(Mihawk would probably argue that he just had nothing better to do with his time in this world. Although he was now training Zoro and doing his own amount of research, it was a special kind of hell for Mihawk. He felt restless.
Koby eased that somewhat.
Quite more than Mihawk cared to admit. He realizes rather sullenly that he is actually waiting for Koby's replies when they finally come. How embarrassing.)
Koby, I might think you are concerned for my well-being if you keep talking like that.
[If it's any consolation for Mihawk (and he'd probably be very satisfied to know this), Koby has to actually force himself to stop and count to a hundred before replying. Can't seem like he's sitting and waiting for responses. Even though he fully is.]
I don't want you bringing puddles into my room, that's all.
Thank you. The healing ritual is all I know right now, but that seems like more than enough for the moment.
No. Just y Maybe more ink? I'm almost out again.
It's not because of your stupid jokes, I can tell you that much.
(When you real thirsty but you gotta play it as cool as humanly possible. Stupidest award goes to...)
I don't know if I have ever been sick a day in my life. A little rain won't do much. But if it soothes your worried soul, I can create an umbrella.
A useful skill. And have you found anyone to teach you some fighting basics yet?
(Oh, he knows what you were going to say there.)
Consider it done.
You crush my ego.
(There's a longer beat. And then, miraculously, he draws a cartoonish rendition of Yoru but with dramatic eyebrows, eyes, and a mouth, the face scowling deeply. He's not doing it to make Koby smile or anything it's just a thing to do.)
I don't have a "worried soul", I just don't like PUDDLES. So if an umbrella is going to avoid those, thank you in advance.
No, not yet. I already know basics, it's mostly getting the hang of the claws. Making fists is hard with the palm claw. I'm a little worried about stabbing myself.
[More than a smile, there's a laugh -- not witnessed, so there's absolutely no way to prove it. Still, Koby pauses to add a few little sparkles around the cartoon sword, and deepen the eyebrows. It's -- fun? Fun.
I've seen you worry a good amount. No puddles then. Any other requests while we're at it, princess?
Pick up kickboxing.
(Which actually might not be a bad idea, now that he's thinking about it properly.
When the sparkles are drawn, Mihawk makes a low noise. He's not smiling, but there is something close to softness on his face. Naturally, he draws Koby's glasses next with big eyes and a little smile.
It's not my fault I'm in a place that gives us constant things to worry about. And no, thank you. I'm heading back soon, though. A few more corridors.
I've thought about it. The only person I know who fights with their feet is Luffy's cook, though...well, he might enjoy the chance to beat the shit out of me, actually.
[He's mapping again, but he can multi-task, watching the little doodle of himself appear and laughing again, softly.] My glasses aren't THAT big! [They absolutely are.
And then -- a doodle of Mihawk, emphasis on the cheekbones and the facial hair and the bigass hat. And more sparkles, of course.]
No, you're absolutely right about that. Garp gave me a LOT to worry about, in my defense.
It's better than fumbling around and trying to figure out how to defend myself. I'd like to try another option first, if at all possible, but if that's all there is...
[Before he can stop himself:] It's how I see you. [A pause, a touch of the pen to the paper, like Koby's about to cross these words out too.
He does have a lot of ambition. Like some other people I could mention. [Pot, kettle.]
Relax. I don't think I can exactly get an updated prescription here, so I'm already planning on avoiding any punches to the face. I'd rather be a coward than blind.
You don't do that dazzling thing on purpose, then? Smoldering. Whatever. I'm too tired to find the right words. I'm heading back.
You aren't at all wrong about that. It seems to be an epidemic. [Koby, you're literally no better, you're trying to be a one-man do-good system in scary witchland.]
Zoro? Do you think he might agree? I did throw up on his shoes when I first got here.
Smoldering. [Underlined here.]
All right. I need to eat something first, if that's all right. And sleep for maybe...10 minutes? Is that okay?
Better than a world of indifferent souls, I suppose.
I think he will somehow forgive you considering I nearly killed him back in our world and now he is going to be my student. Things change. Especially here.
Look at us.
(Not that he ever attempted to kill Koby, but he can't imagine they would have ever slept together back home.)
I'll keep that in mind.
(Mihawk stares at the notebook, hesitating. So far they pretty much only saw each other to have sex, but he doesn't...mind this. He just doesn't know if he should say as much.)
Do what you want. If you are so tired, you can just go to sleep properly. I can leave.
You're swordsmen, it's different. You don't operate like normal people. [Um??? Brat.]
But I guess you're right. This is definitely one of the outcomes I least anticipated. [And you know he had allll kinds of terrible worst-case scenarios seconds after arriving here.
Koby hesitates as well before replying, seriously considering just letting Mihawk leave. But then:] What I want is to see you. If you're patient enough to wait, that is. And if you trust it'll be worth it.
You have your own sort of weird connection thing. You can almost kill each other and it's just a compliment you didn't ACTUALLY kill each other. I don't understand it at all.
[Koby has...no idea how to react to that. He'd anticipated being shot down, or at least griped at about having to wait to get laid. Something Mihawk had said -- your value is not based on what you can or can't do for others -- echoes back to him, but he shoves it away. He can't afford to think like that. It's never been true before, why would it be true now?
Instead, he packs up his supplies and starts back towards his room, pausing to scribble:] Maybe I want to. I can want THAT as much as you can. [You aren't the only one who's horny sometimes, Mihawk.]
It is about honor and integrity. He understands that better than most I have met who ignorantly swing about pathetic sticks they have found.
(He feels deeply about swords and swordsmanship. He actually almost gets into an entire speech about it but realizes that Koby probably wouldn't have too much interest.
Mihawk never prioritized sex in his life and even though Koby was addictive, he wasn't the sort of man to sulk over not getting off. He probably would have just wound up reading while Koby slept or rested.
He stares at the notebook, at Koby's response, and he realizes that Koby is young and maybe he did want it every time they were together. It makes enough sense, really. That seemed to be their arrangement so maybe an offer of time spent without it wasn't something on Koby's mind.
But really, he doesn't mind. It's fine.)
You do know saying words like 'fuck' or 'sex' won't get you in trouble, don't you?
That's exactly what I'm talking about. Who says things like "pathetic sticks"?
[Truthfully, Koby would be interested to hear that speech -- Mihawk's twice his age and probably has hundreds of fascinating stories. But that falls solely into the dangerous "doing things that aren't sex" category, which he is trying so staunchly to avoid.
Walking with his arms full makes responding difficult, but Koby does pause long enough to doodle something in response -- a drawing of himself, glasses and all, sticking his tongue out. Mature!
Then, several minutes later:] Can you get the door?
People who have seen what others consider to be swords.
(It's so offensive sometimes, Koby. Mihawk's tragic backstory is actually just dealing with shitty fighters and a lot of people who think they knew what it meant to be a swordsman.
This might inspire the slightest smile. He doesn't respond, mostly because he's tidying up Koby's room for an excuse to pass the time.
Only a few seconds after Koby sends his message, Mihawk is at the door, swinging it open. He's without his hat and without his cloak. Loose black trousers sitting low on bare hips. Are u sure you want that nap first-)
[Yes, Mihawk, you have the insurmountable burden of being the only person who really understands swords. Koby us so sympathetic.
His room could use it -- there are books and stacks of papers everywhere, mostly map fragments and lists of things people have asked for and potential places to supply them. There's also a detailed description of the healing ritual, and the mostly-untouched wine bottle of blood.
And then Koby's back, arms full of more papers, blinking at Mihawk for a moment. He'd expected him to be there, of course, but the lack of hat or cloak is...unexpected. Maybe it's the long day and how tired he is, but there's a brief, very warm smile on Koby's face as he steps into the room.]
Hi. [None of the clothes here fit right, all either too baggy or too fitted, so Koby's settled for a loose shirt that keeps falling off one shoulder or the other, and pants he has to pin at the top to keep from falling down. Not quite as impressive as Mihawk manages to make a simple pair of pants look.]
(Mihawk winds up just staring intensely back at Koby, his jaw clenching ever so slightly at the sight of that warm smile. Things would make more sense if Koby would just stop looking at him like that.
...And also if he started to wear more fitting clothes. Mihawk doesn't respond. He follows the line of Koby's exposed shoulder and then scales down. He reaches out and takes the papers from Koby and sets them aside. Silently, he reaches out and closes the door to lock it.
Then he proceeds to just. Pick Koby up right by the hips and bring their mouths together because Koby didn't need to eat or sleep first, he needed to maybe get undressed and then some first. Though who knows. Mihawk would probably stop if he's asked to.)
[Koby is genuinely exhausted -- he's been out mapping and checking in on people since early that morning. His hands are smudged with ink, his eyes are dry from staring intently at his notes, trying to make them fit together, his feet hurt from standing and walking so much.
And then, all of a sudden, he's being swept up into Mihawk's arms and none of that matters anymore. Koby forgets about being tired, or hungry, or wanting anything beyond his mouth sealed to Mihawk's, his hands coming up to cradle the older man's face, leaving smudges of ink. He hooks both legs over Mihawk's hips, presses forward against the warmth of his bare chest, kisses him deep and eager and hungry.
Even when they pull apart to breathe, Koby doesn't think about sleeping or eating. He takes a shaky breath, hands sliding down to rest on Mihawk's shoulders. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and he looks tired, but he's still got that warm, happy little smile on his face.
Again, softer:] Hi. [Unspoken: I missed you. I'm glad you stayed.]
(Koby looks good exhausted like this. Mihawk planned to thoroughly relax the cadet before he actually went to bed. He had an idea or two in mind and from the look of Koby's smile, he was already on the right path.)
Hello, dearest. How was work? (He drawls it with dripping sarcasm, yet there's something like sincerity there too. I was waiting for you. I missed you too. He kisses Koby back with just as much hunger, just as much depth. He moves them to the bed, lowering Koby down onto his back, and hovering over him. He kisses Koby a few more times on the mouth before he sits back onto his calves.
He takes off Koby's shoes, one after the other, then socks. Almost as if he knew, Mihawk stops for a moment to grind his thumb into the arch of Koby's foot, massaging deep.)
You chide me about my shirt and yet yours barely fit.
Shut up. [It's soft, no real heat behind it, especially not when followed up by more of those kisses. Koby had never really understood the appeal of kissing before, but he's also well aware that not everyone kisses like Mihawk does.
Propping himself up on his elbows, he watches in mild amusement at the removal of his (also ill-fitting) footwear. Usually Mihawk isn't this meticulous, and Koby wonders vaguely what his plans are. And then those skilled fingers are massaging deep into his aching foot and -- well, Mihawk's inspired some truly embarrassing sounds from Koby since their arrival, but the groan this prompts is near-pornographic.
And the young marine can't bring himself to care, too busy flopping back onto his back and surrendering entirely to the blissful feeling of Mihawk's clever hands banishing the aches from his feet.] That -- I didn't know you knew how to do that.
[Still on his back, Koby pushes his glasses up (a bad habit, they're going to get cracked one of these days) and rubs at his eyes.] Nothing ever fits me right. My shoulders aren't broad enough for most men's shirts, but my chest is too flat for any women's. [Also he has terrible posture, but he's in denial about that.]
(At this point he knows that Koby doesn't have much bite when it comes to telling him things like this. Granted, even if he did, Mihawk wouldn't be put off by it.
No, he wasn't, and truthfully, in the past when he slept with people, it was usually under rushed or short circumstances. There was never any reason or benefit to taking his time. He had nowhere to be tonight and Koby had insisted on him coming over anyway. And...if he's being honest...Those messages had been a pleasant surprise.
He scoffs quietly when Koby lets out that moan.)
It isn't exactly a complex skill.
(Any swordsman worth his weight should have strong fingers. Now that he knew Koby could do with a bit of a massage, he worked on the rest of the foot, rolling Koby's ankle. He hums while Koby talks, filing the information away. It made sense though. He can't imagine it was easy to find a cut for Koby's particular body.
He moves to the other foot, digging his thumb into the arch.)
You do have a wonderful chest.
(Sliding his thumb up the center of Koby's foot, he looks up at him, watching him rub at his eyes.)
I'm sure someone around here would be able to help you with that. I have heard making adjustments to loose clothes isn't too difficult.
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Koby eased that somewhat.
Quite more than Mihawk cared to admit. He realizes rather sullenly that he is actually waiting for Koby's replies when they finally come. How embarrassing.)
Koby, I might think you are concerned for my well-being if you keep talking like that.
Good. You'll be a quick study, I'm sure.
Okay. Do you need anything then for when I come?
Yet I seem to amuse you just fine.
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I don't want you bringing puddles into my room, that's all.
Thank you. The healing ritual is all I know right now, but that seems like more than enough for the moment.
No.
Just yMaybe more ink? I'm almost out again.It's not because of your stupid jokes, I can tell you that much.
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I don't know if I have ever been sick a day in my life. A little rain won't do much. But if it soothes your worried soul, I can create an umbrella.
A useful skill. And have you found anyone to teach you some fighting basics yet?
(Oh, he knows what you were going to say there.)
Consider it done.
You crush my ego.
(There's a longer beat. And then, miraculously, he draws a cartoonish rendition of Yoru but with dramatic eyebrows, eyes, and a mouth, the face scowling deeply. He's not doing it to make Koby smile or anything it's just a thing to do.)
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No, not yet. I already know basics, it's mostly getting the hang of the claws. Making fists is hard with the palm claw. I'm a little worried about stabbing myself.
[More than a smile, there's a laugh -- not witnessed, so there's absolutely no way to prove it. Still, Koby pauses to add a few little sparkles around the cartoon sword, and deepen the eyebrows. It's -- fun? Fun.
He can't remember the last time he had fun.]
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Pick up kickboxing.
(Which actually might not be a bad idea, now that he's thinking about it properly.
When the sparkles are drawn, Mihawk makes a low noise. He's not smiling, but there is something close to softness on his face. Naturally, he draws Koby's glasses next with big eyes and a little smile.
He might be having fun too.)
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I've thought about it. The only person I know who fights with their feet is Luffy's cook, though...well, he might enjoy the chance to beat the shit out of me, actually.
[He's mapping again, but he can multi-task, watching the little doodle of himself appear and laughing again, softly.] My glasses aren't THAT big! [They absolutely are.
And then -- a doodle of Mihawk, emphasis on the cheekbones and the facial hair and the bigass hat. And more sparkles, of course.]
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(The idea of anyone beating the shit out of Koby sure makes him feel a way.)
That is not training. And I would prefer it if you did not just flippantly go around letting yourself get beat up.
Debatable.
(It's okay, he wore a big hat and carried even a bigger sword. Men liked big things it was just their idiotic way.
He snorts at the picture of himself.)
Is that you how you see the world? Covered in glitter?
(TEASING...)
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It's better than fumbling around and trying to figure out how to defend myself. I'd like to try another option first, if at all possible, but if that's all there is...
[Before he can stop himself:] It's how I see you. [A pause, a touch of the pen to the paper, like Koby's about to cross these words out too.
But he doesn't.]
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Allow me to be clearer: do not go around and ask to be beaten up. I would prefer to spend our evenings doing other things rather than nursing you.
(...............That's............almost as cute as it is concerning. Not that he finds it cute.)
You have a peculiar way of looking at me.
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Relax. I don't think I can exactly get an updated prescription here, so I'm already planning on avoiding any punches to the face. I'd rather be a coward than blind.
You don't do that dazzling thing on purpose, then? Smoldering. Whatever. I'm too tired to find the right words. I'm heading back.
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I'm only ever relaxed. Perhaps I can ask Zoro to offer you some guidance.
Smoldering? (Another snort.)
I'll be here.
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Zoro? Do you think he might agree? I did throw up on his shoes when I first got here.
Smoldering. [Underlined here.]
All right. I need to eat something first, if that's all right. And sleep for maybe...10 minutes? Is that okay?
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I think he will somehow forgive you considering I nearly killed him back in our world and now he is going to be my student. Things change. Especially here.
Look at us.
(Not that he ever attempted to kill Koby, but he can't imagine they would have ever slept together back home.)
I'll keep that in mind.
(Mihawk stares at the notebook, hesitating. So far they pretty much only saw each other to have sex, but he doesn't...mind this. He just doesn't know if he should say as much.)
Do what you want. If you are so tired, you can just go to sleep properly. I can leave.
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But I guess you're right. This is definitely one of the outcomes I least anticipated. [And you know he had allll kinds of terrible worst-case scenarios seconds after arriving here.
Koby hesitates as well before replying, seriously considering just letting Mihawk leave. But then:] What I want is to see you. If you're patient enough to wait, that is. And if you trust it'll be worth it.
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(He definitely knows. He might not have known Koby for long, but he knew him well enough to figure it wasn't the easiest transition.
Ah.
Maybe this shouldn't be so surprising after all their shared messages.)
I can stay. It is worth it well enough on its own. You don't need to do anything additional.
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[Koby has...no idea how to react to that. He'd anticipated being shot down, or at least griped at about having to wait to get laid. Something Mihawk had said -- your value is not based on what you can or can't do for others -- echoes back to him, but he shoves it away. He can't afford to think like that. It's never been true before, why would it be true now?
Instead, he packs up his supplies and starts back towards his room, pausing to scribble:] Maybe I want to. I can want THAT as much as you can. [You aren't the only one who's horny sometimes, Mihawk.]
Be back in twenty minutes.
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(He feels deeply about swords and swordsmanship. He actually almost gets into an entire speech about it but realizes that Koby probably wouldn't have too much interest.
Mihawk never prioritized sex in his life and even though Koby was addictive, he wasn't the sort of man to sulk over not getting off. He probably would have just wound up reading while Koby slept or rested.
He stares at the notebook, at Koby's response, and he realizes that Koby is young and maybe he did want it every time they were together. It makes enough sense, really. That seemed to be their arrangement so maybe an offer of time spent without it wasn't something on Koby's mind.
But really, he doesn't mind. It's fine.)
You do know saying words like 'fuck' or 'sex' won't get you in trouble, don't you?
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[Truthfully, Koby would be interested to hear that speech -- Mihawk's twice his age and probably has hundreds of fascinating stories. But that falls solely into the dangerous "doing things that aren't sex" category, which he is trying so staunchly to avoid.
Walking with his arms full makes responding difficult, but Koby does pause long enough to doodle something in response -- a drawing of himself, glasses and all, sticking his tongue out. Mature!
Then, several minutes later:] Can you get the door?
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(It's so offensive sometimes, Koby. Mihawk's tragic backstory is actually just dealing with shitty fighters and a lot of people who think they knew what it meant to be a swordsman.
This might inspire the slightest smile. He doesn't respond, mostly because he's tidying up Koby's room for an excuse to pass the time.
Only a few seconds after Koby sends his message, Mihawk is at the door, swinging it open. He's without his hat and without his cloak. Loose black trousers sitting low on bare hips. Are u sure you want that nap first-)
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His room could use it -- there are books and stacks of papers everywhere, mostly map fragments and lists of things people have asked for and potential places to supply them. There's also a detailed description of the healing ritual, and the mostly-untouched wine bottle of blood.
And then Koby's back, arms full of more papers, blinking at Mihawk for a moment. He'd expected him to be there, of course, but the lack of hat or cloak is...unexpected. Maybe it's the long day and how tired he is, but there's a brief, very warm smile on Koby's face as he steps into the room.]
Hi. [None of the clothes here fit right, all either too baggy or too fitted, so Koby's settled for a loose shirt that keeps falling off one shoulder or the other, and pants he has to pin at the top to keep from falling down. Not quite as impressive as Mihawk manages to make a simple pair of pants look.]
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...And also if he started to wear more fitting clothes. Mihawk doesn't respond. He follows the line of Koby's exposed shoulder and then scales down. He reaches out and takes the papers from Koby and sets them aside. Silently, he reaches out and closes the door to lock it.
Then he proceeds to just. Pick Koby up right by the hips and bring their mouths together because Koby didn't need to eat or sleep first, he needed to maybe get undressed and then some first. Though who knows. Mihawk would probably stop if he's asked to.)
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And then, all of a sudden, he's being swept up into Mihawk's arms and none of that matters anymore. Koby forgets about being tired, or hungry, or wanting anything beyond his mouth sealed to Mihawk's, his hands coming up to cradle the older man's face, leaving smudges of ink. He hooks both legs over Mihawk's hips, presses forward against the warmth of his bare chest, kisses him deep and eager and hungry.
Even when they pull apart to breathe, Koby doesn't think about sleeping or eating. He takes a shaky breath, hands sliding down to rest on Mihawk's shoulders. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and he looks tired, but he's still got that warm, happy little smile on his face.
Again, softer:] Hi. [Unspoken: I missed you. I'm glad you stayed.]
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Hello, dearest. How was work? (He drawls it with dripping sarcasm, yet there's something like sincerity there too. I was waiting for you. I missed you too. He kisses Koby back with just as much hunger, just as much depth. He moves them to the bed, lowering Koby down onto his back, and hovering over him. He kisses Koby a few more times on the mouth before he sits back onto his calves.
He takes off Koby's shoes, one after the other, then socks. Almost as if he knew, Mihawk stops for a moment to grind his thumb into the arch of Koby's foot, massaging deep.)
You chide me about my shirt and yet yours barely fit.
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Propping himself up on his elbows, he watches in mild amusement at the removal of his (also ill-fitting) footwear. Usually Mihawk isn't this meticulous, and Koby wonders vaguely what his plans are. And then those skilled fingers are massaging deep into his aching foot and -- well, Mihawk's inspired some truly embarrassing sounds from Koby since their arrival, but the groan this prompts is near-pornographic.
And the young marine can't bring himself to care, too busy flopping back onto his back and surrendering entirely to the blissful feeling of Mihawk's clever hands banishing the aches from his feet.] That -- I didn't know you knew how to do that.
[Still on his back, Koby pushes his glasses up (a bad habit, they're going to get cracked one of these days) and rubs at his eyes.] Nothing ever fits me right. My shoulders aren't broad enough for most men's shirts, but my chest is too flat for any women's. [Also he has terrible posture, but he's in denial about that.]
flees 2 this at last
No, he wasn't, and truthfully, in the past when he slept with people, it was usually under rushed or short circumstances. There was never any reason or benefit to taking his time. He had nowhere to be tonight and Koby had insisted on him coming over anyway. And...if he's being honest...Those messages had been a pleasant surprise.
He scoffs quietly when Koby lets out that moan.)
It isn't exactly a complex skill.
(Any swordsman worth his weight should have strong fingers. Now that he knew Koby could do with a bit of a massage, he worked on the rest of the foot, rolling Koby's ankle. He hums while Koby talks, filing the information away. It made sense though. He can't imagine it was easy to find a cut for Koby's particular body.
He moves to the other foot, digging his thumb into the arch.)
You do have a wonderful chest.
(Sliding his thumb up the center of Koby's foot, he looks up at him, watching him rub at his eyes.)
I'm sure someone around here would be able to help you with that. I have heard making adjustments to loose clothes isn't too difficult.
EMBRACES
cw: probably themes of transphobia and gender stuff moving forward
DEFS lmao
Re: DEFS lmao
cw: very vague assault allusions
Re: cw: very vague assault allusions
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i can't believe they invented love
LITERALLY i'm literally feral abt them
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a mile long of pining lmao
put that tag in the moma tbqh
Re: put that tag in the moma tbqh
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