s for a special cause, to cheer up a friend, that it would be informative for their tutoring session. Mr. Tanaka insisted that it’d be too costly to shut down the observatory for even just an evening and for something so trivial.

However, when Nanami had said, ‘she’d really appreciate it’, Mr. Tanaka’s entire demeanour had shifted from grouchy old man, to giggling gossip. 

“Oh, well why didn’t you say it was for your lady, Kento? Of course, you can lock up and bring her over. Show her around, really make her day. I’ll let you in on a little secret, old boy. That’s exactly how I wooed my wife. Oh, she was so overjoyed she could barely stop gasping. How glad am I that a kid as serious as you actually has an appetite!” Mr. Tanaka laughed heartily, and laughed even harder when Kento blushed.

Having thanked him profusely, Kento was just about to leave before Mr. Tanaka added, a wistful tone in his gravelly voice as he caressed a picture on his desk, “You have fun, alright, Kento? You enjoy every second of it. Don’t get lost in what the universe has to offer you when everything you could ever want is within arm’s reach already.”

Feeling somewhat unnerved by the sudden seriousness in the old man’s face, he could do nothing but listen, absorbing every drop of wisdom as if he’s being shown the key to the beyond of the conceivable universe. 

And then, Mr. Tanaka smiled so brightly, the student almost missed the agony pulling his lips down. 

“Because that’s the beauty of the stars, Kento. They twinkle for love.”

Seeing those very stars reflected in your huge, wondrous eyes and the way his heart stutters, Kento feels inclined to listen to the rambling, grumpy senior more often.

Sitting down onto the centre velvet seats, the coffee stands in the cupholder on the armchair separating the both of you. The seat’s are plenty spacious and they even recline. You both make yourself comfortable, looking up at the dancing stars. 

“Oh, look! That’s Orion. I like him best because he’s fashionable,” you announce,  pointing at the ceiling. 

“Fashionable?”

Explaining like it’s obvious, you fix him a stare., “Because he has a belt, Ken.”

And who is he to argue with you?

Nanami had learnt that, though you’d much prefer to gain your information from him than anywhere else, there are some things he simply cannot change your mind on. One such example would be the great pancake versus waffle debate that had taken up almost forty-five minutes of one of your tutoring sessions. 

You sincerely, with every ounce of your being, believed that waffles are better than pancakes. You insisted, pleaded, urged him to see your cause, but he wasn’t having any of it. 

“That has no relevance to thermodynamics, y/n,” he had said with a deadpan tone. “And in any case, they are made of the same thing so I don’t understand what difference texture makes.”

“Can’t we just take a break from all the physics talk? I wanna chat and gossip.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is hardly the appropriate setting.”

“So,” you elongated, “take me on a date and we can argue about it.”

Nanami didn’t understand why one would spend a date arguing something as trivial as waffles versus pancakes when they were both the same damn thing but he couldn’t bear to encourage you. Instead, he clasped his hand and gave you a look he hoped would convey his thoughts. 

You only grinned at him toothily.

He gulped, then cleared his throat as he took his glasses off to wipe some invisible dirt. Opening the textbook at the correct page and slamming one thick half of it onto the table with more force that he had intended, he could only mutter, “I like waffles better too.”

“Aha!” You celebrated like a beautiful madwoman. 

Watching you clap and boo at planets and galaxies with seemingly no rhyme or reason, his opinion of you doesn’t change. You are just as crazy as ever. Whether that was yesterday, a month ago, or two years before. You still shine brighter than any celestial body. And maybe you’ll continue to do so in the years that follow. He hopes he gets to see for himself. 

Time passes as you two take turns highlighting asterisms and comets, discussing their history, their discovery and the next time they’ll pass again. Though he’s clearly the more knowledgeable of you two, you could give him a run for his money. 

“Cassiopeia, easily distinguishable because of her signature ‘W’ shape, was a vain queen from Greek mythology, punished by the gods for her arrogance. Her stars sparkle as though still boasting her beauty,” Nanami rattles off, almost on autopilot, just like he had been trained. 

“But because of the Earth’s rotation, her ‘W’ sometimes flips into an ‘M’, right? It’s almost as if the stars themselves are correcting her vanity.”

“That’s right.”

You’re more talkative than last night and he hypothesises it must be because you’re quiet when you drink. He was so nervous and out of place at the party he hadn’t even noticed just how much he resents not hearing your voice. Until now when he feels at bliss hearing your smooth cadence lull him to comfort.

Nanami prides himself in being a man of restraint. For many years, despite the girls who have twirled their hairs or pressed their arms next to his, his resolve to focus solely on academia had never wavered. Not once. His eyes never wandered up the legs of a woman or down their low tops, and he had never fantasised about much more than a cordial, research-based relationship with anyone. 

However, in this very moment, encased in the darkness of the planetarium, his eyes are sliding over to your crossed legs, bare and smooth, the fats of your thighs pressing against each other. Occasionally, they also venture upwards where your breasts are squished together on top of your crossed arms, and up that slender neck, settling on your glossy lips.

He gulps.

Shuffling in his seat, he’s trying to ignore the sudden tightening in his trousers. But it’s so very difficult. Especially when your perfume invades his senses and your plump lips wrap around the straw of your drink and you make a slurping sound that sends shivers down his spine. 

“W-whenever you’re ready, we can head to dinner,” he offers, attempting to distract himself with the next stage of his plans. “There’s a great place ran by a family friend who’ll make whatever you want, on and off menu. He’s truly a terrific chef and an even better man. 

“Dinner sounds great and all. But Kento,” you begin with a hum, sparkling gaze shifting to him, “is there a reason you’re gripping the armrest like it owes you money?”

You’re teasing him again, he can tell. He’s grown painfully familiar with that saccharine tone your voice takes when you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. 

The atmosphere has changed. The light and joyful air has evaporated and neither of you are laughing over how wrong those Ancient Greek philosophers were anymore. Instead you’re adding fuel to a fire he’s been trying to douse, lest he burns you with his impure thoughts. 

Clearing his throat, he attempts to deny your accusations. “I’m not.”

“Oh, so now you’re lying to me with the stars as our witness, Ken? And what’s next? You’ll lie to me when I ask why you seem to have a situation right…over….here?”

Nanami is powerless against the gravity of your long nails scraping along his tensing thighs. It’s merciless and climbing higher and higher until he feels a rumble in his chest, and he finds himself gripping your wrist with his shaky hand and he’s hauling you over. 

In a sudden turn of events, you find yourself straddling him, hands clutching his broad shoulders for purchase, whilst his own grab your waist. Nanami has no idea what came over him. Perhaps it was that animalistic urge that humans have yet to evolve past taking control for a second. Just as likely, it was the long buried desire to put you in your place. 

“You tease too much,” he whispers, taking your hands, fingers skimming underneath the sleeves of your sweater to tickle the inside of your wrist, and lifting them to the metal frame of his glasses. 

You pull it off and as you watch it dangle in your fingers, the glass reflecting the universe, he surprises you with his lips engulfing yours.

He kisses you, at first, like you’re fragile, like this moment is precarious and one wrong move could set it all off. But once the taste of you settles on his tongue, his resolve snaps altogether and he’s deepening it like he’s dreamed of doing for far longer than he’d care to admit.

Gasping, you allow him inside your mouth, tongues clashing and winding together. It’s a little messy, a little clumsy, but it’s making you hot all over. It’s the way he’s moving with no method, no rhythm, and instead, allowing himself to be guided purely by a desire to taste, to explore, and to consume you. 

“Ken,” you moan into his mouth. 

Nanami groans, digging his fingers into your waist, a pinkie tucking itself under the hem of your sweater, amazed by the softness he finds there. “You taste so sweet.”

You part from him to peck at his jaw, the stubble there eliciting a low whimper from you. With a giggle, you say, “That’s probably the coffee you got me.”

“Whatever it is, it’s delicious and I want more of it,” he growls. It’s a kind of noise he had never made before, didn’t even realise he was capable of making. A hand crawls up your back, embedding itself in your hair before it pulls your head back to crash against his lips again. 

Your hips are grinding together and the hardness there is meeting your moistening panties perfectly. You hope you don’t make a mess on him but that worry is thrown far in the back of your mind when he bites into your bottom lip. Emboldened by his firm, wandering hands, you grab that cold thing beside you and make enough space to take a sip. 

Kento is confused, dazed, but he can barely see without his glasses, and so, in the blur of it all he fails to see you’ve picked up your frappe until you kiss him again and something creamy and sugary tingles his tastebuds. His eyes roll back. Your tongues are mixing it up, really rubbing it in, and he sucks all that you’re willing to give him in desperate gulps. 

Feeling your hard nipples poke him through your sweater and his, he bucks his hips up, nudging your clit and you both moan. 

“S-stop,” he breathes out. “W-we can’t.” 

Blinking furiously, you nod, pushing off but his arms cage you in, keeping you in his lap. ”Ken?”

“I’m sorry. I promise I want to. Really. But, I d-don’t…”

Picking up his forgotten glasses and sliding it back into place, you then cradle his face. His eyes meet yours clearly and he smiles sheepishly, feeling more vulnerable with it on. His lips are shiny with both the coffee and your liquid, you swipe with your thumb. “You don’t what?

“I don’t… I mean, I’ve never…”

“You’ve never been with a girl?”

Nanami nods, thoroughly embarrassed. There’s no way you’ll like him now. He’s ruined the mood. He came so close to having it all but he just had to go and destroy everything by revealing he is the stereotypical nerd and you’re way too good for him. He feels an urge to run, to hide and pretend none of this ever happened, that he hadn’t gotten too big for his boots and thought he could conquer a huge mountain and get to the peak with you. 

You must be disgusted to have been touched by a loser like him. Maybe you already knew from the clumsy way he kisses or the shaking of his hands, and the way he seeks your gaze but cowers when you meet his.

Nanami Kento is a man of science and he should have stayed that way, should have never dared venture further than a man like him was ever meant to. 

But when you smile at him, staring up through those long, fluttering lashes, he decides right there and then that he’s more than willing to submit to a higher power. For there is no probable way you were made by chance like he or anyone else was—you must have been sculpted by God himself, and sent down to tempt his honour, to humble his arrogance, and crumble the very foundations of his character. 

And how gladly he’d let you. 

“Kenny, you silly man. I don’t care about things like that. In fact,” you whisper conspiratorially and lean in close, nibbling on his ear, “I’m getting really wet from knowing that I’m going to be your first.”

He dies. 

Right there and then, Nanami dies. 

He feels his soul, of which he only discovered a second before, leave his body and ascend high into the celestial clouds, mingling with those stars that seem to twinkle harder as if amused by the dumbstruck look on his face. 

Like something had completely changed in his DNA make up, he takes you by surprise and presses his palm against your soaked gusset. You jolt. 

“You’re really wet.” He thumbs at that little bulge, watching the way your jaw drops. Piercing his body, your moans echo through his ribs, pounding against his heart and filling his veins with something far too addictive. “Does knowing that you’re the first girl I’ve ever kissed, ever wanted to taste here, and wanted to know how she feels inside turn you on?”

There’s no hint of playfulness in your voice any longer when you whimper a 'yeah, Ken', hips stuttering against the pressure of his palm cupping your heat in its entirety. He can’t fathom how someone like you could find someone like him attractive, and to this extent, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care enough to map out all possibilities and make hypotheses — he doesn’t want reason and logic and practicality. 

Not now. 

No, all Nanami wants is to know you, inside and out. So, he pulls your panties to the side, hands still shaking a little, and he groans at the disastrous sensation of your drenched core leaking onto his skin. There’s no technique to his touch; he’s just feeling you. There are folds and bumps he’s theoretically aware of but to touch in person is insanity. 

Your face is making all sorts of expressions: brows furrow when he follows the seam of your lips, nose twitches when his finger teases at your quivering entrance, and your mouth parts when he bumps against your clit. 

“Tell me how you like it,” he pleads. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”

‘Pitiful loser’ must be written all over his face because you smile. You smile and thrust your breasts in his face just as your fingers wrap around his and you guide him. Urging two fingers inside, you allow him to sink in slowly, observing using his tactile receptors the pulsing heat of your walls, the squishiness, the texture, and the way he’s gliding inside. 

“Just touch me, Ken. Feel me. Get familiar because you’re going to make this your second home, okay?” 

“Okay.”

He thrusts those fingers in, seeking that spot that’s supposed to make women gasp and writhe. The sounds coming from you are obscene and it’s making him delirious. You’re growing impossibly wetter, hips stuttering, grinding on his palm, and he’s watching everything. 

Something about how hard he’s staring must make you uncomfortable because you laugh and slide your thumbs under his glasses, holding his lids close. 

“Don’t stare so hard, Kenny, you look like you’re trying to work out an equation.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. And then you take off his glasses again, baring his face to this otherworldly dream, but when he opens his eyes, what he sees threatens to collapse his own world beneath him. You’re wearing his glasses, or at least he thinks so; his vision is blurry. How he hates his visual impairment more than he ever has before. 

Pressing a kiss on his forehead just as you moan against his skin when he hits a good spot inside you, you shakily ask, “H-how do I look?”

“Beautiful,” he breathes out. 

You laugh again and he throbs inside his trousers. Then, his vision is being obscured all together by your sweater — you’ve encased his head within and his face lies between your lovely breasts. 

Nanami’s heart stops. 

He swears it does. 

“Play with them a little, won’t you, Kenny? I like my tits teased before I cum.”

He doesn’t know which part of what you just said is that final stake in his heart but he does as you say. He licks and sucks and nibbles, listening out for your moans and feeling for which makes you clench harder on his fingers. Nimble hand not slacking for a second, he rubs your clit with his thumb and prods that soft spot you seem to really like. 

Never understanding men’s obsession with breasts, Kento is more than aware of the irony of the situation now that he’s moaning around your nipple, rolling it on his tongue. There have been so many Tuesday evenings spent watching these very same breasts press against the desk as you complain about all the worksheets he had prepared for you. So many walks along campus to get to his next class spent grumbling about how you really should wear a bra more often if you’re planning to jump around like that in front of those jocks. 

But now, he has those very same breasts surrounding his face, threatening to suffocate him, and he thanks the heavens you didn’t wear a bra today. 

“Oh, Ken, fuck!”

“Gosh, a-are you orgasming?” His words are muffled around your nipple and the vibrations seem to fuel you. 

You giggle breathlessly, “It’s ‘cumming’, Ken. Can you -ha- say it for me?”

“Are you c-cumming?”

Through some sort of miracle, you eventually do cum on his fingers, and he hurriedly untangles himself from your sweater to observe the way your face crumples up in bliss, to see the way you flood his hand with your intoxicating cream, and how you’re spasming in his lap. 

It’s all through the fog of his poor vision but the awareness that you’re cumming because of him, in his arms, wearing his glasses and fogging it up with your heady breaths pushes him over the edge just as your hand brushes against the bulge of his trousers. 

“Oh, ngh! I’m s-sorry! Gosh! I'm so sorry.”

The bliss runs deep, filling his head with the scent of you, and for a second, through the haze, he swears his vision clears and you're magnificent face comes to him like a message from something divine. He might just cease being a man of science at this rate.

Panting, you slump against each other. The stars are still dancing above but neither of you pay attention. You’re simply taking deep breaths, trying to reorient yourself, and enjoy the warmth the other is radiating. 

“For your first time fingering a girl, you were pretty good. Which I’m not surprised by — you’ve always been a quick learner, isn’t that right, Kento?”

“P-please don’t tease me.”

With his glasses sliding off your nose bridge, you kiss his lips in apology before you slot the frame back onto his face. He thanks you with an awkward pat of your pussy before he brings his fingers to his face. 

“Isn’t it incredible how our body produces natural lubrication?”

Rolling your eyes you whisper against his stubbly jaw, “Don’t get all sciencey on me now, baby. We still have to talk about the fact that you came in your pants and I hadn’t even touched you.”

Nanami blushes. Hard. He’s humiliated himself in front of you once again. For a second there, he had genuinely believed his inexperience wouldn’t make a difference, that he’s not a teenager and he’ll pull through as a man by instinct alone if need be. How wrong he was. 

“Hey, now. Don’t start thinking too hard. I wasn’t complaining. I actually thought it was really hot.”

Still eyeing the shiny string that forms between his fingers from your essence, he clears his throat and concedes, “If you say so.”

Silence passes by for a beat or two, and all Nanami can think about is how uncomfortable he feels with his cum drying in his boxers and he realises you must feel the same way. Just as he’s about to voice these concerns out, you meet his eye with a strange kind of twinkle. 

“Wanna taste it?”

Before he can even ask what you could possibly mean, you’re already guiding his fingers back to your core and spreading your wetness all over his hand once more. Then, that wetness is being spread along his lips and he doesn’t disobey when he sucks them into his mouth. 

The taste is strange. Not bad, but new and odd. It’s mostly tasteless but it is a little tangy, and sweet. And he is obsessed. 

“How do I taste, Kenny?”

Nanami Kento is a man of science. 

He isn’t a poet. He doesn’t mince his words, doesn’t use flowery language or muses about nature and the fragility of humanity. No, he says it like it is. The world exists in black and white, there are no greys, no rose tinted glasses hiding the truth from him. He is a man of fact and truth. No more, no less.

But with the exhilarating, inebriating, and electrifying taste of you flooding his tongue, he realises, every man is born a poet, and the world silences that visionary within. However, there comes a moment in every man's life where that poet is awakened and they see the world not as it is, but rather as it should be. They simply need a muse. 

“Like a star,” Nanami rasps, completely and utterly weakened, defeated, and vanquished. “More. I w-want more.”

You chortle. “No, Ken. Not here. Some other time, okay? ‘Cause I’m actually really hungry now. But you’ve got a bit of a situation in your pants and you can’t easily hide it so maybe we should go over to your place and you can cook me up something instead?”

Liking the idea very much, he kisses you and lifts you up so you can both stand on your own two feet. The drying cum is proving to be a pain but it doesn’t bother him. Nothing does in this moment. Not the fact that he’ll have to sneak into the security office and get the CCTV footage deleted, or preferably sent to his phone and then deleted from the main system, not the thought of all the work he has yet to do in preparation for all his classes next week, and not even the knowledge that he’ll have to kick Haibara out for the night. 

“Does this mean you and I are… well…” He trails off, unsure how to phrase it. 

Giggling, you go on your tiptoes and peck his lips. “Yes, Ken. We’re dating. We’re exclusive. I’m your girlfriend and you’re my boyfriend. So that means I get to flirt with you all the time and you can’t pretend you don’t like it anymore.”

“That sounds like a fair deal. Will you come back to class? Let me tutor you again?”

“Wasn’t me coming here to begin with not answer enough, Ken? Of course, I’m coming back. Especially now that it means we can have secret sex during our tutoring sessions. Oh! Can we fuck in the library? I’ve always wanted to do that. And then you can tell me off for being too loud. Can we? I also really want to have sex in your car. Mine is a little too small but yours will work just fine. Oh! And maybe you can let me touch you in the lectures? We can sit at the back where no one can see us! You have to meet my sister. And my friends. And the rest of my family. Then I'll meet yours. Eek! I'm so excited. We'll go on dates every day, won't we? Oh, wouldn't that be so fun, Ken?”

Nanami gulps. 

Stepping away from the world of science and into a world of you seems much more daunting now than ever. Maybe he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Maybe he’s not cut out for a life outside of academia. Maybe he won’t be able to keep up with your appetite. Maybe you'll drain him dry and leave him a husk of himself, which doesn't sound so bad if he's being completely honest.

Everything you said leaves him a little lightheaded at the thought and he can't fathom how he could possibly meet every one of your expectations.

But... he’s always been a fan of the trial-and-error method. 

So, he supposes he’s just going to have to work it out like he always does. Because as you grin up at him, sweat making your skin slightly shiny, he can’t think of anything worse than disappointing you. 

Smiling, he brushes a stray strand away from your cheek and lays a lithe kiss on your nose.

“Whatever you say, my little star.”