#I wish we talked a bit more about that one tbh

[joojeans]

˚◞♡ ⃗ Unfinished Business

♡ Sort-of-kind-of-Boyfriend!K x Afab!Reader x Former Flame!Fuma

♡ Summary: K is the perfect... what would you call him? Boyfriend? FWB? Neither feel quite right. But he's perfect. You just didn't know how perfect he was until he gave you a once in a lifetime opportunity with a former flame that you never quite got out of your head... that also happens to be one of his friends.

♡ WC: 7.6k

♡ Content: threesome but no mxm contact, variations of the word 'fuck' used literally 42 times, pet names, a singular 'good girl' mention (it's fuma leave me alone), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex (be smart), creampie x2, lil bit of dumbification, dirty talk, fuma and k talking about reader as if she isn't there (objectifying her but she loves it), clit play, breast play, maybeee a bit of humiliation if you're easily embarrassed, reader is wearing a skirt, reader has at least shoulder length hair, fuma can lift reader (fuma can lift anything lbr), only half proofread but tbh i never proofread anything

One of your favorite things about dating K is that he’s always down. Any time, anywhere, any thing. 

You’ve been seeing each other for a few months now–it’s not exactly a romance, but it’s not exactly friends with benefits either. You go on dates, have fun together, have sleepovers, have sex. You guess it’s called ‘casual dating.’ You’re not trying to be the love of each others’ lives, but from what you’ve gathered, neither of you is seeing anyone else either. It’s nice. There’s no pressure, no competition for each other’s time or attention. Just a lot of good time spent together smiling and laughing and fucking.

You weren’t planning on seeing each other tonight. K had plans to hang out with one of his friends and you were probably going to stay at home, taking a long, steamy bath while you wished you were in K’s bed instead.

That is until you overheard a coworker talking about a new romance movie showing at the cinema.

To anyone else, texting your sort-of kind-of boyfriend to see a romance movie with you in the middle of the work day would sound like a sweet date. 

You and K aren’t anyone else.

Since you’ve been dating, you’ve made a hobby out of watching cheesy romance movies to laugh and recreate the scenes in an obscenely over-the-top manner that the movies definitely don’t deserve. They’re really very nice, most of the time. But it’s much more fun to pick them apart and over exaggerate their often unrealistic plot lines. You’ve found yourselves laughing on your apartment floor more than a couple times doing just that.

You really didn’t expect K to agree to go. You only texted him about it today (read: last minute) and he already told you earlier in the week that he had plans tonight. Fortunately, you’re dating an impressive man that has all the energy needed to make time for everything when necessary. He agreed to go as long as you were okay with knowing that you would be going home separately this time. Neither of you were particularly thrilled about this “going home separately” business, but sometimes concessions must be made. 

You stumble out of the cinema with K’s hand in yours, both of you giggling like you share a secret. You got a lot of new material from this movie, all while being fed popcorn by the one person that seems to make you excited to be alive. He looks gorgeous when he’s joyous like this–eyes glittering as he looks at you, almost watering from laughing so hard. He stands in front of you, holding both hands now, and leans down to give you a kiss. It’s a i-wish-we-could-spend-more-time-together-tonight kiss. Your lips agree.

He pulls back to pull his phone out of his pocket just enough to check the time. He almost scowls at it. It feels good knowing that he doesn’t want to leave you either.

“You shouldn’t have made me come out with you tonight. Now I don’t want to go.” He finally says the words out loud as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You turn your head and gently bite the flesh of his palm, making him smirk. “So don’t.”

K is quiet for a few moments, trailing his fingers over your jaw and up the underside of your chin. He’s thinking about it. 

He eventually sighs with a playful smile, pulling you closer to him by your chin as he leans in to kiss you again. “Always so tempting.”

He releases you and looks down at his phone again. You presume someone texted him because he looks around and waves at a car parked somewhere behind you. Damn. Not tempting enough.

“Walk me to the car.” He’s grinning as he says this, eating up the opportunity to have you be chivalrous. Without giving you a choice in the matter, he takes your hand and pulls you with him, walking backwards as he makes cute faces at you. Buttering you up for when he eventually leaves. Of course, it’s working.

As the two of you close in on the car parked by the sidewalk, you see the driver’s side door open and close. You’re paying too much attention to K to take proper notice of who’s walking towards K, only vaguely registering that it’s a man with sandy colored hair.

K sees him before you do somehow–despite literally facing the opposite direction. You guess it’s because K was mindful of his presence already and you, frankly, couldn’t care less about anyone’s presence but K’s right now. K spins around as he and the man meet near the passenger side door of the car, tugging you along with him. “Y/n, this is–”

Fuma.

You didn’t hear K say his name. You didn’t need to. Your ears started ringing the second you registered the man’s face. Fuma.

Fuma seems to have had a similar response because he doesn’t move to shake your hand or say anything. He’s just looking at you, leaning against the side of the car with his arms crossed. I’ll let you take this one, he seems to be saying. Are you going to pretend to be strangers or are you going to tell K the truth?

The truth is that about seven months ago, Fuma was your man of choice. You weren’t in a relationship, but god did you want to be. You both did, you’re pretty sure.

You went on about four dates with him. You didn’t do much talking between dates–just a few texts here and there during the day–but those dates… They were all-consuming.

Being out with Fuma felt like being in a trance. That’s the only way you can think of to describe it. The way he looked at you so intently–with purpose. The way he so gingerly helped you out of the car or lifted you into his arms when your heel broke outside the nice restaurant you were leaving. The way he didn’t need to fill the silence when he was with you because you could communicate perfectly just with your eyes. The way you desperately wanted him to spin you around and fuck you on the hood of his car instead of letting you go back into your apartment alone. Again.

You never did have sex with Fuma and that was not by choice. God, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone to fuck you as bad as you wanted Fuma to fuck you. Just being in his presence was enough to have your panties sticking to you. Just the possibility that he could choose to sleep with you was so exciting that you almost didn’t care that he never did. Well, okay, that’s not entirely true. You really wanted to sleep with him. But the “will they, won’t they” was a good high too.

You wish you two stopped seeing each other for some reason that would make you less attracted to him at this moment, but regrettably, that’s not the case. The only reason you stopped seeing each other is because he got really busy with some work stuff you don’t exactly know the details about and the texts slowed and slowed until they stopped altogether.

If you’d had it your way, you never would’ve stopped seeing him.

Now? You still feel similarly, but you wouldn’t trade what you have with K for anything. You wish you would’ve had a bit more time with Fuma before meeting K and you wish you didn’t still feel your pussy throb at the sight of him, but K is, without a doubt, your priority now. You intend to make that crystal clear to your traitorous body.

You smile politely at Fuma who is clearly fighting off a smirk in return. His gaze drops down your body before meeting your eyes again. It’s quick enough that K doesn’t notice it. In fairness, K has no reason to be looking for it. Not yet. 

But the worst part is the way Fuma is looking at you now.

You swallow thickly, the fire behind his eyes so hot that you can feel yourself getting third degree burns even from a few feet away. You can’t remember him ever looking at you like this. Sure, there were times where he looked at you like he wanted to kiss you more or maybe even see what you had going on beneath your clothes, but it was never like this. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, enjoying his feast the whole way through.

Fuck.

“Hi,” you manage to get out. You need to say something before K realizes that you and Fuma are playing a little game he’s not privy to. It’s also vague… it doesn’t imply that you know each other nor does it imply that you’re strangers. It’s just… hi.

“Hello,” Fuma says, his voice low. That mother fucker. The only other time you’ve heard him use that voice was after your last date. You’d called him not long after he dropped you off at home to tell him you had a good time and to drop hints that you wanted him to take you home with him next time. Being the smart man that he is, Fuma didn’t need any help picking up those hints. You knew he understood your coy attempts by the way he’d said you’re going to look so pretty when you sleep here as he got into his own bed. In that stupid fucking voice that’s making your knees quake even now.

“Dude?” You turn at the sound of K’s voice to find his head cocked as he looks curiously at Fuma, then at you, then at Fuma. He’s smiling like he’s not in on the joke–amused but so very confused. 

“What?” Fuma asks, brows raised in what you’d call challenge.

K hesitates for a moment. Maybe he can sense the vibe between you two too. “Am… Am I missing something here? I’ve never heard your voice like that, dude.”

Fuma glances towards you, giving you the chance to sort out what’s quickly becoming something of a mess. K’s eyes follow his gaze. His brows raise as he stares at the side of your face.

“Okay, what’s going on? This is so weird.”

Your throat feels tight. It really shouldn’t be a big deal that you and Fuma used to see each other before you met K. You were single and it’s not like you knew K was friends with Fuma when you started seeing him. You and K are… well, you’re not sure what you are. But you’re not exactly in a committed relationship. At least, you don’t think so. So why is it so hard for you to just tell him the truth?

Because you still want Fuma to fuck you as badly as you did then, your brain bluntly spells out for you.

Obviously, you can’t say that.

You clear your throat, a sheepish smile curling on your lips as you look at K. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that… we know each other.”

K’s head cocks again, more curious.

“We dated,” Fuma clarifies.

K’s looking at Fuma again now. He looks like he’s waiting for Fuma to tell him it’s all a joke, but he never does.

To your surprise, K just starts laughing.

“Oh, thank god. You guys were being so weird I thought something was really wrong.” His arm slinks around your shoulder.

Okay…

Not wanting to ruin your apparent get out jail free card, you laugh too. Fuma throws in a chuckle as well. All of you seem to be relieved.

Why does this feel weird?

K is looking down at you adoringly, dropping his head to kiss your forehead before turning back to Fuma.

“So, what? Was it just like one date or… Oh my god, did you guys sleep together?” He’s laughing as he asks. He really doesn’t care.

Unless this is him being hysterical before he snaps.

But you don’t think so.

Your cheeks feel warm at this question. The answer is obviously no, but if he would’ve asked if you wanted to sleep together, well…

“No,” Fuma answers. You’re grateful that he seems to be taking the lead here. You’re feeling a combination of arousal and nerves that’s making it hard to think straight.

“I was being a gentleman. She only just escaped me.”

Your mouth goes dry at those words. What the fuck does that mean?

Did he want you just as badly? Was he restraining himself for your benefit? Why is that so hot? Why is that so fucking frustrating? ‘Escaped?’ What was he going to do to you on your next date? Is the offer still on the table? 

Shut up, y/n. It doesn’t matter.

K sputters out yet another laugh, this one born of disbelief.

“Maybe that’s where you went wrong, dude. I didn’t do that and here we are.”

Your jaw literally drops and K sees it in his peripheral vision.

“Fuck, y/n. I didn’t mean anything by that. You know that, right? I was just messing around.”

Really, you’re not mad. He’s right. Back then, you were desperate for Fuma to stop being such a gentleman. If only he was as good at reading you as K seems to be.

“I know, I know. Don’t worry. I’m not upset.” You smile at him, your fingers playing with his as they drape over your shoulder.

“Is he right?”

Your eyes widen. You look at Fuma. He doesn’t seem to be joking.

“What?” 

“Is he right?” Fuma repeats. “Should I have been less of a gentleman?”

What do you even say right now? Answering that would feel like disrespecting K in front of his face. You look at him for guidance, your eyes screaming help. Tell your friend to chill out. Tell him it’s none of his business. Tell him it doesn’t matter now.

K gestures towards Fuma with his free hand, giving you a single nod as if to say go ahead, answer him.

“Uh, I–” You’re struggling to put together a response that’s somehow honest but respectful but clear at the same time.

“Yeah. Kinda. I guess.”

God, you sound like such a dumbass, don’t you? You were going for nonchalant, noncommittal. Instead, you sound like a blubbering idiot.

They both laugh. You don’t know what reaction you were expecting, but you weren’t expecting them to laugh.

“Dude, she was waiting for you to make a move. You’re such an idiot!” 

“Excuse me for trying to be respectful.”

“Respectful? Respect her wishes!”

“Okay, okay. Yeah. I dropped the ball.”

“BIG time.”

You’re listening to them go back and forth, feeling like you’re in the twilight zone. This is all so bizarre.

“Fuck, dude. You really missed out.”

You bite into your bottom lip at K’s words. Other women in your shoes might feel offended by the two of them talking like this, but you’re not those women.

You feel fucking powerful. 

Two of the hottest, most interesting men in the world talking about how much they want you? How good it is to have you like that?

Fucking yum.

K is gazing at you, his eyes showing you that he’s replaying every time you’ve slept together in his head. He takes your jaw lightly in his hand, brushing his thumb over it as he gives you a sneak peek at the inner desires of his mind, his eyes holding yours hostage. “She’s fucking incredible.”

You shift on your feet, feeling that familiar stick between your thighs. 

Fuma hums. “I bet she is.”

A grin forms on K’s face–proud, cocky.

He lifts your gaze further, his hand tilting your jaw up–more of a show that you’ll let him handle you than anything else. “Tell me, y/n. Do you wish you would’ve slept together?”

“K–”

“Just tell me the truth, pretty. I won’t be mad.”

A moment of silence. 

Then two. 

Then three.

“I–yeah.”

God, you feel like you could fall off the face of the earth right now.

K hums this time, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. You’re not sure if he’s pleased by your honesty or pleased by the answer itself. You don’t dare look at Fuma. 

“Good, baby. I appreciate your honesty.” He leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, his hand never releasing its hold on your jaw.

He gives a sidelong glance to Fuma and looks back at you.

“Would you want to… now? If I brought him back to my place with us?”

Fucking what?!

Sensing your confusion in the slackening of your jaw and the way your eyes round, K chuckles softly and elaborates. “I’m not trying to trick you.” His hand moves from your jaw to card through your hair, surely trying to relax you. “It seems like you two have… unfinished business.” A playful smile. “I don’t mind letting him see what he’s been missing–what I get to have.”

You must be dreaming. No, you’re just full-on hallucinating at this point.

“That is, if you want to. And if he wants to… but I know the fucker. He wants to.”

K glances towards Fuma and raises his brow, proving how well he knows him when Fuma rolls his eyes but nods his head.

This is what wet dreams are made of.

You exhale a shaky breath, not realizing you were holding one. “K, I don’t think–”

“Don’t think. Don’t use your head, baby. Do you want it?” K’s fingers glide over your scalp and down the back of your neck, your head instinctively tilting up to him, baring yourself to him. “Yes or no? Quick.”

“Yes.”

“There we are.”

K’s lips find yours again, this time kissing you properly. You sigh into his mouth as he tilts his head, feeling like you’re so deeply embedded in a fantasy world you never want to return from. You risk opening your eyes to peek at Fuma who is not-so-secretly using this moment to ogle your body. Fuck, you love how it feels when he looks at you like that. You lock eyes for a moment and he winks at you.

How does he still look so casual? Does nothing get under his skin?

K gently tugs on your bottom lip as he breaks the kiss, giving you one last reassuring peck before standing up straight again. 

“Alright, well, that settles it.”

You and Fuma are both just standing there, letting K dictate every move. You get the feeling that Fuma isn’t usually one to let anyone else run the show, but he’s smart enough to play his cards right when presented with an opportunity this good.

“Fuma, keys.” K holds up his hand, waiting for Fuma to toss them. Fuma doesn’t toss them right away, needing an explanation. With a lighthearted scoff, K grins. “You’re going to sit in the back with y/n. It’s probably best for you two to… warm up… to each other, don’t you think?”

Your heart is in your ass. You really need someone to pinch you.

Without a word, Fuma tosses K his keys.

K’s hand slides down your forearm, lacing his fingers through yours. “Let me know if you get uncomfortable at any point, okay?” He murmurs, giving your hand a squeeze. When you nod, he opens the back door of Fuma’s car, helping you in, making sure you sit in the middle seat. He kisses your forehead again and gives your thigh a squeeze just below your skirt before retreating to the sidewalk.

You hear K talking to Fuma, but you can’t quite make out what they’re saying–partially because you can’t hear with all the noise outside and partially because your heart is racing in your ears. None of this feels real. You’re in an unfamiliar car–the car that belongs to a man you used to date–and you’re about to be on your way to your current boyfriend(?)’s apartment so you can presumably fuck them both. Reality could never be this good.

You have to glance at yourself in the rearview mirror to assure yourself this is real, but you don’t believe yourself.

The light in the car shifts, alerting you to Fuma sliding into the backseat next to you. He’s already focused on you when K shuts the door behind him, his eyes on yours. You stare at each other, seemingly accepting this reality at the same time, only breaking eye contact when the driver’s door closes in front of you.

You both look up, meeting K’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He’s smiling in a cheeky way that makes you want to both smack and kiss him.

“Pretend I’m not here,” he says, waving his hand. “Well… don’t. But do. You know what I mean.”

K’s easygoing attitude is really helping to loosen some of the knots in your belly, though they’re only replaced with more knots–anticipatory knots. You’ll take those, though. 

You welcome those.

Fuma takes the request at face value, moving closer to you in small scoots until his thick thigh is pressed against the outer side of yours. Your stomach does a little flip that you hope Fuma doesn’t pick up on.

“Is this okay?” He asks, moving your hair behind your shoulder closest to him with a sweep of his finger.

You nod, you smile. Fuma smiles.

“That’s good,” he rumbles, dipping his head down to press a soft kiss to your jaw just in front of your ear. “You look gorgeous tonight, y/n.”

“T-thank you,” you stutter out, goosebumps spreading over your body at his nearness.

“Mm,” he hums in response. “Can you look at me?”

You turn your head slowly, thrilled but nervous. Fuma’s gaze settles on your lips, tracing them. He lifts his gaze back to yours and leans in, slotting his lips with yours as his hand finds its way to your waist.

Okay, so we’re not wasting any time with pleasantries. That’s fine. The two of you wasted more than enough time those months ago.

You melt into Fuma’s kiss, your hand catching the front of his shirt at his chest. He kisses you slow for minutes, you’re sure, never once using his tongue. His hand kneads down your waist to your hip, gripping. Your mouth parts in a silent gasp, effectively breaking the kiss.

Fuma chuckles, giving your hip a squeeze. “It’s that easy, huh?”

You should be fucking mortified but instead you’re wet. Soaking wet.

Fuma’s eyes drag down your body, removing his hand from you so there’s no buffer for his line of sight. Once he reaches your feet, they make their way back up, his hand sliding onto the top of your thigh. He rubs your knee for a fleeting moment before wrapping his hand over you, his fingertips resting on the inside of your lower thigh. He catches your gaze with his own, seeking out your reaction.

He only finds a spark of anticipation in your eyes, much to his delight.

Fuma leans in towards you again, this time hovering his lips near your ear. “You like that, right?” He’s asking but he already knows the answer. The way your skin jumps under his palm would give you away even if you tried to lie. He slides his hand up a smidge, continuing to speak directly into your ear. “You wanted me to touch you like this all those times, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Your face feels like it’s on fire at the question. You didn’t expect him to put you on the spot. 

“I just– I–”

“You just what, baby?” He’s both tender and provocative. His hand slides up further, dragging the hem of your skirt along with it.

“I guess I… I wanted you to want me so badly that you couldn’t help yourself.” Your eyes widen as the words come out of your mouth. You can’t believe you were so honest. You hadn’t intended to be.

True to character, Fuma doesn’t flinch at the blurted confession. He chuckles, his hand stopping its movement up your thigh to grip it, gently pulling it away from the other. Spreading you.

“If only you knew, y/n.”

You’re about to pass out. Your heart is beating out of your chest and you feel so drunk-dizzy and you haven’t gotten close to having everything you want tonight.

Luckily, K comes to your rescue. The sound of his voice is almost sobering but not quite. You had forgotten he was even there. It kinda makes you feel like shit but you kinda don’t care too much about being a decent person right now.

“What color panties is she wearing for us today?” is what K says.

You glare at K through the rearview mirror as if he didn’t just make your pussy flutter with excitement. He’s smug.

“Let’s see.” Fuma is speaking loud enough for K to hear now.

Fuma’s hand slides the rest of the way up your thigh, pooling your skirt at your waist. Your fingers curl into the backseat as you experience embarrassment laced with an addictive sensation you can’t quite put your finger on. Your spread thighs do nothing to hide your panties from either man.

“Looks like blue,” Fuma states much too matter-of-factly. His voice drops when he adds, “See through little things. You should see the wet spot on her.” He brushes said spot with the back of his knuckles, barely grazing.

You’re horrified when a needy moan immediately slips out of your mouth like it was just waiting to be released.

K tsks but he’s licking his lips in the rearview mirror. Fuma is smirking, spreading your thighs wider. 

“You really can’t wait, can you?” He teases, pulling your closest leg over his own. He rests his palm on your inner thigh, rubbing it up and down, getting within millimeters of your dampened panties but never touching that little spot again. You exhale a frustrated breath, your back arching slightly as you fight the urge to lift your hips and press against his hand yourself.

“Fuck, I love when she gets like that,” K rasps from up front.

“It’s cute,” Fuma agrees.

You take a deep breath, leaning your head back against the seat as you close your eyes. It’s too soon to be acting like a cat in heat. Even if that’s what you feel like right now.

Taking pity on you, Fuma gives you a little something to get you by. You feel him take your hand and place it over the crotch of his pants. You can tell that’s where you are by the cold metal of his zipper. Your fingers instinctively curl, a small hiss of delight leaving you when you feel that he’s hard beneath the fabric. He guides your hand, encouraging you to rub him, to feel what will soon be yours.

“Soon, pretty,” with a nip at your earlobe.

“Sooner than you think,” K adds.

You open your eyes to investigate K’s words, relieved when you see K pulling into the parking garage of his apartment complex. You laugh breathlessly, the delicious absurdity of the situation making you feel weightless.

K parks the car and gets out to open the back door for you. Fuma fixes your skirt and K offers you his hand, pulling you to meet him for a brief kiss before closing the door. He looks at you for a second, checking to make sure you’re still okay, and nods, placing your hand in Fuma’s when he makes his way around. K falls back, letting Fuma lead you ahead of him, watching.

Like everything else, it feels bizarre to have K just watch you be with another man, but like everything else, you like it. A lot.

K only moves ahead of you to unlock the door to his place.

K steps aside to let you inside first, Fuma leading you directly to K’s sectional. You can tell by the way he moves that he’s been here many times before and that makes your stomach twist excitedly. You never knew all the times you spent the night and the morning with K that the hypnotic man that escaped you had been here too. You’re surprised you couldn’t smell him–that’s how much you wanted him. How much you still want him.

Fuma doesn’t let go of your hand until he reaches the couch, turning to face you. Your heart freezes in your chest. He gives you a small smile and holds eye contact with you as he takes a seat in the middle of the couch. His hands find the backs of your thighs and gently pull forward until you’re straddling him, your hands on his shoulders with a soft oof. 

Fuma’s hands slide up the back of your thighs beneath your skirt, fingers playing with the hem of your panties. “Did you wear pretty panties like this for me?” He whispers the question against your lips but never kisses them.

You nod. You feel the couch sink next to you and glance over to see K watching you two. He’s enjoying this–flaunting you to Fuma.

Fuma’s hands work themselves underneath your panties, taking each cheek in a sandy palm. “Such a pretty fucking thing,” he mumbles against your ear as your gaze is still locked on K. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you’d swear K can tell by the way he smirks at you.

Surely he just knows what gets to you.

You reach for K’s crotch, index finger and thumb pulling at his zipper. You’re so fucking grateful for him right now. You can’t make him feel left out.

K lifts a brow and grins, taking it upon himself to finish opening up his pants.

“This what you want, baby?” He asks, fishing his cock out of boxers, stroking it as he watches your pupils dilate.

Yes. No. I want it inside of me. But yes. Fuck, yes.

You’re nodding but before you can answer him properly, Fuma is turning your cheek with his hand, devouring your lips the moment they reach his. You moan into his mouth, your hips involuntarily rocking against his lap, seeking something, anything to relieve your aching need. Fuma echoes your moan with a groan of his own, his hands settling on your hips to guide you–back and forth in his lap, back and forth against the throbbing erection in his pants.

“Lay over my lap, gorgeous.” A simple order from Fuma as his lips break from yours.

You do as you’re told, sliding off of Fuma’s lap onto the couch beside him. You get on your knees first and stretch yourself out, draping your body across his thighs, your cheek resting on K’s knee.

“Listening so well tonight, aren’t you, baby?” K praises, petting your hair affectionately.

“Yeah,” you say. “You’re so good to me,” you say.

K’s eyes sparkle at you in a similar way as when you exited the cinema earlier, but the mood feels much heavier with his hand stroking his cock in your face.

The good kind of heavy, of course.

Intense is probably the right word.

Fuma’s hands are readily exploring your lower body–wandering over the backs of your legs, pushing your skirt up to your waist, dipping between your soft thighs to rub the wet spot on your panties.

“A–aah,” you gasp.

Both men are chuckling, sharing a look with each other before training their attention back on you.

“So cute when you’re all sensitive,” K coos.

“So. Fucking. Tempting.” Fuma echoes, fingers prying your panties aside. His fingers make direct contact with your slippery core, hissing when his fingertip prods at your entrance only to find out that he could easily slip it inside you right now without any resistance. “Y/n, fuck. If you want something, you better tell me. You remember what happens when you keep it to yourself.”

Not. Fucking. Ever. Again.

You take a deep breath as you look at Fuma, finding it hard to regulate such a natural bodily function when your body only seems to care about being filled. Your hand reaches back, circling Fuma’s wrist as his pads continue to skate through your glossy folds. “I want your fingers in me,” you tell him with heated cheeks. “Wanna finally know what it feels like.”

“That’s a good girl,” Fuma rumbles, instantly rewarding your obedience with his middle finger, your walls gripping the single digit.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, your eyelids fluttering. You don’t know if it’s the physical sensation or the idea of Fuma’s fingers being inside of you that you like more.

“She loves being fingered. Gets my wrist fucking soaked,” K volunteers. 

Your pussy clenches again and Fuma clicks his tongue.

“Seems she also loves it when you talk about her like that.” Fuma inserts a second finger easily, his free hand moving under the front of your body and pushing up until you arch yourself for him. His fingers are pumping rhythmically inside you, occasionally but irregularly curling inside you so you’re never prepared for the extra bit of ecstasy. “You like having two men throbbing over you, don’t you?”

You nod eagerly, your mouth hanging open as you push back against Fuma’s fingers, fucking yourself on them as much as he’s fucking you with them.

K takes notice of your open mouth and takes hold of your face, tracing your lips with his thumb. He dips it inside, watching as you immediately close your lips around it, suckling. Just like he thought.

“I’ve got a good use for that open mouth, pretty.”

K’s hand pulls you forward, eyes silently telling you exactly what he wants, not that you had any questions. His hand is brushing your hair out of your face as you lower your head and snake your tongue out to taste the head of his cock. His hips buck at first contact and you moan, salivating over how sensitive he seems to be over all of this too.

You take K’s cock in your mouth, determined to make him feel better than ever for letting you have this night. This experience. You fight like hell to keep your focus on tonguing and sucking and swallowing his cock despite the way you’re trembling in Fuma’s lap, the wet sounds of his fingers plunging into you filling the small space the three of you share. 

It’s impossible, but fuck if you’re not trying.

You watch through watery, dreamy eyes as K’s head falls back against the couch, lids low as he watches you in awe. You’re trying so hard to not be overwhelmed by your own pleasure that you don’t even notice when Fuma starts moving–not really. You knew your body was being moved but you didn’t really know what was happening.

You feel Fuma’s hand travel up your spine, palming the back of your neck. “You feel that, y/n?” He asks, rubbing what you can only imagine is the head of his cock against the soaked through fabric of your panties. You moan around K’s cock, nails curling into the top of K’s thigh. Fuma laughs and your panties are rolling down your legs. 

“Tell me you want me to fuck you, y/n,” Fuma says, the head of his cock pushing against your entrance without ever breaching it. “If you tell me, you can have it. I know how much you want it.”

You whine around K’s cock, feeling impatient and a little frustrated that Fuma isn’t already inside you. You pull off of K, panting and licking your lips to compose yourself just enough to speak.

“Fuma, please don’t tease me,” you whine, purposefully poutier than you’d usually be. One thing you know from dating Fuma is that he can’t find it in himself to deny you anything. Your hand is pumping K, never allowing him to be forgotten. He thrusts up into your palm, his quiet grunting background noise to the back and forth between you and Fuma. “Please fuck me. Please. I want it. Want you inside me.”

“How could I ever say no when you sound so sweet begging me for it?” Fuma teases and praises, dragging his cockhead up and down your slit a few more times. “I’d give you anything your little heart desires.” Fuma pushes himself inside you, slowly inching himself inside to allow you to accommodate him, though it’s not difficult when you’re already dripping buckets onto the couch. He’s groaning the whole way through, his hands digging into your hips harshly for restraint.

“Fuck, she feels so good. You lucky son of a bitch.”

K laughs, tightening your hand around his cock as he fucks into it more aggressively at Fuma’s words. “Yeah, you’re a real fucking idiot for fumbling her.” 

Fuma starts with slow thrusts, testing your limits surely, wanting to get a feel for what you’re willing to take. K’s hand guides your drooping head up to look at him, thumb brushing your cheek soothingly. “Can I have that pretty mouth back, baby?”

Of course. Anything for you. Are you kidding?

Instead of answering in a slur like you know would happen, you lean forward again, taking K’s cock back into your mouth. You suckle on the tip, drag your tongue along the sides, push him further down your throat than you can stand. His hands comb through your hair, massage your jaw, wipe at the saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth. He’s cursing and moaning and telling you how you couldn’t be more fucking perfect for him.

All while another man is fucking you.

His friend, to be clear.

Fuma’s thrusts are calculated and deep, finding that spot inside you as if he’s visited it a million times before. He’s rough but in a way that says I know you can handle this. He’s fast now. He’s driving himself into you with such ferocity that you’ve barely recovered from the last thrust before he’s overwhelming you with the next.

He’s reducing you to a moaning, shaking mess, that’s what he is. He’s about to make you come, that’s what he is.

K notices you struggling to blow him, noting the all too familiar signs of your approaching orgasm. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t worry about me. I’ll have my turn.” He pulls your face up and leans down to meet it, silencing a strangled moan with a kiss. He falls back against the couch again, taking over the job of tending to his cock–stroking it as he watches the sight unfolding before him.

Fuma leans over your back, his hand wrapping around your throat. He holds you up against his chest, sharp thrusts punctuating his words spoken low against your ear. “You take it so well, y/n. I can feel the way you’re squeezing me. You want to come for me, don’t you? In front of your boyfriend, right? That gets you off, right?”

You’re glitching at this point, your mind breaking euphorically. You’re nodding as much as you can with Fuma having you in his hold so securely, moaning and panting and whimpering. The three of you are all watching each other, though you are clearly the star of the show. “S-so good,” you stutter. “Feels s’good.”

Fuma hums his approval in your ear, his thrusts reaching a point of punishing. “You feel so good around me, baby,” he says, his breath heavy. You can tell he’s close too by the way his thrusts lose some of their control, getting sloppier as he chases that feeling of release. “Gonna come inside your pretty pussy, baby,” he says.

And to be honest, that’s all it takes.

You’ve been dreaming about the day Fuma does exactly like that. So who could blame you when the words alone send you over the edge–send you reaching for K’s hand for stability as you come on Fuma’s cock?

Your orgasm blacks out your vision and you squeeze K’s hand for grounding. He squeezes back and you can hear Fuma losing control behind you, managing a handful more thrusts before his own body stutters, his own orgasm coloring your insides.

He keeps thrusting as you both try to clear your hazy heads, slowing his hips and focusing on decorating your neck with kisses much softer than the way he fucked you.

“That’s my pretty girl,” K muses, lovingly tracing your cheek with his fingers. His other hand is still stroking his cock but slower now, despite its pulsing need. You nuzzle against his hand and he coos, his eyes softening despite their hunger.

“Fuma?” K calls.

“Mm?” Fuma answers.

“Sit her on my cock.”

Now when they talk about you like you’re not here, it feels like they’re doing it because they know you can’t speak for yourself. Not at the moment. Not when they’ve gotten you this cockdrunk.

You let Fuma gather your body in his strong arms, getting only a little bashful because you can feel the mess between your thighs all too clearly when you’re not plugged up by his cock. He kisses the side of your head  as he lifts you, passing you off into K’s waiting, outstretched arms.

K settles you on his lap, whispering words of encouragement and praise into your ear as he plugs the hole Fuma occupied only moments ago. So good for us. So fucking pretty like this. Feels good not having a single thought in your pretty head, mm? My pretty girl deserves another orgasm, doesn’t she?

You feel like jelly in K’s lap, trusting the two beautiful men surrounding you to take care of your and your body. Everything feels so good right now. Everything feels like too much right now. You never want it to end. 

You whimper as you lean your head back against K’s chest, grinding your hips in a desperate effort to take his cock properly. He tsks, one hand holding your hip in place. “No, baby. Let me. Just sit there and feel good for me, okay?” 

K motions for Fuma to kneel on the ground in front of you with a wave of his hand and you might be surprised when Fuma follows his lead if you were capable of using your brain at the minute.

He really wants to take care of me, you’d think. My pleasure is important to him, you’d be delighted to know.

As Fuma makes himself comfortable on the ground between your spread thighs, K is pumping himself up into you. “Did you miss my cock, baby?” He’s asking, not expecting an answer. Already knowing the answer. His hands are pushing your top up above your breasts, groping them and tweaking your nipples between his fingers. 

“Look at her. She’s fantastic,” K tells Fuma. “Cant believe you fucked her before you even got to see these.” 

K must mouth something to Fuma because he goes from looking over your shoulder to rubbing your clit, watching as K’s cock enters you over and over.

You’re so sensitive right now and every single thing they say and do is making it worse. You’re whining but you’re not sure for what anymore. You don’t want it to stop. You want more. It’s already overstimulating. You don’t want it to stop. “K, please,” you manage.

“Please what, baby?” He asks, nuzzling his nose against your jaw. His thrusts pick up in speed and intensity–he knows exactly what. “You want to come again, baby? Is that it?”

Fuma starts to wiggle his thumb on your clit in tighter, quicker circles at the mere mention of you wanting an orgasm and you squirm on K’s lap, moans pitching up to pathetic levels.

“It’s okay, baby. You can come for me.” K soothes, one hand still fondling your breast as the other holds your hip for leverage, pounding into you from beneath. His own breathing is ragged and you know he’s close too.

Frankly, he’s been dying to come inside you since he was in your mouth.

“K-K–” You whisper, eyebrows knit in the middle. It’s a feeble attempt at expressing just how good you feel right now. How he’s everything you could have ever wanted and he feels perfect inside you and you’re going to come.

And you do.

Fuma doesn’t stop rubbing your clit as you come, pressing down firmly when he sees it happening, jumping at the chance to add to your pleasure. He’s watching you like you’re a once in a lifetime experience, making soft sounds of wonder as you writhe in K’s lap, body spasming from all the stimulation. If you were seeing black earlier, you’re seeing white now.

“S-shit,” K stutters, taking both hips in his hands as he holds you down on him, not letting you escape as he deposits white ropes inside you.

This time, everyone stops. Catching their breath. Processing what has happened. Replaying it over in their minds already.

Then, everyone starts laughing.

It’s just half hearted chuckles, the ones that happen when reality is stronger than lust.

It’s nice.

You’re limp on K’s lap, his chest to your back. Fuma is sitting on the floor between your thighs, his hands lightly holding your calves as a way to keep some sort of contact without you reading it as sexual in nature. Everyone is sweaty. Everyone is smiling. Everyone got to come.

Some of you got to come twice.

“Was that… was that crazy?” You finally break the silence. You feel responsible for what happened here even though it wasn’t your idea. It wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you.

“Yeah, probably,” Fuma says.

“No, definitely,” K says, still laughing.

K wraps his arms around your middle and rests his head on your shoulder. “But it was fun, wasn’t it?”

Fuma nods.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fun and fucking insane.”

[talxe]

Reading the Iliad, Book 16 thoughts

This is my first time ever reading it and I know next to nothing abt greek mythology so if I interpret anything wrong by all means pls correct me

Im reading the Robert Fagles translation

Patroclus has his moment in the sun. Too bad the god of the sun doesn't like him all that much

Haven't finished the book but I'm pretty sure this is my favorite chapter

Patroclus makes it back to Achilles' tent in full-blown tears and instead of being helpful Achilles says "You're crying like a little girl clinging to her mother's skrits and that's really uncool of you."

LMAO like Achilles wasn't doing the fucking same in book one

Achilles then wonders if Patroclus has heard news back from Phthia, maybe one of their fathers dying.

Patroclus basically tells him that it's a shit show out in the camp and things are not looking good for them.

This man even gives Achilles the benefit of the doubt and asks him if there's some prophecy Achilles hasn't told him about that is barring him from fighting. Achilles is like "Agamemnon disrespected me and it's not deeper than that tbh"

Bro..

I feel like we have to give Achilles his flowers here bc if he isn't anything else he's committed to the bit THAT MAN IS NO QUITTER. In the worst way possible ofc

Achilles calls Patroclus "My Prince🥹" IM FINNA CRY

Then we get into the whole "Put me in your armor" thing and Homer writes Patroclus as "condemned to beg for his own death" so we love that ig

Achilles tells Patroclus to NOT fight Hector and to just push the Trojans away from the ships and to definitely NOT try to take Troy without him.

Achilles stresses that Apollo may kill Pat if he does any of those things.

Honey, you got a big storm coming..

"Sure" - Pat

Jump back to Ajax (greater) bc he's kinda on the ropes, he's tired, he's being swamped, he's struggling

Achilles sees this and he's like "Okay hurry up and get out there NOW"

Patroclus takes every piece of Achilles armor except for the shield and the spear because no man besides Achilles can even lift them

Achilles assembles the Mrymidons into 5 battalions, led by 5 men I don't feel like naming to all be led under Patroclus and Automedon

While they ride off into battle Achilles goes into a chest of his and pulls out a super nice cup, fills it with wine, and prays to Zeus while pouring it on the ground

He prays for two things: "That the Mrymidons push the enemy back AND for the safe return of Patroclus." Zeus only grants one of these wishes

Take a wild guess which one🥲

Okay so Patroclus literally kills 15 people consecutively... AS IN ONE RIGHT AFTER THE OTHER

Sarpedon sees Patroclus going wild and he decides that he really doesn't like that so he hops off his chariot and begins making his way toward Pat.

Patroclus hops off his chariot to meet him halfway

Zeus is stressed as hell bc he doesn't want his son to die so he wrestles with the urge to just sprit Sarpedon away from the battlefield and away from danger

Hera tells him that he absolutely cannot do that because all the gods will hate his ass if he pulls a move like that PLUS he changes fate which means that all the other gods would do it too

But does Ahprodite not pull that move like every other chapter? No one's up her ass about it so why can't Zeus

Zeus is literally crying tears of blood but he says ok

Sarpedon and Pat start going at each other, and both miss a couple spear of throws at each other until Patroclus picks up his spear, lunches it, and hits Sarpedon square in the chest.

Rip Sarpedon

Glaucus calls out for Apollo to heal his arm (bc Teucer shot him in it) Apollo heals him so he grabs a bunch of ppl to protect Sarpedon's body from being stripped

Patroclus goes to both Ajax's and tells them that Sarpedon is dead and that they have to get his armor/keep pushing the Trojans back.

More fighting, more dying

I noticed that Homer was actually talking to Patroclus during this book ("Patroclus O my rider, you did [insert action here]) I think this is the first time he does this so far (correct me if I'm wrong)

Anyway ppl are still fighting over Sarpedon. Zeus is watching from afar and he just can't decide when Patroclus should die but he says "Not yet"

😔please stop

The Greeks end up stripping Sarpedon's body anyway

The Trojan army is shaking in their boots bc holy shit Patroclus is kinda fucking insane rn. Even Hector wants to go home at this point

The Greeks end up pushing the Tojans ALL the way back to the walls of Troy

Patroclus tries (and fails) three times to mount one of the towers BUT Apollo is a cheater and keeps knocking him down

Homer says Troy would have been taken that day if Apollo had not intervened.

On his fourth attempt to scale this fucking tower Apollo knocks Pat away again and yells "BRO THIS ISN'T EVEN UR DESTINY GO TF AWAY." 😭😭 wtf

"Okay my bad" - Patroclus🧍🏾‍♂️

Hector is inside the gates of Troy and bro does NOT wanna go back out there rn

This whole poem is just Hector not wanting to even be there and I don't blame him

Apollo comes to Hector in the form of his uncle and encourages him to get back on the battlefield bc Glory of something idk

*Sigh* so Hector rides out and makes a B-line straight for Patroclus....

Pat throws a rock at Hector which ends up hitting the guy driving his chariot right in the head and pops his fucking eyeballs out of their sockets.

Patroclus laughs at and taunts his corpse.

So now it's just Hector and Patroclus and they end up having this game of tug o war with the guy's body which the Greeks also win

Patroclus kills 27 MORE people

Apollo steps in and shit hit the fan yet again. He knocks Pat's helmet off and then starts fucking up Achilles' armor basically leaving him exposed to attack.

THEY ARE FUCKING JUMPING MY GOAT PATROCLUS

A random man throws a spear which lands in Patroclus's back and he falls forward

Hector walks up as Patroclus is trying to claw his way back to safety and stabs him in to stomach

Hector starts shit talking. And I like Hector don't get me wrong but bro you were just pissing urself about having to fight this man like a paragraph ago???

But does Patroclus go out like a bitch? NO. He looks at Hector and says "You didn't earn this kill and we both know that. TEWNTY Hectors wouldn't be able to bring me down, Apollo is the one who killed me not you and Achilles is gonna rock ur shit soon enough♥️." And Hector is like "🤨?"

LIKE HELLO??? HE FUCKING ATE THAT

And then he dies

When the one character I read the book for in the first place barely had any screentime and the one time they do they end up fucking dying

Rip to the babygirl ig

[kleoplasm]

Okay, and so what if I genuinely really like SAO? It was one of my first anime and means a lot to me, okay?? And, maybe I like analyzing how female vs. male characters are portrayed, and talking about the flaws of media with my friend and SAO is a really good example of that? Maybe I think Asuna and Kirito are a good example of a healthy and meaningful relationship, and what of it? SO WHAT, If I wrote a whole ESSAY about Kirito and Eugeo’s relationship? WHAT IF I do really like this show???

[lucy-shining-star]

Eh I shouldn't be sad because of that

[rinneverse]

pspspsp,,, do you perhaps have a spare boothill thought or two ,, sfw or nsfw,,,

i most certainly do have a few spare boothill thoughts! mostly nsfw ( ¬‿¬) walk with me nonnie… heheheh this got a wee bit too out of hand and i dropped WAY more than a few thoughts (and i am also tipsy, so i apologize in advance if something doesn't make sense) regardless, i hope u rlly like this :3

cw. assorted boothill x f!reader thoughts, manhandling, biting, improper use of a lasso (bondage!), mentions of overstim, lack of stamina is a foreign concept to boothill, talk of cyborg dick and artificial cum, creampies. not proofread in the slightest if there are typos no there's not

𓆩♡𓆪 the thing about boothill is how unafraid he is of manhandling you. while he's aware that humans are much more fragile than he, he knows your limits like the back of his hand and he knows what you can handle. you can take him like a big girl, can't you?

𓆩♡𓆪 he'll fold you in half, put you in all sorts of positions, toss you over his shoulder and pat your plush ass with a smug laugh. if you decide you want to ride him and get all tuckered out, thighs burning, the moment you're whining and babbling for his help he's already on it. big hands envelop your waist as he moves you to his whims.

𓆩♡𓆪 boothill likes to see you pleasure-drunk, entirely fucked out by the time he's done with you. he can go for as long as you need, baby; you just have to say the word. he can eat you out for hours, fuck you for double that, and still have enough energy to take care of you afterwards.

𓆩♡𓆪 cyborg sex has the potential to really get freaky tbh... he's definitely had chats with you about different 'attachments...' whatever you're into. he's definitely figured out which size makes you cum the most, and will indulge your every whim—especially when you shyly ask him "baby... can we go bigger?" (if he still had a human body, his dick would be rock fucking hard right now.) he's definitely looked into vibrating attachments. great heavens.

𓆩♡𓆪 SPEAKING OF attachments he's looked into: boothill has definitely found a way to creampie you. the tipping point for him deep diving into this was when you were just whinin' so pretty for him, begging for more, and you had let it slip that you wished so bad for him to be able to cum into you. lo and behold, he finds a solution and he surprises you by cumming deep in your aching cunt one night. the two of you definitely make a mess of your bedsheets by the end of the day (and you probably had the most earth-shattering orgasms you've ever had in your life).

𓆩♡𓆪 the day you finally asked him what his teeth would feel like, boothill's grinning like a maniac. he won't bite so hard that it hurts too much, but he knows how much you like the power he holds over you. sharp teeth sink into flesh, followed by a hot tongue that laves over the mark adoringly.

𓆩♡𓆪 another day he indulged you... there was one time he noticed you eyeing the lasso that hangs at his hips. he smiles wolfishly at you and asks, "like what you see, darlin'?" he's surprised when you shyly nod your head and look up at him with sweet doe eyes and asks if maybe... he'd consider using it in the bedroom?

𓆩♡𓆪 and oh, he did. he considered it maybe a little too hard (he jerked himself off far too many times that day). when the time came for him to use it on you, he was fiending. he ties your wrists to the bedposts and just goes to town, treating your cute body like a pretty little cum dump. he's definitely a big fan. especially when you can't run away from all the pleasure he wants to give you <3

𓆩♡𓆪 he doesn't look it, but i think he provides good aftercare. he knows how fragile the human body is firsthand: that's why he's a cyborg now. he'll take care of you. without fail, every time he's done with you, you're practically a puddle, exhausted and jelly-boned, and boothill is scooping you up into his metal arms. and yet despite the cool metal pressing against your flesh, you feel warm. maybe it's just the love pouring out of his every action, the way he treats your body with absolute reverence and adoration as he cleans you up and gets you ready for some rest.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

[dipperscavern]

Are we ready to talk about a bedding ceremony with the Stark men? ARE WE READY-?! Oh my-🥴 I think the boys wouldn't be happy about the prospect of sharing the view 🫠 but, but, BUT the sounds are something else 👀

OOOOOOOH UR TICKLING MY BRAIN RN. phew ok lemme calm down

shoot me but i feel like cregan would be a bit indifferent about it. one one hand, it’s tradition & he knows it’s pretty expected of you both, since cregan is lord of winterfell. but on the other hand, cregan wants everyone to respect you just as much as they respect him, & he doesn’t wish to strip you of your dignity. i feel like he’d seek out a conversation with you about it to see what you want to do. if you agree to it/don’t mind it, then he’ll tolerate it for your sake. but if you don’t want to, he’s quick to shut it down. anyone that has a problem with it can take it up with the complaints department (ice).

robb would be more leaning towards the idea of a bedding ceremony i think. it honestly depends on which time in his life you’re getting married. if you’re getting married at winterfell before everything happened — he’s still got that boyish kind of view about life, so he would lean more towards having one. if you got married during the war, there wouldn’t even be a ceremony 😭 but if you got married like after the war (the starks won au or smth) he would be against it. however, if you really wanted one, you could talk him into it. anyways, regardless of the time in his life, if you didn’t want one he wouldn’t force it on you, and he would certainly never make you feel bad about it.

jon would definitely be against it. for him, marriage (& “the act”) is super personal. in his opinion it’s sacred, and he wouldn’t ever put you up as a spectacle for others to see. he’d definitely plan you consummating the marriage strategically, waiting until everyone’s too drunk to notice you both have left. northmen drink hard, and they’ll be too busy arm wrestling & throwing up on each other to busy themselves with the fact that you both have risen from your seats, and jon has a hand on the small of your back leading you to your chambers. and honestly, i could see y’all not having an entire ceremony too. maybe going for something small in the godswood… i’m not sure. i can really see it going either way tbh.

[girlokwhatever]

gf golden retriever!paige with blackcat!reader 🥺🥺

i love this cause we all know it’s true!!

golden retriever!paige bueckers x blackcat!gf hcs

🦮₊˚ෆ✰- ,,-‘๑’-🐈‍⬛ golden retriever paige with a black cat gf,,

— she’s attached to your hip AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE

— she’s very very affectionate verbally and physically

- you accept it with love and appreciation

— she’s always hyper and you have to be the one to tell her to chill a bit

— will do absolutely anything for you

— you are very protective LOL

- “i don’t like the way she’s looking at you babe.”

— you’re also constantly side-eyeing people and it’s not even a joke atp

— she thinks you’re SO SEXXYYY LIKKEE

- you just have that demeanor about you

— she’s lowkey intimidated by you a little

- she knows not to make you mad

— she’ll take you shopping, buy you everything you want, AND carry all your bags

— you’ll be getting dressed up for the club; hair done, nails done, makeup done, outfit sexy and perfect

- she gawks over you the whole time

— she’s a big fan of holding your hand in public

— she also lowkey loves to be little spoon so that she can feel you holding her

— when you argue she gets really worked up and you’re always so calm about it but defo have a dismissive attitude

- you apologize later 🤗

— you highly value alone time or just silence every now and then

- paige is so respectful of your wishes cause she loves you so much so sometimes you two will just read forever and not say anything

— paige buys you guys matching clothes

— LIKE I SAID SHES VERRRYYYY AFFECTIONATE VERBALLY!!!!

- expect compliments every few minutes (every few seconds tbh)

— somehow she always ends up wearing lighter-colored clothes and you’re wearing something dark

— she’s also really attentive towards you

— paige really admires how well you can keep composure in literally any situation

— you’re definitely more introverted, not super talkative with ppl you don’t know

- paige is literally the exact opposite and tries to help bring you out of your shell

— she’s always saying how “mysterious” you are

— she can talk for hours and you’ll just listen

- that dynamic works really well for you two though, neither of you ever complain

— you both feel like you complete each other

- like she’s your other half and you’re hers

— you love giving her hickeys and she loves getting them

— at first it was kind of a struggle just because your personalities are so different

- but you both realized you brought the best out of each other and just need to communicate boundaries and wants

— she wouldn’t trade you for literally anything

— you’re sassy AF

— you actually lost her in the grocery store once cause she wouldn’t leave the tru fru aisle….

— “you look so edible right now i swear. please let me take a picture.”

- “edible paige, really?”

🦮₊˚ෆ✰- ,,-‘๑’-🐈‍⬛

this is a cute trope!!

hope i did it justice 😜🩷😒🩷🩷

[presidentsdaughter]

LIMERENCE !

ft. jimmy x fem!reader

tags. implied/reference rape, failed rape recovery, talk of incest and underage but not in regards to reader, public humiliation, obsession on readers part, sort of stalking, one mention of suicide, slight boot kink, just humiliation tbh..

note. waow.. don’t know what this is.. unedited and kind of sucks.. rbs n feedback always appreciated. ignore any typos!

What do you do when your rapist is the most handsome man you’ve ever had the pleasure of fucking?

He wasn’t ugly or fat and he wasn’t the tallest, but everyone has their shortcomings.

You feel like a total fraud, picking at the lint on your sweater as you listen to a girl bawl her eyes out while recounting the time her father raped her in the back of his pick-up after school.

The woman before her was gang-raped by her delinquent boyfriend’s lackeys, the man to her left is the victim of his middle-school teacher, another lady pushed out two rape babies from her deadbeat husband before she managed to get away from him.

They’re all ghosts; beaten down, so broken, and you are you.

The same as before, if not a little bit better.

In fact, you’ve stopped getting those night terrors where all your teeth fall out.

You got raped and everything just felt right.

Like he knocked something into place, dug so deep into your cunt he rewired your brain.

Your therapist said this would be a chance at community, some place to bring you comfort, like-minded individuals who have gone through all the same things you have. Circle time for victims of brutal, life-ruining—life-changing rape, you should fit right in.

But you have never felt more out of place.

Pick-up girl can’t continue, she’s choking on her words, they come out her throat like the creak in an old floorboard. The box of Kleenex is significantly lighter.

“We can move on,” says a lady with kind eyes, shifting on her chair to face your way.

They all look at you with their haunted, dark eyes, gaping black chasms that lead right to fucking hell. God. You’re going straight to hell.

“Erm..” You squeeze your hands into fists. You unstick your thighs from the plastic chair. You count to ten and try not to think about how nice he looked on top of you.

“It’s okay, honey, take your time.” She places her hand on your knee. You think of him. His hand on your thigh, squeezing your tender flesh until it came right off the bone, the way it inched up your skirt.

You go stiff and she notices, gasping softly like she has done something wrong. And she has. She’s turned you the fuck on, the warmth of her encouragement going straight to your cunt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about—“

“No, it’s okay,” you strain to get it out, avoiding her eyes like sympathy is a highly contagious disease of some kind.

They’re all feeling bad for you when you have finally started to feel good about yourself.

Man, you suck.

“He was my boyfriend.” Your voice cracks for dramatic effect, hold the applause. You wish he was your boyfriend. “He did it almost everyday.” You wish he did it everyday. “It would be after I came back from work…” It would be great stress relief after your Friday shift, it’s nearing Christmas and everybody is crushed into the stores like cattle in free stall barns.

You open and close your mouth, unsure of where to go from here, so you stand up and the chair screeches against the ground. “Sorry… I’m so sorry—I need to go.”

You leave and it looks real.

Like you are a real victim with a real story and very real feelings. The type you see on TV, dressed in white, trembling like lambs, abhorred by the notion of anything sexual. Squeaky clean like you should be.

For just a moment you feel normal. Your therapist is not eyeballing you like a mildly fascinating organism in her Petri dish. Your friends don’t give you a funny look when you say you’re fine—great actually. Your mom is not hanging her head in secondhand shame when you refuse to file a police report, disturbed when she unearths your bloodied underwear beside the prayer book you keep tucked beneath your pillow, rosary nowhere to be found.

They mutter quietly amongst themselves.

Poor thing she can’t even speak about it, it must’ve been awful, I can’t even imagine what she went through, so young.

You can’t speak about it, you really can’t, you might start reciting wedding vows if you think about him longer than a second.

Your loneliness is like the crack in a China cup, fine and glossy on the outside but delicate from years stowed away in show cabinets, passed from bidder to bidder. He pressed golden lacquer into the seams of your fracture, put you back together like you were something worth holding, something to be used.

Stored away in your bag, a sacred place your mother has not yet invaded, is his work ID. You say his ordinary name like you’re uttering a prayer, you drag the jagged tip of your nail over his tiny photograph. His hair and beard are longer than you remember, he’s handsome underneath the scruff, a strong nose and a broad chest. The collar of his company-issued jumpsuit is half popped, and he’s scowling at the camera like it’s an inconvenience.

There’s no phone number on it and part of you is glad you won’t have to call into the company, requesting Jimmy like The Pony Express is a sex hotline and he’s their newest, youngest, bustiest doll.

You wait outside the warehouse instead. It’s a big old thing, the last of its kind, muted in colour, blending into the silver skies. You look at the horse who sits on top like a weathervane on a cathedral, oversized features and the stomach of a pudgy toddler.

Every day from two to eight you circle the block a few times, take a window seat in the cafe opposite until the staff begin to stack tables and chairs, sit at the bus stop beside the same lot of people who wonder why you never get on.

The horse watches from above, wide eyes glowing in the dark beside the moon, unsettlingly reverent, sparkling with diamond-sharp logic, like it knows something you do not, a silent witness to your dog-like devotion.

One day, you leave work early and find a truck parked in front of the hulking, metal mass. Two men are unloading it, one is old and the other is blond, but they don’t matter to you. A third steps out of the cab, your breath gets caught in your throat, scared your exhale might blow him away.

You don’t look when you cross the street.

“Excuse me?” You call out, you’re sure he hears you, but he’s choosing to ignore it. “Are you Jimmy?” You ask once you're close enough to go unnoticed.

“Depends,” he says in that voice you have heard so many times in your dreams, rough like the serrated edge of a knife. “Who’s asking?” He hasn’t looked up once, disinterested and completely unaffected while you burn just being near him.

There is a woman near those other two men, leant down amidst some crates, a clipboard pressed to her chest. Her face is white and her nose is long like the snout on a hound dog, her charcoal eyes are sad and droopy.

You wonder if he has touched her like he has touched you. Either she just has one of those faces or she can take your slot at circle time. She would fit right in with the rest of them. Herbivores hiding in long grass.

“I’m asking.” You clear your throat, he looks up at you with his lidded eyes and you don’t look away, openly admiring the colour of them, how they look in the sunlight. There are a million things you want to ask him.

Was it just me? Was I your first and only? Have you been thinking about me? Do you want a summer wedding or a winter one? Vanilla or chocolate cake? We could do floral arrangements in your favourite colour.

He seems to grow slightly antsy when you continue to stare, Adam’s apple bulging out of his throat when he swallows. He looks like he’s started to feel sick, like he’s waiting outside the principal’s office after breaking a window.

It’s different, he’s different in the day. Long gone is his barbed tongue and wolf-like smile. “What do you want?”

You.

Your fingers toy with the rounded edges of his employee card, if you hand it to him now it’ll all be over.

“Listen,” Jimmy starts, lowering his voice, “if it’s something I did, I’m sorry.” Apprehension twists his mouth into a frown, and he doesn’t sound all that sorry. “But you can’t show up—“

“Here.” You fish his ID from your purse, reluctant to hand it over. His fingers don’t brush yours like you hoped and he seems all too eager to get rid of you.

“Thanks, cool,” he says with all the enthusiasm of a funeral celebrant, tucking it into his breast pocket for safekeeping, his disengagement is a knife in your chest. You’re a stain on a shirt he has no intention of cleaning.

“Yeah…” Does he not remember you? Is there nothing about you that is worth remembering? Were you not good? “Cool.” The longer you stand there the more likely it seems he’s going to grab a broom to chase you away. “Well, bye, Jimmy.” You blink at him sadly, expectantly, longingly. This is it.

You walk away and that was it. That was it. You’ll never see him again, you have no reason to be caught lurking outside the warehouse.

You start to think long and hard on your way home about the fuck is wrong with you.

Everyone is shaped by the sum of their exposures. A product of the people you meet, the enemies and friends you make, who you go home to. Every smile, every scowl, every bad habit is the reflection of another. But to be completely fucking honest, you think you’re just like this. The root of the problem is you, it stems from deep inside your very core, a fundamentally fucked up instinct that makes life a fucking inconvenience. It turns everything into a complication and that is why you’re like this.

God, you wonder what it would be like to wake up and think about normal things like normal people who do not have this constant flurry of wrongness whirling around inside of them. You want to go through life like you’re meant to be on earth, not like an alien species that crash-landed here and never managed to get out, unable to acclimatise to the human way, not like you’re a manufacturing defect.

You want to laugh at the right moment, you want to know what everyone else is thinking, you want to be raped so badly. Again and again and again. You can’t be normal if you can’t stop thinking about the most abnormal thing about you, that just defeats the fucking point.

Your friends think it is their fault for bringing you home that night, for letting you go home all on your own, for getting drunk and leaving you sober. They feel responsible for the best night of your life and you hate it. You hate that they don’t get it. You had a good time in your own right, they don’t need to feel guilty—Or maybe you need to start thinking how they do. Like normal people. They’re horrified when they’re supposed to be horrified. Their minds are tailored to the tastes of this world, yours is somewhere else, some rotten, tumultuous, toxic planet.

Therapy is supposed to be helping you learn how to be even slightly human, little by little, step by step. But you can’t take it in small doses, you need all of this wrongness gone at once like a decidual cast. It doesn’t make you lighter, it doesn’t put a pep in your step, it doesn’t do shit.

So you keep going to wait outside the Pony Express warehouse. You camp out in that cafe all day on days off from work. The staff know you by name, six holes punched in your reward card, special access to the staff bathrooms. You’re set for stalker life.

He never comes again, but you do everyday.

The nights are getting darker, stars bleed into the sky as the sun dims, the moon is larger than usual tonight and if you weren’t so taken by the brightness you would be quicker to notice the dark figure in your peripheral.

When you finally do, you think it’s the devil, cloaked in darkness like the devil probably should be. “Oh, it’s you.” You try to hide the smile in your voice as you watch him put a cigarette between his crooked lips.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He’s unbothered in tone, indifferent in manner. It would be flattering that he remembered you if he hadn’t said it like that.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yeah, from last week.” Jimmy’s eyes glow radioactive in the dark like tiger eyes when he lights his cigarette, the flame flickers and casts him uneven light, softening the right side of his face with a golden haze and plunging the left into shifting darkness. “You stalking me?”

“No!” You say all too quickly. “No, no… I study at the cafe opposite you.”

“Okay.” He was joking you think, making fun of you maybe, you wouldn’t be able to tell either way. “Studying the menu or what?”

That was a joke, that has to be a joke. It’s your cue to laugh so you force one out, it crackles unnaturally. “I wish, but I meant before that, do you remember me from before that?”

You look different under the street lamps, they do nothing for your skin, light pools unfavourably in every pore, the jewel-toned dress you picked out today must look washed out.

Jimmy’s lazy eyes rake up your body, and then he shakes his head slowly. “No.” Even to someone like you, it’s clear he has no interest in taking this conversation anywhere.

“It was in November, the beginning, I was on my way home, and it was late...” You should’ve done this at circle time. “You grabbed me and I let you take me, and then after you told me to walk down the block and call a cab, and I did.”

“Hm,” Jimmy shrugs, though you notice his hand trembling as he raises his cigarette to his lip, “nope, don’t remember that.”

Frustrated, you clench your fists, wondering what could jog his memory—Did he do it often? Nab a girl off the street corner so regularly that he didn’t remember a single one, faces all blurring together, the same hole with a different set of tits.

“Remind me again.”

“How?”

“Take off your jacket.” Jimmy’s cigarette gets crushed beneath his boot, he’s looking at you now. Really looking at you, and this is where it all goes pear-shaped. Your whole life is pear-shaped of course, but this is just fucking sad. You beg yourself to think it over, to think of the dozens of security cameras on this street alone. None of it seems too important when he’s here.

And then, you shrug your coat off your shoulders.

“Okay.” You’ve always been obedient because you have no reason to say no, you don’t care if he’s going to mug you, at least he’s talking to you now. At least he is looking at you.

“Think I’m gonna need to see more to know who you are,” he says, detached like there are a million better things he could be doing with his time, but he’s spending it with you. “Take off your dress.”

“What…” You’re shaking slightly in the cold, wind stings your cheeks and the tip of your fingers have started to ache.

“Take off your dress, I might know you.” Fair enough. He’d seen your ass more than your tits and your tits more than your face. It was forced into a flat pillow for three quarters of the night, between his thighs for the last quarter.

You take off your dress, edging it off your ankles. He drapes it over his arm - he’s got enough humanity to not leave your pretty clothes on the pavement.

It’s cold. The type of cold that makes your brain freeze, the type of cold that only Siberian Huskies and yetis enjoy.

And yet here you are in nothing but your cotton panties, t-shirt bra and boutique winter booties looking like the most expensive kerb crawler in all the world.

“Turn around,” Jimmy hums, his hand is cold but not as cold as you, tracing along your spine when you listen like a good girl.

From here, the horse is watching you. Seeing it all, cartoonish eyes forced in your direction. It’s late so the cars that whiz past have no intention of stopping, some houses have their lights on.

Humiliation prickles your skin, it could be the cold, but you don’t think the cold gets inside of you like this. What are you doing? What are you doing? What is mom going to think? What is dad going to do? What are they going to tell your family when you’re sectioned for Christmas?

”That’s good,” his voice comes out in a whisper, “take ‘em off and get on the ground.” Lukewarm hands slide over your hips, checking you over like a piece of meat.

“Okay,” you whisper back to him, and you’ve gone so far there’s nothing to lose, stepping out of your underwear and doing just as he says.

There’s no praise from Jimmy’s end and you don’t expect any. His stern face, his flat tone, it’s all unforgiving like this cold, hard sidewalk is on your hands and knees.

“Jesus, there something wrong with you?” He sounds surprised and you don’t know what you’ve done wrong. (You do know. You do know.) Isn’t this what he wanted? “Sorry,” Jimmy says, not sounding sorry at all, “I shouldn’t say that, you’re not all there.”

Your head isn’t entirely intact, and there is this worm hole that eats away at your insides, but you’re here. You’re here and you’re on the ground, on your knees with your cunt bared to him. Does he not see you?

The horse sees you, perpetually wide-eyed and forever watching.

Something cold, like the nose of a dog, presses against your pussy. It takes you a moment to figure out that it’s the toe of his boot, the leathery texture is wet almost, smooth and still textured, grainy. The cold is making it too hard to focus on the feeling of it nudging your swollen clit. You close your eyes and focus on anything but your hands burning on the ground, how the wind is going straight to your bones.

You’re going to make this worth it. You will. You’ve been wet for months and you won’t let it dry up so quickly, not when the cause of the leak is here to plug it up.

Just as you’re about to push back into him, grind your clit into the leather, show off how much you want him—He kicks you down, your body skids forward, elbows scraping on the cement. It’s painful, but you’re so cold, so shocked, so confused.

Quietly, you hear him under his breath. “What the fuck… Fuckin’ freak.” You don’t know if it’s in awe or disgust. He drops your coat and dress over the flat of your back, you scramble to put them on. “Why did you do that?” Jimmy asks, and he is looking at you like you’re crazy, like he’s disgusted.

You can’t tell if it’s a trick question. “Because you told me to.” It’s a simple answer, the only answer. Your chest heaves, teeth chattering as you stand on aching legs. God. It feels like your bones are fragmenting.

“Are you a dog?”

“No.” You check your pockets to find some loose change is missing.

“Then you didn’t have to do that, it’s not fuckin’ normal.”

Rape is not normal. And neither is asking seemingly nice, well-meaning girls to undress in sub-zero temperatures. But you don’t want to talk back, you don’t like to talk back, you don’t want to scare him off.

“Okay… Then, I’m sorry.”

“What…” His tone lilts in what might be confused laughter, everything you say is a twist or turn in a tangled thread he can’t quite follow. “Don’t say sorry, no, I don’t—I don’t know, just go home.”

“You’re not going to take me?” You gaze at him sadly. Wanting, yearning. “I think I’m going to kill myself tonight,” you proclaim softly, not because you want to make him feel bad, but because you don’t know what to do with yourself and he is distant enough to confide in.

“Alright,” Jimmy shrugs, he lights another cigarette, the smoke billows out of his thin lips, lined with the slightest smile. “Tell me how that goes.” Well, now you feel stupid and wish to take it back. Then, before he goes, he asks a little too casually, “Your dad touched you or something?”

“No…” You answer slowly, wondering if you should’ve said yes, if that was what he wanted to hear, gauging his reaction like you’ll be able to read it at all.

“Right.” He laughs, and his shoulders are still shaking in disbelief as he wanders into the dark like something out of a nightmare.

You look over to the horse, it tells you he’ll be back.

Considering he works there and all you thought the same, so you’ll be back alive and well.

[luv4fushi]

omfg i litr read everything uve written off ur masterlist I NEED MOREEEE. i love the way u write megumi especially, i couldn’t get enough of it. i hope you write more of him, my heart aches for more tbh 🥹 tysm for being such a good writer and feeding us starved readers well

tysm! i'm sooo glad i can be a good source of megumi content for you >_< i looove writing megumi so you'll be seeing sooo much more of him, dw! happy holidays!

this december

jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

it’s always colder on your own, especially around this time of year. you should be at home, bundled up with a warm cup of hot chocolate, but here you are in shinjuku, exorcizing curses with your ex boyfriend two weeks after your breakup with him. great.

content: post break up, aged up megumi (19/20), megumi is terrible at feelings, getting back together, fluff if you squint, a bit of angst, miscommunication, one bed (but it isn’t the main plot point sorry), megumi calls you baby like once, gojo is the best wingman, SHIBUYA ARC NEVER HAPPENED AND LIFE IS GOOD, not proofread im very sorry guys pls forgive me, kinda a word dump sry

word count: 5.8k (sigh this was supposed to be 2k words max)

click on my masterlist for more & merry christmas to those who celebrate!

it’s december 19th when satoru gojo tells you that he has a mission just for you. you’re less than ecstatic about it to say the least. the last thing you want to do is be sent to your death just shy of christmas day. you just want to rest your sore muscles and bask in the presence of your best friends. you’re not in the mood to kill any curses, mainly because you’ve just recovered from a previous mission.

“why me?” you groan.

gone are the days where you used to be a goody two shoes for satoru. you’re old enough to talk back now, not like when you had been a shy fifteen-year-old girl. besides, you’ve been around the silver-haired sorcerer long enough to know that he doesn’t mind the bite.

“sorry, kid,” satoru says with a shrug. at least he sounds genuine about it. “the higher ups requested for you specifically. they say you’ll get the job done in the cleanest way. we can’t have things getting messy before the holidays, right?”

“and you wouldn’t be the best choice?” you quip.

satoru only laughs. he ruffles your hair. even with your growth spurt and merciless training, he still towers over you. in a way, he’ll always be your mentor. “hey, i’m going out of town that weekend. give me a break.”

you huff petulantly. something about this mission seems fishy to you. you’re not nearly the strongest sorcerer out of the bunch of kids under satoru’s wings (not that you guys are kids anymore, but sometimes it’s hard to feel otherwise). hell, there’s the kyoto students. it feels like they never have to do anything. you wish that you were rebellious enough to chew utahime out for it.

“why couldn’t they just make yuta or megumi go?” you mutter under your breath. you stammer out megumi’s name and hope satoru doesn’t catch on to the way you can barely say it.

satoru knows about the breakup. why wouldn’t he? he’s basically megumi’s dad, even if the raven haired boy refuses to admit it. satoru’s six eyes mean you can’t hide anything from him (he’d been the first to know that megumi was head over heels for you).

satoru raises a brow. “oh, right. megumi’s coming along too.”

your face twists and you immediately whip around to glare at him. “you’re lying.”

“i wish,” he jokes. “i was really hoping i’d get a wedding invitation one day, you little rascal. i can’t believe you two broke up. maybe this’ll be a good thing!”

“i appreciate your honesty, but—”

“but megumi’s an emotionally constipated kid, yeah, that i know,” satoru laughs. he makes his way to the exit of his office which has you furrowing your brows. is your former teacher actually gonna just leave after making you come all the way here? how rude and so very in character of him.

“please, gojo,” you call out after him, “i don’t wanna go with him.”

“sucks for you,” satoru responds halfheartedly. “merry christmas. try not to take more than a week on this. you’ll have to pay the rest of the fee for accommodations if you do.”

“gojo!” you whine.

“it’s not a hard mission!” satoru insists like it’ll make your life any easier. “y’know, this time of year is when things get ugly. think of it as saving as many people as you can while putting in the least amount of effort!”

and then he teleports. your former teacher teleports away rather than being normal and walking out of the door. you roll your eyes and hope that he can sense it (you know he can’t).

so that’s why you’re here now. with your ex. on the elevator to your assigned room on the tenth floor. you’re so glad that it’s a normal hotel and not a love hotel. lord knows what you’d do if you had checked into a love hotel.

megumi hasn’t spoken a word to you since he broke up with you two weeks ago. it had been in the doorway to your apartment a few days after a particularly rough mission assigned to the both of you—the one you’re still recovering from. he’d pulled you in for a hug, whispering sweet words into your ear. he gave you a look, one of those looks that made him soften his usually sharp eyes.

“i think we should break up.”

and then came the pathetic whimper of yours. he had wiped your tears, even kissed them tenderly, before telling you that it wasn’t your fault—it was his. how cliche.

now as you stand next to him, you want to beat yourself up for not asking for closure. neither of you had explicitly stated that you two were going to be no-contact, but it hurts a lot less to push the idea of forever with megumi away to the back of your mind. besides, you two aren’t confrontational like that. not with each other, anyway.

“need help?” his tone is soft, tender—the tone he reserves specifically for you, the one that tells you he still cares.

you stare down at the luggage at your feet. you’ve always been a chronic overpacker, a habit that megumi knows of by now. he watches you curiously, hands itching at his sides. you can tell that he wants to reach out and grab your suitcase like he always does. he thinks he isn’t obvious, but you can always read through the lines, especially when it’s megumi.

“i’m okay,” you croak out, clearing your throat awkwardly.

the elevator dings and you make your way to your room. as much as you hate to admit it, you’re sort of glad that you and your ex boyfriend are sharing a room. perhaps his’ll be a good way to get closure, though you’re not really sure what closure entails.

what you don’t expect is to unlock the door and be met with a singular bed.

if satoru gojo didn’t have a layer of infinity coating his body (and if he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive), you would’ve wrung out his neck.

megumi simply walks into the room, setting his duffel bag down on one of the dressers opposite from the foot of the bed. he doesn’t comment on the lack of double beds, seemingly already aware of the set up.all he does is puff out a weary sigh. you suck in a breath and follow him inside, slipping your shoes off at the entrance.

you lug your suitcase in after you along with your duffel bag and backpack. you stumble forward and megumi’s arm snakes around your waist, steadying you.

“careful,” he mutters, nonchalantly taking your bag off our your shoulders.

it’s a quick series of movements; he swings your bag over his shoulders and places it on the dresser next to the one he’s claimed while guiding you softly to the side of the bed so that you’re not standing in the middle of the doorway.

you scrunch your face, feeling your heart thump against your ribcage. it’s stupid how he still has such a hold on you, even after two weeks of not seeing or talking to him. he’s just so caring, so gentle. it stings, like little the little cuts you get when fighting curses, when you realize that this is something you’ll have to learn how to lose.

“thanks,” you manage to mutter. you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. you know from the way your throat tightens that you’ll be crying soon if you force yourself to talk any more.

“i can take the couch,” megumi says.

it’s that easy with him; he’s a gentleman, so of course he’d take the couch. that’s the way megumi fushiguro is—he offers a solution before you even have the chance to complain. in your year and a half long relationship, that skill of his had been a saving grace.

“no, don’t bother,” you croak. “i’ll book another room.”

“really?” he asks. he stands up a little straighter, awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “i mean, i don’t mind sharing a room with you… we’ve..”

we’ve shared a room countless of times before.

megumi doesn’t have to continue his sentence for you to understand what he’s implying. you part your lips to speak, but nothing comes out except for a long, heavy sigh. your shoulders drop as you let the exhaustion seep into your bones. there’s no use arguing about it, not when you don't’ mind sharing a room with megumi, either.

“we’ve broken up,” you remind him in a quiet voice, like you’re afraid saying it out loud will make it truer than it already is.

megumi pauses. you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. “i know that, but … it’ll be fine. we’ve shared a room as friends before.”

he’s right, like he usually is. you two have shared a room before as just friends, but that had been as teenagers—back when you both harbored such hardcore crushes on each other that you two somehow didn’t notice.

“right,” you find yourself agreeing with a small nod.

“you should go get ready for bed.” megumi begins grabbing a few or the decorative pillow off of the bed. he places them gingerly on the brown couch tucked in the corner of the hotel room. “we’ll be getting up pretty early to deal with the brunt of the mission.”

to finish this mission as quickly as possible, you think.

and so you oblige and head to the bathroom. it’s december 19th, just a few days shy of christmas day, and you’re in bed with your ex boyfriend on the couch just a few feet away.

december 20th greets you with megumi hovering over you. he peers down at you with his messy bangs covering his eyes. they’re piercingly blue as he blinks. his lashes flutter perfectly, even in the early morning. your eyes meet his and you jolt awake.

“good morning,” he says. “your alarm has been ringing for a bit now, so i turned it off.”

you blink rapidly, getting the tiredness out of your eyes. “oh.”

he chuckles softly, just enough for you to catch it with your ears. he rises from his crouched position and heads to the front door. he spares you a glance over his shoulder before he heads out, presumably giving you the privacy you need. you let out a strangled breath before you swing your legs over the bed and head to the bathroom.

by the time you’re finished putting on your uniform, you swing the door to your hotel room open and see megumi leaned up against the wall, tapping away on his phone. his dark blue eyes flicker up to you and he turns away to head down the hall.

you furrow your brows. you can’t help but think that he’s being a little cold to you. it isn’t like you initiated the breakup. despite your frustration with his behavior, you can sort of understand why he wouldn’t want to be sweet around you; you two aren’t dating anymore and so it makes sense that he’d go back to being aloof in your presence, the usual way he acts around everyone else. losing that position in his life makes your stomach churn for reasons you’re less than willing to uncover.

your mission is a vague one; all you know is that it’s a clean-up mission. rather than a level 1 curse (or even a special grade), the mission consists of an acclimation of weak curses surrounding shinjuku. these missions are normally given to younger, more inexperienced sorcerers with the help of a senior sorcerer, but for an odd reason, it’s been given to you and megumi this year. megumi could’ve probably handled it himself. actually, you could’ve handled it yourself.

you bite your tongue to hold back on your complaints as you walk just a step behind megumi. he pauses regularly, waiting for you to catch up to his side. you roll your eyes in secret. does he not realize that you don’t want to walk next to him?

“it’s all just bars,” you mutter.

with that, you earn a tiny laugh from megumi. “well, yeah. this is the red-light district of shinjuku.”

you pale. “this sucks.”

“why do you think i wanted to come out here in the morning rather than at night?” he says, his tone strangely light.

“to deal with the brunt of the mission,” you repeat his words from last night sarcastically. you’re unsure as to what he’s talking about, so you think that it’s okay to give him a little bit of attitude.

he raises his brow but doesn’t comment on your sarcasm. instead, he says softly, “no, stupid. it’s because this is the red-light district. it’s unsafe for anyone, especially a pretty, young girl alone at night.”

your first thought is to coo and tease him. you think i’m pretty? it takes you half a second to remember that you two are broken up. you scoff, “i’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“i never said you weren’t,” megumi shoots back. “it would just be annoying explaining to the higher ups why you were fighting people and not curses.”

“i’m sure they’d understand,” you retort, frowning. you cross your arms.

“don’t be so pouty,” he says in that stupid, gentle tone he uses with you when you’re acting bratty.

you both decide to split up. well, it’s more like you demand the two of you to split up. you say it under the pretense that it’ll get the job done faster. besides, you both want to be home before christmas day, right?

there’s about two curses you cross paths with every hour. you’re starting to lose your mind. shouldn’t the streets be infested with them? you don’t even need a veil! all you have to do is give the weak curses just one punch and they vaporize on the spot. your head is running with hundreds of thoughts.

that’s when it hits you: the first years at the tokyo jujutsu school did come out here a week prior! maybe they did a bad job? but you remember nobara had been the one to lead the group. she may half-ass almost everything in her life, but she wouldn’t jeopardize her underclassmen for the sake of her freetime.

so why on earth are you here? it’s not like there are enough harmful curses for a mission to be assigned to you right before christmas, and to you and megumi of all sorcerers. you’re both strong enough to the point of having some kind of importance in the jujutsu world. the higher ups wouldn’t send the two of you on some stupid mission for the sake of it unless they’re planning some sort of secret execution. but even then, satoru gojo should’ve known through their lies to not send you or megumi. unless…he wants you two dead…?

you shake your head and bite your nails. the sun begins to set and you realize that you’ve been out here for longer than you expected. you’re starting to feel a chill in your bones—you had argued petulantly with megumi earlier about not wanting to wear your jacket despite it being the dead of winter; “it’s gonna get in the way!”

you always seem to forget the the sun sets earlier in the winter. it’s stupid how bright all the lights are in shinjuku. there isn’t a square foot of anything that isn’t lit up with neon signs reading out the names of clubs and bars. you see couples and large groups of people walking along the streets.

it’s lonely, you realize. it would’ve been less lonely with megumi.

you make your way to the meeting spot with megumi. you both share a few small words before retiring for the night. megumi says he wants to go sightseeing, even though there’s really nothing much to see. he doesn’t return to the hotel room until late at night.

when he slips into the only bed that the room offers, you chalk it up to the slight alcohol you smell on his lips. it feels so natural that you don’t push him away even though you should. his body is warm and you fit so perfectly against his broad chest that you think it’ll be okay for you to be a little selfish tonight.

“g’night,” megumi mumbles in his sleep.

you smile and nuzzle closer.

it’s december 21st as you realize how late it is in the day. megumi is back on the couch. you feel a tinge of disappointment in the bottom of your stomach.

to no one’s surprise, the sun is barely peeking over the buildings when you’re finally back in the red-light district. you’re doing the last bit of cleanup, but there’s really nothing much for you to clean.

tomorrow, you’ll be heading to a shopping mall, so you suppose you should do your best to sniff out the rest of the curses littering the place unless you want to stay here an extra day. the day is, yet again, slow.

it’s nearing 8 PM and you're finally sure that you’ve gotten rid of all the curses in the general area. you’ve been done for quite a while now, but you just haven’t found the courage to let megumi know that you’re ready to go back to the hotel room. a little sightseeing on your end wouldn’t hurt, right?

“hi, pretty.” a gravelly voice, battered by cigarettes, whispers in your ear.

you jump in surprise. you need to remember not to get too far into your head. you should’ve felt his presence coming from a mile away. it’s a terrible habit and satoru has scolded you for years about it.

“hi,” you mutter, pushing past his larger frame.

the man isn’t as nicely built as the men you know (but then again, your friends are jujutsu sorcerers, so it’s kind of hard to beat that), but he still towers over you. he’s got a squad of rough-looking guys behind him, smirking down at you.

“why’s someone like you alone?” he says, shoving his arm to loop around your waist.

you roll your eyes, getting ready to punch the man square in the nose. will you get in trouble? probably yes. will it be a funny story to tell? also probably yes.

“don’t touch my wife.”

the group of men turn their heads along with you to see megumi. his expression is shrouded with a mixture of anger and frustration. you blink in confusion—megumi usually looks pretty pissed off, but this is the most angry you’ve seen him in a while. and ‘wife’? what’s up with that?

“oh, my bad,” the man chuckles. “didn’t know this pretty thing was married.”

“this ‘pretty thing’ wants you to let her go,” you say with an overly sweet smile. your teeth clench and you hiss, “right now.”

the guy scurries down the sidewalk with his buddies trailing along, making fun of him for hitting on a married woman. nobody mentions the lack of a ring on your finger. nobody mentions the lack of a relationship, either.

“wife?” you scowl. “we’re broken up.”

“guys tend to back up when they know a woman is married. it’s the only way you can really, uh, get them to go away around here.”

you glare at him. “and how would you know? you come here often with girls?”

“...no?” he blinks, unable to comprehend your sudden burst of jealousy. “i sometimes get missions around here, though. pretending to be married was the easiest way—”

“we aren’t, though. we’re not even in a relationship.” you seem to be throwing that into his face a lot more than you should. you can’t help it, though. you still feel a little bitter about not getting a real reason as to why megumi wanted to break up.

“i was trying to help you.” he’s calm and collected, as heard through his voice. he walks up to you and takes your freezing hand into his much warmer ones. “let’s go home.”

“i don’t want to,” you argue.

“stop being a brat,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words. “you’re cold and you’ve been out here all day. if i hadn’t stopped those guys, you probably would’ve beat them up pretty badly.”

“i’m not a fucking brat!” you try to retract your hand, but megumi’s grip only tightens.

“baby, stop,” the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease. megumi sighs softly and pulls you to his chest. “why are you so worked up, hm?”

from the way he speaks, you can tell that he already has an inkling. the breakup. cuddling last night. hugging you now. everything.

you don’t realize you’re crying until he gently wipes his thumb under your eye. he has the audacity to have an amused grin plastered on his stupidly pretty lips. your vision is blurry but if it hadn’t been, you would’ve thrown a punch.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair. “it’s all my fault.”

“it is,” you whimper pathetically. all the tears and the emotions you’ve been holding back bubble up to the surface.

“don’t be upset,” he almost pleads. “let’s go back, okay?”

the night ends with megumi on the couch. neither of you bring up the argument or the fact that he had slept in your bed with you last night. you two don’t talk about the usage of pet names, either.

when you open your eyes on december 22nd, you’re surprised to see that megumi has already headed out for the day. you click your tongue in annoyance—he’s always been good at avoiding his problems when it comes to dealing with them, especially problems involving his emotions. you already know where you’re supposed to be headed, so you suppose that it’s for the best that he’d left before you.

the shopping mall is a long line of vendors and stores among other things. the snow on the ground is fresh—it must’ve snowed late last night after you’d fallen asleep. it crunches underneath your beat-up sneakers with each step you take. you’re not shocked when you end up wandering aimlessly, dipping in and out of stores with no real urgency to finish your mission.

there’s nothing to do anyway.

you’ve killed about 3 curses total and it’s really starting to look like you’ve been sent out here for busy work. you really should’ve figured that out the first day of the mission when you had to practically beg the curses to come out and fight you.

you find yourself in the front of a jewelry store, eyeing a pretty bracelet that you know would look stunning around megumi’s wrist. it’s one of those bracelets that clasp tightly. there’s a thicker band in the center with pretty carvings that seem to resemble some sort of swirly heart. it’s pretty, you have to admit.

without much thought, you buy the gift.

the seller has to clear her throat to get your attention when you don’t answer her question. “um, would you like this to be wrapped?”

you nod absentmindedly. “oh, yes. sorry. please wrap it.”

she nods in return and proceeds to wrap the bracelet in a tiny box, adorning it with a festive bow. you ask her to change it out for a different color, explaining that it isn’t a christmas gift and instead, it’s for someone’s birthday. she offers you a warm smile before switching it with a muted blue ribbon.

you return to the hotel, having to take an expensive taxi. you don’t mind—the bracelet has already made a decent-sized dent in your wallet. why not spend an extra amount on getting home? it’s not like jujutsu sorcerers are paid poorly.

reality hits you when you finally get back to the hotel room. you want to punch yourself for being so stupid. did you really just buy a birthday present for your ex-boyfriend?

you’re thankful that megumi hasn’t arrived yet. he seems to be determined to avoid you for as long as he can. you can’t blame him, either. you did give him quite a hard time yesterday.

you toss the box on to the dresser and head to the bathroom to splash some much needed cold water on to your face. maybe that’ll wake you up enough to clear your mind. you’ve acted out once during this trip already and you’re not really looking forward to any other possible outbursts.

you rinse your face and pat yourself dry with one of the face towels provided to you by the hotel staff. you hang it over the rack again and tiredly make your way to your bed. you halt your movements when you see megumi standing by the dresser, admiring your gift.

he looks up at you in surprise with the smallest grin on his face. it’s so subtle that you would’ve missed it had you not been dating him for nearly two years.

“is this for me?”

“no,” you quickly deny. his face falls and you cough out, “um, i mean.. yeah. i-i didn’t… i… happy birthday.”

he brightens, lips pulling up into a real, genuine smile. “you remembered?”

“why wouldn’t i?” you blurt gently. you bite your inner cheek to stop yourself from saying anything more.

“i dunno.” his voice is distant and low, like he’s trying to hold back his tears. “i just…i didn’t think i was deserving of a gift from you. thank you. i like it.”

you stand awkwardly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. “yeah, well…”

“can you help me put it on?” he asks, sitting at the edge of your unmade bed.

you feel your body heat up. part of you screams for you to stop. you shouldn’t do that. it’s far too intimate and you two are broken up. you’ve never been good at making decisions, though, so you sit next to him and feel the mattress dip.

he gives you a grateful look, one that you willfully ignore, and gives you his wrist. you clasp the bracelet on, fingertips just barely grazing his skin. your heart skips a beat and you have to inhale sharply before pulling away.

“thank you,” he whispers.

december 23rd is a sore reminder that life goes on. you had half-expected something to spark between you and megumi. perhaps he’d beg for you back, or maybe with less wishful thinking, he’d give you his real reason as to why he doesn’t want you anymore.

“i don’t think we need to go anymore,” megumi says when you come out of the bathroom after freshening up.

“huh? why not?”

“there’s nothing out there.” megumi’s voice is flat.

“i know, but we’ll get in trouble if we…”

“gojo probably sent us out here for fun.”

your lips part. megumi turns to you with a slight frown.

“don’t you think so too?” he asks, but you know it isn’t a question he’s looking to find an answer to. “why would the higher-ups assign a mission like this to a special grade sorcerer and a grade 1 sorcerer? if they needed that much manpower, this mission would’ve been deadlier. instead, we’re playing cleanup crew.”

“yeah, but..” you trail off, unable to think of a statement to refute his words. “if we go back now, we’ll get chewed out.”

“it’s just a scolding. you’ll be fine.” megumi stands up and stretches his arms.

you watch him cautiously as he begins to fold his clothes and throw them into his duffel bag. he doesn’t say anything else, letting the silence overtake the room.

“...are we leaving, then?” you ask meekly, not bothering to hide the slight quiver in your voice.

he pauses slightly. “do you want to stay here until christmas? this mission is stupid and you know it. there’s no point.”

why is his tone so cold all of the sudden? it’s as if you two hadn’t shared a moment last night before bed. does your gift not mean anything to him now that he’s cleared his mind with a good rest?

your eyes flicker to his wrist. the gold glimmers underneath the light and you realize that megumi doesn’t seem to hate wearing it. so why is he acting so … unpleasant?

you feel a lump in your throat. it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s able to upset you from just the tone of his voice. even his body language, usually fluid and smooth, is rigid with your presence. you want to tell him that you’ve enjoyed your time with him. you want to shake his shoulders and tell him that if you two cut your mission short, you might not get another chance to be near him again.

“do you still care about me?” you whisper instead.

he stills completely. “what?”

“this entire time,” you begin shakily, “you’ve been nice to me. you treat me like you always do. you’re always hovering over me even though you pretend you aren’t! you obviously still care, megumi.”

his adam's apple bobs as swallows. a beat of silence. then two. then three.

“i do care,” he admits sorely.

“then why did you break up with me?” you blurt. there it is, the question you’ve been meaning to ask. you both had seen it coming.

“because…” megumi winces as if he’s the one getting hurt from the ordeal. “because you deserve someone that’s normal. someone that isn’t a sorcerer. i can’t give you that life.”

you feel your chest swarm with anger. why does he always think he needs to sabotage himself to make others happy? this is something you’ve tried working with him on, but it seems like old habits are hard to kill off, just like your habit of loving him.

“why the hell would you decide that for me? when did i ever say i wanted a normal life?” you snap. your hands clench at your sides.

“it’s too early for this,” he says, his voice straining as he finally musters up the strength to look at you in your eyes.

“tell me, megumi. if that’s the real reason, then that is the most pathetic excuse for a breakup i've ever heard.” your voice cracks and you gulp down the oncoming sob that’s threatening to explode from your throat.

he inhales slowly and makes his way to you, holding you close against his chest. you should push him away, but you would rather let him hug you. you know that you can’t fight him, anyway.

“you…once said you wanted a regular relationship. when you got hurt a few weeks ago, i realized i couldn’t be that for you,” he confesses lowly. “i knew that you’d never find it in yourself to leave, so i figured i should just let you go for your sa–”

“are you kidding me?” you shout incredulously. “i said that when i was fifteen, megumi! before i even knew what being in love was like!”

he flinches against you. “but i…”

“you and your damn savior complex! i don’t need to be in a regular, normal relationship! i don’t need any of that, megumi! i’m a sorcerer, I won't ever get to be normal! in fact, it’s even better that i’m with you because you at least know what this life is like, you idiot! you’re always ruining the good things in your life because you—”

he takes his fingers to grab your chin and he pulls you in for a kiss. if the kiss is a ploy to shut you up, you hate to admit that it’s working. his tongue slips into your mouth and you melt against him. your arms loop around his neck as you desperately drag him down closer to your body. his hand grip your waist while the other clings to the small of your back.

you whimper out of instinct and he pulls away, lips bruised and breathless. it’s been so long since you’ve tasted him and you frown, tiptoeing to capture his lips again. you need to savor him, to feel him lips against yours again.

“baby, wait.” his chest heaves as he looks down at you. “don’t…don’t do this to me.”

“do what?” you ask, an edge to your voice. did he just reject you? even after all that?

“w-we gotta report back to—”

“we’re supposed to leave tomorrow,” you interrupt.

the gears shift in his head. “fine, but—”

“i’m still really fucking mad, but i just need you to kiss me right now,” you whine impatiently.

all megumi does is laugh when he swoops down to press his lips against yours.

it’s december 24th when you two find yourselves in satoru’s office. steam is practically rising from your ears as you try to compose yourself in front of your former teacher.

“... i wanted a wedding invitation.” satoru shrugs.

“you set us up!” you whine angrily. “gojo, are you serious?! isn’t this a little immature?”

megumi stays silent, averting his gaze. he suddenly finds the succulents on satoru’s desk very interesting. he’s never noticed that they’re all nearly dead! how cool.

your eyes shoot daggers at megumi's silence.

"we aren't gonna get married any time soon..." megumi mutters when he feels your pointy glare on him.

satoru raises his hands in mock surrender. “you two can’t blame me! it worked out! you two are back together now, right?”

“but did you have to make us look like fools out there?” you groan.

“you should’ve figured it out on the first day that the mission was a sham!” satoru exclaims, offense taking over his features.

“but still!” you’re borderline hysterical at this point, unable to believe that your former teacher of all people had to set up an entire fake mission so that you and your ex could talk your feelings out. “we would’ve figured ourselves out sooner or later!”

megumi nods. he feels like he should at least give you a little support even if he’s embarrassed out of his mind.

“oh really?” satoru’s voice drips with sarcasm. “you guys should be thanking me—”

“you’re so not getting an invitation to our wedding!” you grumble.

“wha—hey! i’m the one that got you two back together! besides, i’m megumi’s guardian! you can’t just not invite me.”

“watch me!”

“megumi, tell her that she can’t do that—hey! where are you guys going? invite me, you rascals—why are you guys leaving? we aren’t done discussing this! megumi, don’t you dare take her side! she isn’t even your wife yet—don’t slam my door!”

[for-some-reason]

Late Night Conversation

You really shouldn’t be awake this time of night, but you lost track of the time while bingewatching a show. One minute it was still 7 P.M. and the next it was midnight.

Now, at 2 A.M., you resign to your fate of not getting any sleep.

You’re scrolling through social media when a text notification drops down from the top of your screen.

bakugo friend: Hey.

Bakugo? Awake at this time of night? you think a bit crazily. You did not know this man for being a night owl at all. No, that was more of a Kaminari or Midoriya thing.

you: Why r u awake?

A text bubble pops up and you watch the animated circles move around, disappearing after a few minutes.

Maybe he fell asleep, you reason. You sigh, getting back to your social media.

Suddenly, you get another text notification.

bakugo friend: Doesn’t matter. Why are you.

you: Cant sleep :( binging show

bakugo friend: You idiots don’t know anything about proper sleep. No wonder you’re always tired.

you: we’re just not a grandpa at heart like you are. now srsly, what’s up lol?

bakugo friend: I also can’t sleep, I guess.

you: id feel bad for you but i like having someone to talk to late at night. you should stay up more n just talk to me tbh

bakugo friend: Fuck no. Sleep is important. You should go to sleep more often ‘tbh’.

you: im good actually

The next hour is spent like that, talking about nothing in particular and joking around. You wished throughout the conversation that Bakugo was with you. To be lying side by side in the dark, whispering about anything and everything, to tell him in that momentary bubble of just you and him how you really felt. To have it be reciprocated.

You’re not sure when it happens but you fall asleep.

———

Waking up, realization quickly dawns on you and you grab your phone in a panic. You never said goodnight. You see three unread messages from Bakugo.

bakugo friend: Are you still awake? You haven’t answered in a bit.

bakugo friend: Goodnight.

bakugo friend: Thanks for chatting with me or whatever. Was nice. Try to sleep at a decent time.

You smile, shooting off an apology and good morning text, and start getting ready for your day.

———————————————————————

a/n: im the boring type of person when it comes to contact names so my go-to’s are either Firstname PlaceWeMet, or as done here Firstname Friend lol

though i imagine after this we try to find something cuter/more personal for bakugo

[transmascaraa]

Hi, Hi, Hi! How are you?

I am the one, who requested the FREEZING hands and I loved it. Thanks for the food. I really, really loved it! And I have another request! Their s/o just randomly telling them what their first impression of them was, when they first saw them. They always heard of like their intimidating/cold behaviour or looks, but when their s/o first saw them they didn’t think that. They thought like “Such a cutie patootie! Awww! Look at how adorable he is! I just wanna squish those cheeks!”

Could I request Cyno, Alhaitham, Wriothesley & Diluc with that? (And could I be an anon? 🪶 anon please? Pretty please?)

STAY HYDRATED, EAT ENOUGH AND HAVE A PROPER SLEEP SCHEDULE!

multiple characters headcannons!

"cutie patootie!"

characters: cyno, alhaitham, wriothesley, diluc x gn!reader

author's note: OFC I ALREADY ADDED YOU TO THE ANONS ON MY INTRODUCTION POST^^ i love this and this is probably how i would act if i was actually in genshin aka teyvat idk anyways enjoy reading this!!

๑ Cyno

-you when you just told him this he still had a neutral look on his face.

-"and they all told me you were so so SO scary! but when i first saw you- I WANTED TO BITE YOUR CHEEKS AFFECTIONATELY!!!"

-he looked a little confused.

-"bite my cheeks?-"

-"THEY'RE SO SQUISHY!!"

-you got closer to him and cupped his face in your hands, basically squishing his cheeks, and then giving him a kiss on the nose.

-"y'know, i still feel the same about you. i don't know what the hell others are going on about."

-he's never received much affection in his life before so he's kinda confused about it, despite his cheeks getting redder and warmer by second, ever if he didn't realize it.

-"uh- thanks?"

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

✧ Alhaitham

-you start ranting to him but the first few minutes he isn't even listening to you and is instead reading some book even tho he said he's literally listening.

-"'haitham! are you even listening?"

-"huh? uhm- sorry- can you repeat what you were saying?"

-you're a bit annoyed but do it anyway, and this time ge actually listens.

-"yeah? what about us when we first met?"

-he's impatient for you to finish but also curious about what you're about to say.

-now he's a bit surprised.

-"I JUST WANTED TO SQUISH YOUR CHEEKS AAH!!!!!-"

-he's SLIGHTLY blushing and has a MICROSCOPIC smile on his face but yeah.

-he's happy to know it but also- how the fuck did you think that he was a "cutie patootie" as you said?

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

✿ Wriothesley

-bro would be flabbergasted but smirking at you teasingly the whole damn time

-"AND I THOUGHT YOU WERE SO FUCKING CUTE!"

-"mhm..."

-"oh~?"

-"yeah..~

-you would be blushing halfway but he'll let you continue lmao

-then he'd start talking about how he felt when you first met too and it would honestly be really cute imo

-but like okay dude why you looking at me like you'll ask me to kiss youu

-he probably will tho tbh

-not much left to say but he'll really enjoy listening to you and all cuz bffr you're 753 times more special to him cuz you didn't find him intimidating like literally everyone told you

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

✯ Diluc

-he'll deny it the whole time that he finds you so adorable ranting to him about it

-but then again he appreciates it

-even tho he wishes you actually found him scary or intimidating

-"AND LIKE- YOU LOOKED SO CUTE THAT I WANTED TO JUST GRAB YOU BY YOUR HANDS AND JUST KISS YOU WHOLE FACE ALL OVER AND-"

-"i don't understand you... how the fuck do i look- what was the word... skrunkly-?"

-you laughed your ass off at that but like okay

-he looked even more confused lol

-but no matter how little he understands you, he'll always be sure to actually pay attention to you cuz he doesn't want you to feel forgotten or worth any less than you are

-he'll do his best to not come off as too rude or mean but he genuinely thinks your thoughts sometimes are weird af

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

loved this one definitely

i didn't know what other word to use except for skrunkly but alr

HOPE YOU LIKED IT‼️

| 🪶anon | @mariaace <3

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 3

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

(Part 1) (Part 2)(Part 4)

Author’s note: I’m a bit uncertain about this part tbh :/ on one hand I love it, on the other I’m not sure

It had been a few days since Azriel went with you to return the truck, and you hadn’t seen much of him or Cassian since. Cassian had told you they were both personal trainers at the same gym, and he even went so far as to put his schedule up on the fridge so you would know when he’d be gone.

Looking at the schedule, he had even left a sticky note telling you he had plans before work and that he wouldn’t be back all day.

Your day alone in the apartment didn’t go as well as you had hoped it would, your phone buzzing around noon, the name Dad lighting up your phone.

You sigh, letting it go to voicemail, and decide to call Feyre to avoid thinking about him. She picks up on the third ring, her voice chirping through the phone, “hello?”

“Hey Fey, do you wanna do something today? I don’t want to wallow all alone.”

She sighs over the phone, “I wish I could, but I’m walking into work right now. I can’t call out when they can see me walking in the doors.”

You sigh, “do you know if Mor’s free?”

You can hear some commotion from Feyre’s surroundings, like she’s walking into a building.

“Mor has that internship she just started, I think she’s busy getting things ready for that.”

A beat pauses before Feyre continues, “I gotta go, but I’ll call you when I get off, okay? We can do something tomorrow if you’re free.”

You smile, “can we go to that axe throwing place we’ve been talking about for ages?”

She laughs, “absolutely. I’ll even print out a photo of your dad and hang it up on the target. Okay, I really gotta go, but if you wanna text me you can. I’ll respond when I can. Love you!”

She waits for you to echo her sentiment before hanging up, leaving you alone again. You spend the day trying to distract yourself, finding anything you can to distance yourself from the loneliness you feel. You unpack a few boxes you hadn’t gotten to, and after being fully moved in, you pour yourself a glass of soda to commemorate the occasion.

You sip from your glass as you begin cleaning the apartment, organizing the pantry, cleaning out the fridge, hell you even strip Cassian’s bed and clean his sheets and comforter.

Once the place is clean, you run out to the store, picking up what you need to make your favorite meal. You unpack your groceries when you come back, pour yourself a glass of wine, and sigh in contentment at spending an evening alone cooking your favorite pasta dish. You are determined to salvage some part of today, even if it’s just with a nice dinner. You’re playing music from your phone, the sounds drowning out the notification of a voicemail from your father that you’ve been ignoring all day.

You sip your wine as you stir the pasta, however the blaring sound of an ad startles you, causing wine to go all over the front of your clothes. You sigh, looking to the ceiling for strength to not break down. You take some deep breaths before peeling off your wine soaked dress, opening the laundry door to throw it into the washing machine. You’re hopeful that getting it in immediately will help prevent a stain from setting in, but you still pour a little extra stain remover in.

Once you get the machine going, standing in your kitchen in your underwear, you decide to make the most of this. The day sucked. All day all you had wanted to do was hide under your covers, hide from the world. You took a deep breath and told yourself “I’m done hiding.”

Your favorite song starts playing, and knowing that Cassian won’t be home for several more hours, you dance. You jump around your apartment, whipping your head around, letting out the loose bun your hair was in for the day.

You skip around, the sounds of Super Trouper by ABBA drowning out the door opening until suddenly something stops your music. Turning around you find Rhys’s hand hovering over your phone, having just stopped the music, and Azriel, whose gaze is on you, soaking in every detail of your little show.

You blink a few times, trying to ensure this is not a nightmare, however you don’t snap back to reality until the timer goes off for the pasta. All three of you whip your heads towards the timer, it’s tone jarring all three of you back to the present.

You groan, starting to back away back to your room. “What are you guys doing here?” You exclaim, “but more importantly - please drain my pasta while I find pants.”

You slip into your room, finding a comfy pair of sweats and a crop top, coming back out to find Azriel draining your pasta into the colander.

“Well?” You ask, cutting up the chicken you had pan-fried earlier. Azriel won’t look you in the eye, a blush evident across his face as he’s turned in the opposite direction, facing away from you.

Rhysand doesn’t have the same affliction.

He smirks at you, “is this how Cassian gets greeted when he comes home? I must say I’d be more chipper coming home to that little show than to Azriel.”

Azriel does not respond to the jab. Instead, he picks up another knife, helping you cut. Rhys just stands behind you two, leaning against the fridge.

“Cassian most certainly does not get greeted by my bare ass when he comes home,” you respond indignantly. The two of you have finished chopping, so you motion for all the chicken and the pasta to go into the pan with the pesto sauce concoction you’ve made. Azriel helps you stir it, and once it’s evenly distributed, you two pop it into the oven.

“Well your ass wasn’t bare, it was slightly covered by your very cute-“

The task at hand done and a new timer set, you turn to face Rhys, cutting him off. “I spilled wine on my clothes and I didn’t want it to set and then I got carried away when Abba came on.”

He only smiles back, “got a hot date for dinner tonight?”

Azriel tenses ever so slightly, but you don’t think too much of it as you respond, “yeah word on the street is she has an incredible rack and a great ass.”

“Having seen them first hand I think the rumors are true.”

You roll your eyes, but decide you’re done with this game and want some sincerity.

“I had a shitty day and I just wanted my favorite meal.” You look down, crossing your arms. You don’t like being vulnerable, especially around people you just met. You think about Cassian, and how much he loves the two guys in front of you. Maybe you can take a leap, and perhaps they’ll catch you.

“I’d actually enjoy the company if you guys want to stay. I made plenty of pasta to wallow in so I think there’s enough to go around.”

Your eyes stay on the ground as you move your hands up and down your arms, a nervous movement. You watch as Azriel’s foot comes into view, standing in front of you as he gently taps his foot against yours, a silent request to look at him. “I love pasta,” he tells you, looking into your eyes. You’re struck by the absence of pity in them, and how they are full of sincerity, of kindness.

You look away from him when Rhys starts talking, “It’s decided. You got a two for one deal tonight - two hot dates for the evening.”

You smile, the thought of being alone almost overbearing, when you remember, “why did you guys come over here anyway?”

Azriel sheepishly looks away, clearly thinking about how they caught you half naked when they walked in the door. Rhys tells you, “we wanted to watch Forest Gump and we knew Cassian had it on Blu-ray.”

You nod, looking over at Cassian’s wall of dvds and blu-rays, which you had to admit was quite impressive. “I’ve never seen it - is it any good?”

When Cassian got off work from the gym, he thought he’d come home to a dark apartment, scrounging the fridge for any remnants of food. What he didn’t expect to find was his two brothers watching Forrest Gump, and seeing a tupperware container in the fridge with a sticky note with his name on it in Azriel’s neat script.

He walks in, Azriel shooting daggers at him. The audacity, Cassian thinks, watching a movie in my place and being annoyed that I’m here. That is until he comes close enough to notice your head in Azriel’s lap, a hand curled up on his thigh. His eyes linger on his brother’s hand that is slowly massaging your scalp, the hands he had always been so nervous and protective over. Cassian realizes he’s never seen his brother leave his hands to be so openly observed outside of his brothers.

He stares for a minute as your blanketed back slowly rises and falls, clearly asleep, before he turns, giving his brother a shit eating grin where they have a conversation without words. The conversation essentially boils down to Cassian’s eyebrows raising up and down, and Azriel’s continued scowl at Cassian’s inability to move through a room without making as much noise as possible.

Azriel doesn’t relax until Cassian is sitting on the other couch next to Rhys, tuning into the movie when Forrest is walking around Washington D.C.

“She didn’t even make it halfway through the movie,” Cassian whispers to Rhys.

“No,” Rhys replies, looking at you curled up on the couch, a soft smile on his face, “but she did ask us to stay for dinner.”

[star-ar512]

on signalis characters' voices (signalis spoilers!)

after playing signalis more than once and putting aside the overwhelming amount of feelings this game and its story can and will make one feel, it is easier to notice the more subtle details; e.g. enemies behavior, meaning behind documents and objects, and in this case, the characters' voices.

paying attention to the various living npcs you can talk to, one detail that stands out is that every character has a different tone of voice (similar to undertale).

i like to believe those sounds which accompany the text could represent what each character could sound like; one would expect, since replikas are basically copies, for them to have all the same voice.

well, that's not exactly the case.

here is a video with text and dialogues from all the npcs, without music to hear the "dialogue" clearly. (not all the dialogue is included, only one dialogue per character is present; except for elster as she does not like to speak much).

ACHTUNG: MAJOR SIGNALIS SPOILERS!

the dialogues are in chronological order:

-wounded star unit (STAR-S23?? is her name in the game files) in the aula before classroom 4C in floor B1, S-23 Sierpinski (elster included even if she has two lines);

-Isa Itou in the library, floor B1, S-23 Sierpinski;

-Storch Sieben (STCR-S2307) in the rationing office, floor B2, S-23 Sierpinski;

-EULR-S2312 (probably named Dezember given her number designation; eules in game like to use months as names, using the last two numbers of their designation as a reference) in the nurse station, floor B3, S-23 Sierpinski;

-Adler (ADLR-S2301), presumably in the elevator lobby in floor B4, S-23 Sierpinski;

-Arar (ARAR-S2318) in the vent below the Storch dorm in floor B8, S-23 Sierpinski;

-KLBR-S2302 in the library, floor B8, S-23 Sierpinski;

-Beo (MNHR-S2301) in the third room in the mines where monofilament stockpiles can be found, in the rightmost corridor.

-Ariane Yeong (and LSTR-512, still has an unbelievable amount of max two sentences at once) in the personnel room. floor B2, Penrose-512 (memory);

-Falke (FKLR-S2301) in her own room, found in Home.

you may ask, what purpose does comparing the "voices" serve? probably none, still i wished to know if they were the same sounds for every character or not.

here's what i could find out:

the majority of replikas have a different voice, with some exceptions:

-STCR and LSTR units have the same voice;

-as do STAR and FKLR units;

-a bit more expected, the gestalts npcs we see in the game (Isa Itou and Ariane Yeong) have the same voice.

now, for the fun stuff: by analyzing the frequencies which stood out the most in each "beep" from every character's voice, i could rank them from high pitched to low pitched ones.

again, has no purpose, but the result is actually delightful (to me).

here is the ranking:

1. kolibri

2. mynah

3. eule

4. isa-ariane

5. storch-elster

6. star-falke

7. adler

8. arar

pretty surprising, huh? i'd have wagered for isa/ariane to be in second place, followed by eules; also was expecting for arars to be just after the eules, and have behind them stars, then storches, then adler.

no one is surprised kolibri have the highest voices lmao, but mynah having an almost equally high voice was slightly unexpected but not unwelcome.

what's truly surprising to me is falke having the same voice as stars. i'd have expected something different tbh (stars being the lowest rank of protektors, etc etc, they're silly and stupid and crass; all things falke is not supposed to be).

elster having a deeper voice compared to ariane is the cutest thing ever! (as that post about them says)

that's probably the instance where you can notice the most that there is in fact a difference in most voices.

the funniest thing ever to me is that storches apparently have a higher pitched voice compared to stars, also arars having the deepest voice out of all replika is truly awesome to me (definitely fits).

here are to what musical notes the frequencies corresponded to, in the same ranking as before (visual rendering on a piano keyboard for fun i guess):

kolibri (G6 B6 E7 A7)

mynah (F#6 A#6 D#7 G#7)

eule (F6 A6 D7 G#7)

isa-ariane (F6 G#6 C#7 G7)

storch-elster (E6 G#6 C7 F#7)

star-falke (D#6 G6 B6 F7)

adler (D6 F#6/G6 B6 E7)

(adler has five notes as two close frequencies were distinct from each other, compared to only one in the "feminine sounding" voices. i guess that's how they made him sound different, by overlaying two notes)

arar (C#6 F6 A#6 D#7)

that's it! thanks for coming to my ted talk about signalis voices and listening to me ramble about them :)

[cheeseceli]

First Relationships

pairing: skz ot8 x gn!Reader (individually)

genre: fluff

request: i rlly like ur writing style and i immediately thought of you when i was being delulu over first relationships, so i thought about requesting how skz would react when they discovered they're the first person u dated! im sorry if it's confusing haha <3

warnings: tooth roofing fluff, not proofread

a/n: thank you!! ngl i was delulu when writing this lmao. hope u like it <3

Bang Chan

So patient, it's crazy

Will never rush anything

Everything's at your pace

Hell, if you think it's too early for even holding hands, that's okay

He would always wait for you

And also, your comfort comes first

Always asks how you're feeling throughout whatever you're going through

Sorry but he 100% babies you as well

He finds you adorable

but tbh he'd do that anyways, the fact that it's your first relationship doesn't matter much in this case

Lee Know

Two scenarios

Will tease you relentlessly, no matter what you do

or

will be extra shy

but he'd also be so excited

it's like your little adventure and you two get to experience everything together

Technically it is but still

like, dates?

He is always so happy to take you to places

Anniversaries?

Even better

My man is just so happy to be there with you

Changbin

My man's honoured

He knows how perfect you are, and he knows you had a lot of options and opportunities before

So to think that you chose >him<

As I said, honoured

Besides spoiling you and treating you like royalty, he'd be really scared of messing up

But calm him down, say you love him and his confidence comes back at total strength

Would never even dare to rush you as well

His patience is also something that must be highlighted

Whatever it is, he will always wait for you to be ready

Hyunjin

The true romantic

He said once that he'd rather be someone's last love than the first one

So to think that he could be both your first and last love

He's so honoured

And giddy

But naturally he will be also really nervous at times

Forgive him if at times it seems he's the one that never had a relationship before

But it's true that it's his first time experiencing love so full like this

Han

There are two possibilities

He'll be pretty confident and maybe even kind of cocky

Will do the "I wonder who taught you how to kiss so well" knowing damn well it was him, sorry

Or

He will be extremely shy

You would even think it's his first relationship

In most cases, he is both at the same time

His duality is insane

Truly scared of messing up

But he is as always, trying his best

Everytime you're nervous he can handle the situation while being calm and humorous

We love him

Felix

He's a bit excited

A bit too excited

You know that Aladdin's song "Whole New World"?

He'd use it to describe your relationship

And he is the cutest

He's just so happy to be there :(

Everytime your relationship takes a step forward and you trust him a bit more, he becomes the happiest man in the world

He's truly grateful to have your trust

Needless to say, he will also always prioritise your comfort

Just say the word and he will do (or not do) whatever you'd like

Your wish is his command

Seungmin

Tries to no make a big deal out of it (kinda fails)

He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable by any means

So overall, he'll act normally

but he'd go as slowly as he can, trying not to scare you off

Scared of words as well

He doesn't want you to feel forced to reply something like "ilyt"

But one thing that is really cute is how he'll always talk you through it

Everytime you are doing something that is considered your first, like first date, first kiss etc

He always asks you if you like it and if you wanna keep going on

the kindest fr

I.N.

Truly, I don't think there'd be much of a difference

He'd be more careful and delicate when the occasion asked for it

but overall that'd be it

Similar to Seungmin, he'd try to not make a big deal out of it

He'd never admit, but sometimes he'd try to prove that he could be the best boyfriend ever because he was scared

He's kinda of a perfeccionist

He'd hate himself if one day he breaks you

He'd hate himself even more if he managed to break your perception of relationships as well

So he really tries his best all the time

feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

dividers by @cafekitsune

[panlight]

Tbh I've always thought that what really fucked Bella up in New Moon was the fact that Edward took all of her photos of him and left her without any evidence that he really even existed. And the Cullen leaving just felt like part of that. If they'd stayed but he still took her stuff, she probably would've done better, but if they left and she had her stuff, she also probably would've done better.

Like, in Twilight, Bella did almost die. She brushes it off but I wish New Moon had delved more into how traumatic that would've been, like instead of having nightmares about aging, she could've been having nightmares about James, and how fragile she is as a human. And everyone except for the Cullen think that she just fell down a flight of stairs, scary but not traumatizing. So when the cullens left, everyone that knew the truth was gone, and anyone she could be honest with was gone. Which isn't on them but it seems a little irresponsible, like it's against the law to tell humans the truth so we are going to leave the one human we told alone and never check in on her and make sure she isn't a) losing her mind or b) telling other people. If they owe her anything, they don't owe it to her as Edward's ex-girlfriend, they owe it her as someone that Edward and Alice brought into their world and endangered.

Aside from that, though, the fact that Edward took any trace of him meant that not only could she not be honest with anyone around her, she can't grieve the relationship properly and also she has no *tangible* evidence that he wasn't human. At least in photos you could see the paleness and the eyes. All she has is the scar James' left, which is probably wrapped in its own traumatic memories. If you had to lie to everyone around you for 6ish months, then the only people you could tell the truth to disappear and the only "evidence" you have of the truth also disappears, and you *still* have to lie to everyone around you, wouldn't you lose it a little bit? Wouldn't you start to wonder if you hallucinated the whole thing?

Like, when she sees Laurent, she's actually excited at first. Here is evidence that I did almost die in Phoenix! Here is someone I can be honest with! Here is proof that I'm not crazy! Seeing Laurent isn't painful for her the way that thinking about Edward is, she doesn't try to avoid him or have a panic attack at first.

To me, Bella's depression in new moon wasn't just about the break-up. It was also about how knowing about vampires isolated her from her human friends and family, and when the vampires left, she was alone. There were too many secrets between her and other humans for them to have normal relationships with them. Even if the cullens stayed and she avoided them, at least she knows it was real.

She's also in more danger from other vampires for the rest of her life because she knows, because anyone could come across her and say "shoot, she puts us in danger of exposure, gotta kill her I guess."

Still, I feel like people pay too much attention to the question "hey, is it messed up or not that the cullens left?" and not "hey, is it messed up or not that Edward basically stole Bella's things when he left?"

Yeah this makes sense to me. How being cut off from the vampire world and not having any proof it was even real would mess with someone. Not being able to talk honestly about what you've been through with someone. Edward is trying for a 'clean break' but in doing so removes the proof that he and the whole family was real.

What I never got about the 'abandoned' argument was like "how could Esme and Carlisle abandon their daughter!" because I just did not read their relationship like that. That birthday party in New Moon did not read to me as a family celebrating one of their own; it read as a family trying to be welcoming to a family member's newish partner. They like her. They care about her. But they don't know her that well yet and she doesn't know them that well yet. That conversation she had with Carlisle over stitches is not a conversation you have with your dad or even with your father-in-law; it's a conversation you have with someone you're still getting to know. She's asking him like, really basic stuff about the whole vegetarian thing. At this point in the story she doesn't even know Rosalie and Jasper's backstories yet. She doesn't seem to ever learn Esme's full story. Canonically, Emmett and Rosalie had been in Africa; Bella says at the birthday part it's been months since she's seen them. She and Edward have only been dating for six months, which is a long time for a high school kid, but it's literally nothing for immortal vampires.

The sense I got from New Moon was that the Cullens were still trying to figure out how this was going to end with Edward and Bella. And we learn from Midnight Sun he was planning to leave all along. I feel like Bella thought this was permanent and the "future, the family" she had chosen, but I don't think the Cullens were looking at it the same way. No one was using the word 'mate' in canon; Edward and Bella were not engaged, there was no plan to make her a vampire. Everything was still in limbo. I think Bella loved the idea of being part of this big family but I don't think she really knew them as individuals yet except Edward and Alice (even Emmett, again canonically, was not around that summer to bond with).

Obviously everyone has different headcanons, but there's roughly where mine is. I'm sure they were sorry to leave and that, other than Rosalie, they liked her, but I think they already had a sense that this arrangement between Edward and Bella might not, could not, last. I don't feel like they thought they were leaving behind a family member, just a could-have-been family member. She's like Bree Tanner in Eclipse; they would have happily taken her in. But they hadn't yet and they can't like, force Edward to keep dating her.

But yeah I think the disorientation of having no evidence (except the stereo; she clawed that out of the dashboard herself, didn't she?) and having no one to talk about it with is the real issue; THAT would take a toll on anyone's mental health even without the break up. I just didn't feel like she actually cared that much about the Cullens beyond that; hence the Scenario 2 the other day where Edward stayed but everyone else left. I think she'd feel guilty that she separated Edward from his family but that would be it. If she had Edward, she wouldn't be super bothered to not have the others around.

[jthealien]

Unfashionable Aroace Lesbian Rates Buddy’s Outfits

I may not be qualified to do this (see reasons above) but I do like making lists.

Please note that I’m not trying to genuinely criticize any of the designs, this is all just for funsies! :3 Also my rating scale is very subjective and arbitrary.

Normal Outfit: 5.5/10

—If I'm being real it’s a little goofy,, maybe it’s the stripes

—It’s funny that this is one of his less revealing outfits, and it’s at a point where he hates Chase (having your boobs out as a metaphor for trust or something)

———

Toffee Break: 8.5/10

—I really like the gemstones and the headband, so shiny!!

—Idk I just think this one is nice

—Extra points for cat

—The chest window here was a gateway drug for him showing more skin in all the other outfits

———

We Need to Talk: 8/10

—Oh wow I like the sparkly outfit with gems/crystals who could’ve guessed

—The patterns!!

—And it’s blue!! I think he should wear other colors more often, they look good on him

———

Beach Boys: 6/10

—I mean the tattoo is pretty cool. Don’t have much else to say

—The bracelets and anklets are nice I like those

———

Dreams by Day: 9/10

—It makes me so sad that this is a one-off outfit. I love it so much.

—Like I said, he needs to wear more colors, green especially

—The earrings! Look at them!! He never misses on the jewelry tbh

—Also the scales are super neat

———

Sick Days: 9.5/10

—Guys this honestly might be my favorite outfit of his

—It ticks all the boxes of Things I Like (sparkly stuff, gemstones, feathers/birds, moons)

—I really love the gemstones below the eyes idk what is it about them

—The feather jacket with the big collar!!

—The sort of loose sheer top that fades into being opaque is also fun love that

—Something about this outfit makes him look so pretty. Is it the eye gems it seriously might be the gems (crow brain)

———

Dreams by Night: 7/10

—It’s cool, I like the sheer cape thingy

—He still has to dress up even when he’s dead and in some else’s subconscious <3 (commitment to the bit I respect it)

-(I’m not rating the tattered rag outfit in his own dream I think that’d be mean)

———

All that Glitters: 9/10

—The hairstyle really suits him, but it’s funny he changed it one (1) time and never again. (Honestly same, I never change up my hair I’m afraid of ruining it Forever)

—He kind of has the miles edgeworth cut going on, maybe that’s why I like it

—The waist cape is very pretty with the pattern (is it called a waist cape,, I don’t know fashion terms)

—Eye makeup!!!! Hell Yeah!!!!!!

—King of doing cool things one time and never again (please bring back the makeup)

———

Honor Among Thieves: 6.5/10

—eh

—Look I’m aware I’m not the target audience, I just personally think it was better with the hoodie on (that version gets an extra .5)

—The earring eats though

———

Requiem: 9/10

(Guess who just learned that there’s a 10 image per post limit on the app. I cba so we’re going imageless the last two </3)

—Devil symbolism let’s go!!!

—Love the top honestly, the web-like stuff around the cutouts is cool, and so are the thorns. (Bonus points for the thorn symbolism love that shit)

—The devil’s tail on the pants is a neat detail (pun not intended)

—The little horns! Cute!

—Might be the opposite of their intended effect but I think his fangs are really cute,, he’s so cat idk how else to explain it. I wish he had them all the time.

———

Still Waters: 9.5/10

-He’s so gorjus,,

-Listen. Ok. Something about this one makes him kind of look like a butch lesbian. Do we see the vision or am I insane.

-I really don’t have any other justification for why this one ranked so high, it’s the vibes

-Also return of the earrings!! Basically a cheat code to get me to like an outfit more

-Says something that one of my favorite outfits is the one where he’s showing the least skin (it says that I’m gay)

———

Final Ranking!!

1: Sick Days

2: Still Waters

3: Requiem

4: All that Glitters

5: Dreams by Day

6: Toffee Break

7: We Need to Talk

8: Dreams by Night

9: Honor Among Thieves

10: Beach Boys

11: Default Skin