#good for height good for muscles the man is so good too good the best good

[monicaalexandraaa]

SAM !!!!!! THIS ONE !!!!!!!! Saaammmmm !!!!!!!

I saw this posted and for some reason I just felt like I couldn’t do anything else before I read this and yeah I think everyone else should stop what they’re doing right now and read this. Oh my heart. My hearrrrrtttttt. The way you write your fmc’s is magnificent. I always feel like I’m in their brain and their heart. I felt for her sooooo much. You often cover such real and relatable struggles and you excel at it. This was phenomenal. The angst, the fluff, all of it. Just so so good. I feel like I can’t properly explain my thoughts (the tags may help) but WOW! 🩷🩷

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.”

--

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[verysium]

attractive things bllk characters (unintentionally) do?👀

i received this ask and decided to write this entire thing through a caffeine-powered fever dream. may have gone a little overboard. please pray for both your sanity and mine. thank you anon for your strong sense of imagination (or delusion, whichever you prefer.)

nagi lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and you accidentally (or not so accidentally) get a good look at the droplets running down his abs and v-line. he also does the doorway lean while waiting for you to get ready. since he's so tall, he puts his one arm up on the top of the door frame while scrolling through his phone. when he feels drained of energy, he clings to you like a koala, face buried into the crook of your neck.

rin pushes his hair back when his bangs get in the way, and it shows off his ridiculously sharp side profile. sometimes you have to pause mid-conversation because the direct eye contact gets too intense. he has the brightest turquoise eyes in existence, and they stare right into your soul. pair that with the height difference and him towering over you. hang onto your ovaries because this man is about to snatch them. if isagi or sae are anywhere remotely close within your vicinity, he will personally drag your chair closer over to him. you know, the whole nick jonas chair pull thing? he also unintentionally clenches his jaw when pissed, the vein popping out and everything.

barou is polite to his elders. he holds the door open for others. he tips extra at restaurants. he is kind to service workers. he's just a gentleman overall even though he likes to act tough. he rolls up his sleeves while cleaning or cutting up vegetables, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearms. wears those form-fitting aprons where you can see the outline of his waist and the muscles in his back. he is not immune to raging pit bull moments, but he will calm down immediately when you ask him to.

kaiser requires physical touch to function. all concept of personal boundaries goes poof in his little ego-driven brain. he holds your chin so you look up at him while he's talking. also has that husky growl when he wakes up in the morning. he speaks german. what else is more attractive than that? if you stroke his ego, he will puff his chest out like an emperor penguin and flash that movie star smile. does not slow down his pace for you, and will laugh at your expense when you trip in heels and fall. but then he feels guilty about it and begrudgingly picks you up and carries you home. however, before that he will make you swear on everything holy to never tell isagi about his moment of weakness. (tbh kaiser is a menace and has some serious self-esteem issues. pls avoid dating a man like him in real life until he is fully mature. i still love him tho.)

reo mansplains but not in the condescending way. he does so in the "omg i'm so excited to finally get to share something with you and you're never going to believe it" sort of way. rambles on and on about his interests and gets that little glint in his eye when he's passionate about something. also not sure if this counts but he gets extremely depressed when you don't message him back within five minutes. what do you mean you were busy? he was out here dying from a literal famine. he needs your affection to survive. last but not least, he is good at styling. he knows what colors work best for you, and he will put together three new looks for you in record time.

hiori dreams that you left him for good and wakes up crying with his arms around you. will refuse to let you leave the bed even if it is just to get a glass of water. his rare moments of emotional vulnerability are what gets to you.

shidou does not condone any of your bad decisions. you want to get shit-faced and party until early morning? no complaints from him. you want to wear sexy outfits to the club? say less because he's about to enjoy the view and knock out the front teeth of every guy who dares to ogle you. i don't know if this qualifies as being attractive, but he would never be the controlling type. you can dress and act however you want. unfortunately for you though, this is also a textbook case of the blind leading the blind. if you get horrendously hungover, so does he. if you get pulled over, he's going to be too blackout drunk to even comprehend the officer's words. you can count on him for a good time, but not anything else. do not take any of his advice at face value.

oliver likes to show you off even if he doesn't notice it himself. any talk with his team, and he will find a way to make the entire conversation about you. at this point, the entire u-20 team is done with him. they placed bets that you two wouldn't last more than a month due to his philandering reputation, but the universe seems to think otherwise because you and oliver hit the six-month mark and are still going strong.

ness guards your drink with an unnecessary amount of protection. while you left to go use the restroom, he was looking left and right, and the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling every time someone even came close to your cup. he also shoos away any person who opens their mouth while standing next to your drink because apparently the condensation from their breath could be dangerous. definitely covers your cup with both hands even if it has a lid. no suspicious shit is happening on his watch.

yukimiya is well-read, and he wears glasses. he has a copy of every single classic out there in existence and will fangirl along with you over your virginia woolf collection. he was written by a woman with two cats and a wine glass. not much else to say.

loki absolutely clears the entire carnival/arcade game. you want that giant teddy bear that costs over three hundred ticket points? say less because he's about to win the whole damn pot. of all characters, i would say he's one of the only green flags. like celery green.

isagi always looks for you when he enters the room. intentionally or not, he always seeks your presence. if someone says a funny joke, he turns to you to see if you're laughing or not. also does that somewhat creepy stare thing where he just looks at you quietly while you do mundane tasks. internally he is screaming cus what do you mean you actually like him?

chigiri gives you that thankful little smile whenever you stand up for him. i feel like people don't understand how goofy he can get as he's canonically good at doing impressions/impersonations. also has the prettiest laugh. if he ever cuts his hair, i think i'm going to get a nosebleed.

noa unconsciously says yes to every question you ask of him. he'd be giving bastard münchen a hard time (and denying isagi's requests) but then immediately once you come over, he's automatically acquiescing to everything you say. the rest of the team is low-key shocked you can win him over so easily. when they confront him about it, he just shrugs and goes "y/n is always right."

kurona's entire existence is attractive. he's just perfect. nothing is ever wrong with him. will let you check out his shark teeth and lightly pokes your finger to leave an imprint. hopefully you'll always remember him that way. he's also quiet so he will listen to everything you say and give ample weight to your words.

sae is my baby girl so he gets a whole section dedicated to himself:

absentmindedly plays with your hair. when you're sleeping in his lap, he'll gently run his fingers along your scalp. sometimes in the morning when you're sitting up on the edge of your bed to do your makeup, he'll come up from behind you and brush back your hair. might also press a kiss to the back of your neck.

helps you put on your face mask. when he's shopping, he will buy you lotion along with his own skincare products. says that it was just a convenient store run but you know he personally made sure to get you the best quality ones.

this is canon because i said so: when he gets out of the shower, he slings the towel over his neck or his shoulder. he also involuntarily flexes his biceps when he bends down to grab something. has the world's most defined deltoids.

when you're stuck in large crowds at the airport, he puts his hand in your back pocket to keep you two from getting separated. if the TSA pat-down is anywhere too personal for his liking, he will openly glare at the officer once you've passed the security checkpoint.

bonus point: when you two brush your teeth early in the morning, he has that little bed head where his shorn-off bangs stick up in cute little tufts here and there. will have a dead look on his face, but his eyes soften when he catches your gaze through the mirror.

[sugurouge]

— can you try me? nanami kento x f!reader

summary: after a rough day, there's only one solution to kento's pent up frustrations

content warnings! smut, pet names (little devil, perfect / good girl), dirty talk, reader gets carried around and manhandled, wall sex, teasing, size difference, praise, one or two spanks

wordcount: 3.2k

Days like these are the worst, Nanami thinks once he closes the door to your apartment and allows himself a moment of breather. He can already hear your favourite creator talking in the living room, the sound of the TV mixing with your clueless giggles to leave no room for Kento’s tired sounds to arrive in the next room.

The best course of action is to shed himself off his belongings and make his way over to the kitchen. The ghost of his tall figure dances in your peripheral vision, luring you in to immediately get up to follow your grumpy-cat of a boyfriend towards his desired destination—the stash of treats hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets.

“Oh, oh, somebody had a rough day…” you conclude upon his silent search for something sweet. He can’t help but feel caught red-handed. So Nanami only leans back for his head to pop up behind the door, tired eyes swiftly roaming over your figure before his attention gets redirected towards the treasures inside your cabinet. “Yeah,” is his quiet reply, and the crinkle of wrapping paper follows suit.

You won’t even attempt to hide your chuckle upon his little pick-me-up ritual, you’re too used to him being a softie by now. “What about having proper dinner instead of sweets, Kento?” you propose while you stalk over to him and wrap your arms around his waist as you place a chaste kiss on his back.

He cringes at the drawl of his name, well aware of how counterproductive and immature his cravings for sweets as comfort are, yet plops another chocolate in his mouth. “Maybe later.”

How a man his height frees himself that quickly from your hug always leaves you dumbfounded, but you let him play his game of hard to get. “Well, anyway… I’m going to continue watching that travel series, feel free to join me,” you tease, knowing exactly that he can’t resist the temptation.

But at least you give him some time and space as you’re sat on the couch. Nanami continuously fiddles with the wrapping paper of his recent chocolate while his attention lingers on the screen, eyes glued to the TV and the heavenly beach scenery. He definitely needs to book a vacation with you soon.

You close the gap between your bodies over the course of the night, slowly shuffling towards his figure as you adjust your sitting position. From leaning against the arm of the couch to sitting cross-legged and finally, carefully, your fingertips brush over his hand once you lean your head against his shoulder. You feel a soft kiss pressed to the crown of your head and smile to yourself, hiding your face behind the firm muscles of his biceps. “Meanie,” you mumble, and your eyes peek up to his face.

Nanami’s head is already turned towards you, a certain gentleness lingers in his eyes that are illuminated by the TV screen as they meet your curious gaze. “Come here,” is his demand while his hand already holds the back of your knee, to swiftly pull you on his lap to straddle him.

Your arms find rest around his neck to allow yourself to bask in his scent, the lingering fragrance of his body wash calming you down as you place soft kisses on his cheek. The gentle pressure applied on his neck by your fingers tempts Nanami to close his eyes, his arms moving to rest around your waist, pulling you in for a close hug. “Wanna talk about it?” you question with a soft voice. The use of your fingernails on his scalp sends shivers running along Kento’s spine.

“No…” Nanami starts but interrupts himself with another sigh, “maybe later. I don't want to burden you with troubles you cannot help me with.” You gently cup his face and redirect his gaze to meet yours, hoping for him to notice the love pooling in your tender gaze. “You’re the best,” the words are whispered against his lips, yet you don’t fully close the distance to let him decide the course of the evening.

Don't play games with him tonight.

You feel his fingertips dance upward your spine to cradle the back of your head and let his lips crash with yours. He’s so greedy, so needy for love, you can tell by the way he prolongs the kiss until he nearly runs out of breath.

And despite enjoying these types of kisses more than anything, you break away. A slightly annoyed groan slips past his lips while his arms return to lay around your waist as his forehead rests against your shoulder. Once this man gets a taste, he turns greedy; you’ve learned that this not only applies to sweets—but to you as well.

So he tries once more. Kissing you once more; ever so gently while thumbing your cheek. Nanami’s soft lips mould against yours as your tongues meet between parted lips at such an awfully slow pace, he can practically feel you grow needy in his hold. His teeth nibble on your lower lip, tugging on the sensitive flesh before pulling on the soft flesh. Tender eyes immediately meet yours, lust hidden in both pairs as you stare at each other. “I missed you a lot today,” Nanami murmurs, while featherlight touches explore your sensitive body. His kisses roam along your neck and the burning trail of his fingertips flows along your calves and thighs.

“I missed you too,” you exhale, craning your neck for him as your eyes fall shut, fully basking in the he addictive feel of his touch ruling over your body and mind.

The whispered demand of “tell me what you want,” sends goosebumps to spread over your skin. Long fingers pull the straps of your top and bra off your shoulder, allowing Nanami’s lips to fully explore your collarbone and litter kisses along your body like you’re his favourite candy. The rough pads of his tongue wet your skin as he licks over the irritated areas where he previously sucked.

“Is it—, is it weird if I just… just want you to use me tonight?” Nanami curses beneath his breath, and you feel his grip on your body tighten, blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he hums in reply, head dipping lower until his bangs tickle your collarbone.

His kisses lead to your chest, where he tugs at the hem of your top to further expose your breasts. “You wear so much… how do you expect me to spoil you like this?” he complains with a trace of irritation in his voice. His hands dip beneath the hem of your top and tease your skin. “Be good for me and take it off.”

Yet his patience seemingly runs thin as he already lifts the fabric to expose your figure, carelessly throwing the top over his shoulder as his lips immediately attach to your chest once more. Sloppy kisses cover your skin until he arrives at your breasts, his hands gently squeezing your soft mounds above your bra—desiring to hear your moans for him as his teeth graze the sensitive skin.

With his warm palm pressed flat against your back, he shares warmth and strength with you as you lean back further, allowing his kisses to cover your sternum. “Kento,” you practically mewl his name, your fingers tugging at his roots as your hips roll against his, seeking friction where you need him most. “Kento, please…”

Nanami pulls back almost immediately, the tip of his nose following the path his lips created on your skin until his mouth meets yours. “Patience is a virtue,” the words nothing but a husky murmur. But your fingers know better than to hold still, already palming his biceps and shoulders. You brush your nose against his, the plea in your eyes clear as day as you drive him towards madness. “Want to feel you inside me... Can’t be patient if all I want is right in front of me, Kento—,” a surprised yelp interrupts your words as he simply hoists you up.

The sheer strength behind his actions makes you jump in his hold and your arms fly around his neck to stabilise yourself. Nanami simply chuckles right next to your ear, teeth nibbling at the flesh. “Not so cheeky anymore,” his hands guide your legs around his waist, carrying you out of the living room to make his way to your bedroom.

If it wasn’t for the little demon inside you, convincing you to already move your hips against his, moaning sweetly just for him. You break one of his rules by marking his neck, lips attaching to his perfect skin and sucking a deep patch of red, which causes him to hiss and land a spank to your ass, quickly followed by a particularly painful pinch.

You won't even attempt to hide your amusement, giggling so innocently while further pushing yourself against his body until your back meets the cold wall of your hallway and Nanami forces you to look at him, grip on your hair strong as his face hovers above yours.

You simply stare at him, challenging him for actions. Nanami’s expression seems calculated as his eyes roam over your face until they lock on your lips—which widen into your cheekiest grin. “Kento~,” is your sinfully innocent sigh of his name. You arch your back and place one hand on the nape of his neck, pulling his face towards your breasts while you unclasp your bra with your free hand.

“Little devil,” he mumbles, but complies as he takes one nipple between his lips, letting the tip of his tongue swirl around the nub as his teeth play with your sensitivity.

Your hips grind against his clothed erection, slow and teasing, to have him grunt and seek further pressure. “Sometimes…” he breathes, but pauses to clear his thoughts. “Sometimes…?” you repeat. The audacity to chuckle over his struggles annoys Nanami further as his icy glare meets your twinkling eyes. “Sometimes I could simply—,” Nanami leans closer, exhaling a breath over your ear that makes your eyes fall heavy. “Simply fuck you until you beg me to be nice again. But you want that, don’t you?” Your nod follows before he even finishes his words, and you turn your head for your lips to brush against each other once more—greedily pulling him down to kiss him again.

Your moans meet between your parted lips, mouths hungrily moving against each other as flimsy fingers rake over his clothed chest. The desperate whine from your lips upon not being able to directly feel his muscles beneath your touch is almost too cute.

Your feet reach the floor once your lips part, leaving you awfully aware of your usual size difference as you gaze up at him. 

Nanami follows your request in a heartbreak, unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing the fabric carelessly aside, so unlike his usual prim and proper behaviour. You really bring out the worst in him. 

Your shameless gaze tracks every little crevice on his built figure as you subconsciously wet your lips. “Greedy,” he mumbles, yet he knows he isn’t much better, as his fingers already run along your hips and dip beneath the fabric of your shorts and panties until they fall to the floor. 

You stand on your toes as you search for his lips, one hand tracing over the shape of his erection beneath his pants before finally freeing him from his restraints. His cock rests heavy in the palm of your hand, but the satisfaction your smaller hand offers him is worth millions. Nanami’s hands rest against the wall behind you, his head lolling forward until his erratic pants fan over your skin.  “And so, so impatient,” you complete his previously started sentence as you pull back. 

The moment you bring your fingertips to your lips, your eyes meet his, to ensure Kento witnesses your tongue cleaning off his pre-cum from your hand. You love to make his composure falter. 

He exhales a shaky curse before you see his jaw tighten, brows creasing in frustration, or confusion(?). “How—, why do I still want to ruin you even when I’m in a bad mood...” His quiet confession draws your bottom lip between your teeth, it makes you clench around nothing as desire starts to overflow inside you—a selfish part of you loves his sour mood. The slow kisses you plant along his chest only make it harder for him now. Nanami’s hands land on your waist and pull you close against him, his subtle moans meeting your ear right away. “Then do it,” you mumble as your hand returns to move along his shaft. 

Yet you don’t expect his fingertips to immediately dig into your ass and lift you once more. You squeak as your hands grip onto his shoulders, searching for some sort of stabilisation. Nanami presses your back against the wall, his chest cages your body between the hard wall and his muscular frame, with the tip of his cock prodding against your entrance. Yet he refuses to lower your body in his hold. 

“Do what?” he asks, seemingly clueless, while the tip of his nose bumps against yours. He can see the answer clearly in your eyes, but it's just so much more satisfying to hear it coming from your lips. “Ruin me.” You demand with a gentle whisper. It rewards you with a rare smile to soften his stern features, while Nanami steadily lowers your position, allowing you to feel each drag of him inside your walls—despite the almost embarrassingly easy entrance thanks to your arousal. 

Nanami presses your back against the wall as he straightens himself to stand at full size. Your limited mobility leaves him in full control, his cock slowly thrusting inside you until he feels you adjust to his girth. Your hands wander over his body, appreciating his broad shoulders or tugging on his hair as his movements gain strength. You moan his name in return, arms snaking around his neck for support as he keeps pressing you against the wall while his cock drags along your clenching walls. 

The desperation of your walls trying to keep him inside seems utterly amusing as a rare tease slips past his lips right into your ear: “Greedy, always so greedy.” 

He moans lowly and leans his forehead on your shoulder as he keeps thrusting—bouncing your body up with each push inside you with ease. His hands squeeze your hips, further controlling your movements when he creates some space between your body and the wall. 

Your eyes widen in shock—the fear of falling makes you involuntarily clench harder. “Afraid I can’t manage to hold my woman?” Nanami feels challenged, the struggle in his voice clear as you refuse to loosen up around his shaft. Until only your shoulders rest against the wall and his gentle grip helps you grind against his pelvis. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your hips subconsciously applying further pressure until the delicious friction of his cock has your thighs twitching against his hips. 

Your moans meet between your bodies as you slowly circle your hips, grinding against his pubic bone as you feel your orgasm approaching. Nanami busies himself by dousing your chest and stomach with deep kisses, holding still to the best of his ability despite the need to simply thrust into you. 

“You feel so good,” he murmurs. Groans escape him as his hips stutter against you, his cock throbbing inside you and twitching in utter despair. Your legs jerk at his actions, your back arching just a bit more as another moan falls from your parted lips. 

You lure his eyes to open again with a seductive drawl of his name, forcing him to witness your hands roaming over your body; along your chest as your fingertips redraw the round of your breasts before you cup them. Gently fondling them in front of him and playing with your nipples, you don’t even try to hide your deep moans. 

Nanami clenches his jaw, biting back his groan as you pulse around him so perfectly. How badly he wants to play with your breasts. 

He returns to fully press your back into the stone, his hips leaving no room as he grinds up into you, stimulating your clit once more. You paw at his chest and shoulders, your head leaning back as you gasp for air. The way he holds you open and simply thrusts into you is erratic. 

You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, and he feels your nails scratching his back, leaving careless marks like he was your personal scratching post. “So close,” you promise, biting your bottom lip as a smug little smirk decorates his handsome features. “Good girl, such a perfect girl.” 

Yet even the strongest man gets overtaken by exhaustion eventually. And spoiling you with his deep thrusts and his kisses, moans and groans can get tiring.

You kiss him almost frantically, your back lifting off the wall as you fully cling onto Nanami. Overwhelmed with your need, he topples a few steps back. Luckily, he is a man of quick solutions—opting to get down on his knees and place you on the carpet of the hallway. His hands grip your thighs and press you against him as he ruthlessly snaps his hips against you, his cock hitting just the right spots. 

The mess you’ve turned him into is the prettiest version of Kento you’ll ever see, sweat dripping down along his temples and over his chest—highlighting his lean and strong build as his brows furrowed in deep desperation. 

Strangled moans and harsh pants come from his lungs as he makes you cream all over him. Your fingers nearly claw at his wrist thanks to the perfect pressure applied by his thumb on your clit as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The countless moans of “Kento” and “so good” sound like music to his ears, he never thought he’d be a man who could listen to a song on repeat.

Once he finally allows himself to let go, he blankets your smaller figure with his frame. Nanami’s hips maintain a shallow pace, spreading his cum inside your deeply stimulated cunt while he touches your figure with tender care until his arms reach around your back to hoist you up into his lap. 

Your body feels almost limp from your orgasm, making it awfully alluring to allow yourself to lean into his chest and close your eyes. Nanami’s fingers brush your hair out of your face, the thrumming of his heart hammering against his ribcage quite clear for you to witness as he holds you closer against him. 

“Are you okay?” both of you ask at the same time, to which he offers a rare chuckle as he shakes his head. “Let me clean you up, yes?” A simple hum is all your tired reply consists of, simply letting him carry you to your bathroom. 

You could already pass out once the soft cloth stops teasing your sensitive body parts—if it weren’t for the curious fingers touching your figure while water begins to surround both of you. 

Actually, days like these are the best, Nanami concludes, as long as you’re there.

dividers by @/cafekitsune + @/strangergraphics

[gibberishfangirl]

WINDBREAKER | sloppy toppy

Synopsis ✰ when they get head…

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Toma Hiragi, Mitsuki Kiryu, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ oral (m!receiving), messy head, head pushers, face fucking, hair pulling, choking/gagging, degradation, praise, Hiragi smokes in this, cigarettes, recording, video footage, masturbation, mean!characters, nice!characters, ume being huge, toga is also huge sorry not sorry, mix of the boys being submissive/dominant, some characters are experienced, experienced!reader, 18+ / nsfw!

Sakura ᡣ𐭩 couldn’t help himself. his face turning the brightest shade of red imaginable as he looked down to your lewd expression. you were drooling all over him, he felt the liquid of your spit trickling down his thigh. he swallowed hard trying to maintain eye contact with your teary eyes. god, he should be ashamed for himself for taking advantage of your throat in such an indecent manner. he should feel even worse for the strong grip he has on your hair. however, all that doubt was lost once he felt the vibration of your moans and whimpers around the base of his cock. it was easy for him to throw his head back in a moan as he started to push his cock deeper down your throat. any amount of shame that should’ve entered his mind evaporated as the pleasure he felt of his tip hitting the back of your throat took over. he was always so eager to have your throat please him in a way he’s never been pleased before. “so so so good. fuck~” his voice would give out on him as he’d start to whimper and chant a series of cuss words. what made matters worse is how he’ll fuck his fist later that same exact night to the memory of you choking and gagging around him. Sakura became a sinner the day he finally felt what it was like to receive head and he could never get enough. not that you minded, it was flattering to see how your boyfriend blushed and moaned each time as if it was the very first time all over again.

Umemiya ᡣ𐭩 was always patient with you. he knew he was big, bigger than what you might’ve been used to. he always caressed the side of your cheek while fixing your hair. his rough hands tucking a strand or two behind your ear so he can get a better look of your cute face. “so pretty for me~ you take cock so good don’t you?” he’d coo at you with soft words. praising you for relaxing your throat around his girth so well. “you ready baby? ready to take my cock? be good for me.” he’d ask you before getting up from his seat rising at his full height. you stayed on your knees humming a small “mhmm” in response. he looked so handsome standing in front of you, it felt like he wasn’t even real. the way he stood tall and prideful as his muscles tensed and silver hair rested perfectly on his head. his hands tangled themselves into your hair in order to makeshift a ponytail. you looked so beautiful underneath him like this. “tap my thigh if it’s too much for you pretty.” Despite being with other men in the past, none of them ever managed to fuck your throat as good as Umemiya did. hell, they didn’t even come close to half a man Ume was. the way he took control of you and dominated you through every step as he harshly thrusted his hips into your mouth. Ume was everything you could wish for in a man. Especially with the way he rewarded you after taking his cock so well. the way he’d shower you in kisses and interlock your lips after he pulls you off his cock. setting you down gently on the soft sofa ready to return the favor.

The most gentle being on earth, Suo ᡣ𐭩. he’d hate to get too selfish with you while you were on your knees doing your absolute best to please him. he was in awe that someone as perfect as you was willing to get to filthy for him. he’d let out the softest moans as he swing his head back. this is the time where he felt the most relaxed, having you in between his legs bobbing your head up and down his shaft was like heaven to him. the closest thing to heaven he’ll ever feel that is. he lived in complete bliss with how talented you were with your tongue. letting your delicate tongue swirl itself around his tip and then up and down his length before taking his whole once again. “fuck~ do that again please. you’re so good at this. almost like you were made for it huh? made to take me?” he’d tease at you with a small smile. you’d have to try to hold back a smile as you hummed in response. being made for only Suo was the biggest compliment you think anyone could give you. “such a perfect girl for me. all mine.” he’d whisper before pulling you off his length. leaning down to give you a kiss “mhm all yours Suo, i promise.” reassure him say once the kiss ends. before he could even respond you’ll find yourself making your way back to his cock already missing the presence of it inside your mouth. Luckily for you Suo wasn’t much of a head pusher, he’d relax and let you move at your pace while he grips the sheets with his hands. his moans and grunts as his legs began to tremble as he reaches his high keeps you going.

being mean was completely out of his comfort zone. actually… it was completely out of character for him. anyone who knows Nirei ᡣ𐭩 would be able to testify that the guy doesn’t have a single mean bone in his body. that’s also what you thought before you had the privilege to please his perfect pinkish colored tip from his cock. he never meant to get mean with you but he always lost himself in his feeling of ecstasy. it felt too good for him to hold back. he would be mean with the way he rutted his cock down your throat. giving you no room to breathe or relax as he set a brutal pace. not to mention the tight grip he’d have on your hair as he yanked you off his cock as soon as he felt himself getting too close too early. he’d hold you in place with a deadly strength you didn’t even know he had inside him. he’d pant and you’d sit there with a pout on your lips from being pulled off his cock. Nirei was so selfish in these moments he didn’t realize you didn’t want him to stop, you wanted him to keep going until he shot another load deep down your throat. Nirei would let out an exhale as he finally set his eyes on your pouty cute expression. he felt a blush creeping up to his cheeks as he noticed the amount of drool, spit, and cum you had smeared all around the sides of your mouth. your lips that also happened to be swollen into a deep shade of red from how harsh his pace was. “i’m sorry baby, i got too carried away huh?” he’d sheepishly apologize as you pulled him back closer to you once again by the belt loop from his pants. “it’s okay ni’ want more of you okay?” you’d look up at him with a smile that melted his heart. you’ll be the absolute death of him.

this is exactly what Hiragi ᡣ𐭩 needed after a long day dealing with the crew. you knew how stressed the poor guy got after having to deal with absolute chaos for most of his day. not to mention all the reports he had to give Ume about everything that went wrong. he felt his body finally get a chance to settle and relax into the comfort of his soft bed sheets. “fuck~ just like that.” he’d groan gripping the side of his sheets with one hand as the other reached over to grab his pack of cigarettes. funny, you used to hate the smell of cigarettes before you met him. never thought you’d be the kind of person to be in between a man’s leg as he took a drag on his cigarette but here you are. your eyes flicked with innocence and memorization as you glanced up and saw him light the cig in between his fingers. was it bad to say you found it attractive how quick he was able to open up a pack and take out a single cig with only one hand? you bobbed your head up and down quickening your pace making your boyfriend hiss at the new feeling. his rested his hand gently on the back of your neck soaking in the wetness and pleasure your mouth had to offer him. “nghn- what’d i do to deserve you?” he’d grunt in pleasure before pulling you off of him. your lips glistening in a mix of his precum and your saliva, he leaned down to deliver a soft kiss onto your lips. you leaned into him deepening the kiss as your hand traveled from his thigh to his shaft. pumping him soft and slowly as he moaned against your lips. the bitter taste of nicotine from his tongue poisoned your mouth in the most addictive way possible. if anyone asked Toma what was his favorite way to relax he’d most likely respond with sleeping but in reality it was this.

Kiryu ᡣ𐭩 was incredibly experienced, more experienced than you were. he was a ladies man he couldn’t help himself but to indulge in indecent acts before meeting you. he’d always reassure you that you’re the best he’s ever had. it wasn’t a lie either, his perfect soft moans that sound like they came from a movie were all yours to hear. he was perfect, the way he had the right amount of girth while standing at a good 7 inches when completely erect. in his eyes you were also perfect with the way your glossy pink lips would smear the substance around the base of his cock, marking how deep you can take him. he can’t even keep count of the amount of times he’s found himself shoving a hand down his pants as he watched the video of you sucking him off on his phone. the wet lewd sounds that could be heard in his headphones whenever you moved your head up and down. he perfectly captured the moment you gagged around him as he held your pretty little head in place. he picked up the pace on fucking his fist with hie cock tryna match his climax to be on time with the version of him in the video. wishing he could relive that exact moment right now, but of course you were too busy studying for your final exam. “oh shit~ agh fuck.” he’d let out small pants trying to catch his breath as he made a mess of himself all over his hand. he’d take a pic of the mess and send it to you with a message ‘hope my hand gets replaced by your pretty mouth soon’.

“fuck, such a good slut hm? take me in so well, look at you. couldn’t even wrap your whole hand around it yet you’re taking it so easy down your throat.” Togame ᡣ𐭩 would tease at you not letting you respond as he shoved himself deeper down your throat. he felt his cock throb in response to your gag and tears streaming down your face. such a humiliating position your lover would put you in as he waved a camera in your face. “wanna show everyone what a good slut you are? bet you’re wet right now too huh.” your mascara and make up got ruined long ago when he first climaxed in your slutty mouth. you’d figure toga would be tired of overstimulating himself but no he loved wearing you down more than anything. he loved pushing your buttons and testing your limits as he edged himself again and again with your throat. he’d take himself out of your mouth just to slap your tongue with his length before rubbing the tip of his cock around your lips. “such a pretty face, getting all ruined for me.” “mhm” all you could do was agree wanting him to continue his actions already missing the bitter taste of him in your mouth. “relax, don’t be so desperate. we’re just getting started.” he’d scold you and grab you by your hair when you tried taking him back in without permission. “c’mon open your mouth f’me” he’d command giving the camera a full view of your cute face as you stuck out your tongue to reveal the mess Toga made. “ugh, so good for me angel”

“agh~ shit shit shit shit, so good. oh god, pleaseplease, holy shit. fuckksaghm.” the poor boy couldn’t help but spew gibberish as he felt his legs buckle and tremble under him. felt so so good. his eyes were clinched as he swung his head back lost in complete bliss as your tongue slid up his shaft and licked across the slit of his tip. “Choji ᡣ𐭩 ~ ya gotta look at me baby. it’s no fun if i can’t see your face.” you teased. Choji built up the courage to look down and face your eyes. you gave him a soft smile before popping his tip back into your mouth maintaining eye contact as you started to deep throat him. Choj swallowed hard, already struggling to keep looking at you commit such a lewd act. he couldn’t help but wonder what others would say if they knew how quick he was to melt under your touch. the panting whimpering mess he becomes with a blush that trails from his cheeks to the very tips of his ears. he was supposed to be a big bad leader yet here he was, being so weak for you. he snapped out his trance when you began to massage his balls with your free hand. his eyes shut themselves again as he let out a sharp gasp “ah- fuckk. so good. too good.” his hands would instinctively slam themselves against his eyes as he covered his very heated expression. you had to fight back a smile from his cute reactions. such a sweet sensitive guy. feeling his hips buckle against your other hand as you held him down was always a sweet treat. knowing how you were the one holding your lover back.

[b00tyliciousbabe]

munch

bisexualbigboybf! x THICC!male reader

summary: manifesting my future husband

notes: THANKS FOR 1k ppl dem! BEEN IN DRAFTS FOR A WHILE. i think there needs to be some more love + appreciation for bi men and big boys so i amalgamated the two. not a fetish y’all, just a preference, they be taking care of my inner princess and for that i will ALWAYS be grateful. a lot of feminisation in this one so tread carefully. it’s a lil messy (jumps in tenses and stuff like that) but i litch couldn’t focus without getting too excited. ENJOY MY HEARTS.

song rec: normani - big boy (feat. starrah)

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your big boy bf didn’t think he had a chance with you at first, nor did he even want one. at first he hated you, watching how all the other men in your life were one flirty conversation away from having a piece of your juicy ass, and how the girls envied and coveted your thick hourglass figure. your sweet personality sickened him ; you made sure to give them your gym routine and your diet, being the beauty guru you were. but what he realised, was not that he hated you, but that he hated not having you. when he realised this, he needed you, more than anything.

you embodied a refreshing style of hyper femininity that made you all the more attractive to your bi man. seeing your body in its thick glory made him love himself more. how your belly added to your voluptuous figure, your plump cheeks, and fleshy muscle surrounding your chest and thighs, he was mesmerised by your form. you were, in his eyes, divine. little did he know that you had fallen first; his broad shoulders, strong biceps and pudgy belly practically had you ovulating. your gigantic teddy bear, standing at a foot taller than you, had a heart of gold and this protective aura around him, enamoured you.

when you debuted your relationship online, you were met with a flurry of mainly positive responses. yeah sure there were the odd few denouncing your femininity and body shaming y’all, but you ignored them because you don’t have to convince the world that you’re THEE baddie b and your man is the sexiest mf to ever exist.

luvagoalz: they are literally the embodiment of the wattpad height difference. I NEED.

user222: y/n getting dicked down DAILY by a giant is so girlboss of him.

sza: bestie got himself a big boy - y/n send me the deets for the wedding.

your bf is a huge gym rat and when you two became exclusive, your already voluptuous figure became all the more defined with his help. you were flawless. you love seeing him in the gym, sweating as the veins in his forearms pop out making him look so attractive. he definitely enjoys your company there, teasingly rubbing his bulge against your ass and face when no one was watching. his exhibitionist kink goes crazy seeing how beautifully your workout clothes hug your butt and cinch your waist. he used to be slightly insecure about his stretch marks but after a cool down session, and you complimenting them like lightning bolts imprinted on his skin, he felt superhuman. you always knew what to say to make him feel better.

he’s so protective of you. always sleeps on the side closest to the door and isn’t afraid to send someone to hospital if they even look at you the wrong way, or in a manner he doesn’t like. in his mind he’s seeded you and you’re literally carrying his kids and thus it’s his responsibility to protect you. it’s almost primal. he isn’t controlling or anything, but finds it incredibly important to remind you that with him you are completely safe.

they say the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and boy was that the case during your talking stage. it was perfect; you love to cook and so he’s more than happy to try your baked goods. your boyfriend loves his sleep on the weekends and so in true house husband fashion you often prepare breakfast in an apron with your thick cheeks hanging out from behind. one day he woke up to the sweet smell of you making his favourite. groggily stumbling into the kitchen, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, long dick swinging out of his briefs as he advanced towards you.

‘good morning love.’ his deep voice sent shivers down your spine as he kissed the words into your neck. he held onto the groove of your hips, caressing your lower back with the tip of his index finger and watched as you writhed beneath him. ‘babe, what are you doing up? you need your sleep, you’ve been working so hard lately.’ you said, breathing haphazardly as he ground himself into you. ‘i missed you. and i want my morning kisses.’ beginning to untie your apron he turned you around, and removed the lace from around your neck. hiking you up on the table top, the heat of your bare ass, that his dick previous massaged into you, was cooled by the granite. you wrapped your legs around him, as your hands stroked his beard. wiping that shit eating grub off of his face, your lips came closer to his own, as you could feel his heartbeat in his throat - this man is so in love with you. the kiss lasted quite a while, precum staining the opening of his boxers and pooling on your thighs. you knew that you were about to be fucked dumb and so you turned of the hob to avoid burning the house down. the fire inside y’all was more than enough to keep you going.

your man doesn’t fully realise his own strength. he was very hesitant to have sex with you for a while and mostly stopped at groping you before his dick got too hard to ignore. so, for your first time, he had to refrain literally ripping your clothes to get to the prize of your nudity. he absolutely loves seeing you (try to) deepthroat. the reason? his size kink goes insane when you attempt to take his gigantic package. this man is LONG and GIRTHY, capable of splitting you in half and abusing all your spots with ease. the veiny sausage he’s packing could do some serious damage but he held back when it came to your first couple times with him.

he always takes time to ensure that your safe and comfortable. initially his size intimidated you, your mannerisms connoting your subtle anxiety. he kissed the fear out of you, reassuringly saying, ‘you know I would never do anything to hurt you.’

your boyfriend is the KING of consent, always ensuring that you want his big cock just as much as he wants to feel the warmth of your boy pussy. one day whilst he was working from home, he noticed you squirming like an omega in heat. he sighed and smirked. ‘d’you want me to fuck you?’ he burst out. already used to his blunt disposition, you nodded. advancing closer towards you, staring down at the desperation in your face, he stroked your hair. ‘use your words y/n, i wanna hear how badly you want it.’ his charisma practically had you high. ‘I need you, please.’ you began to undo the string that held up his joggers, as he removed his tshirt. ‘i can never say no to my baby boy.’ he smiled, pants bunching at his ankles as he slowly railed on the edge of your shared bed.

he encourages you to take him fully each time, praising you because no one else had been able to take him past halfway. ‘i know baby, i know, do it one more time for me.’ he said endearingly, wiping the tears from your face as his dick invaded your throat.‘THERE IT ISSS UGH FUCK! i love your mouth.’ he cooed.

equally, your bf is the only man you’ve been with that’s been able to satisfy you sexually. you steered clear from all the men who were only interested in your body and not your heart and so you had very minimal experience outside of toys and your hands. the few you may or may not have been with were damn near clueless. on the other hand…your man has had plenty of hoe phases. it sly bugged you how he’d been intimate with a greater number you could’ve imagined but all that disappeared when he first made love to you. the best thing about him is that he can handle allat that ass. despite the clear size difference this doesn’t stop you from being a FREAK. He even encourages it. loving your thick globes of ass flesh kiss his lower belly as you push back and twerk all over his dick. his favourite part of your shape are your hips. he wants to breed you full of his children.

whenever he says ‘fuck yeah baby, back that shit up.’ it sends you orbital. it’s well known that the two of you share a huge affinity for doggy. the way you stroke his pudginess while he rails you in that position has become a safety mechanism - one that he has learnt to make the experience all the more enjoyable. with one hand holding you up (realistically struggling to, under the sheer passion of his fucking) and the other one bent behind your back fingering his belly button. his huge dick borderline tears you open and by grabbing onto him makes you feel safe. he usually recognises that it’s getting a bit too much when your moans become screams, and you get tighter. and as much as he loves seeing you overstimulated and fucked out on his cock, he doesn’t wanna break you (completely). so he slows down, soothing your pain with sweet nothings and his large hands massaging your ass cheeks.

for him personally though, he loves to smush you underneath his weight. in prone bone, he has direct access to your ear, whispering words of affirmation but degrading you with the grip of his arms around your neck. his beard hair softly touching your cheek, causing a wave of bliss to hit you, always gets him going. he knows you love hearing him praise you; his grunts are so delectable, a symphony with the percussion of him clapping tf outta your cheeks. as you whine like a lil bitch, they become guttural, like an alpha in his rut. the carnal passion of your heavier and rougher sessions reveal a callous side to his possessive nature. dangerous how much it turns you on.

words can’t really describe how much you love his stomach, happy trail adorning his belly, and riding him offers you the opportunity to see allat that on a platter. his smirk as he tries to contain his excitement that your his and only his.

on the topic of eye contact, you’re favourite mutual position is definitely missionary - your bf adores every inch of you. how your body becomes compliant. your hole crafted to take his big dick. the way it pierces through the walls of your pussy, massaging your gumminess. he sometimes drools from how lost he can be in the experience. ‘take my cock, yhhh baby, fuckkkk.’

slowing down his jack hammering pace, he’d lean forward with his low hanging balls rutting into you agonizingly slow.

‘you like that shit, huh baby? yeah? loving on my dick so well.’ whispering as he begins to mark your collarbone. then moving upwards onto your neck, massaging your previously pummeled throat as you looked up, desperate to kiss him. he exhales into your mouth, breathing life into you that he had taken away with his hard thrusts. his softness escaped as quickly as it arose, thrusting his entire load into you.

‘shit’ you scream as he laughs hoarsely, the rasp in his voice a melting honey.

in the same position, you love his cum face. something about how his eye and nose scrunch as he pants and grunt deeply. his beard ticking your chin. it also allows him to be vulnerable with you. he would hold your head cradling it with an affection rivalled only by how sweetly his tip kisses your prostate with each lengthy thrust. when he first enters, he’s checking to see if your okay, if you want more lube. you say no. legs just above his hips, you bring your hand to stroke his beard as he concentrates on directing his dick in a way that doesn’t make him cum immediately upon re entry.

‘i love you.’ you say getting all emotional from how well he’s treating you. ‘I love you too y/n.’ he leans down for more kisses as your hand now snakes around the back of his head.

he stops, letting you catch your breath, playing with your hair and caressing your face lovingly. your arms drop immediately at the warmth of his touch. he lifts and cradles your head, a delicacy opposing his rough demeanour.

‘I fucking love you,’ your bf grunts, placing forehead kisses, panting, as he starts moving faster. your legs now wrapped tightly around his abdomen like a vice. he plants both hands behind your head, balling his fists at either side of your head to create the perfect foundation to fuck you hard. brings one of his hands to cradle your hair and to bring your head closer to his. your temples meet ensuring that you’re so close and intimate. the man brings his body up, still inside you, collects your legs together, one leg on each shoulder holding onto the thick flesh of your upper thighs, allowing you to adjust, before toppling over onto you again to get deeper inside your pussy. later, moving his hands up to behind your knees, his rugged fingertips grip the flesh of your hamstrings.

your boyfriend brings his fingers up to stroke your cheeks and remove the hair sticking to your face. he’s growling at his need to go ham, but he exercises self-control as a means to take care of you. however, what he doesn’t realise is that his painfully slow strokes transport you to a utopia of bodily ecstasy.

he ABSOLUTELY loves seeing the imprint of his girthy cock in your stomach, pressing down on it to add to your respective pleasures. and when you both reach the top of the mountain, the visual of you being completely fucked out on his huge pole, as it protrudes through your stomach which is now decorated with your own personal release, makes him wanna rail you again. and again. until you pass out or his dick becomes limp. the latter would never happen because wherever you are, that cocks gonna be UP.

aftercare is so underrated with him. in his past relationships, it was usually a hit and quit it situation - his words not mine. thus he didn’t really know what to do at first. he’s so used to hookup culture, that he never bothered. but with you, he knew he had to change; one, because he knew you’d never let him near you again if he didn’t take care of you, but mainly two, because you were his and he had a responsibility to cherish you. considering you literally couldn’t walk and body was limp, your man needed to ensure you were taken care of. though he always reassures you, you make sure to do the same. the first time you spooned him he slept like a baby. BIG BOYS NEED CUDDLES TOO Y’ALL.

he gets really apologetic, constantly asking ‘did I go to rough.’ as he massages the bruises on your hips. sometimes feels guilty that he fucks you too hard. You put his mind at ease telling him that you do like it. your bubble butt and tight hole were made to take his cock.

this still doesn’t stop him from confessing to you; ‘baby, I’m so sorry.’ he kisses your skin. ‘when I see that ass if yours jiggle, it drives me crazy, I just can’t stop.’ it often leads to him overcompensating. as the his cum seeps out of your obliterated cunt. he just wants to make you feel safe. the same safety he feels when he’s with you.

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tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

@lysanderplume

[johnbrand]

Future of America

It all felt surreal. The final count had been secured. 312 electoral votes for Donald Trump, definitively more than half of the country. The popular vote swung right too. It was shocking, the defeat of all that was good in the world practically numbing Michael and Benjamin. The District of Columbia had guarded the two best friends from the outside state of the world. They could not have prepared for everything to be back on the line in an instant: their friends and families, their rights, and even their homosexuality.

“I mean, it just doesn’t make sense,” Michael, the political sciences major, ranted. “Everything seems so fishy. How could all the swing states vote for this trash?”

Benjamin, although physically shorter, did not hold such a short temper. The bubblier of the two pursuing a degree in psychology, Benjamin tried to take a more optimistic approach to the situation. “It’ll be fine. There’s no way he can deliver on everything he’s promised. No president has completely fulfilled everything they’ve wanted to do in office.”

Michael groaned as they continued forward across the green. Their morning walks had always passed the judicial buildings of the capital. But now it felt as if there was something different about them. Instead of the usual respect, the two now conjured contempt for the place. “Even if that’s true, I thought we were supposed to represent the ‘future of America’.”

“Apparently everyone else isn’t ready for that future yet,” Benjamin shrugged. “I mean, they can barely handle our short shorts, so having gay men was probably a step too far.”

They both sighed, taking a seat upon the steps leading up to the buildings housing their government. Both at average heights, average musculatures, and scoring average attractiveness, no one typically bothered the pair in public. And besides Michael’s pierced ears and Benjamin’s bleached hair, there was nothing particularly effeminate about them. So, it came as a surprise when something did stray from the norm.

“Ow!” Benjamin turned to face Michael, who was peeling a wad of newspaper from his face. The wind had brought the paper airborne before smacking it right into Michael’s face. 

“You ok?” Benjamin asked, the smallest smile creeping onto his lips.

“Guess I just got slapped by the ‘future of America’,” Michael pointed to the headline of the front page, but Benjamin’s eyes were drawn somewhere else.

“Since when did you start growing out a beard?”

“What?” Benjamin asked, scratching at the thick clutch of hair covering his face. Benjamin’s eyes trailed lower as he watched Michael's body hair begin to sprout up and over the hem of the fitness shirt, before spilling out onto his exposed arms and legs. “I’ve had a beard since high school, man.”

“‘Man’?” Benjamin questioned the term, foreign to their language. Before he could analyze further, Michael’s top and shorts began to elongate. Their breathable fabric thickened and expanded, morphing into a plain gray henley and a pair of jeans that had certainly lived a few lives. 

“M…M…Michael! You’re…you’re…” Benjamin stuttered as the changes grew more drastic. His friend grew before him, the lean frame inflating with muscle before being covered by a light layer of fat. The farmer’s build became more apparent as it was centralized in locations. Michael’s hands bloated into mitts, his face squared out from the more-than-occasional beer, his feet widened into their new, larger brown boots. 

“What, bro?” Michael asked as the first of wrinkles began to sprout around his eyes. His thinning hair was quickly covered by the white MAGA cap that materialized on top of his head. “Oh, do you want to hold it? Here, but be careful; that paper is like a new New Testament.”

Benjamin, too stunned by Michael’s deeper voice, slight age progression, and overall sudden transformation, could not form a coherent sentence as he was handed the newspaper. But the more he tried to reflect on this warping event, the more Benjamin struggled too. Michael had had a beard since high school, right? Michael had not been 21, but 31, right? Mike had always been a straight, white, proud MAGA enthusiast, right?

Lost in his own head, Benjamin did not even recognize the effects of the newspaper transposing onto him. His own fingers fattening into calloused claws. Hair rippling across his forearms and down his chest and legs. Muscle pumping underneath each available surface, followed by a helping of fat to create a muscle gut that would cement a burgeoning ex-jock figure. Skimpy running fit stretching into a soft plaid and dirtied jeans. Thickening skull covered by a navy blue hat proclaiming that he too would become a part of this new era. 

“Hold the paper a little higher,” Mike instructed, dragging Ben out of thoughts. “Now smile.”

The two men posed for the picture, proud to represent the future of America.

[dellalyra]

𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐧 - ᴋɪɴᴋʏ? ᴋɪɴᴋʏ.

 ᴘɪxɪᴇ - 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘫𝘬 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯?

𓆩♡𓆪 Gojo 𓆩♡𓆪

- Size

You just know this man loves how much bigger he is than you. His height - he towers over pretty much everyone anyway, but seeing you so tiny compared to him? Incredible. He’s so broad too, and muscled. He loves remembering the first time you saw him naked, a very pleasant shock reverberating through your body because he has muscle mass like that under all those baggy clothes? He makes sure to wear tight shirts around the house now. He loves how he dwarfs you in bed, when he’s hovering over you - pounding into your tiny little body and your form is completely engulfed by his. Your little hands? On his big, fat cock? Something he’ll never tire of.

- Marking

You are his. He’s cocky, he wants people to know. He wants everyone to know that those marks on your neck are his - he’s the one who sucks them into your soft skin at night when he’s balls deep inside you. He wants them to know.

- Begging

He loves to tease, and getting you to the point where you’re pleading so prettily for him to just fuck you? It’s music to his ears.

- Cunnilingus

He’s got a sweet tooth, and there’s nothing sweeter than his pretty princesses cunt. He will lay between your spread legs for hours, lapping at your fold like a starved man as he whispers how delicious you taste and telling you to just stop wriggling and let him enjoy his dessert.

- Teasing

As above, he’s the worst tease on the list. He loves dragging you into an classroom when you’re both at work in Jujutsu Tech and pressing breathy kisses into your neck and ghosting his fingers across your lacy panties only to smirk when he feels your heart quicken and then leave, continuing to let his hands linger a little too long, whisper a little too close to your ear until you’re on your knees begging him when you get home.

- Breeding

Again, he’s possessive. He likes the idea of you being the momma to his kids, but it’s not just about that for him- the best part of it for him is filling up with tight pussy and giving you everything he has. On an emotional level, it’s a level of trust and intimacy he craves. Knowing you’re so committed to loving him forever and never leaving him that you’d let him. It’s so special to him, having some of him inside you, inside your body. When you tell him it’s okay the first time, he teared up. He’s always been so above others, a figure to look up to - but kept at a distance out of fear and reverence, but here you are. Joined with him in the most intimate way and letting him leave an essence of himself to even further the closeness.

- Brat taming

He teases you so much he really should have expected you to bite back, and put up a fight. He loves to remind you who’s in charge however. Sassing him? Absolutely not. Getting pissy when he’s teasing you? He’ll just smirk at you and tell you to be a good girl for him.

𓆩♡𓆪 Geto 𓆩♡𓆪

- Corruption

Even before his defection, he definitely had always had a corruption kink - whether it be his pretty little untouched crush, or introducing his inexperienced girl to his other hobbies.

- BDSM

He’s a hard dom. Merciless. He’s got a whole selection of instruments to use on you, seeing you writhe beneath him while you’re all tied up in those pretty black ropes and at his fucking mercy is so beautiful to him he wishes he could paint it. The sharp gasps you let out as a paddle hits your plushy behind as you arch your back in the air subconsciously chasing for more comes a very close second.

- Somnophilia

A softer side of him mixes in with this one. You’re just so pretty, so perfect, so serene when you sleep - how can he not want to cherish and love you with all he has? But still, his girl needs her rest - and if he gets to use you for his own pleasure while worshipping you as you rest? Ideal.

- Mirror sex

He knows he’s hot - but you? You’re ethereal. He wants to show you, make you see why he wants you on his cock 24/7 - how could he not when you look like that when you cum? It’s only natural. He loves how you wriggle and tear your eyes away, cheeks flushed with shyness as the sight of such depravity and lust looks back at you - but still - looking at this 6ft Adonis of a man stuffing you full on his lap with his hand around your throat has you coming undone in seconds.

𓆩♡𓆪 Nanami 𓆩♡𓆪

- Orgasm control

Nanami likes control. He likes to be aware of everything around him, he likes having you under his thumb. The thought of having you under his spell so much that he can control when and how you feel pleasure, completely dictating and torturing you by making you wait, and stop, and ride him, then stop and then finally allowing you to gush all over his handsome face is a dream come true.

- Lingerie

Look at you - sitting all pretty. Like a gift in a satin bow. He likes seeing the effort or forethought that lingerie shows, and how it highlights all your assets. He’s never one to rip it off (ahem… the rest of them), he likes to painstakingly, carefully, gently unravel and unwrap the gift laid out before him.

- Face sitting

Enough said. He is the definition of ‘don’t hover, fucking sit.’ He wants you to sit your pretty cunt on his face so he can have you for his dessert.

- Stockings

He’s already a thigh man - mix in some lace top stockings under your skirt, edges peeking out when you cross your legs? You’re going to be the death of this man.

𓆩♡𓆪 Toji 𓆩♡𓆪

- Exhibitionism

He’s so fucking cocky - he wants everyone seeing how you fall apart on his fat dick. He gets off on the thought of getting caught, the adrenaline rush adding to his brutal pleasure as he doesn’t even try to muffle your cries while he fucks you against the back wall of the dive bar.

- Daddy kink

He thinks he fits the name perfectly, the dominant, sexy and slightly older guy - hearing it from your glossy lips when you beg for more is music to his cock.

- Marking

His. All his. He’s going to make sure everyone knows it too.

- Booty stuff

The taboo of it all, the idea of putting his fingers or his cock anywhere near your ‘other’ entrance is enough to have him hard in seconds - it’s ‘forbidden’ so of course it’s something Toji wants.

𓆩♡𓆪 Choso 𓆩♡𓆪

- Breeding

This sweet boy, he loves his family - and he loves his girl. Hang on… what if he… combined them? Having a family with you? You having his baby? You round and squishy and soft and swollen with his child? Oh dear lord he nearly weeps. The thought of you trusting and loving him so much, that you’d beg for him to cum inside you so much you leak for days has him plugging you with his cock to stop even a drop from leaking out.

- Praise

He didn’t totally know what he was doing when you fist got together - sure, he knew the gist of things - but he’s so desperate to make you feel as good as you make him feel, and hearing you verbally confirm or tell him how nice his tongue feels, or how well his cock fills you or how nice he tastes? It’s fuel to get even more high praise from his precious girl.

- Biting

It’s primal - marking, similar to the breeding kink he’s a boy who didn’t know much but allowed his primal instincts to take over and the first time he came when you both had to keep the volume down he bit your shoulder to stifle his groans and the mark he made, almost brutally, and the gasp you let out on your skin drove him to yet another round. The harshest thing this sweetheart will do.

- Thigh-fucking

When you were both figuring things out, as he discovered sex and sexuality, you usually guided him to where he was desperate to be buried - but the first time he guided his own cock it slid between your thighs and his hips stutters above you and he loaned at how your thighs felt around him - he couldn’t stop, he knows he wasn’t in your pretty pussy but why did this feel so good? He loves your thighs as is but Jesus not only are they beautiful but they’re also so soft he can’t stop himself as he paints your plushy thighs with cum, as you whisper encouragement into his ear.

- Blowjobs

When you explain that not only are you willing to put his… in your… mouth - you actively want to - this is shocking to him. Sure, he’s done the same for you before but you want to devote yourself to pleasuring him that way? He constantly checks in as you make out and then drop to your knees and the minute he feels your tongue on his solid length his mind goes blank. He can’t think, can’t focus, can’t hold back - he can only feel how incredibly wet and warm and he thinks he could easily spend his life right here. You’d blow his mind (pun intended).

[notjoelmiller]

don't mind me.. just thinking about vampire!ghost at 10am

1.8k words (beware... a little bit of blood, alcohol, vampirey stuff and la tension sexuelle)

...

Captain Price warned you. The day you transferred onto the team, he pulled you aside, and in an utterance quieter than anything you’ve heard from him since, he told you that the Lieutenant would take some getting used to. 

“He’s a good man,” Price said, “Just peculiar.”

Read between the lines, sergeant: he’s an asshole. It isn’t anything new, and it certainly won’t become an excuse. You worked hard to get on this team, and some weirdo won’t get in the way of that.

So you prepare for the worst, and… you end up with the best? Lieutenant Riley turns out to be the best superior you’ve had the honor of serving under. He’s not a friend, not by any means, but he’s efficient on the field and cordial off of it, a luxury you’ve rarely been afforded.

However, Price’s words ring true. The man is just as his call sign suggests– a ghost. He barely socializes with the team, always (politely) declining to eat meals with you all. He makes himself scarce during the day, only appearing for training and missions wearing a skull mask. Hell, you’ve never seen him without the damn mask.

Despite his peculiarities, you can see why he’s made the team. He’s built like nobody you’ve ever seen– nearly six and a half feet of pure muscle. And the man is efficient. He lurks in the shadows, waiting to strike, and when he does… The man has slaughtered his way out of one too many impossible odds. It’s a pleasure to fight by his side. You find yourself missing him whenever he’s disappeared. The longing is unusual, unfamiliar, especially considering the allusiveness of the lieutenant. Yet when he’s there, working with you on training or missions, things just go better. It’s as though he understands you on some incomprehensible level. He picks up on things nobody else ever has– when you’re fatigued, hurt, or just generally pissed.

Unfortunately, today was one of the many days where Ghost lived up to his namesake. And what a day it was for him to be missing. After a grueling training session, you were tasked with a mountain of paperwork. All was going well until you accidentally misplaced about half of your completed paperwork, leading to an overzealous recruit dumping them into the paper shredder during your lunch break. While you were happy to give the kid one hell of a talking to, the damage was done and you were practically back to square one.

You don’t finish up until almost midnight. The urge to sleep is strong, but your frayed nerves are stronger. If you want to get some shut-eye before the sun rises, you need a drink ASAP. So straight past your room you go into the common room kitchen. Except, you’re not alone. 

A man leans over the counter, setting down an empty glass. His blond hair is so light it nearly blends in with his translucent, pale skin. You’ve never seen him before, surely you would have noticed if you have. With skin that white, he must glow like a damn disco ball in the sun. The man wipes his lips with the back of his hand. It comes back smudged with red. So it seems like he had the same bright idea as you.

“Care to share?” You ask, startling him. He straightens to full height, and your heart skips a beat. He didn’t look all that large while hunched over the counter. Now? He’s built like a damn brick wall, tall and broad in a way that’s even rare among the men and women you work with.

The man gazes at you with wide brown eyes lined with purple bags. They dart behind you before he relaxes a bit, slumping back down.

“Share?” He whispers. His voice raises your hackles, something about the timber of the sound, even in a whisper, that awakens something in your mind.

You motion to his wine glass. He holds the stem tightly. You wouldn’t be surprised if it shattered. “The wine, pal.”

The man tenses. “Pal?”

“Pal,” you repeat.

“You’ve never called me that before,” says the man as he reaches in the cabinet for another glass.

You frown. “Have we met?”

The man’s face stretches into an unamused pout, “Really, Sergeant?” The word curls around his tongue in such a familiar way, yet it’s nearly impossible to place.

Just nearly.

You know that voice well. Typically it’s barking out orders in your earpiece and—

Shit, you just disrespected your Lieutenant.

“Christ—” Ghost flinches. You compartmentalize his dislike of blaspheme for when you’re not profusely apologizing to him. “Ghost, I didn’t recognize you without—“

“It’s alright,” Ghost looks through the cabinets until he finally finds the one with the 141’s not-so-secret alcohol supply. “Wine, you said? White or red?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

Ghost frowns at you until you motion for his emptied glass still filled with the crimson liquid. His lips part into an ‘o’. “‘F course."

Ghost pours a glass and slides it your way. “Can’t sleep?”

You nod. “You?”

“Something like that.”

You raise your glass. “Cheers?”

Ghost taps his glass against yours with a satisfying ding.

“You know,” you say after a sip, “We haven’t gotten the chance to talk since I joined— one-on-one, I mean.”

“That we have not,” Ghost muses. “I suppose you have questions.”

“That I do,” your eyes follow your finger, tracing the rim of the glass. “You know, Price gave me a warning when I joined.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, said you were a weirdo.”

“‘Weirdo’?” Ghost laughs. It’s surprisingly warm. You get a flash of his smile for the first time. His teeth are blindingly bright, but your attention is drawn to his canines. They’re unusually large— long —their points extending long and dangerous. “Is that what we’re calling it these days,” he muses.

“It’s not totally crazy to say, you know?” Ghost tilts his head, another sharp smile pulling at his lips, “I mean– this is the first time I’ve seen your face.”

“I’ve got a skin condition.” You raise a skeptical eyebrow. Ghost continues, “I get burnt easily.”

You frown, “Burnt?”

“Sunburn.”

“You’re joking.”

Ghost grimaces, and you realize that he is in fact not joking. You bark out a laugh, and before you consider the possibility that Ghost may actually have a medical condition, he starts laughing too.

You’re not looking, too busy laughing about your poor brick-shithouse of a lieutenant getting burnt to see that you’re about to slam your hand down on your wine glass. And you do, the glass knocking over and spilling wine all over the counter. And, as though the universe is reminding you that luck is not on your side today, the glass shatters, a shard managing to cut through one of your fingers.

A string of expletives escapes your lips as you instinctually avert your eyes. The feeling of the glass slicing through your skin echoes in your mind. Thinking about it causes you more distress than the actual pain.

“Let me look,” Ghost grumbles. He reaches for your hand, but you pull it back, examining it. A long but shallow cut mars your pointer finger. It oozes blood which drips down your knuckle and between your fingers. 

“It’s fine,” you gasp, “I’ll just grab a band-aid.”

“No,” Ghost wraps his hand around your wrist. It’s not particularly hard, but the shock of his cold touch has you gasping. He pulls your hand to his face– his lips –and before you know it, your bloodied finger is in his mouth.

“Ghost, what the hell are you–”

Your lieutenant honest-to-God moans around your finger. His tongue swirls languidly around the digit in his mouth, like he’s savoring something. You suppose he is– the taste of you. Ghosts’s eyes are pulled shut, brows furrowed as he completely ignores your protests. Though, your protests aren’t exactly passionate, rather halfhearted formalities in case any others decide to wander into the common room this late at night.

He draws your finger out slowly, his tongue keeping contact with it until it can’t any more. You don’t draw your hand away from his grasp, instead letting it stand between you two, Ghost’s grip still iron on your wrist.

The room spins around you. You blame it on blood loss, ignoring the fact that you’ve lost way more blood in way less time. A cut certainly couldn’t bring you down. Your lieutenant however–

“Better?” Ghost asks. He moves closer, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep inhale almost like he’s smelling you. The thought makes you dizzier, a recessed part of your brain running wild at the thought of such a primitive act.

“You… you just–” You cut yourself off, a cross between a sigh and a whimper bubbling from your throat. 

It sounds like a moan. 

Maybe it was a moan. 

It definitely was a moan.

Ghost’s free hand comes to cup your cheek, tilting your gaze back up to his. You hadn’t realized, but you were staring at his bloodstained lips. “Darling,” he coos, “Answer me.”

The words tumble from your mouth before you can even think about them: “Much better.” They ring true. Your finger doesn’t hurt a bit, even though it was very much just sliced open on a glass.

Ghost brings your hand to his lips again. You think he’s going to put your finger in his mouth again. Instead, he presses it against your lips, placing a kiss on the cut. He lets go of your wrist, but before your hand can fall to your side, his tongue darts out from between his lips, giving the cut one last kitten lick.

Ghost’s lips are moving. Between them, you catch glimpses of his canines. Why are they so long? They’re lined with red blood– your blood –filling the crevices between his teeth. His tongue runs over his teeth, wiping them clean of you. Your lips part, your own tongue running over your own teeth in mimicry.

“Darling?” His mouth is closed, lips pursed.

“Huh?”

He’s staring at you, the bags under his eyes seeming to have lessened. It’s just the lighting, that’s all.

“I said,” Ghost’s thumb traces your cheekbone. You feel like you might faint. “Go bandage that.”

You blink, mouth forming an 'o'. “Okay,” you barely get the word out as Ghost lets his hands fall from you. Your feet are carrying you backwards as you stutter, “B-bandage. Got it, Ghost.”

You’re falling over your feet as you stumble away, nodding profusely and uttering bandage, bandage, bandage under your breath.

“Simon,” he calls, and you stop, turning to him. “It’s Simon. I’m not just a ghost, you know.”

A ghost. No he certainly is not. Not anymore. Your finger is stinging, and when you look down, it’s bleeding again. You’re tempted to point it out to Ghost– to Simon –just to see what he’ll do.

“Good night,” your bloody finger twitches involuntarily, “Simon.”

[glaciertea]

Tickets for Two

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader two-shot

Part 2

This is part one of this story that's been on my mind for quite a while.

Summary: Working the graveyard shift at a movie theater has it quirks. It's not the best thing, and it's not the worst.

Well, there is one thing that keeps you from leaving this job.

The huge, gorgeous man who comes in every Thursday.

CW: Nothing for this chapter, just having a crush on Miguel.

Word count: 1.7k

There was something about Thursday nights in the movie theater that always made you exhilarated.

It wasn't the smell of freshly stale popcorn that stunk up your nostrils or the fact that you were able to score the after-hours time slot on this day. The ones many would kill to have because after 9 p.m., the place is a barren ghost town. Oh, no. It wasn't one of those reasons. 

It was him.

Throughout the year and a half you managed to survive working here; you've never seen a man like that before in your life. Yes, you've seen your fair share of attractive people come in and out; of course, this was a place to watch the latest hit-or-miss films. But this one, this one was different.

Tall, high cheekbones, a jawline that could shapren diamonds merely by looking at them, those piercing eyes, and those muscles. You always have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming.

He started coming three months ago for the ‘Traditional Thursdays’ feature presentation. Your theater would show old movies from the 1930's ranging to the 2020's or 2030's. It was a nice addition, as your boss wanted to have that “retro-style feel,” and it was pretty successful… if one were to go at the 9 p.m. slot. That frame usually brought in a decent amount of customers, but you were happy to not deal with that anymore.

You managed to get in the ten-to-one schedule block. It was a ghost town during those hours, especially with the midnight showings. You would lounge behind the concession, eyeing a few nightcrawlers emerge, but you would wait for him.

He would walk through the sliding doors exactly at midnight. Never a minute early, never a minute late. The actual film doesn't begin until 12:10 to showcase the following week's feature and a trailer or two. 

So it gives him enough time to head in your direction. He has become a regular for you, always ordering a medium black roast coffee, a small popcorn, and a pack of gummy worms. It got to the point where you realized the items were never going to change, so you made it a habit to have them prepared for him on hand. You barely speak because you don't know what to conjure up, and you certainly don't want to make a fool of yourself, so you stick to the basic “Here's your order” and “Enjoy your film.”

He always responds with a “Thank you” or an “I appreciate it,” and each time, your knees will wobble. His voice was smoother than the butter that you poured on the popcorn. He had you weak. His chiseled profile, his domineering height—he was too good to be true. You want to know more about him, but he's very much to himself. You are intimidated by him; his demeanor can make him seem unapproachable, but that only draws you in more.

There will be a day you will finally find the courage to strike up a conversation. One day.

You just weren't expecting it to be today. You manned the concussion stand, eyeing the time and counting the milliseconds. It was, of course, slow, but you loved it. Easy money to you.

His order was fresh and ready to go; he was going to stroll in less than a minute, and you had to put a lid on your excitement. And like clockwork, he came in and made his way right to you.

Putting on your best smile, you placed the snacks and beverage on the counter. “I got everything ready to go, sir. Piping hot and a new batch of popcorn made.”

“Actually, I want to switch it up. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.”

Your brain practically malfunctioned. Not from the request, but from the fact he uttered more words to you. Your reaction must have given something away as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“If not, that's fine. I don't want you wasting supplies on me.”

Scolding yourself, you shook your head and waved your hands. “No, no! No, sir, it's not an inconvenience at all. I'll gladly ring you up with a new order. Anything for the customer.” You despised saying that phrase as it got so many ungrateful, smug idiots out of problems they decided to cause. But for him? You would repeat it endlessly.

Discarding the usual and clearing the order from the register, you nodded. “What are your taste buds tingling for?” Did you really say those words in that order? Your body suddenly wanted to combust.

The man raised a brow as you chuckled nervously. “That sounded... less dumber in my head.”

His lips turned upwards at that, and your heart stopped. He smiles? He can smile! You never once saw him do that, but if you did, you managed to miss it. He managed to look more radiant; how was that possible?

“Well, my taste buds are craving pretzel bites, fruit snacks, and... can I make my medium roast into a large?”

“Yes, sir, I'll try to get it done before the film starts.” 

“No hay necesidad de apresurarse. Take your time.”

“Okay.” You squeaked out, hiding your flustered state from him.

Miguel rested his arms on the countertop and observed the way you moved back and forth, blending new beans and meticulously placing the hot pretzels in a bag. 

“Here you go.” You reached down and took a packet of fruits and propped it nicely on the pretzel bag. “Steaming and raring to go.”

“Are you usually precise when making these orders?” Miguel pulled his wallet out and paid for the meal, leaving a nice tip.

“Kind of. Maybe it's because I have more time to do these things, and I like my regulars to enjoy nice treats.” You grinned and went to clean up his usual. “I hope you enjoy.

“I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Definitely keeping sure. Thank you again.”

You didn't know what meant by that as he took up his things and headed off to catch the film. You put your hand to your chest and calmed your heart rate, going on about your night. You honestly believed that would've been the end of that interaction and that the following week would revert back to the same old, same old, but you were far from it.

The next Thursday, he was there, but fifteen minutes earlier, asking for a new item from the menu alongside the other treats. You were once again thrown off, but that didn't mean you got to be near his presence more, and if not longer. 

It started off with small extras. A bag of pretzels, sized up on the popcorn, an extra bag of candy—nothing too extravagant. However, as the weeks coasted by, the orders got bigger. A hotdog, flatbread pizza, sliders—those meals took you longer to make, but you did not mind one bit. 

You got to chat with him constantly; when Thursday rolled around, you had that extra pep in your step. The conversations ranged from his tedious office filled with people of the same personality, the many tales of strange movie customers from you, or anything that springs to mind. He was awkward, loveable, and sweet, and your crush for him only grew more with each visit. To the point that it was overwhelming.

And it wasn't blowing away anytime soon. 

You were fixing him up a basket of curly fries and chicken tenders casually yapping away when the topic of movie genres popped up.

“I'm into animated movies. They seemingly are able to convey more emotions than actual humans.”

Miguel enjoyed watching you; he honestly preferred looking at you than the film he was supposed to see. “I enjoy them as well. They tend to have moments that resonate with you on a higher emotional level.” He tapped his finger on the glass counter. “Do you have any favorites?”

“Hmm.” You rubbed your chin before moving back over to the fries and dumping some extra salt and pepper on them (they barely had any flavor to them). “I like a good Lixar film. It's funny how they're able to give certain things sentiment. Rather it's inanimate or not, they find a way. I mean, they gave a torso and sweater emotions. A sweater!” You poured the fries into the plastic basket and moved onto the tenders. “Now in particular, I love Bouillabaisse. Up is a heartbreaker, but I can understand the older man's pain. Searching Elmo is so gorgeous, especially for the time it came out. And Coco, that's a tearjerker. That ending scene when he's singing to her? Gets me every time.” 

“I enjoyed all those as well.” Miguel took a sip of his freshly brewed coffee. “Especially the last one.”

“Oh yeah?” You grabbed some tongs and flipped the tenders to cook them evenly. 

“Sí. A bit of a bias though.” 

“A bias?”

“I share the name of the main character.” He stared right into your eyes as he said that.

“Miguel.” It was velvety as it slid off your tongue.

Was that a suave way of him giving his name? It never occurred to you that you actually never learned his name. He knew yours because of the required name tag, but you were glad to know it now and took it with no complaints.

“It fits.” You smiled and finally finished and rang up his meal. “I shouldn't keep you from the movie. I hope everything is of satisfaction for you.”

“You already know it will be.” He paid and reached for his goods when he stopped.

You crooked your neck and looked down to make sure you didn't miss anything. His usual and the new meal were there, so you didn't know what was up. 

“Is everything okay? Did I mess up your order?”

“Everything is fine. I only want to…” he snatched up a napkin and scanned, even going as far as peering over the counter.

“Miguel?” 

“Do you have a pen?” 

“Yes?” You took one from under the register and handed it to him.

“Thank you.” He scribbled down at lightning pace and folded it half, sliding it across to you. “I'll see you then.” He bowed his head, snagged up his meal and left. 

You had to wait several seconds to recover from your shock when you hastily snatched up the napkin and opened it up. You drew your lips to your teeth to prevent yourself from screaming. 

There were ten digits written in blue.

[definitelynotshouting]

your half of the ransom

inspired by this post and scar's tweets about secret life :] i speedran this just in time for the first eps of the new season to drop!! as always likes and reblogs and especially comments in the tags are appreciated❤️ enjoy!!

Scar wakes to a field of sunflowers.

The sun itself is a swollen yolk bleeding gold at its edges when he blinks, cascading down from the horizon to melt over the earth with indiscriminate fervor. It dips the petals of each field-flower in honey, honing their silhouettes to supple knife-points— even the soil beneath him, packed firm from countless nights of sleep, has burnished to a fine, patinated bronze. In the amber of its rays stray pebbles transmute to pyrite, the subtle scrabble of roots to filigree, and caught in the open mouth of such gaudy resplendence, Scar digs an elbow into the dirt and hauls himself, reluctant, back to his own unsteady feet.

Even at full height the sunflowers still tower, blocking all signs of hearth and home. But the sun (popped, bleeding, all gored-out gold in the upturned belly of the sky) remains his guide— Scar picks his legs up in a faltering stumble to follow it before catching rough fingers against the stalk of a nearby sunflower. He flinches; this early, it's too easy to perceive each stalk as part of a swarm, a yellowed panoptic presence bearing down on the world-weary muscles of his shoulders.

Their seeds will need harvesting soon. Scar hums, a match-strike against unyielding silence, and casts his gaze back to the sun above to orient himself in the direction of his base.

Until they're ready, he has nowhere else to be.

Trader Scar's is too-empty for so comely a morning, a hollowed-out shell long rebuilt and bristling with more wares than he has those to sell them to. But it's a familiar charade— Scar slips into the back with a single sunflower clenched tight in his palm, bruising the petals and scratching against the insides of his fingers. He changes in rapid, efficient motions; last night's poncho is discarded over a nearby chest in exchange for a brighter one, yellow wool lovingly dyed; his hair is released from its tie, combed through, then braided again; the soft leather shoes he'd worn underneath the stars are left to clump by the doorway in favour of far-keener diamond. Worn in but undamaged, the crystal chimes without dents or scratches— there's nothing left to fight here, anymore.

When Scar steps back out to the front, a ghost is waiting patiently for him at the counter.

Or— the ghost of a ghost, if he's being generous. The outline of a shadow, the flicker of a distant mirage. "Oh," Scar says, and the word scrapes like rust from the well of his throat. He'd recognize those wings anywhere. "Well, hello there, Grian."

Grian's filmy outline says nothing. They never do, when the shades appear for a rare visit. The barrier between living and dead remains a clear divide, a gorge through which Scar cannot pass— all that's left between them now are the soft, faded echoes of what was, and what it could have been.

Still, in the year he's spent here, that's never deterred him from a potential sale. Scar props a hip up against the counter, eyeing the flickering shadow and mustering up his best imitation of an enthusiastic smile. "So what brings you out here to my neck of the woods? Looking for something to buy? Some fine goods to trade, perhaps? Man, I don't think I've seen you around in a dog's age. How about some catching up?"

The back of his neck prickles, electric; Grian's shade is a stygian blot in his vision, a fuzz of static that extends its presence from floor to ceiling. His ghost keeps his silence.

Scar tugs his smile wider, flashing two rows of bright, gleaming teeth in Grian's direction until the strain threatens to choke him. "No? Not even a little bone for ol' Scar? Well, tell you what, don't you go standing on su— se— oh, ceremony! Come in, come in! You make yourself at home, you know how I just love a visitor— how about I make us a drink to share and you tell me where in the world you've been, mister."

He doesn't bother waiting for a non-existent reply; instead, Scar swoops down to snag his fingers against the cupboard he'd installed within the counter months ago, fumbling with the latch before throwing its doors wide open with a gust of musty air. Inside, an eclectic mix of quite high-quality wares and some of Scar's own humble belongings tangle, speckled with cobwebs and the first faint stirrings of freshly disturbed dust.

Scar purses his lips, eyeing each item in turn. A nautilus shell here, a few scraps of wood there, some glass bottles, the handle of a ladle he'd cracked over six months back.... Squinting, he thrusts his hand deep into the mess, sweeping the items aside and shuffling new ones into view until— there!

Toward the back lies a dented iron kettle, brittle with disuse. Scar snaps forward, straining out his arm until the tips of two fingers meet the edge of its dusty wooden handle. With a grunt, he flicks it closer, wincing at the shrill scrape of iron on wood as it inches toward him.

SCAR.

It is not a voice. No mere voice can resonate a single word like that in his chest, trembling in his bones and drumming out from the chambers of his very heart. Like a ripple on the still surface of a lake, it rattles through him, scattering each thought to the far corners of his mind and stripping him raw, flaying open his ribs to splay beneath the scorching sun. The yelp that bubbles up to his lips flies past them unbidden, rocketing out with such force that he jolts, and rams his skull straight into the overhanging lip of the counter.

White-on-red sparks, a cherry-hot bolt of fire centered on his crown. "OW! Oh, oh my gosh, I-I— Grian?"

None of the shades haunting him and this server have spoken. They've never spoken. They've never— so why now, when he's made his peace with that—

Scar wets his lips, tongue dry as desert bone, and drags the kettle out of the cupboard with one quick yank. Clutching it to his chest, he rises back up on shaky feet, holding it up as if to ward off an incoming attack. Some shield; its hollow interior reverberates with a screech when he raps his knuckles against it. "Now— now hang on, mister, you can't just— you— oh my gosh, I-I think you just made my heart stop there for a second." A bracing breath. Two. "Y-You can't just shock a man in his own home like that! You...."

Scar trails off. The misty impression hovering on the other side of the counter remains impassive, impersonal— this is not the Grian he knows.

The Grian he knew.

Deep within the static writhe of his shade, the after-image burn of greyed-out eyes begin to squirm to the surface. Scar flicks his gaze back to the kettle with instinctive, long-honed deference, staring hard into the distorted lines of his own reflection.

YOU WON. Once again the words rip something vital in him, boil up through his veins to tear themselves, wet and coppery, on the limp meat of his tongue. Scar risks a peek up, lump hanging heavy in his throat; each syllable comes out as a squeak, threatening to crack the smooth silver of his voice.

"I— yep, I sure did! I sure did, and— thank you very much, for noticing! I, uh, I still don't know how I did that, what with— oh, you know how it is, with, with the, uh, the— friends situation, how that all panned out. Y'know, actually, I wonder if that's wh—"

The eyes blink at him, asynchronous and blank. Hollow. In the heartbeat it takes for them to train back on his own, a soul-wrenching wave of gooseflesh ripples up over Scar's arms.

He whirls himself away so fast his vision spins. "So, uh— tea! You like tea, right Grian?" Without ceremony Scar scrambles to the other side of the room, forcing the counter still between them, every nerve in his body winding tighter, tighter, kinetic energy in a bottle. "How about, um, a—" he rifles through a new cabinet, clumsy with frenzy— "oh, shoot, now where did I put that— I've got some, uh, some dandelion root! Hand roasted by yours truly, of course. Not that anyone else could do it now, but— oh, oh, and look at the lavender, now that's just delicious, you've gotta try it, G, I know you'll just absolutely love it."

Silence. Scar's hand pauses, braced tight on the handle of the cabinet.

"Grian," he says, slow, quiet. Lets the words drift up, shining soap bubbles, to pop against the ceiling. "Why— what are you doing here?"

To his credit, Grian is direct. IT'S TIME.

Without permission, Scar's fingers tighten around the handle of the cabinet. "It's— what? Wait, wait—" He blinks. Does not turn around. "Time for what?"

Silence.

Scar licks his lips, worrying at the split still stinging at the right hand corner. "Time for what, Grian?"

The distinct pall of burning ozone scalds through the air. Tentatively, Scar shoots a glance back down into the kettle, peering at the distinct smudge still smearing the wall behind him. No eyes in its reflection; some of the tension riding in his shoulders loosens, slackens his tendons and begins to uncurl his fingers from the cabinet knob.

Without warning, a wash of ice wisps forward to numb the small of his back. COME HOME, Grian says simply. The words echo in the gap beneath his sternum, drag themselves up each vertebrae in his spine, and Scar freezes stiff, solid.

"This is home," Scar says, blank.

NO.

Some hot ember, banked countless months ago, sparks back to life in the pit of his stomach. "It is," he says, more firmly this time. "It's— that's it. You said it yourself: I won. And I did it fair and square, I'll say. I followed every rule, every task to the— to the nth degree, and... and now I, um." He falters. Grits his teeth until the molars ache. "I get to live with it."

But a sudden chill that has nothing to do with the shade behind him abruptly slips beneath his skin. Hesitantly, still clutching the kettle in one hand like a lifeline, Scar says belatedly: "... Right?"

Despite the sun nearing midday, the temperature around him plummets. NOT ANYMORE.

"Oh," Scar says. The metal surface of the kettles creaks as his second hand joins the first, digging nails into rust and grime. "I— again?"

YES.

"... And what if I don't want to do it again."

He does not phrase it as a question. They both know his answer.

Scar sucks in a sharp shock of air anyway, rattling the kettle against his chest and daubing a blotch of dust over the soft wool of his poncho. "Is—" he bites his lip— "will everyone... be there?"

YES.

Ah. Scar's eyes slip shut of their own accord; behind them, dozens of veins brim over, webs of blood welling up and spilling to slake a thirst so abyssal it could drink and drink for years without satiation.

"... Will you be there?"

For one long, nightmare-eternity, Grian does not reply. Then, a knife between his ribs: YES.

With slow, halting steps, Scar turns. "Okay," he breathes, and drags a hand over his eyes to cloak them both in darkness, and sags back until his skull knocks against the cabinet door with a dull, tender thunk. Each exhale emerges as a series of shaky puffs, damming up his lungs and swallowing all the air in his esophagus. Scar shudders, scrapes his bitten-down nails against iron, and breathes with the roiling of his gut. "... Okay."

When he opens his eyes again, Grian's ghost has vanished.

The spot it occupied is still frigid when he waves a trembling hand through it; Scar inhales, exhales, inhales again. Rinse and repeat, the perfect cycle, the mantra against extraneous thought. Then, solemn and deliberate, he holds the kettle out in front of him, trailing one wandering finger over its dents and bruises, tracing the paths between the known and the new.

"Guess I'll see you there," he tells it, and lifts its grubby handle up in absent toast.

High above, the bleeding sun strikes noon at last. Scar does not harvest the sunflowers.

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afab!reader

PART TWO

Some fluff and a little spice. Don't know if ill do the smut in part three or four, we will see how things develop. Either way it gets hot so! You were warned!

You woke up the next morning with a huge headache. Not a great start to a day where you were scheduled to do large batches of magic.

You swore as you got up, swore as you made your coffee, swore as you did some last minute rereading of the soil testing spell you already knew by heart.

You tried to nap, but couldn't get your sore muscles to relax, so Lyith found you in quite a disgruntled mood. He frowned.

“We can do this tomorrow if you are not feeling well. You smell like you are about to throw a fit.”

You shook your head and took a long, cleansing breath.

“I'm really fine. Im excited about meeting your friend though. Its not everyday you meet a Bee-man.” You cracked a small smile.

Lyith gave you one last appraising look before sighing and beckoning you out of the house. Once you were on the porch step he held out his arms. You stared at him, eyes raised.

“Uh, do you want another hug? For support or something?”

His nose flared and he seemed to be failing to keep a straight face.

“It'll be faster to fly you to the hive. Its a good five mile walk for you if we don't. And with so much to do, I doubt my friend is going to be patient with us.”

You blinked.

“Oh. Um. Okay.” Your heart tightened. You started to feel a little sick.

“If you are scared of heights, I will stay close to the ground. It is faster that way anyway.”

He reached forward and patted your head affectionately. “I don't have to dodge branches that way, so it is a… “win win”? That's how the saying goes, right?”

His hand stayed on your head and you had to admit it made you feel a little braver. His smile was so gentle, it sent a wave of calm through you. 

“Yeah I can do that.” You swallow and force the ends of your lips upwards. 

Lyith holds his arms out again, and you walk into them, letting him hoist you up, and take off. The sound of his wings were particularly loud now and you noticed it had a habit of spreading his lemony scent around. 

You quickly diverted your attention to the feeling of the wind stretching back your skin. Which only made you realize that Lyith had nuzzled his neck close to your own face. You had to admit that the warmth felt nice against the cold spring air. It may have been Lyiths own way of making sure you didn't freeze too much. Your mind lingered on his touch, which was acting like a scarf, in the face of rollercoaster-like winds. Your stomach turned.

It was only 6 minutes until Lyith dropped you off in a small glade. The clearings floor was covered in grasses and large orange flowers. The flowers themselves were funnel shaped with purple star like splotches in the middle. The air was fragrant. 

Lyith grabbed your arm gently. Out from the other side of the clearing came what could only be another bee-man. Lyiths face lit up and he floated upwards, making a few excitable jerking motions. The other Bee-men copied his motions and let out a lovely hum sound, which Lyith harmonized. The two both looked at you and Lyith started the introductions.

“This is the witch I was talking about. And this-” he gestured to the bee-man by giving them a clingy hug. “-is Rena. She is a scholar, and also looks after a quarter of these… gardens, is the term you use. She has given you permission to use magic in her garden.”

“Only if you show me you can help, that is. Witches are so rare these days. I have to measure your…” she seemed to be chewing the word, “Qual-it-ications?”

“Qualifications.” Corrected Lyith, adjust some Rena's long strawberry blond hair. She had the same big black eyes as Lyith, but her form was shorter. Sturdier. But just as fluffy. Unlike Lyith, she had a second pair of hands, which she had crossed over her chest. Her gaze was curious, but her nose was slightly wrinkled in concern.

“Lyith speaks human the best of us. You are lucky to have met such a good orator. Now. What is it that you exactly plan to do?” her voice was deep and textured, as she jutted out her jaw.

You paused for a moment and held up a hand. You rummaged through your bag and pulled out some twine and popsicle sticks.

Lyith bit his lip like he was trying not to smile. Rena laughed openly. “You wish to do an art project?”

“No. If we are going to do this right, we need to be careful. I want to do experiments. First, we section three groups of flowers far away from each other so as not to contaminate eachotger. We use the twine and sticks to section those area off. Then, we do one group for the quick-grow powder, one group for the fertility spell, and one group of both. We will then keep track of them, and you guys will see which one keeps the most magic. You guys can tell magic quality by taste right?”

Rena nodded back at you, her expression a bit surprised. You continue.

“Ideally, we would have four different glens of these same flowers to compare. I'm not sure if the magic will be affected by rainwater. But I feel like it's a solid idea. Whichever works better for nectar quality, is what I'll use in case of emergency. If the fertility spell works properly, I can then help you guys grow your fields. But we wanna make sure that my magic is compatible with the flowers and your guyses nectar. I don't wanna accidentally poison you guys or something.” You scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

Lyith smiled over at Rena, who was nodding as she seemed to be thinking.

“Tell you what, ill give you two glens. One for your powder, one for the fertility spell. At one end of the both the glens you can do both. Sound good?”

You smiled. “Fantastic.”

From their, the three of you got to work sectioning off the ends of the glade. Rena herself flew off and sectioned the other glade herself, while you tested the soil. After the third time of getting the same reading, you calculated your powder amount. It was very important to get the amounts right. If you got it wrong, they would get one huge flower, and a comatose witch all at once. 

You did your spell, and it seemed to work, a more potent smell sweeping through the clearing. You continued your work, taking your time to channel your power as not to stress yourself out and mess with results. You were flown to the other glen, and did your thing. 

When you were finished, one clearings wildflowers had grown their reach twice as far, and the other flowers had grown to be the size of a human head. But it was the combination spell that really seemed to excite Rena. The flower's hue had changed from mostly orange, to mostly purple, and the scent had shifted to something headier.

“These more closely resemble the flowers of old! And they smell perfectly nutritious!”

Lyith chirped in. “The real test is to see how they will age. We don't know how long the magic will last. If the soil will breed more.”

You smile. “Thats what the experiments for. We wait, and each week you tell me if the magic quality has gone down.” 

Admiring the flowers, Rena grabbed one and flew towards you. She put the flower in your hands, then motioned to you as if it was a teacup. “Drink.”

Experimentally you tipped the flower to your mouth. A hint of nectar trickled in. It was sweet, but unlike your normal honeysuckle, their seemed to be a kick to it. Your gaze went back to Rena. She gave you a knowing smile. “Thats what your magic tastes like. It will make such good honey. Thank you.”

With that she leapt forward and gave you a huge hug. She smelled citrusy too, but in a different way, almost tropical. Her hair tickled your neck and ears, as she purred in contentment. She stayed there for a minute longer, seemingly giving you a warm nuzzle before pulling away. It wasn't until she did so that you were able to register how tired and sore your body was. You were shivering. The cold was getting to you now.

Lyith noticed immediately and drew himself close to you. “Is it too cold? I knew we should have waited a day. You've overdone it.” He then threw his arms around you, and started rubbing your arms, your back. He was using the friction and closeness to bring you warmth. It was innocent, but your cheeks warmed just a little too quickly. 

Rena watched and grabbed onto your free arm. “You'll get manasick at this rate. I've got a shelter nearby. Its no hive, but the heat will do you some good.” It seemed that Rena had decided she liked you, because she kissed your cheek twice before motioning the three of you onward.

Lyiath took you up in his arms again, the pressure of his touch much more intense. 

Its just to maintain heat. You tried to convince yourself. 

You had spent a lot more time spellcasting then you thought, as you noticed the sun was starting to set behind the trees. You tried to get Lyiths attention, perhaps you should be heading home instead, but it was very hard to do as you guys were hurtling through the air at 20mph. 

You passed through a few more fields of flowers then made it to a small structure. It was an off-white, sort of oblong shed. It truly looked like some human sized animal cocoon. There was a ridge, which Rena pulled away using her glowing light magic. 

When you all went inside, you were glad to find the structure warm. Light radiated from the ceiling, as if their was a glowing cloud above. In the middle of the room was a yellow orb that radiated heat. There wasn't much else in the room except for… a beanbag chair? 

Rena saw you staring and gushed, “I saw it in a shop window on one of our grocery trips! You humans make the silliest things sometimes!! Look!!” She maneuvered you over and onto it with relative ease. The cushion was heaven to your aching limbs. That, coupled with the radiating heat from the orb, started to make you relax. Sleepy even.

Lyith and Rena took their seats on the floor next to you, seeming comfortable. The room was full of light that made their black eyes shine. Lyith, looked at you with concern, and started fussing over you, pulling your sleeves over your wrists and inching you closer to the orb. 

“You haven't eaten since lunch! Its already dusk.” he tutted, pulling your hair over onto one shoulder. He always had this habit of touching you whenever he could. It must be a Bee-man trait.

You looked over at Rena, who had decided to pass the time by examining your fingers; Then lacing them with hers. Her antennas were twitching about in an adorable way, meaning she must have been pleased. You let her touch you, happy for the companionship. If a human had touched you as much as Rena and Lyith did, you would be beyond flustered, but for some reason, the two of them made you feel safe. Comfortable. 

“I might have an old granola bar in my bag.” You volunteered groggily. Lyith took the bag from your lap and started going through it carefully. You spent that time marveling over just how cute he was. His fluff, more pronounced around the neck and chest, seemed even more fluffy after all the high speed flying. A part of you just wanted to go over and hug him like a big teddy bear. Affection filled your heart.

“No, I don't see anything.” He frowned, rearranging everything back into your bag.

Rena clasped your hand harder, you looked over and saw her smile at you.

“Oh thats fine, I still have some nectar I collected from earlier. Do you want some?” She batted her eyelashes.

Lyith quirked an eyebrow, before staring “ Rena-”

Without waiting for an answer, Rena moved forward and brought her lips to yours, locking in a tight kiss. Too shocked to move, you felt her tongue on yours, then a sudden rush of sweetness. It kept coming, filling your mouth until you were forced to swallow it down. You sputtered, whole body now hot.

“I-wah?” 

Lyith looked like he was trying to contain his laughter. “Rena doesn't spend much time with humans, please forgive her. But just know that sharing nectar this way is very normal for us.” Despite this, a glint of mischief started to twinkle in his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

“ Oooh um really?” You sputter.

He nodded. “You didn't get a lot to drink though. I took some nectar from your garden before I picked you up. Would you like to try it? The magic will refortify you.”

He bent over until he was eye level with you. His eyes went to your lips, then back up to your gaze. You swallowed quickly, opening your mouth to say… something? But Lyith took this as an invitation, pushing his lips to yours. His mouth tasted sweet even before the nectar came. And this somehow was better. Just like the nectar from the flower earlier, there was a small tartness, a bite.

Lyith held you close to himself, the pressure of his body pleasant. A warmth started to curl in your stomach as he pulled you even closer, tipping you back into Rena, who embraced you from behind as you drank. You somehow managed to swallow as he pushed your lips together even tighter, his tongue teasing yours as he fed you. 

You were not sure how long this went on. But you knew you were full, and you were dizzy when he finally pulled away, his eyes glassy. His gaze was heated as he stared you down. It was as if he might change his mind and eat you up himself. You gasped for breath, eyes fixed on him. The room was filled with purring noises from both of them. You could feel the vibrations through both of their chests. You swallowed thickly.

After what felt like an eternity, Lyith straightened himself up and his expression changed to one of laughter. He giggled then bumped his forehead against yours affectionately. Rena gave a little giggle herself then a hum behind you.

“If you're feeling better now, can we fly you home?” Lyith offered. You nodded dumbly, still shaking off the heavy atmosphere which had now turned light. You mumbled your goodbye to Rena, and explained you'd be back in a week to check on the progress of the flowers. She beamed and gave you another hug. Whatever reservations she had had about you in the beginning seemed to be gone now. You gave her one last wave before letting Lyith scoop you up again for the third time today. 

The ride home went by in a flash. The moon shone light onto your porch as he dropped you off. 

“I'll be back tomorrow for your garden.” He breathed, his face the same happy calm it usually was. His antennas twitched as you nodded at him. He leaned foreward and kissed your cheek.

“Get some rest. You did good today.” He didn't wait for an answer before he flew off into the night. 

You knew he had probably been referring to all the magic you had been working today, but a part of you hoped that maybe he had been referring to something else. You slapped your cheeks. 

“Hes a Bee-man.” You tried to remind yourself. You repeated it a few more times that night, as if it would help with your stupid warming cheeks, and pooling gut.

***

Part Three

Hi everybody! This part was a bit longer than the others but I hope you enjoy! So it turns out that bees do kiss! They share food and information this way through a process called trophallaxis. Hope that doesn't ruin the mood for you. Anywho, thanks for reading!

[colourstreakgryffin]

asks are open!😘 How would L lawliet react with a shy I mean very shy girlfriend shes short about 5'2. And recently joined the task force to help her boyfriend

💕L💕

Omllll yeeessss! Another Death Note request! Let’s go, I like L too and I was waiting for him! Let’s do it!

Lawliet L

L was very against you trying to join the Task Force. This is definitely the most dangerous case in human history and you’re the last person he wants to risk to try solve it. He doesn’t care to risk his own life, but not yours

When L loves something or someone, it’s permanent and it’s strong, he was very against Watari joining, but he knows he needs Watari and the older man is not as included. L is a stubborn man and he won’t fold to your persistence

How did you manage to get onto the Task Force? L had no choice but to let you join, Light already seen you and his hands were tied by the members thinking a new Detective has joined. He couldn’t fly you out since it’d draw far too much suspicion. For the first time ever, the world’s best detective was stunned as he had to agree on terms he didn’t make

L supposes he doesn’t really mind having you around, it’s bad but not as bad. You’re intelligent, your skilled and you know how to handle yourself. Though, he isn’t a fan of you being apart of the Kira case for obvious reasons

Repeat it, L loves short girls so his significant other being shorter than him is like his actual dream. They are cuddle-sized and easy to keep track off. Even with how hunched he is, L is still packing quite the height and he towers you so suspect him to rest his chin on your head

“Aaah~ my favourite pillow has arrived. I am aware that I’m using your head as a headrest, you’re a suitable ‘small bean’ for the task. Why yes, I do remember what people your height are called and I’m called a ‘beanstalk’”

L is not a teaser about height, he’s a helper. You’re struggling to reach something high, he’ll get it for you. He will analyse the situation and suggest using a step next-time but at the end of the situation, he’ll help in anyway he can

L is a introvert so he understands your overall timidity. If you don’t want to be around the others, he will set up a private room for you that none of the members can access, including him if wanted. He has the money and power to do whatever the fuck he wants, and he is the spoiling type of boyfriend

Yes, I mean that L would send you money if you need it, he will rush around the headquarters to find your favourite blanket, he’s out the door the moment you mention a milkshake you’re carving. He will do stuff for you since you do so much for him, by merely being apart of his life and changing from him a glorified machine to a real human

The way you shyly approach him and Light to hand over the documentation files Watari gave to you whilst he was baking, is just so cute. Internal L is laying on the floor joyous at how adorable you behave, whilst external is politely thanking you

L isn’t built with any muscles(besides dem legs for real) but he isn’t above being protective over you, because he is. Light scared you with that one time he impersonated Kira to a horrifyingly good degree, L is gonna calmly argue with him then get into a fight

“Light. Could you please silence your strangely accurate impersonation of Kira. You’re frightening Dokusha— Hm? What reason do I have to ask of such a request? Well. She’s my partner in business and in life, she is important. Don’t do anything like that again”

L is slowly growing accustom to affection, please give him a break if he doesn’t respond or give it back. He does like it, he just isn’t trained nor knowledgeable enough in couple things. He puts research on those topics into his list so he can do better for you

Though, nobody else can do these things with L. Hold his hand, brush his hair, hug him. Nothing like that is allowed for anybody besides you and well to a degree, Watari but that’s different. You are always allowed in his private research room, most of the time, he wants you there besides him as he works

A cute weird thing L lets you do is latch onto his back. He does have a BAD back from the ten+ years of hunching but he loves feeling you clung onto him like a Koala. You are too shy to do it around the members but that won’t stop L from throwing you onto his back himself. He misses it

L keeps track of everything you like, do and more. He basically has a encyclopaedia of you and can recall every little detail. To him, knowing you like the process of scrubbing through hours worth of camera footage, is important as it shows how devoted he is to you

So tell him everything. He won’t forget any piece of info and he’ll write it down later as a needed backup, like he does for everything else non-Dokusha related. There’s two parts of his mind; Detective and Dokusha. He likes the Dokusha section a lot more

L is very loyal. Do you think he has anybody else waiting? Most women call him a freak for his looks and/or behaviour. You’re his one and only, he can’t throw you away, he just wants you sat besides him all the time. Where he can turn around and know you’re still with him

L shares his sweets with you more, as compared to somebody like Light, and you know he’ll get Watari to deliver whatever you want, whilst the other members get only what L requests for them. You are treated specially and he could care less that it makes him seem favouritistic, he is

L has a habit of mimicking you, kinda like a child. He follows you since your word is a lot more trustworthy. When you eat vegetables and meats with a smiley reaction, he is eating it too whilst waiting for your praise (Watari would struggle here, and he is a bit frustrated that his son listens to his gf, not his father

“Good morning— hm? I seem frustrated. Well… I am. Why is that? Don’t pretend like you don’t know the answer to that question, Dokusha. Yes, yes. I understand you fully. You don’t want me to die but this is my profession, and you shouldn’t be apart of this case. It’s too dangerous, you know how intense my feelings for you are”

[subskz]

rin what do u think each skz members' orgasms are like? like what sounds they'd make, what expressions? 😩😩😩

what a delicious question…i went a bit too hard so it’s under the cut heh

chan - he is so so loud. one of the loudest if not the loudest of all the boys, he gets fully lost in the heat of the moment that not even his shyness can keep him from letting out the most sinful moan after moan w barely any chance to breathe in between, he might even borderline scream when it first hits. channie seems like the type who hard time controlling himself when he's feeling any strong emotion...think of all the involuntary shouts he lets out when he's super excited, it's almost like that hehe. he almost looks and sounds like he’s in pain or crying bc of how intensely he expresses his pleasure...eyes squeezed shut, eyebrows furrowed, face scrunching up w his puffy lips parted so wide to spill out all those pretty cries <3 the veins in his arms n neck would be super prominent too, esp if you're within reach and his arms aren't bound, he'll grip onto you for dear life until his muscles are bulging. i dont think he’d be able to look at you when he cums, poor baby wouldn't be able to handle it and he also just physically can't force himself to keep his eyes open when he's feeling so good. he'd either keep them closed tight w his head tilted back, or he'd bury his face into your shoulder if the position allows it...he might even nuzzle his nose against yours to wordlessly beg you to kiss him through his high. afterwards once his panting starts to die down and some of the fog in his head starts to clear, he'd let out an exhausted, embarrassed giggle when it starts to sink in that he was the one making all those shamelessly filthy noises just moments ago

lino - sooooo pretty. the type to throw his head all the way back and give you a full view of his face as his climax hits. if he’s really far gone, his jaw goes completely slack (w his cute lil bunny teeth on display), eyes rolling up a lil to form the most sultry expression ever. it might seem like he's playing it up just to appeal to you but he really just looks like that...it's very unfair. i think minho likes eye contact a lot even if it might get him flustered when he’s in a super vulnerable state. he'd try his best to keep his eyes open so he can lock them with yours as he falls apart under you, it thrills him like nothing else bc he loves the intimacy and possessiveness of it. if you grip his hair when he cums and force him to look at you so he can't shy away, he’d be an absolute goner, it'd take him to heights he's never experienced before. when he feels himself going over the edge, he might slip into his habit of repeating words really fast like “good good good” or “close close close” and cute lil “ah ah ah”s. his breath might catch in his throat when his climax first hits him, his whole body freezes up for a moment w his mouth open in a silent cry, then he loses full control n the most heavenly moans and sighs follow ♡ also…it's safe say he shakes, his thighs especially. he’ll be trembling from the aftershocks for a good while after he comes down from his high

binnie - the cutest whines known to man!!! yknow how sweet and angelic his voice gets when he sings? think of him sounding exactly like that hehe. very high-pitched n needy, even when he’s already been given permission to cum, i can see him still whining and pleading through his orgasm bc he feels so blissed out, he doesn't know what else to do other than beg for it please not to stop...a polite boy through and through! he definitely scrunches his nose up in that cute habit of his, and his princess peach lips would be parted to form the most perfect lil o shape. they’d be so swollen from how much he bites down on them too, esp when it gets hard to control keep his volume down...he's also pretty loud. if he’s not restrained somehow, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from grabbing on to you without a second thought, just like channie. the only time he might get a lil ahead of himself and touch you without permission is when he cums, bc in that moment all he can think of is you and how badly he needs you. he might also beg you to kiss him so he can muffle his whimpers w your mouth, he just really wants to feel as close to you as possible in that moment, he's a lil sappy abt it <3 pushing deeper into you if he's topping, legs squeezing around you to pull you closer if he's bottoming, arms reaching out to cling to you, and muscles flexing like crazy w every ripple that passes through his body. i think when his orgasm first hits he might even let out an adorable lil yelp or shout, like it catches him by surprise

hyunjin - with how expressive he is, hyune would be making every noise you could possibly imagine when he cums. he’s definitely on par w chan and jisung as the loudest of all the boys! he’s a bit shy abt how strong his reactions are, but he's naturally just very vocal and when he’s that overwhelmed w all the adrenaline coursing through his veins and all the emotions he’s feeling at once, he wouldn't be able to hold back no matter how hard he tried ㅠ it shows all over his pretty face and spills out of his mouth, really intense just like channie. sharp cries, long, desperate groans, tiny grunts, all within just a few seconds. they'd fade out into soft whimpers when the height of his climax starts to pass…any sound you can possibly think of, he does it all for you like he's putting on a show~ he also emotes w his entire body, not just his voice or his face, it’s like you can physically see the pleasure rocking his senses. he definitely jerks around and spasms a bit, arching his back sinfully w his head lolling to the side to give you the prettiest view of his red, sweat-soaked face n lips glazed with saliva. he can't even remember to close his mouth even when he can feel the drool dribbling out, it feels like he loses autonomy over all his muscles. he's never more vulnerable than in that moment, he'd definitely need you there to ground him

jisung - the final third of the loudest boys hehe…i think jisung would be a lil more shameless than chan n hyunjin, so he wouldn’t even think abt restraining himself unless he really has to. it’s like he needs you to know how good it feels, both through his words and the sounds he makes for you, or he might actually die. he starts to babble a lot when he gets close it's very endearing. his rambles just get faster and higher in pitch until it all slurs together into one long, incoherent whine when he finally gets sent over the edge <3 like hyunjin, he's incredibly emotive w his face, his eyebrows especially scrunch together and curve up to form a look of pure desperation. he also cannot sit still to save his life. if all his crying out abt how good it feels and how much he loves you and how much he needs you aren't enough to let you know how much pleasure he's feeling, he squirms like crazy all throughout his orgasm too. he might need you to physically hold him down or even tie him up somehow bc of how much his hips twist and buck n how wildly his tummy clenches and how helplessly his legs thrash around. and ofc…this is hannie we’re talking abt, so his tongue would be hanging all the way out~ him, hyunjin, and lino definitely make the kinds of expressions that send shivers down ur spine

felix - when lix is close i think his voice would start to break from his lower, more sensual moans into cute, raspy ones…like binnie his noises get a lot higher in pitch, kinda like he's squeaking or hiccuping in a way he can't control. really sweet and innocent-sounding, it's especially hot when he alternates between his deep groans to the sudden spike in pitch when his orgasm hits. i think he’d whimper a lot, make lil rumbling vocalizations in the back of this throat that almost sound like he’s purring ♡ he's also the final third of the clingiest boys! if he’s not already holding on to you somehow (which…he probably is bc it’s lixie) his hands will shoot out in search of you, mindlessly grasping at any part of your body he can reach and not releasing his death grip even after his high has passed. he’d love it more than anything if you held his hands through it all, pinning them above his head and running your thumbs delicately over his skin to soothe him amidst the intensity of his orgasm. and if he’s in a position where he can, he’d definitely wrap his legs around you n use his muscular thighs to pull you so close that you can feel all the ripples passing through his body. i also can’t get the idea out of my head that might start giggling uncontrollably through it all bc all the endorphins flooding him at once make him insanely giddy. think of that squeaky, goofy laugh he does when he’s really excited, exactly like that

seungmin - so so cute but in the subtlest of ways. even when he’s experiencing the height of his pleasure, seungmo’s reactions still manage to be so demure and it makes it all the more endearing. he’s the best at suppressing himself out of the boys, and on top of that his expressions, both verbal and nonverbal, are just naturally very gentle. he sounds so soft and sweet letting out feather-light lil “ah ah ahs” and he’d definitely press his lips together with a sharp inhale when his orgasm first hits, holding his breath to keep quiet and only letting a weak lil “mmph” slip out. when the pleasure amplifies and it becomes too much for him to hold in, his breath spills out shaky and long, almost like a sigh of relief. he looks and sounds so angelic, the sight of him gazing up at you w wide, blown-out pupils is enough to make anyone melt. but as bold as he can be sometimes, i think he'd usually have to keep his eyes closed like channie, he gets too shy. plus he just likes to fully indulge in the feeling, focusing all his senses on it. his eyes would flutter shut so delicately, but you can see his face muscles twitching and his cheeks puffing out…he’d also tilt his jaw up to expose his throat to you, i think he’d go a lil crazy if you had your hand around his neck while he climaxes. it would definitely intensify his reactions, you might get him panting like a puppy~

jeongin - poor yeni is incredibly embarrassed abt the sounds he makes when he's close but it gets significantly harder for him to control himself when his orgasm hits, so they always spill out of him in the most obvious ways, no matter how hard he tries to hold them in. he's definitely the type to gasp out when he first cums, very breathy and sudden almost like he’s choking hehe. i think he might throw his hand over his mouth or bury his face into his palms as a last-ditch attempt to silence himself, even going as far as biting down on his skin to try and muffle all the broken moans that he forms against his will. his face gets super flushed as a result, his ears go red just like chan and lino, from both arousal and all the panicked effort of trying to keep quiet. even in moments like this, innie is still concerned abt how he looks to you ): if it hits particularly hard, i think he'd also be prone smiling/giggling through his climax like felix. breathless, ditzy laughs between all his groans bc his brain gets a lil confused conflating the pleasure he's feeling w regular happiness, it's very cute~ he can be a wildcard w his expressions…you might not be able to see them all the time bc he has a tendency to hide away. burying his face in the pillows, in his hands, or even pulling his shirt/hoodie over it like he does when he's flustered. when you do catch him, you can see everything he's feeling in every clench of his jaw and tremble of his lips, he tries to be careful but he's very shaky, he never really gets used to it

[raynewolferune]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt 2.2

Note: Part 2.2! The Bane Incident from Kon's POV! 😁

~*~*~

Two days later, Kon was back at Arkham undercover again. The Bats had caught Bane nearly 12 hours earlier after Red Hood showed up midway through the fight, lept off the overpass, and landed a blow directly to the top of Bane's head with a metal pipe on the way down. The behemoth of a man had crashed hard into the cement, immediately unconscious, and been taken directly to Arkham's medical facilities as soon as he arrived. He'd been checked over and cleared to head to his usual room in less than 15 minutes once he woke up the following afternoon.

Kon found out all of this afterwards. 

He was headed back to the briefing room for his nect assignment after lunch when he spotted four senior guards, Collins, Ryans, Dorr, and Miles, escorting Bane from medical to his usual cell. He stepped into a doorway to let them pass by before continuing on his way. Kon had spent a productive lunch break chatting with Jasmine "please don't call me Fenton" while she waited for Dr. Rylie before he had to head back to the guards room so he wouldn't be late. He'd have to make sure to catch up with Dr. Rylie on the way out at the end of the day instead, Kon mused.

There was a shout behind him. Two bodies slamming hard into the walls on either side of the hall. A rush of fabric sliding across fabric. Rapid pounding footsteps.

Kon spun letting out a gasp as he saw Bane grab Jasmine's upper arm and yank her hard enough to make her stumble. The large man turned to face the guards behind him as he pulled her firmly back against his chest. Kon had the dart gun in his hands and leveled at Bane before he even realized he was moving. Dorr and Ryans had also already done the same. Miles was scrambling to his feet, drawing both his dart gun and baton. Collins slid to the ground, right shoulder visibly dislocated from hitting the wall at the wrong angle but he drew his tranquilizer dart gun as well.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking Jasmine as emphasis. Her braid swung from the force of it. 

Kon expected her to panic. He was panicking; a full grown, fully recognized superhero. Of course, he expected her to panic.

But Jasmine didn't. 

Her expression smoothed out turning from barely-there surprise to blank calm in the span of a few seconds. Her breathing stayed deep and even. Her heart beat steady was steady. Was she in some kind of shock? But he had never heard of someone reacting like that to shock before.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie shouted to Kon and the other guards from where he had pressed himself against the wall on the opposite side from Bane. He must have been just a few steps ahead of Jasmine.

"She's my student! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie screamed again. His voice high pitched with fear for his intern. 

Kon didn't know what to do. From the way Ryans and Dorr were exchanging looks, he wasn't sure they knew what the best approach was in this situation either. Of the five of them, Ryans was the most senior guard but he wasn't one of the six guards trained for hostage negotiations either. None of the scenarios they had trained for would work here. Jasmine was too similar in height to Bane for a good shot and a single tranquilizer wouldn't knock him out anyway. They couldn't possibly circle around behind him in this narrow hallway either.

Kon could practically taste the panic building in the air. The tension was rising. If he didn't think fast someone else was going to make the first move and Jasmine would get hurt and -

She sighed.

Long, heavy, and disappointed. It felt like every muscle in Kon's body locked up suddenly.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please. I will give you to one to comply." She said voice calm and heavy like - like she was disappointed in him?

Kon's stared at her bland expression in shock for a moment before his eyes darted back to Bane. The rogue looked momentarily stunned then started laughing.

"Five." Jasmine said, ignoring his laughter. Kon felt himself paling. His colleagues were shifting, white faced with fear as they traded glances again.

"Four." She continued. Bane snorted derisively at her.

"Did you really think that would work?" He asked. His arms tightened around her. There was no way Jasmine was getting out of this without bruises.

"Three." She said ignoring Bane's question. Holy shit. Had she lost her mind?

"What can you even do if I don't?" Bane mocked with a rabid gleam in his eye. He's going to kill her, Kon realized faintly, even if we let him go now he's going to snap her neck for this.

"Two." 

"Jasmine..." Kon whispered pained and horrified by his realization. Loosening his grip on the dart gun without meaning too. She met his gaze across the hall, eyes resolved. 

"One." She finished, brows furrowing slightly in concentration as her lips thinned, pressed together. Bane gave a derisive snort. 

And then the massive man was airborne. 

"Holy shit." Miles breathed out.

Kon stared at the crater in the floor. Collins and Dorr were absolutely silent, hearts racing in their chests. Ryans took a half step forward, heart stuttering - Kon really hoped the man wasn't about to have a heart attack because he could rush him to medical right now. Dr. Rylie was half collapsed against the wall he'd been pressing himself against a strangled sound of shock coming from his throat. Bane was embedded in the floor breath wheezing as Jasmine half knelt on top of his neck. Oh wow, Kon registered, Bane's arm is fucked.

"Now, do you know what you've done wrong?" Jasmine asked looking down at the giant.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out.

"Fucked with the wrong HBIC." Collins muttered under his breath faintly still stunned.

"Jasmine for president." Miles whispered back automatically.

"Boys," Dorr scolded as he half lowered his dart gun, shifting his weight at the same time.

"Won't be making her angry around that time of month." Ryans mumbled to himself softly enough that Kon was the only person who could have possibly heard him. 

"What did you do wrong?" Jasmine pressed. Collins choked back an inappropriate hysterical giggle at the question. Bane appeared to panic when he realized he'd have to respond. 

No wonder, Kon thought, the man literally grew up in Santa Prisca's prisons. Did he even know how to respond to -Kon choked on air - a maternal scolding?! What the ever loving fuck? He bluescreened. Stood there in the hallway, absolutely stunned, completely unaware of his surroundings as he struggled to process the fact that Jasmine was giving Bane a maternal scolding in the middle of an Arkham hallway right in front of him. Maybe I've finally gone nuts? Kon wondered. 

Jasmine gestured vaguely towards the group of them without turning to look and Kon snapped back to the present. 

"Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?" Oh shit, that's me she's talking about. Kon walked towards her still a bit numb.

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane answered her. Kon watched as Jasmine stood up carefully and backed away from Bane far enough for him to pull himself out of the crater in the floor. Once he was on his feet, Kon led Bane back towards medical realizing as he did that there had been four other guards behind him this whole time.

Two of them darted forward and scooped up Collins, probably to take him to the guards medical ward along the outer wall patrol route. The other two fell in with Kon, Dorr, Miles, and Ryans. As they walked away Kon could hear Jasmine talking to Dr. Rylie.

"I'm fine, really. My mother was an extremely skilled martial artist. I've been learning from her since I started to walk." She explained honestly, trying to sooth the frazzled doctor's nerves. "I didn't know he was heavy enough to break the floor though!" Jasmine laughed. 

That - heart beat uneven, vocal cords tense - that second part was a lie.

[dira333]

Sound of Silence - Aone x Reader

Someone, please hand me my Aone - tagging @lemurzsquad and @fuzztacular

There’s a wide berth of empty seats around the man. 

He’s tall, with white hair and the scariest scowl you’ve ever seen on someone’s face.

You walk a little closer, grab a handle not too far from him.

You don’t want him to think that you want to talk - hell no, not at seven in the morning - but you don’t want him to think you’re scared of him either.

He doesn’t seem to notice, so there goes your overthinking.

-

He walks down the same street as you and neither his white hair nor his height help him blend in with the masses.

Suddenly, he stops.

You don’t mean to catch up to him, but you do, stopping just a few steps behind him without meaning to.

You can hear a little kid crying and it’s hard to make out in the hustle of morning commute but you think it might have dropped its plushy into the thick shrubbery this coffee shop calls decoration. 

“Here,” you hear a deep voice say, can’t help but watch as the man pulls the plush out with ease - not at all caring about the branches scratching up his arm - and dusts it off gently, “Everything’s fine.”

He turns to hand the plush - an awkward mix of glitter and snail - back to the child. One look at his face and the crying gets even louder. Oh. Oh no.

“Now, now,” you step in, your voice sweet despite your annoyance. You hate crying kids. “No need to cry. This nice man just saved your little snail. What’s their name, huh?”

The kid, who from this angle looks clearly like a little girl, wipes their nose on their sleeve and blinks up at you. “Gary.”

“Gary, huh?” You cringe inwardly at the name. “How sweet. See, Gary is fine. Our dear friend here saved him.” You turn to take the snail plush from the man, his face close to yours from how he’s bent forward. 

His face might be intense, but his eyes are different from this close. His hands are warm, the skin rough against yours as he hands you the plush. Warmth pools in your stomach and you have to swallow thickly as you turn back around, hand over the plush, and sigh out in relief when the child’s caretaker finally realizes what’s going on. 

“Thank you,” the man says behind you, his voice so deep you feel it vibrating in your bones.

“Anytime.”

“My name…” You turn back, too aware of yourself and him, the space between you and the space around you and- “is Aone.”

“Hi,” you swallow again. He bows. His hair looks soft, like fluffy clouds on a summer day. 

When he comes back up you can see a clear question in his eyes and you find yourself telling him your name without meaning to.

“I need to get to work,” he points out and you straighten. 

“Right, yes, me too.”

To make it even more awkward you keep walking in the same direction for five more minutes only to realize that your office is right across from the construction company he walks into.

-

Every single morning when you step onto the train he’s standing in the middle of the train compartment, leaving the seats for others to take.

Every single morning you take the handle closest to his - without being too close - and try to stare out the window.

It’s nice, not talking. 

You’re not shy, per se, you’ve just always preferred silence.

If only you could keep your eyes on something else things would be perfectly fine.

But you can’t.

It starts with his hair, perfectly dishevelled and different every time you see him.

Today he’s got the faintest hint of a cowlick on his left side. Your hand has reached out before you’ve realized, tucking the rebelling strand behind his ear.

He smiles, just a minute twitch of his lips, but it leaves your knees a little wobbly.

His arms are nice too, thick with muscle, tensing ever so slightly when the train’s coming to a stop and you’re both rattled where you’re standing.

But you like his eyes the best, how expressive they can be even when scowling.

“You good?” You ask quietly when he twitches, looking off to the side for a second. 

He nods, but it doesn’t look convincing. 

“You sure?” 

“Headache,” he explains, stepping to the side when someone walks past. 

The guy, barely older than you, ill-fitting business suit and messy workfolder telling you more than enough, still manages to tumble into Aone.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going,” he asks, tone sharp. Aone’s face twitches again, and a part of your brain tells you that the lound voice probably isn’t helping his headache, but you’ve already started talking.

“Tell that yourself, you mole.”

“Hah?!” He turns to you, clearly surprised someone’s talking back at you.

“Yeah, I was talking to you, you asshat. We’ve been standing here, minding our business for half an hour. It’s not our problem you went out drinking last night and only realized this morning that your presentation isn’t ready yet.”

He pales, stutters something unintelligible and presses his work folder against his chest, almost tripping over his feet when the doors open and he’s pushed toward the exit.

“Sorry,” you turn back to Aone who’s looking at you with a question in his eyes. “I hate guys like this.”

“You can be very mean,” he points out, but he doesn’t sound scandalized. It’s more like a fact.

“Yeah,” you agree, not willing to apologize for it, “I know my face doesn’t fit my tone but that’s not my fault, is it?”

“No.” He smiles again but it’s gone in a heartbeat when a rather sharp stop rattles the two of you again. He’s clearly in pain.

“Do you want to sit?” You ask, pointing your chin at a single free seat at the window. “I know a trick. I’d have to touch the back of your neck though.”

Aone hesitates for a second before he nods. “Alright.”

You follow him to the seat, let him sit down before you step directly in front of him. It’s a little less crowded over here, the older gentleman on his left and the teenage girl on his right absorbed in their phones. 

“Can you hold me?” You ask, voice low. “I’ll use both hands to press into your pressure points so I can’t hold onto the handrails.”

His hands, warm and large and strong, take a hold of your hips and you swallow thickly.

“Lean your head forward. You can rest it against my belly, I don’t mind.”

It’s like that, his temple pressed into your belly, your fingertips digging into the warm, soft skin on his neck, wisps of his hair caressing your skin, that you realize a thing you should have noticed weeks ago: You want him.

You could have stayed like this forever, held up in place by his strong arms while giving back the only thing you can give at the moment. 

But your stop arrives sooner than you want it to and even though you take your time smoothing your hand over his head, a gesture too loving for the short time you know each other, you have to take a step back.

-

There’s something in his eyes that you cannot translate and not enough time to keep looking.

You have to get to work and he has to get to his.

Your stomach is filled with a fizzy warmth and you wonder if it’d be too forward to take his hand.

Aone stops you right where your ways part, one hand on your shoulder.

You can tell that he’s working on the words, mouth not yet moving the way he wants it.

“Aone,” you say, swallowing the nerves, leaving the words on your tongue. “Go out with me? Please?”

His lips twitch into a smile, the biggest you’ve seen on him so far. He nods and moves as if to bow only to press his temple against yours. 

It’s oddly endearing.

Oh…

-

“Visitor!” Someone yells when you open the door to the Gym. 

You’re wearing a pair of kitten heels that you love, the clasp the most annoying thing and you’re not willing to bend down and open them just to walk barefoot on the dirty gym floor, so you stay where you are, in the open door.

Takanobu’s at the other end of the wide space, listening to a guy. From here it’s hard to tell but the way he’s leaning in you’d say he’s agreeing with him.

“Are you looking for someone?” A guy you don’t know comes over. “We usually don’t have visitors as pretty as you.”

“I’d call that a skill issue,” you tell him plainly, “I’m just waiting for Takanobu. But I’m a little early, so all’s good.”

“Aone?” He blinks in rapid succession. “Why?”

You give him your best unimpressed stare. It doesn’t succeed. Damn your sweet features.

“Aone?” Someone asks from the other side of the Gym. You look over to see him jogging toward you.

You can’t help but start smiling, lips pulling upward despite the long day pulling on your limbs.

“Hey,” he doesn’t pull you in, knowing well how much you hate being hugged when he’s all sweaty. But he presses his temple against yours in the sweetest - and sweatiest - greeting. His nose taps against yours too and you can almost read the “Boop” in his eyes.

“I’m going to be ready in a minute,” he promises, “Do you wanna sit down?”

“I don’t want to take off my shoes,” you explain, “It’s no big deal.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but another voice cuts him off.

“Aone? Who’s that?”

Takanobu turns, mouth working with no words coming out yet again. You haven’t been dating for long and you wonder if this is the first time he gets to introduce you as his girlfriend. 

You give him a second to gather himself but when still no words come out, you realize he’s fighting a losing battle, overthinking instead of speaking.

“You must be new,” you address the guy instead, “I’m his girlfriend.”

“Girl-” his jaw is open, “Friend?”

“Yes, yes, I know you’re unfamiliar with that term, but they exist, don’t worry. Now, if you’d be so nice and get going? We were having a moment here.”

Takanobu touches your shoulder slightly, just a soft touch of his fingertips but you can already feel yourself relax under it, tension slipping off like a too big coat.

“Sorry,” you clear your throat, “I didn’t mean it like that. Long day.”

“Ah,” he chuckles nervously, “I get that. Umm, I’ll get going then. See you around, I guess?”

-

“Cat’s don’t like me,” you explain when Takanobu holds up the tabby he just lured down from the tree. “I’d rather not come closer. I don’t like getting scratched.”

The kitten doesn’t even look that mean, at least from this far away. 

She enjoys the strength of his arms just as much as you do, rubbing her small head against his chin in a way that’s making you jealous… of the cat.

Takanobu holds out his hand, luring you in just like he’d done with the cat minutes before.

You sigh, stepping a little closer. You don’t want to spook the kitten.

His hand takes yours as soon as you’re close enough, bringing it up - to press a kiss against your knuckles.

Heat floods your face, warmth spreading through your body. He smiles that tiny smile you’d almost miss if you didn’t look right and leads your fingertips to gently pat the kittens head. She purrs into the touch.

You’re still warm and tingly all over by the time the kitten finally decides it’s time to head home - you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t have dropped her on his own any time soon - and your hand is warm and safe in his hold as you walk on, enjoying the silence together.

“Do you have cats?” You ask when the restaurant - you picked tonight’s spot - is coming into view.

He shakes his head.

“Do you want cats?”

He nods.

“Dogs too?” His hand twitches around yours and you smile.

“I draw the line at three pets, okay? And we need at least one that likes me too - and I mean, without you meddling.”

Takanobu stops on the middle of the sidewalk, eyes full of a question you don’t need translating. 

He closes his eyes when you bring your other hand to his cheek, curls into the touch just like the kitten had. You love him. You love him. You love him.

The truth hammers around your head with the beat of your heart. 

All you need to do is tell him.

And you’re not even scared. 

But words have never been your language, you think, and get on your tiptoes to reach his lips.

And it’s no surprise, no great revelation. Kissing Takanobu is like loving Takanobu, like knowing him and touching him and longing for him. 

It’s warm and strong and safe… and quiet.

But you’ve always liked Silence more.

-

“You’re late,” a voice calls out when you step into the Izakaya, Takanobu’s hand on your shoulder as he walks in right behind you.

“No, you’re just early,” you point out, “Didn’t know you were so eager to meet me.”

“Not you, just Aone,” the guy sticks his tongue out at you and you turn slightly.

“Futakuchi?” You ask and Takanobu nods.

“No fighting,” someone with fluffy black hair calls out from the other side. “Moniwa,” Takanobu explains before you can ask. 

Moniwa seems to realize just a second later, almost throwing his glass off the counter.

“Hey! You made it.”

You immediately tense when he widens his arms as if to hug you. Takanobu steps in front of you, arms outstretched like a traffic policeman. You can’t help but laugh.

“It’s okay,” you tell your boyfriend, taking his hand, “Introduce us, huh?”

So he does, using as little words as possible.

“How did that happen?” Futakuchi leans into your space, just far enough away not to touch you. You appreciate it. “Did he scare you into dating him?”

Takanobu bristles slightly and you squeeze his hand.

“Actually it was the other way around.”

“She bites,” Takanobu jokes. You snort but it takes his old team about half a minute to realize that their friend just used humor for the first time.

“Whatever floats your boat,” Futakuchi drawls and you nod, sending him a sweet smile.

“Don’t worry, even the Titanic had some people on board. There’s still hope for you.”

His face falls when he realizes what you meant. 

-

It’s pretty late when you step back into the cool air again, the alcohol coursing through your system keeping you warm. 

Takanobu’s steps have gotten slower, the alcohol clearly even affecting him. The week must have started catching up with him too and you squeeze his hand a little tighter in yours, telling him without words that you know and you understand.

“Want to take an Uber?” You ask, “I think we could splurge a little today.”

He hesitates for a second before he nods. You pull your phone out, quick to navigate through the app.

“Five minutes,” you tell him, directing him to a small bench, “Let’s sit down until then.”

“What did you think?” Takanobu asks, leaning into you. “Of your friends? They’re nice. They don’t ask too many questions, I like that.”

“Futakuchi does.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay when he does it,” you think out loud, “He’s one of this annoying-charming people. He’d loose all his charm if he stopped being annoying.”

“I’ll tell him you said that,” He takes your hand, presses his lips against one knuckle after the other, “Or you can tell him yourself.”

“You know,” you say after a moment of Silence, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, fingertips following the curve of it down to his neck, caressing the slight stubble that’s forming on his chin. “When we get home I’ll tuck you in.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. I could spoon you too, you know. Be the big spoon this time.”

“The big spoon?” His eyes are closed now, a private little smile on his lips. 

“Well, how else am I going to be able to press hundred kisses onto these strong shoulders?” You ask, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a little shy. 

His eyes don’t open, his smile doesn’t move but his hand squeezes yours, one, two, three times.

He’s never needed much words to tell you what he wants to say.

I. Love. You.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Trying Them on for Size

My stepdad's eyes rolled back as my friend leapt into his body. Thanks to my distraction, he had a clear jump, and the possession was instant. The beer in his hand didn't even slip as a new guy took over the thick hunk of meet.

"Goddamn, this guy is big!" my stepdad's voice rumbled in uncharacteristic glee, "My arms feel like a ton heavier with all this muscle!"

"I...I cant believe it worked," I stammer, still processing the fact that Sam, my best friend, is inside Paul, my jerk of a stepfather.

Sam lifts a heavy arm and takes a whiff. "Wow, your dad smells rank! Does the pig shower much?" he groans and laughs, "What'd you say this idiot does again?"

"Mechanic, and he's not my dad," I answer, still trying to get over my nerves, "How's it feel...to be in him?"

"Man, he's so muscular and dense. I mean, I can feel how heavy he is, ya know? He's like really sweaty and kinda gross too, but I feel like I could beat the shit out of anyone right now!"

Sam takes a swig of Paul's beer, making the body look just like the alcoholic stepfather I knew and hated. Normally, I'd avoid the guy at all costs. He'd usually only speak to me in grunts, and that was only when he wasn't ignoring my existence. Now, Sam was using his mouth to yap off like an excited puppy.

I think Sam notices that I'm still a little tense, because he stops staring at his massive arms and puts the beer down. Paul's body steps right against me and grabs my hands as he looks down into my eyes. My stepdad would certainly never have done this before.

"How you doin, man?" Sam asks, but I can't help but feel like Paul is talking.

"Good," I lie, "This is just so surreal."

"Well, what do you want to see your old step daddy do for ya?" he asks playfully, "The jerk is at your whim, dude."

"I don't know..."

"Come on, sonny boy! Wanna watch as daddy Paul gets on his hands and knees and crawls to you?"

Sam pilots the muscular body to the floor, while staring longingly up at me with Paul's normally hateful gaze.

"Wanna see your big bad old man, stick out his tongue and lick your shoes?"

Before I can react, Paul...I mean Sam...has stuck out his tongue and started dragging it up the length of my sneaker. God, the sight of my harsh stepfather licking my shoe is incredible! He'd be so humiliated right now.

Sam pulls away from my feet and up to Paul's knees, "Maybe he needs to find another way to express just how sorry he is to his favorite boy."

Sam's lips hang open as he inches towards my tenting pants. My heart is racing with the anticipation of getting Paul's lips on my aching cock.

"I'm home!" a singsong voice echoes through the house.

"Shit, your mom!" Sam growls with Paul's hoarse voice, "I mean, my wife."

"Shut up," I snap, "Let's go to your house. We can get an early start to phase two."

My grizzled stepdad smirks, and we sneak out. Phase two involves Sam's biggest bully: his older brother, and he just got off work.

Michael was even easier to distract and jump into than my stepdad was. I may have been a little nervous, but after watching Sam do it at my house, I was practically a pro.

"Woah," I gasp in a much deeper tone than I'm used to, "Your brother is tall."

"Yeah, he was the basketball star before he graduated. Now he just bums around in the basement and beats me up after work," Sam explains.

I have to admit that it's a little weird to hear my friend complaining about getting picked on when he's wearing a super mature and muscular body. Though, Paul does look less intimidating when I see him from the towering height of the stud I'm in.

"Where were we?" I suggestively purr, getting a hang of using this guy's voice.

"Paul was about to apologize," Sam flashes a smile which looks foreign on Paul's face, "But I think you should make Michael apologize to me first."

I chuckle and take a step towards him, but almost stumble over the massive feet I have on.

"Damn, he's clumsy," I laugh, "Your brother deserves some sort of punishment, but what do you want him to do? Drop down and kiss your ass profusely or maybe bend over and take a good beating?"

"Both," Paul's mouth gulps as his calloused hands struggle to hide a growing hard-on.

"Or maybe you want to hear your brother grovel and beg for forgiveness?" I go on, dropping Michael's body to its knees, "Or maybe you can find a better use for this pathetic mouth."

"Shit, man!" I hear Paul's voice whine, "We're definitely going to make these straight assholes screw each other! But then we have to take them out tonight. They need to be put through something more public!"

"Oh I like that!" I moan from inside Michael, "Offer these jerks' bodies up for use at every gay bar!"

"At every gas station!" Sam excitedly claps Paul's hands together.

"They can pound Michaels ass while Paul tongue-polishes their boots!"

"Come here!" Sam growls.

"Yes, sir."

I jump into Sam's arms! Well, Michael jumps into Paul's arms. As electric as it feels, I can constantly sense that we don't own the bodies we are in. We're just puppeteering them.

That thought makes me wonder if Michael or Paul can feel all this somewhere deep down. It's a fleeting thought, because I'm already lost in the experience of making out with the jerk of a stepfather while Sam enjoys playing with his bully of a brother.

God, these bodies are hot. By the time, Sam and I are done wearing them, Paul and Michael will be the hottest pair of messes in town...