#if he had some genuine manners | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

good-beanswrites · 9 months

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Could I request "cooking is an art form" with mahiru and presumbly orekoto? I read your Night drabble of those 2 and now the idea of a potential friendship has been stuck in my mind for days, that was probably the sweetest interpretation of him I've seen! Mahiru can't cook in the current state she's in though so I guess orekoto could act as her hands...?

Ah thank you so much!! I was so worried about doing Orekoto justice, that's so exciting you enjoyed 😭 We still don't have a ton of characterization for him, so bear with me, but I absolutely loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request -- with food playing such an important role in Mahiru's story/symbolism, and the pair's unique relationship, this made me so crazy to think about !!!

The knife twirled through Mikoto’s hands. He brought it down with a grunt. Emotion pulsed through his veins. He went back for another swipe, much harder than necessary. He wiped spatter from his face.

“You’re making a mess.” Mahiru observed from behind.

He glanced back to find her scowling at the tomato he was taking out his frustration on. “Who gives a shit? We’re not on cleanup duty.”

He wasn’t supposed to be on cooking duty, either. It was Mahiru’s night according to their usual rotation, but she was in no shape to do any physical activity. Mikoto must have volunteered, and also gotten into some fight about it, because now there he stood: angry at an unknown source, full of adrenaline, and worst of all, in charge of tonight’s curry.

“I suppose…” Mahiru said. “I think that’s Muu tonight, I’ll apologize to her later.”

It was unsettling, how she remained positively cheery as she walked him through each step of the recipe, despite her current condition and his bad attitude. Not that he’d ever turn his anger on her. Mikoto approved of her, and that was enough for him. She’d been going through so much at the hands of their common enemy, he wouldn’t say a single thing against her. Even as she tested his temper with her cooking instructions.

“No, no!” With her good hand, she tugged on the side of his uniform. “You have to turn the carrot as you cut it. Like -- yes, like that!”

Mikoto rolled his eyes as he did what he was told. “It’s all going to get cooked together anyways, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is! You have to take your time with things like this.” She placed her hand over her heart. “It’s about the process, not just the final product. Cooking is an art form!”

“It’s about the final product to me. I’m fucking starving.”

She was briefly distracted with the next set of instructions, telling him how to combine everything over how much heat. When she returned to the topic, her lighthearted voice was laced with a bit of desperation. “I mean it, there’s something magical about pouring your heart into something for someone else. Putting in your time. A little finesse here and there.”

“I know what it’s like to do something for someone else -- and there is absolutely no finesse involved. Or potatoes.” He gestured to the cut pieces before dumping everything into the pot over the stove.

“One of the most universal love languages is food, you know? People make meals and treats for their loved ones in every culture, in every time.”

“They do a lot of other things, too.”

“You went to art school, you understand. This is an expression of yourself!”

“It’s a waste of time.”

“It’s the surest way to help someone!”

“That’s a load of bullshit.”

There was a pause. Then a nervous laugh. Then, “yeah.” As she dropped into more uncharacteristic silence, he stole a glance at her.

Tears poured from her eyes.

“Mahiru?” Fuck, he didn’t mean to make her cry.

“It is.” she hiccuped. “I thought… I thought it could save him. I made this big meal… I thought… But I was so stupid…”

She buried her face in her hands, offering weak apologies for the sudden outburst. He threw the lid over the pot before stepping back to her.

“Hey, hey. Come on. Don’t cry.” It was a command rather than a comfort.

She didn’t listen. She just continued sobbing and blubbering on. “It was all stupid, worthless… I should have known…”

He crouched by the wheelchair. There didn’t even seem to be anything wrong, they’d just been talking about food. Why was she such a mess? He gave an impatient sigh. No reaction. What was Mikoto’s nickname for her again? “Listen, Mappi --”

She snapped her head up to look at him.

Her teary eyes flicked all over his face, making him scowl. “What?”

“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, though her breath still hitched. “Sorry. You said… and well… I thought you’d gone away. I want you to stay.” She took his hand. “You.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because you understand me.”

He did not. Like, at all. But he kept his mouth shut.

Thankfully, she was too talkative not to explain herself. “You love someone very much. That love turned out to be dangerous -- deadly. And you weren’t forgiven for it.” She pressed her lips together, suppressing the wave of emotion that almost overcame her. “And now we’re both getting what we deserve for it.”

“Like hell we are.” He felt the spark of rage again. “Neither of us deserve any of this shit, okay?”

“But --”

“No.” He glared at her. That familiar fire rose up inside him. “I’m tired of all your speeches and optimistic crap. You’re always falling over yourself for others. You’re pathetic. This place is hell, so you need to get your shit together and act like it. You might be willing to forgive the others, you might be able to treat them with that stupid sweetness all the time, but no one’s going to do the same for you. Stop letting them fuck with you.”

She gaped at him. He realized he’d leaned in very close. He prepared himself for more tears, or maybe some cowering away from him. Good. Mikoto didn’t need people like her who would convince him this verdict was deserved. He didn’t need any of these people. It was fine to push them all away.

Mahiru surprised him by leaning over. Her head rested on his chest. “It’s hard. It’s so hard, Mikoto. But… I’ll try.”

His attention was quickly ripped away by a hissing behind him. He yanked himself away from her to run to the curry, which was bubbling and burning and spilling out of the pan all over the stovetop.

With an outpouring of profanities and clattering of dishes, he cleaned the sad remains of dinner off the burner. When he looked back at Mahiru, she had dabbed at her eyes and composed herself slightly.

“It’s okay,” she said, “I’ll pick something easier you can make instead.”

“Nah, I’ll make more curry. Tell me how much of everything again.”

“A-alright.”

His agitation slowly faded as she began her gentle instructions again. Though he had just tore her apart for it, he was grateful for her patience with everyone around her. He probably could have left, then, seeing how calm the kitchen became. But he wasn’t risking ruining the meal a second time with an unexpected switch.

And maybe Mahiru’s words still played through his mind.

The food was back on the stove in no time. He stood diligently next to it. They’d lapsed into a content silence. He still didn’t know what had set her off earlier, but wasn’t about to ask questions.

Mahiru had regained her usual bright smile. “Hey, when I get better, I’ll cook something for you, okay? I think you don’t appreciate cooking because no one’s made something special for you before. I want to do that.”

He sneered. “Heh, sure. And I’ll let you in on my preferred art form.” His words were layered with sarcasm. By now, she could guess that included destroying things by putting all of one’s might behind a powerful swing.

But she giggled, completely unfazed. “Well, friendship is about give and take, right? I’d love to try.”

#milgram #mikoto kayano #mahiru shiina #trying to find a balance between his canon violent temper and harsh mannerisms #while showing hes not uncontrollable/frightening and is very protective of his friends as well as himself #he cares but he can only communicate very simply/bluntly #hes used to people being afraid of him specifically so hes suspicious of kindness (but still it means a lot to him)#i wasnt able to articulate it here but i think mahiru likes him so much because of his honesty #when she thought he looked like a cheater it was because she could pick up on his secrets/lies (even if he was unintentionally keeping it)#that and the fact she thinks theyre very similar #i mention he loves bokukoto -- this genuinely could be platonic or romantic depending on your thoughts #but mahiru definitely assumes its romantic asdfsdfds #omg the mental gymnastics i was going through when i first got this request because i wanted this exact setup but knew milgram wouldnt allo #prisoners to just be around all the dangerous utensils and kitchen items -- they could just steal a knife after all!#so i had all these meticulous plans to make it work and then amanes vd was like 'yeah anyone can just pick up a blade whenever' -_- ok #thank you again!! it really did make me crazy to think about it was such a good combination 👀👀👀#and i really was so relieved to do his character some justice ;-; thank you for your kind words!#drabbles

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hella1975 · 1 year

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Oh Hella your DM sounds like a good one! Hope you have fun and that coin is amazing should we add practice the coin trick to your schedule? /gen

ACTUALLY YEAH PLEASE

#my dm is such an angel i was a bit worried at first bc he's the one that was flirting with me #but he's cooled off and even so i can tell it's more the harmless kind than anything i'll actually have to set boundaries on #and we had our first session last night and it was genuinely insane like he's SUCH a good dm #i was so so immersed the entire time like he had this one NPC and he puts so much LIFE into his ocs like accents and mannerisms #not just backstory/set-up and this npc stayed with us the ENTIRE 4+ hour session #and at the very end he KILLED HIM and it was done so well that one of the players literally teared up #and the rest of us were just sat there in gobsmacked silence #and it's a SUPER wild group too like it's hard for the dm to wrangle them all at times bc jokes tend to domino and get rowdy #so to have us all like that and on the first session no less was INSANE #he also introduced a dragon and i said to him afterwards 'im getting that dragon' bc i mentioned another time that im DESPERATE #to get a pet dragon or even just a dragon i have some dodgy deal with ill take ANYTHING #and he just very casually went 'oh you'll get a dragon' HELLO??? FUCK YEAH #like he listens to his players and he keeps us on track without being too strict and gets super enthusiastic about our ideas #and the rest of the group are all so cool like they're all either queer or neurodivergent or both #i just feel for the first time in maybe my entire life that im in a completely non-judgemental place for my interests #like in the nicest way possible they're all just a bit weird and it would be very hard for me to be the weirdest one there #and there's something SO cathartic about that like literally go ham bc they're not gonna be scared off yk?#like even if i had an interest totally out of left field that none of them shared i just know they'd be so welcoming of it regardless #idk. they're neat. i think this campaign is gonna be really fucking cool #ask #hella goes to uni

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jaythelay · 20 days

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My current fascination is reading MrBeast Moral discussions because I really don't disagree with the reasonable perspectives from any angle.

It's true, he does some cruel shit that has a positive impact in ways that are inherently immoral but necessary in the current system that he has no control over, but does make poor people dance for life-changing money he can just give out at will, at random, and that the people involved are more than willing and likely don't feel exploited as much as they do helped, and still at least it's being given individually instead of to vague causes or personally owned charities, he also does have a pure philanthropy channel, works with the mayor to help the community and projects there, he also does have a bit of an ego to have a burger named after him, it is fucked up that people would have to live in a mall for years for money, but let's be honest we'd all do his little dance for life-changing money, that guy might still be in the mall honestly I dunno, that's not his fault, it's capitalism, focusing on him is a waste of time when you could focus on far worse, but then again, he did literally make Squid Games real.

I don't know how to feel. I'm closer to "Yeah fuck this guy" than liking him, not simply out of principle or whatever, the dude works with the algorithm, in disgusting ways he really doesn't have to let's be honest, the twitter follow thing for 25k or 250k or whatever is genuinely depraved behavior, but it's just following a dude on a website you don't have to use, a genuinely corrupt website, but he can just do that, and he does.

I know for a fact we've all imagined being rich and what we'd do with it to help others. So, it's hard to hate it when you finally get what you wished for...ya know? Like, here it is, as good as it's gonna get and it's more of a moral question than a cool thing to do, actually.

Sure, he could just not hoard the wealth, but you kinda need wealth to actually give wealth, but you're still hoarding it, but at the very least, he's giving it directly to people, even the contestants that lost are still paid for their work/time. I don't think any one of us would find going to a gameshow you agreed to, to be degrading or whatever, it'd be fun! And a cool experience! That's the thing people don't mention, he's not doing the bare minimum, he's actually do ALOT more than most Rich People or CEOs do on a daily basis honestly.

The way I see it, it is, in fact, absolutely disgusting. I don't know how to feel about a person I've never met, but to really hate him, you have to really think about it, and come to conclusions that, really warrant a response from him for a conclusion, one he's NEVER going to be allowed to give safely if he wants to keep his status. No matter what he says, it will be bad PR that will become controversy. At least he's not diddling kids, at least he's not ordering assassinations, and honestly?

If I'm not being straight up lied to? His networth is estimated between 100,000,000$-500,000,000$ (Million) It's actually at a point of concern, right? He's just 500,000,000$ from a billion!

But... I can type that number, you can feel disgusted, upset, all warranted, but then I want you to read that number compared to Jeff Bezos

500,000,000$ (Mr.B)

200,900,000,000$ (Amazon Cunt) (40X Mr. B)

I know you've all seen a comparison image before, but seriously, Mr.Beast could be far more disgusting in wealth hoarding. Like if we were to eat the rich one day? I don't even want to put him on the list, I think he'd honestly not even be worth it, there's far more cruel and vain rich to focus on in that same area. He comes off as the kinda guy who'd gladly cut his wealth by a very large fraction, even if solely out of utter fear.

But then again, he did quite literally make Squid Games real, I just don't think people get that Squid Games represented far more corruption with more intricacies, entities and politics, than Mr. Beast capitalizing on a gameshow where everybody gets money at the end, they chose to do this, nobody dies or lives in cruel conditions or go unfed the whole time, and they're having fun.

But, still, Mr. Beast the person, I get it, Truly, I do not disagree with your feelings, but I do disagree to the temperament. For sure it's all warranted, but I feel the focus on him over the system has caused a rift between people wanting to defend him rather blindly, and people so far deep into the hole of knowledge that simply reasoning with people vs completely demonizing would be far more effective at spreading knowledge to more people. As it stands, ya just look like a person fighting a pig in the mud, and bystanders walking by aren't gonna know the pig fucked your boy-wife nor the deep complex lore behind the story.

Seriously, reading through an old post that initially made me disgusted with Mr. B, left me disgusted with Mr. B, but not nearly as mad as people get with him. I also somehow ended up thinking slightly more about, if not of, him than I would ever have without reading what people said. There's alot of interesting discussion that people were making that simply didn't always get bounced off of. I saw some even say it provided them a blocklist, and like, this ain't the...thing to do that for? Nobody was being immoral, except the people with murderous rhetoric that's just awful, but they weren't on the blocklist apparently, so that's priorities right there, echoboxes!

Save it for someone worthy, like if you seriously can put Mr. B on that paper, and on another, Jeff Bezos, we're just not compatible in philosophy, this relationship is over. I'm taking the sword collection.

If people were more willing to discuss this topic, I really think it'd make people consider more than previous on the entire subject. You aren't going to convince his fans or bystanders he's evil and thus capitalism bad, you gotta just point out what he has to work with, ya gotta compromise with people, and they gotta compromise too, but again, pig in the mud, bystanders will respect a farmer more than a crazy person fighting a pig in the mud. Shit sucks, but that's the game, and nobody's gonna learn those rules if you don't suggest better ones.

Dunno where to add this, but something to understand is we all start off small, you shouldn't be mad at someone for not being as far in as you are, they gotta learn to swim first, they gotta get comfortable and learn the basics before learning about Ronald Reagan.

I feel the entire scope of the actual problem gets projected upon this one dude that doesn't entirely fit together, it might fit well in some places, places he definitely made himself, but he's far more layered of a person than the Actual 1%/0.1%, but he's still a flawed human, pieces fit in some areas but the more ya look the less they fit the way you'd want them too. The most I can say is, he's at least believing he's doing good in a definitely selfish way I think he at least somewhat wants to fight back against by doing legitimate good, again, more than Jeff Bezos. There's far, far more humanity to discuss with Mr. Beast than...well shit just about anyone with his, lower or higher, net worth.

I dunno how to put this to ya'll, but we're not gonna do that thing in Ants where we realize there's more of us than them, and then we...do...something, I think we pull the crab back down the bucket? They're so high up, that's gotta be it.

We're gonna need, in fact it is a requirement, that people with any amount of wealth don't get crab bucketted because we're so starved by people far more influential and negatively impacting than Mr. B.

At some point you're just dragging us all down to our graves, instead of pushing crabs up, you start arguments which causes the push to weaken and tire over time. You gotta trust when the time comes, that they'll come help tip the bucket. You will Never get that if you have more guillotines than problems.

And no, to be completely clear, I am not saying you can't hate 2 things at once, but I am saying, pick better enemies than people infinitely closer to you than Jeff Bezos. Not that 500m is realistic for any of us, but it's not 200,900,000,000$ary doos. It's actual comical, villainously so, how much worse the 0.1% are compared to someone with 500mil Net Worth.

Oh and I did some more research, from what he's said, all the money is from brand deals n sponsorships, ads, the burgers, dude reinvests back in, and for the most part he doesn't make the money back every time instantly. Thing is, every site I try to find anymore on is some absolute GARBO so research is actually a bitch for the average joe. I don't know how much of that is true, it's from Reddit with no sources. Great research I know. I'm not really looking at this from a fully informed view, not yet at least, kind've more so immediately after the concert, if you will. Most people aren't fully informed either, and that is a tragedy of potential knowledge being lost. I really think a wider, less angry and non-violent discussion would be better overall for the collective knowledge.

If a reasonable, well discussed consensus comes to it and we do have to eat him, fine, but I don't think we're even remotely at the point as a collective we can say that should be the case. I genuinely think putting more effort into learning, considering more, might tip most of ya'll towards him, you'll still not like him, but you don't need to like him, nobody does, if the discussion is if he's a bad person, fine he's done some shit, but really...

Horses in seperate directions? for the youtuber guy with burgers? Really gonna use that raw as fuck line because he gave 25k away on twitter to 10 randoms? That's the line crossed for you? That's when you drop that fucking dope line? Really. Really?? Really. Couldn't just...wait a week for someone to die at Amazon again? Suckerborg isn't spreading pro-genocide propaganda? There isn't a Rapist in multiple court cases running for president?

Really. The burger youtuber guy. Horses. Seperate directions.

The Burger Youtuber Guy.

Really.

Not even saved for Onision?

at the least I can say, I sure wish this system didn't enable this behavior, and I sure wish we didn't have a government that will absolutely abandon you at the first need for any sort of help, and that people can praise concepts that boil down to a rich person throwing pennies at starving children and laughing, that even saying that, you'd still have to consider there's people even worse that absorb an entire economy and country, to the point that, yeah, ya know? Maybe he can laugh and throw pennies. Fuck it. Everything is fucked. Absolute Fucking Circus. But at least it's interesting to philosophize about? More than...just decided your principles apply directly to this situation so cleanly you don't need to consider anymore.

Of course, I'm not saying you absolutely should focus on this subject or person, I am saying however, open your mind a bit more, and discuss it more clearly. This is a subject matter where you can branch the uninformed and youthful into understanding problems we're dealing with now, but by being close-minded, loudly, violently, you instead push them to capitalism.

I'm just saying, there's opportunity here for more discussions and critical thinking that are better than making people not want to listen to anti-capitalism if it means their favorite youtuber's gonna get the fucking horses. be reasonable.

#Mr. Beast #mr beast #Mr. B #I like that far more honestly #looks nicer #Ramblings #Honestly man I'm having the worst fucking time of my life right now #but hot damn if reading through a buncha junk on this didn't make this tired brain no longer full of saturated white noise #People got #Sooooo mad man #Meanwhile honestly just reading through #if people were more chill and willing to converse?#I think ALOT of people would be on a far less hostile page #but damn if the anti-capitalists who I fully agree with aren't absolutely bloodthirsty in a genuinely frustrating manner #You can be completely right and also have to compromise a bit so you aren't the super hero in your mind #because to everyone else it just looks like you think people should just listen to you and not have questions #like they should have set their toddler life up for a childhood that prepares their teens for their adulthood to know absolutely as much #if not more than you do on this very one subject #to hell with their interests and life experiences and tragedies and upbringings and self-esteem #Clearly they fucked up so bad that you're superior to them to the point you can't fucking talk to them and instead #have to go through blocking people one by one #like hot damn ya'll this is why you too will have a crab pull you back down into the bucket #because any amount of wealth is an offense and not a victory #You think 500m is alot? Wait til you meet someone that think 1m is alot or 100k or 50k #wait until the water in the bucket is so hot that people will be desperate enough to rob you of 5$ because you're rich #Ya gotta put a cap on things when we're discussing double hundred billion vs potentially 500mil #His behavior absolutely could be better but he's not exactly as informed on this sort of subject as someone like you or me who actually had #to figure out why daddy is hitting us while he only hears ghost stories #to be clear I'm not saying that's the case I'm just saying we're all on different paths and at some point if you want to keep your head abo #water in a capitalist society

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makkir0ll · 2 months

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"hmm, is it green apple?"

you giggle in his arms, shaking your head no and smile as he leans down to press another kiss on your lips.

the past fifteen minutes had been spent trapped under his arms while he kisses your plump, flavourful, lips. it started out when you put on some chapstick and he asks for some. you knew that this was his way of getting a kiss, but when his lips press against yours the flavor is different than your normal vanilla, its fruitier. "what flavor is that?" he asks, pulling you closer to him to plant another kiss on your lips, "berry?"

"no" you say smiling as you await his actions. hoping that he does exactly what you expect him too.

and he falls into your trap. the next fifteen minutes are spent with his lips on yours as he guesses what flavor it could be. strawberry? mango? pineapple?

all no.

at this point all he could taste was his own spit on your lips. completely kissed away all the chapstick that coated your lips. he breaks the last kiss with a whine.

"y/n put some more on, i can't taste it anymore." he loosens his grip on your body as you shift underneath him to find the chapstick in your pocket.

"close your eyes, i dont want you to see the label." you tell him and he obliges, squeezing his eyes shut in a childish manner as you apply the chapstick on your lips.

once you're done you toss the tube away, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down, he's smiling. his lips press against yours yet again but this time it's different. the kiss is deeper, he cups your face and his toungue swipes on your lips and you open your mouth slightly to let the wet muscle enter. it takes your breath away and you start to feel dizzy from his touch and all the sensations happening around you. he pulls away, a thin string of saliva connected the two of you. your eyes are still closed, processing what happened when you hear him say,

"it's berry isnt it?"

you nod your head no, hoping he will kiss you like that again, and he does. but little do you know that he caught a glimpse of the berry graphic on the label when you pulled out the chapstick from your pocket.

HINATA SHOYO. (probably doesn't notice the label though tbh). BOKUTO, hanamaki, oikawa fucking tooru, sugawara (he knew from the start it was berry but goes along with the act to amuse you), akaashi (same as sugawara). NISHINOYA. (same as shoyo, genuinely continues to guess), ATSUMU. KITA FUCKING SHINSUKE (he knew from the first kiss, but realized that this made you happy). KUROO. SUNAAAAA.

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sixosix · 7 months

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wanderer can fly; you cannot. he makes it his problem.

“What? Giving up already?”

“Shut—” heaving, you barely have the energy to flip him off, “shut the fuck up. Fuck off.”

Wanderer chuckles, all low and mean, as if his entire purpose in life is to ridicule you. He continues ascending overhead, moving and looking like an angel, but the words that come out of his mouth are far from angelic. “Careful, now. I know you overestimate yourself, but I won’t save you if you continue to scale a mountain with one hand.”

“Stop agitating me on purpose then!” You nearly slip from the intensity of your yell, but thankfully, it isn’t your time yet.

“How can I? You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Grumbling, you focus back on the mountain. Cute when mad. He must think he’s goddamn adorable, then.

You’re starting to lose sight of dents or protruding surfaces to get a hold of, and the mountain is getting steeper. You curse under your breath. If only you had Geo or Dendro—that’d help a lot much more. Maybe even Anemo, but that would be admitting defeat to the man who’s currently watching you intently.

Wanderer scoffs when your breath hitches, the surface you’re holding onto crumbling. He descends until you’re eye level. “Idiot, I told you that it’d be safer if we didn’t climb this all the way.”

“I know my limit.” Maybe. You may or may not have gotten a little over-competitive and jumped a few times, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

“Not more than I do,” he says.

“Don’t say it like that, weirdo.” You appraise the mountain overhead and, with a sunken stomach, realize that he’s right. There’s still a long way to go, and it’s a long fall back.

“Damn,” you say. You turn to Wanderer and blink up at him with wide eyes, hoping he would take the hint without having to say it outright.

Wanderer sighs, holding out his arms. “Jump.”

“Are you serious?”

“I won’t let you fall—of course I’m fucking serious.”

You grit your teeth, wondering if it’s easier to humiliate yourself and jump into his arms or to let gravity do its work.

“Hey,” Wanderer says, gliding closer and hovering an arm behind your waist. “No stupid ideas. Just jump and hold onto me.”

It’s always unsettling when Wanderer is not acting all bratty, like you’re not quite sure if you should goad him back to being mean or watch him bristle when you point it out. It’s been happening too often recently. That must be saying something about him if his soft moments are scarier than his jabs.

Wordlessly, you reach out for his shoulder with one hand and hold back a yelp when the lack of balance causes you to slip. You hold on tight around his neck, eyes wide and heart jittery. Wanderer secures his arms, moving in one swift motion. Before you even know it, he has one arm on your back and the other under your knees.

“How convenient it must be to have a ride as your companion,” Wanderer mutters in amusement at your relieved face.

“Yeah. That’s why I keep you around,” you say as he glides upward, barely straining from your weight. He looks as unaffected as ever.

He looks as infuriatingly and devastatingly beautiful as ever.

“Ha,” his smile is all sharp, “and not because you have a little crush on me?”

“You follow me around because you do. Don’t get it twisted.”

He snorts, tipping on something a little more genuine. You wisely decide to stop ogling at his face and enjoy the view of the sky instead. The blue of his clothes and the shade of his eyes are much prettier, but you’d rather lose that than start squirming in his arms. Not when he’s carrying you bridal style and all.

Finally, he descends, hardly disturbing the grass with his grace. He sets you down, arms crossed, as you pat yourself off from dirt and stuff.

“Well?”

You eye him warily. “What do you want?”

“Some semblance of manners will do,” he says, then leans close as if he’s baring his face for you. He’s been less and less subtle recently, too.

Nonetheless, you find yourself smiling. The things he’d do just to get a kiss—it nearly makes you laugh out loud. But then he’d start getting all irritated like a cat, and you much prefer when he’s sweet like this. Sweet in his very Wanderer way, you mean.

You kiss him on the cheek. He puffs up like some proud peacock. He calls you adorable all the time, but he’s the one who’s acting like this. It’s no wonder you keep him around.

#genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x you #genshin impact x you #wanderer x you #genshin x reader #genshin drabble #scaramouche drabble #wanderer fluff #genshin impact

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chuluoyi · 8 months

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✎ protect

- gojo satoru x reader

the word “protect” now means so much more to him

genre: soft and playful gojo, sugary dump fluff, pregnant!reader

note: anyone craving some soft gojo? :3 based on a suggestion by an anon who needs a soft gojo a while back, thank you!

a part of gojo's love entries

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

When he was 16, Gojo Satoru thought that protecting other people was a pain, and didn't take it seriously.

Later, when he realized that even non-sorcerers deserve to live their lives in peace, he dedicated himself to becoming stronger so that he would be capable to protect them more. However, even then, he didn't perceive their worth as significant.

But when you entered the picture, that measly, glorified word suddenly became so much more.

Usually people would only care about whether he had succeeded his mission or not. His formidable reputation as the epitome of strength means no one is genuinely interested in his wellbeing—no one after Suguru, to be exact—until you did.

After a whirlwind romance of attraction and banters, Satoru reached the conclusion that he wanted you, the only person left who actually made him feel like a human, to stay happy and safe. He would do it with his own hands, even if it meant reshaping this cruel world to be kinder for you with him as your shield.

And the word “protect” gained an entirely new meaning years later, when he rested his head on your swollen belly—the place where his new cherished treasure was growing.

“When will he come out~?” he asked in a whiny tone and a blissful smile, even though he clearly knew the answer.

You shook your head with playful resignation, unable to conceal your smile. "In three weeks. Now help me get comfortable, you dork."

He helped you turn over and fetched a pillow to place under your aching spine. Then, with a mischievous grin, he lightly poked your belly with two fingers, eliciting a yelp from you.

"Don't poke me! You're poking your child!"

To that, Satoru merely threw his head back and snickered like the dumbass he was. He then tenderly rested his hand on the taut skin of your belly, gently massaging it, smiling with ardent happiness.

"Can't really believe it," he sighed, brimming with the purest sense of contentment. "A mini Gojo, huh... You're really doing a honorable work."

A child of his and yours. He had always wondered how he would be after seeing him firsthand—would he laugh just like he had been doing now, or will it be the first instance that move him to the point of shedding tears? One of the reasons he eagerly anticipated his son's birth was just to discover how he would react.

Seeing the weight of his baby growing within you, making you rounder and fuller, stirred a deep well of warm emotions in him with each passing day though.

"I am," you retorted cheekily, rolling your eyes. "In fact, you should be revering and worshipping me for carrying your spawn."

He merely hummed in a childlike manner, feeling his baby move around under his touch. You were about to roast him again with something funny when he leaned down and planted a kiss on your tummy, whispering to it.

"Please come out already~ Papa wants to meet you!"

Your heart swelled with warmth at that moment. Gojo Satoru was many things, but he wasn't typically known for his softness—he was often seen as this all-perfect being, and so witnessing him acting purely on his human emotions brought you a sense of happiness.

“Who do you think he’ll take after?” you mused.

“Hmmm. Me, obviously. He'll be hot just like me!” he quipped proudly, and you playfully smacked him on the arm.

Satoru caught your hand and kissed it tenderly amidst his grin. "But I want him to have your personality. I'd hate to see him be a show-off."

"So you do realize that you're actually a menace."

He laughed out loud, patting the generous swell of your belly again with a smug look on his face.

"I know, but I'm your menace, and that's all that matters."

And when his adorable son was born less than three weeks later and you passed out due to sheer exhaustion, Satoru vowed by everything in the heavens and the earth that he wouldn't spare anything to protect you and his child from this curse-filled world.

Epilogue - on the night of the birth -

“Satoru—” you panted, grimacing, head jerking back as your womb throbbed and pulsed in order to bring forth your child into the world. “I… feel like I’m going to faint…”

Worry etched his face as you leaned on him. “Hey, hey… Calm down sweetheart, relax and catch up on your breath, okay? Don’t worry, he’ll come out soon.”

Somehow his words rubbed you the wrong way.

“Hahh—this… is because of you! This happened because you shoved your stick into me! You horny bas—aahh!”

“Well, hey! Last I remembered, you begged me to put it into you! And I'm not—pfft—”

“Then what are you?!”

“Hmmm, nothing but a man who got you pregnant, sweetheart~”

“If I bleed out and die, it’s going to be your fault, you evil, wretched sorcerer!”

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mavigator · 5 months

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i talked about it a little bit already but i have things to say about it. for context, i was born with amniotic band syndrome. the amniotic band wrapped around my left wrist in utero and stunted the growth of my hand. i was born with about half a palm, four nubs for fingers, and a twisted half of a thumb. i can open and close my thumb and pinkie joint like a claw.

yesterday at work i had a shift in the room with 5-10 year old kids. i had my left hand hidden in my sleeve (a bad habit of mine). a kid asked if he could see my hand, and even though internally i was debating running into traffic, i said “sure you can” and showed him my hands. he stared for a moment, looking disturbed, and then said “i don’t want to look at that anymore”. that hurt to hear, but i understand that kids are new to the world and he probably didn’t mean it out of malice. i put my hand away again, told him that it was okay, and that i was just born that way.

he then went on to talk about how he knows a kid with a similar hand to mine and called it “ugly”. i told him that wasn’t a very kind thing to say and that he wouldn’t feel good if someone said that to him, and he replied that no one would say that to him—because he has “normal hands”, and he’s glad he does because otherwise he’d be “ugly”. i tried to talk with him for a bit about how everybody is born differently, but he just started talking about a girl he knows with a “messed up face” and pulled on his face to make it look droopy. i went on some more about how it wasn’t very kind to talk about people that way, but the conversation moved on to something else.

i’ve told my supervisors about it and they’re going to have a talk with his mom. what i wanted to say is this: i’m genuinely not upset with the kid. kids are young and naturally curious, and he clearly simply hasn’t been taught about disabled people and kind ways to speak to/about others. which is why i am upset with his parent(s). i know he’s encountered visibly deformed/disabled people before (he said so himself!), yet his parent(s) clearly haven’t had any kind of discussion with him about proper language and behavior. i knew from birth that some people were just different than others, but my parents still made a point to assert to be kind to and accepting of others. i wonder if adults in his life are the type of people to hush him and usher him away when he points out someone in a wheelchair. that kind of thing doesn’t teach politeness. it tells children that disabled people are an Other than can’t be acknowledged or spoken about; which, to a child, means disability must be something bad.

i’m lucky enough that this was a relatively mild incident, and that i’m a grownup with thicker skin. i’m worried about the other kids he mentioned to me. has he been talking to them this way? when i was a kid, i had other kids scream, cry, and run away at the sight of my hand. or follow me around pointing at me and laughing at me. or tell me i couldn’t do something because i was ugly or incapable or whatever. one time a girl at an arcade climbed to the top of the skeeball machine, pointed at me, and screamed at me to put my hand away and wouldn’t stop crying until she couldn’t see me anymore. another time, a kid saw my hand, screamed at the top of her lungs, and ran into my friend’s arms, crying hysterically about how i was scaring her. that second incident made me cry so hard i threw up when i got home. i can kind of laugh it off now, but having people react to me that way as a child is something i’m still getting over. why do you think i have a habit of keeping my hand in my sleeve? it just irritates me to see children that have clearly not been taught basic manners and kindness—their parents Clearly missed something pretty important .

#and for the record i consider my deformity pretty mild. maybe i’m just used to it but things like amniotic band syndrome can turn out a lot #more severe. i rarely even call myself disabled because i don’t feel like the term is applicable to me. i’m more hindered by like #my adhd anxiety depression etc than i am my hand. so for those kids to react that way to what i THINK #is a pretty small thing. makes me worry about people that are more visibly disabled #Kids.That are more visibly disabled

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

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Hi! What do you think about Loser!König and the shy sister of his best (and only) friend.

Honestly, Krueger having a sister feels plainly illegal. No one sure if you're blood related or not, but the man always looks like he is either on the edge of committing stepcest or sororicide. His friends aren't any better - with your brother being a fucking psycho maniac for hire, you know that his friends are just as bad as him. Konig isn't breaking the curve - but he does look...somewhat more awkward. A bit less assholish. Of course, he still acts like a fucking loser and an incel, getting into your shared house just to play some dumb video games and brag about military stories. Drink insane amount of beer and then harrass you into buying a new pack even though you literally have college and if you only had money to move out, you would. But, you're stuck with your asshole of a brother - and his fucking friends. Konig is trying to be considerate, never yelling at you to bring them food or harassing you into cleaning - but he stares. A lot. It makes you legitimately scared for your life sometimes, you can just get up from your room to grab a glass of water at night, and he would...just be there. Standing. Cold blue eyes staring at you through the darkness. Your new sleep paralysis demon just dropped. Konig is a loser who genuinely fell in love with his best friend's sister. Krueger fluctuated between wanting to kill him and giving him your hand in marriage - but it doesn't help that little loser anyway. He is awkwardly trying to show off his wealth, but then it just looks like he is bragging. Getting a new phone and trying to wiggle his way into buying you a new one too - but you just stare at him, shy and scared, not sure how to respond to his advances. You stand in your crappy kitchen, just the two of you, your smaller form trapped in the corner...your eyes are pleading for help as he grabs you awkwardly, hugging you in a manner that makes you whimper...and it's a love ballade for him. Guy is obsessed with you, and there is nothing you can really do about it... He is basically starts his courting process now - and even your brother, who hated every guy you brought before, is on the side of his loser friend.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod

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delirious-donna · 3 months

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The Temporary Assistant [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: I’ve been obsessed with the exhausted lawyer for some time now, but this is the first time I’ve written a fic for him… please be kind cause I baby.

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: NSFW, pwp, established relationship, reader is assumed to be a little bit on the booby side, pseudo boss/subordinate dynamic, spit as lube (don’t do this folks), Higuruma is a breasts man, nipple play, little prep, cumshot

Masterlist

“She quit. What do you mean, she quit?”

Higuruma massaged his tired eyes in steady circles, huffing out a laugh at your exasperated questioning and the equally perplexed look on your face.

“Darling, I don’t know how else to phrase it other than the young lady no longer works for me,” he offered with fatigue lacing his tone. It was late, and he didn’t want to be having this conversation for the third time today. The first had been with his partner at the law firm they jointly owned, and the second with the agency supervisor his previously employed assistant worked for.

Nanami hadn’t been surprised at the news, a fact that bothered Hiromi more than he cared to admit. His partner was not one for pulling his punches, so Hiromi was accustomed to his sometimes blunt manner of speaking, but it still hurt to think that Kento had seen something coming that he had been blindsided by.

“I’m only surprised she lasted this long.” Those were his parting words as Hiromi stalked dejectedly back to his office at Nanami’s insistence that his assistant would be far too busy to spread her attention to them both. Not words he’d been happy to hear.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr Higuruma. That’s not like her, but I’m afraid it’ll be at least two weeks until I can provide a replacement.” The agency supervisor sounded genuinely shocked at the sudden resignation, and his day simply went from bad to worse.

Hiromi flopped onto the couch, his head lolling back with his eyes sliding shut from the weight of his fatigue. It had been mounting all day, and now that he was home, where he should be finding solace in the comfort of his surroundings and his loving wife’s embrace, he was hit suddenly with a fresh reminder of the shit he’d landed in.

A soft hand caressed the side of his neck, inducing a shiver of relief. It was followed by the weight of your body settling over his spread thighs, your head resting against his shoulder. His suit jacket still hung from his lithe frame, the button undone and the shirt beneath badly wrinkled from the long commute home, but you didn’t care about his untidiness.

He felt every quiet exhale fan his throat, the ghost of a smile finding its way to his face despite it all. Your nimble fingers burrowed into the knot of his tie, loosening it until you could pull it free and toss it away. “What are you going to do, Hiromi? I know you have that court date coming up… it’s a busy time. How about Nanami’s assistant?”

“Not an option. I already tried,” he muttered with a shrug.

Opening his eyes, he peered down at you tucked into the crook of his neck, a hand inside the collar of his shirt and your nails grazing gentle patterns over his collarbone. He chewed his lip, fearful to broach the idea planted by his partner when his foot was almost out the door. “You could always ask your wife…”

Selfishly, he indulged himself in your affections, your scent that permeated every corner of the home you shared and let his fingers, stiff from the cold, warm against your feminine curves. You might not be so keen to indulge him once he suggested you work as his temporary assistant, so he would take what he could until push came to shove.

“Your fingers are icy, Hiro. Come here,” you chided with a click of the tongue, though he knew it was only born of concern for his health. Hiromi hummed happily, grateful when you pressed his palms together with yours on either side and blew hot air to dispel the chill.

“What would I do without you?” He whispered, sitting upright and nudging your nose with his when you glanced at him. Hiromi’s eyes drooped, heat dusted his cheeks at the proximity, and when you let out an airy giggle… he swore he swooned all over again. Just as he had when he first met you and fell in love.

He doubted he would be in the position he was today had it not been for you. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he would be here at all if he hadn’t met you when he did, but that was a story for another day.

You admired the side profile of your husband, eyes low and hazy with appreciation of his strong jaw and prominent nose that hooked just so at the end. “Good thing you’ll never have to know.”

Hiromi groaned aloud, burying his face between the soft skin of your décolleté. His cool lips skimmed the tops of your breasts, first on one side then turning to the other, making you shudder and hum. Your fingers threaded through his black hair, tugging firmly at the roots just how he liked, and his hips jerked in response.

A great fuck and a good night’s sleep would fix him, you were certain of it. It wouldn’t resolve his work issue, but Hiromi worked better with a clear mind, and you knew it was murky as bog water right now. Your man was a brilliant lawyer, dedicated to working towards a more just legal system for those normally underrepresented along with his partner, but he was a terrible workaholic.

You couldn’t count the nights he traipsed home from the office at an ungodly hour only to drag his tired body into his home office to continue where he left off. Only coming to bed when you physically dragged him away from his keyboard and desk with threats of pain and not the kind he typically enjoyed.

It couldn’t be easy to be his assistant, though you knew damn well that he was a good man. The poor girl probably had enough of the endless expectations and incessantly long hours which were necessary to get through all of his demands because he refused to finish at five like normal people. On the few occasions you’d stopped by his office, you could see the fraught expression written all over her young face and how her eyes pleaded with you to distract her boss enough so she could catch up with the mountain of requests waiting for her attention. Poor girl…

Ready to go to town on your poor overworked and stressed husband, you rocked your pelvis against the seam of his zipper, pushing his head further into your chest whilst his cock twitched and hardened beneath you. Hiromi practically purred, the sound muffled and vibrated right down into your soul. The possibilities were endless, and you were considering if you should slide to the floor and bathe his cock in your spit or ride him until all that wicked tension left his body when he suddenly paused.

His hands moved to your waist, the pressure firmer than expected and he gently slid you back along his knees so you were no longer planted over his poorly concealed erection. The flicker of guilt burnt in his whisky-smoked eyes, and it soured your smile. Hiromi shook his head and exhaled deeply, his eyes flitting away from yours.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered.

“You… can’t fuck your wife?” Your voice broke into a laugh that had nothing to do with amusement and everything to do with the bitter twist of uncertainty in your stomach. “Since when?”

“Don’t say that. I want to, but I need to ask you something first.” Hiromi cupped your face in his hands, leaning in to press what he hoped were reassuring kisses to your forehead, cheeks and lips. “Then you can decide if you still wanna… y’know.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion forming like a snake ready to strike, and your arms folded tightly across your chest. He swallowed nervously, struggling not to ogle your beautiful breasts that he would be fully buried in by now and likely suckling on had it not been for his damned conscience.

“Spit it out, Higuruma.”

Oh, he was in trouble.

Hiromi cleared his throat and fixed you with a beseeching look. “Will you be my assistant?” He rushed on when you visibly bristled. “It’s only for two weeks until the agency can find me a replacement and, and… it was Kento’s idea!”

“Throwing Kento under the bus isn’t going to save your hide, Mr Higuruma!” You slid sideways onto the couch, ignoring the groan of disappointment from beside you. “You know very well I am in the midst of my PhD. How could you think it would be feasible for me to come work in your office as an errand girl for a fortnight?”

“Well… I have a plan,” he said, both pointer fingers coming together as he continued to give you the best impression of those adorable dogs with the droopy eyes.

When he didn’t elaborate immediately, your eyebrows rose and you nudged his knee with yours.

“R-right. I know you’ve been writing your paper here at home. So, I thought that maybe I could also work from home. You could help me out and continue your work in between the things I need.”

Dammit, that wasn’t quite the terrible idea you had initially anticipated. You eyed your husband from head to toe, and he desperately tugged at your folded arms until he could take your hands into his. He kissed across your knuckles, nuzzling his cheek, rough from a faint five o’clock shadow, into the back of your hands.

“Hiromi…” you warned, but he was almost too overjoyed to hear his given name once more to heed the warning in your voice.

“Two weeks. That’s all. And I promise not to ask for too much, only the absolute necessities that I can’t manage myself. Please?”

How could you deny him when he asked so sweetly and especially when you knew just how under the cosh he was with his upcoming trial? It would only interfere with your deadlines if he didn’t uphold his promises, but you chose to believe that he would. After all, Hiromi was rather keen on keeping his balls attached to his body.

“Fine, but you owe me.”

The first week went by without incident. It was an adjustment, to say the least, but once you found your feet and Hiromi got used to not having to leave at the arse crack of dawn, it was rather lovely to see more of your handsome husband.

Being able to sit down at the small kitchen table to eat lunch together was a daily treat, and it filled you with triumph when he would eagerly seek you out in the kitchen with his nose sniffing out whatever delicious treat you had prepared that day. Ensuring Hiromi ate during the working day was, more often than not, a struggle, with several text messages bouncing back and forth until he acquiesced–but not now.

Maybe it was the lure of stolen kisses or the giggles shared when you called him Mr Higuruma, breathlessly pressing your body into his and squealing playfully when he pawed at your backside in turn.

You’d be lying if you weren’t enjoying the pseudo roleplay of boss and subordinate. Playing pretend with a power balance that didn’t translate to your relationship outside this current scenario. There was no top or bottom, no dominant or submissive, just two people enraptured by each other. Sometimes you led, and other times he did. Your marriage was well-balanced, and you loved that about Hiromi. He wasn’t threatened by a woman that initiated, in fact, he loved it—loved you. So this new experience, where he was large and in charge at all times, was certainly thrilling, but not everything was smooth sailing.

Hiromi was demanding, to say the least. When he was engrossed in a specific piece of work, he had a way of speaking that made you want to smack him round the head with one of his many manila folders, preferably one of the thicker ones.

No wonder his assistant had quit if he regularly spoke to her in the clipped manner you had heard on more than several occasions now. Only your intimate knowledge of the man kept your tongue in your head and your hand away from the folders. Niceties were time-consuming when he was against the clock. He didn’t mean to be cold, and you told yourself this over and over, but it still hurt, just a little.

Higuruma could get used to this.

He idly wondered how he would feasibly make the transition back to office working once this temporary fix came to an end. He didn’t miss his morning commutes, the packed trains that felt like being crammed into sardine tins, nor the chill of the office before the heating had a chance to warm the rooms sufficiently.

It was a treat to be able to roll out of bed and right into his desk chair. If he wanted to start at 6am, he could, though you would chastise him thoroughly if he dared to. He knew you liked your morning snuggles, and so did he. Waking slowly to your soft snores which he liked to call purrs, and soaking in the smell of your sleep-soaked skin whilst his hands roamed every inch of your softness he could reach. It made it easier to escape the clutches of sleep, knowing you were waiting for him.

However, the star attraction of the current situation was you. Never had he cast an appreciative eye over one of his assistants, not even before he met you, but you were his wife, and he couldn’t help but gawk at his sheer dumb luck. There was something altogether forbidden about the fantasies in his head which, of course, made them all the more alluring.

The first few days at home he had stayed in comfortable clothing, favouring the sweats he’d wear around the house on the weekends and his old college sweater, but quickly, he realised that this didn’t work for him. He needed the structure of his routine even if he wasn’t venturing past his front door, so the suits returned—starched collars and a black tie at his throat. As if to match his energy, you started to dress formally too, and what a treat that was.

Pencil skirts that he didn’t think he’d ever seen, blouses that nipped in your waist, pinafore dresses that swished around your thighs and most decadent of all–lace-topped stockings.

You were driving him to distraction, and the worst of it was that he was certain you didn’t realise. It made him sound shorter than he liked, his words coming out clipped, and his pleasantries sounded cursory rather than heartfelt. You were doing your best to accommodate his needs whilst still working on your paper, and here he was, wishing to bend you over his desk to run his nose and mouth over your squidgy thighs, the meat of your backside and the seat of your underwear until it soaked through with his saliva.

By the time the second week rolled around, Higuruma was a volcano, ready and raring to erupt at the slightest breeze or incident. The lunchtime kisses were no longer satiating his desires, nor were the evenings spent worshipping at the altar of your puffy, spit-covered pussy. It wasn’t enough to scratch this very specific itch.

“I’ve made the copies you asked for, Hiromi. I’ve also updated your calendar with the pre-agenda meeting that came through from the opposing side. Was there anything else for now?”

Hiromi audibly moaned when your wrist grazed his fingers, setting down the documents in question and lingering by his side, waiting for an answer. He tugged sharply at the knot of his tie, feeling choked for air—starved of logic.

As he glanced up at you, he paused. Your bottom lip was held fast between your teeth, eyes positively alight with playful mischief. So maybe you were more aware of the thick-as-sticky treacle tension than he gave you credit for. He fixed the cuffs of his shirt in an attempt to mask the shake of his hands, setting his pen down before leaning back in his chair. It creaked in protest, and you raised a hand to stifle a laugh.

“Actually, there is something else, and it cannot be put off a moment longer,” he drawled with a tone that suggested he was going to dictate a letter or something equally menial.

You were not expecting him to spin his chair towards you and yank you down by the arm into his lap. The shriek that left you was genuine, only silenced towards the end by the firm melding of warm, insistent lips. His hands were everywhere and all at once; squeezing the tops of your arms, ripping at the buttons that hid your cleavage from him and skimming beneath the tight hold of your skirt until it rucked around your hips.

There was such urgency to his movements that you struggled to catch up, but finally, you broke apart from his mouth, saliva strands webbing and breaking apart as your tongue passed through them and across your swollen lips. “Mr Higuruma! What would your wife say?”

It was meant as a spicy joke, a nod to the little games that had been at play and the dynamic the two of you had fallen into, but you sensed immediately that it didn’t go over well. He stopped fumbling with the buttons of your blouse, half of them free from their holes and the lace of your bra now prominently on show, breasts firmly squeezed together given the constraints of the material.

“I-I would… never. I mean…” You watched the desire in his eyes shift to panic, and you shushed him with a finger over his lips. Your heart ricocheted in your chest at the sincerity, and if you believed you couldn’t love him any more than you already did, it proved untrue when you witnessed the devotion that shone in those whisky-coloured eyes.

“I know. It’s okay,” you murmured, closing the distance and trailing your lips over his jaw and up to his ear. “I like it… keep going, please?”

Oh gods, how could he have ever deserved a woman like you in his life? Hiromi whimpered, his eyebrows pinched together, and he felt that final strand of restraint snap clean in two. His lip trembled for a second before he was on you again. Hungry kisses pathed down your throat, a hand at the back of your head to keep you close and manoeuvre you exactly as he wanted.

You scrabbled at his tie, pulling it free with a whip crack until you could toss it behind you and return your focus to his shirt so you could scratch at his chest and leave red welts across his skin.

“No.” The frantic lawyer shook his head, pressing his fingertips over the fresh mark he’d sucked into your neck simply to watch you whine from the pressure of the blooming bruise. “Belt, now.”

Jumping at the ragged command that rasped from Hiromi’s throat, you complied without teasing or complaint. Working the tail of his leather belt through the buckle and sighed at the clatter of the metal when it rattled free to join his tie somewhere unseen in the room.

“Fuck… take it out, please.”

He didn’t wait for you to say anything, nor did he wait for you to pop his top button or lower his zip. He was too focused on freeing your bountiful tits and taking them into his mouth. Your eyes raised to the heavens when his hot needy tongue licked around your nipple, the lace cups shoved down to push your breast up and into his face.

For long moments, you only watched as he laved you with his spit, lips drawn around your pert buds to elicit that deep-seated squirm of pleasure that echoed between your thighs. Hiromi lifted his gaze to your face, making sure you watched as he sandwiched your breast together with his broad palms so he could suckle both nipples at once. Your jaw slackened, your stomach sucked in, and your hips undulated atop his thighs.

It invigorated the tightness of your hold on his cock, drawing it out of his briefs followed by his heavy balls to stroke him hard and fast. He could take it, you knew that, his purpled cockhead sticky from precum that painted your fingers and palm. You paused with his foreskin pulled back, fingers ringing his base to use your other hand to tickle the seam of his balls. He jerked up with a muffled grunt, a resounding pop echoing in the study when his lips pulled free of your breasts.

“Need you, Sir. Please, want this,” you paused to squeeze his shaft in emphasis, “Inside me.”

“Little fucking temptress, you know that? Should’ve bent you over this desk days ago…” He growled against your collarbone, marking it with his teeth.

Higuruma stood abruptly. You squealed and anchored an arm around his neck, refusing to give up your possessive grab of his throbbing dick. He turned and shoved the back of his chair flush against the edge of his desk to stabilise it before dropping you into the leather seat and folding your legs back to your chest.

His rough fingers pinched into the fat of your thighs, fiddling with the sticky bands of your lace stockings and damn near ripped them. You would have complained had it not been for the raw emotions written all over Hiromi’s face, his eyes fixed on the seat of your underwear and the obvious stain that was caused by his ministrations.

Bending his knees to drop closer to you, he savoured your mouth with his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to curl over your teeth. He filled his hands with the fat of your ass, pulling the cheeks apart and massaging the roundness with little gentleness. It was all you could do to moan, the sounds swallowed greedily only to be replaced by a pleading keen when he tugged your underwear away from your cunt. The fabric bunched around your knees, and you assumed he’d move back to remove them fully, but he didn’t. Instead, he twisted the material until it was tight around the bend of your knees, pinning you in place.

His long slender fingers stroked your pretty slit, coming away with remnants of your arousal and using it to mix with his precum that continued to weep onto your hand. Hiromi’s head sagged forward, black hair falling into his eyes as a long string of saliva fell from what he’d gathered behind his teeth to your sensitive clit. He smeared it around the bundle of nerves, scissoring his fingers until he could tug it feverishly.

“Hiro… fuck me already. Goddammit, I’m gonna blow,” you whined, painfully aware that you were dangling by a thread.

You helped him lead his cock to your entrance, tapping it against your folds to see the tendons in his neck strain and giving you some semblance of smug satisfaction. When he finally notched where you needed him most, your breathing was coming so rapidly you faintly worried you might pass out from this. The air was so thick you struggled to inhale, drowning in this faux forbidden tryst.

He groaned, long and low. His nose nudged into your warm cheek as he bent even lower and pushed into your velvet heat. “That’s it. This pretty pussy is sucking me in—fuck—oh, you like that?” He teased, his hips drawing back only to plunge in again, and deeper this time when he felt you clench around him.

You gripped his forearms, head lolling against the headrest when his cock reached your depths, and the coarse midnight patch of hairs at his pelvis rubbed delicious friction into your pert little pearl.

“Mhm… mhm. Keep going. Don’t stop.”

Higuruma could have laughed at the absurdity of your words. What made you think he could stop even if he wanted to? You were hugging him too perfectly, pulling him back in each time he withdrew his hips. The rhythmic pap of his full-to-bursting balls against the split of your ass rocketed him closer and closer to the finish point, enough so that he fisted the base of his dick to stave off his looming orgasm. He wasn’t ready for this to end, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop either.

The tails of his shirt escaped his trousers and obscured the view of his cock disappearing into your warm cunt, and he growled in frustration. You were so close to the precipice of your orgasm that you didn’t realise why he was growling, only moaning at the primal noise and clenching down hard enough that Hiromi’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Releasing his hold on your thighs, he grinned wolfishly at the imprints of his fingertips on the backs of your legs. With his heart pounding rapidly, he ripped his shirt up his torso and gripped the material between his teeth. His cock sawed in and out at a pace that was losing its rhythm at an alarming rate.

He’d never looked like this before, crazed with desire and burning heat covering the apples of his cheeks. The whisky smoke in his eyes was barely visible due to how blown out his pupils were, and you lifted a hand to caress his cheek. His eyes cut to you, hips rotating whilst buried against your cervix, and with a sharp nod, he asked you to cum for him. His thumb sought out your clit, working it from side to side whilst his balls drew painfully tight and the first lick of molten heat dripped at the base of his spine.

Your eyes rolled over, limbs going lax and pliant pinned between the chair and his body. Your toes curled within your stockings, thighs trembling and butterflying open onto the arms of the chair. Hiromi rode out your high, slowing himself just so, but he couldn’t hold back for too long.

With a willpower that shocked him, he pulled out at the last moment and pumped himself until thick viscous spurts of cum shot across your exposed breasts and stained the blouse covering your stomach. He convulsed so intensely his knees nearly buckled, long drawn-out whimpers ripping from his throat, and you watched it all through hooded, blissed-out eyes.

Hiromi sagged forward, his forehead pressed against yours as he fought to catch his breath. His cock twitched as it softened, the sensation worsened by your toying little fingers exploring his sensitive skin and rubbing the mixture of his and your arousal into his pelvis and across his balls. He didn’t know what to say. The fantasy lived out was so much more than his imagination could conjure, but he still felt a little vulnerable now it was over.

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and licked over his parched lips. Words caught in his throat, but they were cut off by the trill of his phone on the desk as it vibrated across the wood. You handed it to him with a shy smile, and he answered it after smoothing back his hair.

“Mr Higuruma?”

“S-speaking,” he answered, clearing his throat urgently.

“I’m calling from Clerical Angels. Unfortunately, I have bad news. It is going to be another week before a new assistant can start. I’m sorry for the delay, I know it must be an inconvenience…”

Your eyes widened at the conversation you could hear as clear as day, meeting his steady gaze with cheeks that burned with a combination of mild embarrassment and intrigue. One more week.

“Not at all. I think I can cope, my wife is happy to bend over backwards for me.”

Oh, Hiromi would pay for that comment… but not for at least another week.

#delirious writes #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi smut #jjk higuruma #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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ozzgin · 3 months

Note

The Mean Girl Bully Reader x Nerd Loser Yandere story sparked another red flag reader idea I had 😈

Imagine a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere. Unlike our favorite monster whore gal, and two-faced bully, this new reader insert is super vocal about her distaste in just about everything. Hardly anything is up to her “standards.” She not only complains, but whines too! 🥳

Then her poor beau weirdly loves her despite her horrid personality. I don’t know how, I’ll leave that part of imagining up to you, but there’s my request 🥺

I just like morally grey or blatant antagonistic readers. A lot of times, it’s more fun if the reader is attractive this way to a yandere, than having stereotypical good traits, like being compassionate or respectful 😔

So please, a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere?

-👘

I was wondering if I should just incorporate this into the Yandere CEO draft I have, but I had this sudden idea for a downright shameless relationship between a beloved, well-respected politician and a perverted, needy brat of a Darling. (I don't like politicians but alas, I needed a high-stakes public profession for this)

Yandere! Politician x Bratty! Reader

Mr. Politician is a true rarity in his field of work: well-mannered, articulate, and most importantly, genuine in his dedication. He works tirelessly for change and improvement, earning the adoration of the people. There's only one exception to his loyalty: no country ever comes before his Darling. And what a demanding Darling you are...

Content: female reader, older yandere, NSFW, some exhibitionism

Many would describe their interactions with Mr. Politician as follows: he's disciplined, confident and resourceful. A natural born leader, you can tell within seconds of meeting him that he is a man to rely on. He's spent many years in the game, and nothing can shake him out of his signature calmness. He keeps everything in pristine order, and nothing escapes his scrutiny.

There is, however, one quirk only few select people know about. A detail no one dares to discuss. It is common knowledge that Mr. Politician has a partner, yet the particularities of it are kept private. His beloved is a much younger girl, rotten to the core. It is unclear how this pairing came to be; the day Mr. Politician won his place in his prestigious office, he showed up with the mysterious feminine figure at his side.

What's certain and obvious to all witnesses is that his vocabulary quickly discards any meaning of refusal whenever he's dealing with you. It almost feels like the man worships you. He's never alluded to being religious, most likely because that role's been taken already. His eyes soften whenever directed at you, gleaming with raw adoration.

Splurging on expensive things is a given. Money has never been an issue for someone of his status. In fact, it's a handy and convenient tool he frequently uses to dampen the damage of your tantrums.

"Disgusting", you spit between your teeth, pushing the plate away and crossing your arms. The renowned chef of the Michelin star restaurant can only stare in horror before Mr. Politician intervenes with a chuckle. "Not feeling it today, huh?", he coos at you with loving strokes. "May I ask that you bring everything else from the menu?" he says in a sterner voice to the employee. "E-everything, Sir?" the waitstaff questions. "Well, naturally. I can't let my Darling starve."

"I'm bored. Let's leave now", you mention bluntly, standing in front of the heavily ornate table with a huff. "Are you sure, Darling? It's an important meeting for the country", Mr. Politician tries to plead. Around him, the other men sit baffled, observing the outrageous exchange. "Now!" you conclude louder. Before anyone can protest, your boyfriend stands up obediently and reaches out for your hand. "Then allow me to guide you, love."

A paradox. His earnest work is put to a halt if you require anything from him. Somehow, he has until now managed to juggle the two with little effort, and to his credit, there have been many instances requiring nerves of steel. Such as you paying him an unannounced visit to the office, and disliking the fact he was unavailable due to a meeting. So, you marched over to the window and promptly flashed your chest against the glass. Everyone else was focused on the opposing whiteboard; he was the only one who immediately noticed your arrival. "As you can see, the expected result is irresistible", he continued with a professional smile, tapping the graph with a marker.

Everyone knows Mr. Politician is fervently devoted to his principles. Take his last public speech, for example. Knuckles white from gripping the podium, he'd nearly choked during an eloquent -but passionate - conclusion. His face was red, his jaw tightened. He needed a moment to recollect himself, and the public waited with bated breaths, visibly emotional. Of course, they couldn't tell the outrageous truth: that you were shamelessly kneeling at his feet, pumping and teasing his erection until, at last, he let go all over your face.

"I wanted to see if you'd stumble on your words", you explain afterwards, wiping the sticky liquid off with a damp cloth. "That would've been unpleasant", he responds with a shiver. "It was live on national television."

He does not seem too bothered by the potential risk of being caught. Truly, his nonchalance knows no bounds when it comes to you. Or perhaps it is part of the charm. There's something quite depraved yet tempting about this perpetual contrast.

To return your daring favor, he gently places you onto his desk and spreads your legs, leaving trails of kisses along the inner surface of your thigh. A quick glance down confirms his suspicions: your bare bottom lays on top of confidential, rather important documents he dutifully signed hours ago. How thrilling of a feeling! He already smiles in anticipation, picturing himself as he hands over the folder to the oblivious party. He's not breaking any rules, now, is he? Nowhere in the book of etiquette does it state you mustn't fuck your beloved on top of official papers.

You gaze at the disheveled face underneath you. "One day I'll get you in trouble", you blurt out between whines. "Me? Oh, Darling. You know I always have everything under control." He lifts himself up and gives you a quick, desperate kiss. "Including you."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #male yandere x reader #yandere politician #yandere smut #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere #older yandere

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luvjunie · 1 year

Text

— braiding his hair

pairing: earth 42!miles x fem!reader

summary: Miles is very particular when it comes to how his hair looks, so he doesn’t let just anyone put their hands in his head. His mom has been braiding it for him since he was in middle school, and he’d found no reason to change routine until you’d randomly expressed interest one day. wc: 702

contains: fluff, fem!reader, envisioned as black!reader but not specified

word bank: “está bien, mi amor” - it’s okay, my love

You were dedicated on teaching yourself how to cornrow/dutch braid specifically for your boyfriend, Miles; having practiced on your little brother a few times before you proposed the idea. And while you could braid normally, you weren’t very well versed in braids to the scalp— those were an entirely different ballgame.

The first time he agreed to sit between your legs, handed you the rat tail comb, and simultaneously reached behind him to tug on his hair-tie and release his hair from the low ponytail it was in, you quickly understood why he kept it braided back. It was massive, and there was so much of it. Even with the sides of his hair faded you were still trying to figure out how it had this much volume. His curls were thick, coily in some places, silky and curled in others, falling just a bit below his shoulders. Hell, you were almost jealous.

It was as if he could read your mind from his seated position on the floor, his back to you, legs criss-crossed and you on his desk chair. “I got a lotta hair, huh?” He nearly felt the act of your hands experimentally hovering over the area, a chuckle falling from his lips before he asked you, “You sure you got it, Mami?” He turned just slightly to peer over his shoulder. “I can always ask my moms to-“

You hastily cut him off, “No, no!” Sounding a little more enthusiastic than you planned, heat spread up the expanse of your throat as you cleared it and sat up straighter, managing to instill some confidence in yourself. “I wanna try.”

And he’s more than willing to let you. You’re his girl after all, basically the only person he trusts other than his mother, so with a surrendered raise of his hands, he nods and leans back once again. “Aight then, do ya thing.”

It took a little longer than some simple braids should, and when you finally finished and reached forward to offer him the hand mirror, you had to restrain from anxiously nibbling at the skin on the inside of your lip. “How’d I do?” You queried quietly, hands gently resting over his lean shoulders.

You watched closely as he turned from cheek to cheek to look over your work in the mirror, brows raising in slight disbelief his bottom lip sticking out in a manner of approval as he nodded. “Damn, Ima little surprised, can’t lie.” He quipped, giving as much of a smile as someone like him gave. “You sure this your first time doing this?”

“I practiced on my little brother once or twice.” You shifted in your seat, the apples of your cheeks tight from your growing grin.“They’re not nearly as good as how your mom does them, though.” Your head tilted as you examined the plaits.

“No, está bien mi amor. They’re perfect, I fuck with them.” He set the mirror down next to him, leaning his head back to rest on your thighs.

“Really?” You felt excitement bubble in your stomach, heart swelling with pride as he expressed his satisfaction.

“Mhmm,” He hummed, long lashes fluttering up at you. “But what I like more is how you learned how to do it just for me. You gon’ be my new hairstylist, hermosa?” He licked his lips, and instantly you were distracted, his accent clinging onto his words as they rolled off his tongue.

You accidentally tuned out his question for a second, the smirk on his face and the way his eyes held contact with yours so intensely had your mind genuinely trying to wrap itself around how he looked this handsome even while upside down. “Hm?” You blinked away the thoughts, blushing when his impish grin widened, pearly whites peeking at your inability to concentrate. “Oh!- Yes… If you want me to be.” You nodded, a smile painting your face to match his.

- please do not copy, plagiarize, or repost my works on any other platform.

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!!

#miles morales fanfiction #prowler miles fanfic #earth 42 miles fluff #miles g morales #42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales x you #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv miles

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thebeesatemyknees · 9 months

Note

141 AND HOW THEY ARE WITH SOMEONE WHO THEY DISCRETELY AND SECRETLY LOVE. LIKE MAYBE NOR A HIDDEN RELATIONSHIP, BUT MORE LIKE BEST FRIENDS AND THEY LOKE READER BUT READER DOESN'T KNOW. IDKK

141 secretly in love with their friend

Word count: 2k || No warnings || Reader: gender neutral. Pronouns "you"

Simon Riley, who always chooses to sit next to you. It’s not even that he lets you sit next to him, no – he goes out of his way to sit next to you. When you’re hanging out in a pub, with him and a bunch of mutual friends (mostly the rest of 141), he lets you choose a seat while he goes to get your drinks. Once he’s back, he places your glass in front of you and tells you to budge up so he can sit next to you. Though, after a few times, it became a routine and you naturally began to make some space for him. Others also know to leave at least one seat beside you empty. If someone forgets, or isn’t privy to this unspoken rule – Simon slaps their shoulder and wordlessly points to a different chair. And so far, no one’s had the balls to tell him no.

He’s a master of dark humour and dad-jokes, and he tells them no matter what reaction he’ll get. He’s used to people rolling their eyes at his puns, but he doesn’t really care. However, with you? It's different. He closely observes your reactions, taking note of things that genuinely make you laugh and things that seem to make you uncomfortable. He catches himself yearning for your reaction, wanting to make you laugh. While in a pub with friends, he keeps telling jokes and adding sarcastic comments, but does it so quietly that only you can hear them. And when he manages to make you laugh, he has a hard time hiding the proud look on his face.

He gives you the “scary dog privilege” and goes out of his way to make it obvious that you’re under his protection. He’s not possessive nor aggressive towards others, but he can stand his ground and you’d have to be absolutely crazy to willingly get on his bad side. So whenever he’s home, he comes with you to all the places you frequent and makes sure all the regulars see that you’ve got a big, scary-looking man at home. They don’t have to know you’re just friends. Honestly, he’d like everyone to think that you’re together. That would keep all the wrong people, all the creeps away from you – that’s what he tells you after not correcting a stranger who commented on you being a cute couple. He then watches your reaction closely, wanting to figure out how you feel about the idea of being together. Whether he has a chance, or should he back off.

If you playfully flirt with him, he smugly reciprocates. As much as he likes puns, he doesn’t use pickup lines, but his witty, flirtatious comments are enough to make your face feel all hot. And he always tells them in the most deadpan manner possible, while looking at you with a half-lidded, almost lazy, look in his eyes. And he doesn’t look away, wanting to see your reaction. To see the smallest twitch of a smile in the corner of your lips. To see you roll your eyes at him or turn away with a blush creeping on your face. He wants to see if you meant it. If you’re willing to take it further.

John Price, who does a bunch of domestic things with you and for you. He makes your friendship feel as if you’ve been happily married for the past 20 years. He rarely goes back to his own flat, most of the time staying at yours. It started with him popping by for a cuppa or to fix something. Now, however, you go grocery shopping together, he has his own drawer in your wardrobe, you have movie nights that you don’t even have to invite him to. You don’t actually live together, he sometimes stays at his place to keep the sense of normalcy. But then you wake up and find him in your kitchen, sleepily drinking a cup of coffee after letting himself in with the spare key you gave him. Fresh bread lying on the counter next to him, as he scrolls through news on his phone. He greets you and stands up to start preparing breakfast for both of you.

He lets you borrow his clothes. Though, that’s a bit of an understatement. He wants you to wear his clothes. That’s why he started to “accidentally” leave his jumpers and shirts at your place. Once you officially let him have a drawer in your wardrobe, he brings all of his best, most comfortable jumpers, even going as far as spraying them with his cologne, in hopes that you'll find comfort in them while he's deployed. He also keeps an extra jacket in his car, though he only offers it to you if he’s not wearing one himself. He won’t admit it, not even in front of himself, but giving you the jacket he’s been wearing ignites a warm feeling inside his chest.

If you playfully flirt with him, he doesn’t flirt back, suddenly getting more serious instead. He might laugh quietly, but sometimes he looks downright annoyed with your teasing. At least that’s what you think. In reality he’s just worried, overthinking the situation while a sombre feeling sets in the pit of his stomach. He feels like he’s betraying you. Here you are, feeling comfortable and safe enough to joke with him like this, while the only thing he can think of is to make you his.

Kyle Garrick, who takes you out as often as possible. He organises lots of platonic (please end his misery) dates. If either of you wants to check out a new place or simply go to your regular spots, he immediately calls you. Cafes, arcades, shops, parks, galleries, bookshops. At some point, it might make you think that he doesn’t have that many friends, but no. He just chooses to spend time with you over anyone else. While eating out, you often get into arguments over who’s gonna pay the bill. He jokingly tells you that he needs someone to spend the “military money” on, but he really just wants to see you enjoy yourself properly without worrying about the expenses. To see you, being taken care of. And he’d be so damn happy to be the one to do that.

He’s also very attentive to your likes and dislikes. While walking through shopping centres, he takes note of things you seem to want but end up putting back on the shelf. That being said, he’s the best gift giver. And it’s not just expensive gifts. Honestly, he rarely gets you pricey things, worrying that it might overwhelm you. But he doesn’t stop himself from getting you knick knacks, your favourite snacks, or even simply picking some flowers for you when you go on hikes.

While deployed, he sends you short letters, sometimes adding some local sweets as well. He knows it would be much simpler to just text you or call you, which he does, but he believes that handwritten letters are more meaningful. The first time he tells you that, you roll your eyes at him. He then asks, pretending to be deeply offended, if he should stop sending them since you dislike them so much. No matter your response, he’d be sending them anyway. And if he ever finds out that you kept all of his letters tucked away safely in a box somewhere in your room, he will have a hard time hiding the tears welling up in his eyes.

If you playfully flirt with him, his brain short-circuits. The best he can do is huff a laugh quietly and reply with a simple “alright” as he looks away from you, trying to play it cool. He doesn’t flirt back, simply because he can’t. His face gets all hot, sweat suddenly coating his palms. Did you mean it? Are you teasing him? Did you finally find out about his feelings towards you? His heart is just as frantic as his thoughts. He shakes his head and tries to casually change the topic, which only makes him look more suspicious. You, oblivious to his internal torment, probably interpret his reaction as discomfort, which makes you step back and avoid flirting with him again. This, in turn, leads him to even more panic, worrying that he’s lost his chance, as he tries to bring your conversations back on the more flirtatious track.

[Sorry to my Scottish readers, you might feel a bit excluded here. Anyway, Johnny still takes you on a fun road trip!]

Johnny MacTavish, who takes you on spontaneous road trips. If you’re not from Scotland, he takes you there to show you his hometown and places he used to go to with his family when he was a kid. He picks you up and drives north but takes an indirect route, stopping at different locations that interest you. You get stuffed with snacks that he prepared for the road and lose both your voice and your hearing from how loudly both of you sing. Throughout the whole trip, he discreetly takes care of you, casually opening the car door for you, making stops so you can stretch your legs, making sure you’re not getting cold. And so, instead of getting to your destination in seven-ish hours, the trip itself takes you two days. You stop midway and find a decent room in a small inn, ending up sharing it together. He keeps his distance, but he has a hard time stopping his eyes from lingering, finding great pleasure in looking at you getting comfortable and ready for bed. His voice gets low and calm while you talk, letting the late hour lead your conversation towards more meaningful, intimate territory. Next day, once you get to his childhood home, he introduces you to his family, and at some point you catch his mum giving him a strange look. When you ask, he tells you he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. However, what you don’t notice is that he turns away while saying it, trying to hide his reddening face from you. You might be oblivious to his feelings, but his mother figured out that her son is head over heels for you the moment you walked into their house.

He tries to teach you some Scottish phrases. You don’t really use them, worried that it would sound strange next to your regular, very not-Scottish accent. But then one day it slips out of your mouth. Maybe you got annoyed with him, which wouldn’t be surprising considering how often he teases you. The moment the words leave your mouth, a wide grin spreads across his face. He cheers like a lunatic, picking you up and twirling around with you in his arms. [And let me make myself absolutely clear – even if you’re a bigger person – you’re in the air. All you can do is dangle your legs above the ground and hold onto him for your dear life. His muscles are for practical purposes, not just visual.]

If you playfully flirt with him, he shamelessly flirts back. With one simple comment, you unleash absolute chaos upon yourself. Hopefully you’ve got more pickup lines up your sleeve, cuz you’ll really need them. To this point, he was keeping himself in check, making sure not to overstep any boundaries. But once you flirt with him, it’s a green light, game on – he’s not stopping anytime soon. He’s a very open flirt too. He’ll use the most cheesy pickup lines on you, a wide smile permanently fixed on his face. Seeing him wiggle his eyebrows at you doesn’t even surprise you anymore. He’s also a rather physical person, so you’ll have to get used to him leaning in and playfully bumping your shoulders or knees together, or constantly resting his arm around the back of your chair.

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