#Wanted to make their hair decently unique too

[witch-sweets]

Some stylized stuff featuring the mean girls ever (no its not the plastics despite the joke being right there-)

I have been listening to this musical for several days now help-/j

[sonotpattismith]

as soft as we know

pairing: choso kamo x reader word count: 12.7k (oops) content: fluff, angst, choso experiencing his first christmas, jealousy, insecurity, loss of virginity, choso being a sweetie pie, smut, 18+ a/n: this is a continuation of 'it's britney, bitch', but it can definitely be read independently as well

“That’s not where it goes, Cho.”

“Lower?” 

“A little bit.”

“Here?”

Grunting in frustration, you reached for his wrist, guiding his hand to the proper positioning. 

“These are supposed to be his arms, Cho.” You laughed despite your playful exasperation, helping him carefully shove the small stick he’d found into the snowman’s lumpy torso. 

Stepping back to check your progress, you smiled gleefully and bit back a cackle at the state of it. Its head was far too small for its body, and the rocks you two had found for his eyes were completely different sizes. 

Turning to catch Choso’s reaction to his first snowman, you were almost caught off guard by his stoic expression. His sharp, dagger like gaze could cut straight through glass, pairing terrifyingly with the firm line his lips were set in. One thing you had learned in the few months you’d been with the half-curse though, was that he had the nastiest case of resting bitch face that you’d ever seen on a man. It was no wonder you were so put off by him upon first meeting. Still, you couldn’t help but tilt your head a little to meet his gaze. 

“You okay?” You questioned with a knowing smile. 

Blinking away the snowflakes that had gathered on his dark lashes, his eyes seemed to light up at your question, the abrupt switch in expressions nearly giving you whiplash. 

“Yeah, he looks funny. Why?” Choso grinned sincerely, reaching out to gently brush the snow from your hair. “Was I doing that thing with my face again?” 

“Yeah, you were.” You giggled and reached up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, gripping at his bicep for balance. He hummed appreciatively, a flush quickly coming up to paint his pale cheeks. It was something you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown out of since the beginning of your relationship. You were sure if the day ever came that he stopped blushing so furiously at your kisses, your heart would split in two. 

“Does it look how you wanted it to?” He asked as he reached out to straighten the right eye that had slipped a bit. Huffing out a sigh, you sized up the snowman that looked like he had definitely seen better days. 

“He looks… unique.” You offered with a tilted head, trying to see which angle would make it look halfway decent. “But hey, if I can’t decorate a tree, our freak snowman is gonna have to do to get me into the Christmas spirit.”

“Why can’t we decorate a tree?” He questioned with a tilt of his head. From what you had told him, the tree was kind of the main event of this holiday you seemed to be buzzing about. 

“I don’t have time this year.” You muttered dejectedly, distracting yourself by straightening out the drooping arms of your snowman. “I’m supposed to be filling in as supervisor for some of the kids’ missions in the next few weeks.”

Choso hummed pensively, taking note of the gloom that had suddenly befallen your once cheerful mood. In a meek attempt to salvage it, he nodded toward the snowman. 

“Is there anything else we can do to him?”

“Well, I wanted to fix his head, but I think my fingers are gonna freeze off if we don’t stop here.” You confessed sheepishly.

“You’re cold?”

“You’re not?” Your brows rose challengingly, giving him a once over to note that he appeared perfectly comfortable. 

Choso tried to hide his anticipatory smile as he pulled you closer, tugging his gloves off with his teeth to reveal his chipping, black painted nails, courtesy of you, of course. It took almost four weeks of you observing the way he’d watch you so intently as you gave yourself haphazard manicures on the floor of your dorm. You would feel his warm breath over your shoulder as you picked up various bottles to choose your weekly color.

 One evening, you had of course seen it coming a mile away when he apprehensively requested if you could do his, too. You could remember smiling knowingly at him before nudging your chin toward the bottles to prompt him to pick one.

Maybe it was because this grunge side Choso had been ever so slowly leaning into as he came into his own made you swoon just a bit, but you’d be lying if you said your shared, weekly manicures hadn’t become some of your favorite memories with him. 

It was time for a touch up, you determined with a soft smile while he gently gathered your hands to uncover them as well. A slow breath escaped you as his large hands enveloped yours, and you gradually felt a steady warmth begin to fill his palms. Your thus far frigid fingers felt as though they were defrosting in his grip, and you nearly moaned in relief. 

“Is that your technique?” You finally gathered, his supposed immunity to the cold becoming less mysterious. He hummed affirmatively, shifting to place both your hands in one of his as the other came up to cup your rosy, snow-kissed cheek.

Leaning into the heater-like quality of his palm, you peered up at him through your lashes. He became more beautiful each time you looked at him, you were sure. 

The dark circles you once found so intimidating now served as an enticing emphasis for his chocolate, brown eyes. His ever-shifting blood-mark gave a dark edge to his otherwise benevolent nature that never failed to send shivers down your spine. These days, he was wearing his hair loose more and more, and maybe it was because you liked to tangle your fingers in it when he kissed you, but he’d never admit that, of course. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as his thumb maneuvered down to brush heat along your chin, unintentionally snagging on your bottom lip on the way. Everything about him made your mind turn to degenerate mush, and it only seemed to be getting worse the longer you spent with him. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take of the careful tango you two had been spinning in the past few months. 

Choso had been adapting quicker than you had expected to the sorts of little intimacies that came along with being in a romantic relationship. It took some gentle coaching for him to understand what types of those intimacies were appropriate and where. When he was introduced to the notion that your lips were essentially free game for him, you would have thought he’d won the lottery. You by no means minded that his new favorite hobby was discovering all the ways he could leave your lips red and raw, but you preferred he not do it in public.

Still, some neck kisses and love bites seemed to be the extent of Choso’s exploration so far, and you weren’t sure if it was your place to introduce more to him just yet. The man made it hard though when he looked at you with those tired, sultry eyes. Little moments like this, where it was clear how easily tenderness came to him, had your mind wandering around questions of how nice those heated hands of his would feel running up the insides of your thighs.

“I know something that will warm you up faster.” His raspy voice pulled you from your sinful thoughts, the suggestive context making your eyes fly open to meet his loving gaze. The corners of your lips twitched up in anticipation as your breath mingled with his and created ghosts that danced against the contrasting frigid air between you. You tilted your head down to press a soft kiss against his thumb as you raised a questioning brow at him. “Hot chocolate? I found the thick one that Yuji likes.”

Despite the crushing disappointment that you felt in your core, down to the heat between your thighs, you couldn’t help but smile in amusement at his oblivion. Acting on a gnawing urge, you wrapped your arms around his thick torso from under his puffer jacket and squeezed him, a small part of you wishing he’d always stay this adorably oblivious. 

“I’d kill for some, Cho.” You mumbled against his chest, sighing contentedly as his Herculean arms came around your shoulders to squeeze you back. A squeal of delight escaped you when you felt your feet leave the ground, wrapping your legs around his hips so you could climb into a more secure position, arms locked around his shoulders now as he began his trek back to the school with his hands gripping at your thighs.

It was something Choso took notice of very early on, how you’d flush instantly whenever he’d sweep you off your feet. That, and it didn’t hurt that his hands could wander without question when he was carrying you around wherever you went. His curiosity seemed to grow with each passing day, and he was quickly realizing that he was greedy, forever chasing an inexplicable craving he had for you that only drove him crazier the more he fed it. He had a general idea of what his body was asking of him, but the half-curse was still painfully unaware of how to broach the topic, or even what to do. 

So, for now, he’d allow his hands to creep up the expanse of your plush thighs, the ones he could undoubtedly squeeze between his fingers till they fell off. You didn’t stop him as his veiny hands drifted up to cup at the swell of your rear, so he figured it was innocent enough, even if it felt so incredibly far from it. God, how his digits seemed to be lighting ablaze, that insatiable demon in the back of his mind roaring for more as it always did. He wondered if you’d notice, glancing at your contended side profile as he allowed his fingers to squish at those enticing pieces of you that seemed so off limits despite your lack of protest. They were soft, just as he thought they’d be, and maybe if he just snuck a few inches lower he’d be able to see if that heat that seemed to emanate from between your legs was—

“Having fun?” You mused, trying to calm the way your breath wanted to hitch as he drew closer and closer to where you so desperately wished he’d explore, but you were entering the common area now, and you really didn’t want to have to deal with the consequences should someone see his hand on its way to your now throbbing heat. 

In an instant, he halted his exploration, and you chuckled breathily as you watched the blood creep up his neck. 

“Sorry,” he stammered out, guilt beginning to eat at his chest. “I didn’t mean to make—”

“It’s okay, Cho.” You reassured, leaning back to look in his eyes that wanted to focus on anything but you at the moment. Your fingers crept up his nape to twist at the soft tufts of hair there, making him hesitantly peer at you. “You can… touch me wherever you want. Just when it’s us two though, okay?”

The thought had his mind spinning, his heart racing into his throat as he pondered all the possibilities. For now though, you were sliding down his torso, your boots hitting the wood floors with a small thud as you greeted his younger brother who perked up at your mention of hot chocolate. Choso blinked a few times when Yuji asked him if he was okay, and he quickly plastered on a smile, finally lighting up at the thought of spending some time with his two favorite people. 

Though it didn’t happen how you two had expected, the brothers had actually grown closer since the beginning of your relationship. Maybe it was because Choso’s time was actually occupied by something else for a change, and it had finally given Yuji the space he needed to come to his older brother on his own volition. The other theory was tethering on the fact that the pink haired boy and his friends were genuinely baffled that the half-curse had managed to woo you into a relationship, and they were constantly trying to butt in these days to get a sense of how that dynamic even worked. 

Either way, those little moments of Yuji’s incessant nosiness and reaching out to his brother for a change, you felt so lucky to have been able to watch a genuine connection form between the two. 

You smiled warmly as you got the ingredients together, watching as they looked out the window at the snowman you two left behind. The younger boy was using some… colorful terms to describe the unique creation, surely just so he could rile Choso up as he was growing so expert at doing. Rolling your eyes in mock exasperation, you turned to Megumi and Nobara who had been spectating on the sidelines.

“You guys want some too?” You offered, pretending not to notice the way Choso now had his brother in a headlock as he demanded that he apologize for criticizing the snowman you had worked so hard on. Both observers mumbled in agreement, too busy trying to see who would win this one. With a defeated sigh, you began pulling out some mugs. 

“Got enough for one more?” 

The voice almost had you groaning in disappointment, but the last thing you wanted was to cause an unnecessary scene, so you simply clutched at the mug in your hand tightly before offering a tight lipped smile. The smug man leaned on the counter beside you gleamed as his lips twisted into a smirk. 

“Want peppermint in yours?” You offered with as kind a voice you could manage, begrudgingly looking up at Hiroki, with his perfectly punchable face. Since you’d stood him up those months ago upon giving into Choso’s begging, he had been oh so subtly taunting around you. He was smart with it though, never blatant enough for anyone else to notice or even for you to point it out, but you could see it in that sneering glint in his eyes, he was holding it over your head. 

“You trying to tell me I should freshen up for ya’?”

At this, both Nobara and Megumi tore their attention away from the fight to make sure they’d heard that correctly. Even Yuji stopped his attempts to fight his brother off to blink up dumbly at the suggestive comment. You felt the irritation creeping up your neck in the form of flushed skin at the thought of your students having to witness this painfully awkward situation. 

“Dude, are you gonna let him do that in front of you?” The pink-haired boy whispered incredulously at Choso, who was still trying to gather why the energy in the room had changed so abruptly. His brows twitched down in confusion, and he couldn’t understand what was so wrong with the man’s words, but he knew your shoulders were tense and the smile on your face wasn’t a genuine one. Slowly releasing Yuji, he was by your side quicker than you could have processed that the room had grown so silent. 

You felt his hand creep around to rest on your side as he smiled at Hiroki. A ball of guilt twisted in your stomach— you had never told Choso that he was the one you’d stood up all those months ago, and you certainly hadn’t told him about the way he’d been subtly taunting you about it either. 

“Right,” you stammered, hoping desperately to pull it together lest you make the tension obvious to your oblivious boyfriend. “No peppermint then.” 

“Actually, forget about mine— not as enticing when everyone wants it, y’know?” Hiroki shrugged with a poorly hidden smirk as he reached out to brush a stray hair behind your ear. For a second time that day, Choso could feel the energy shift, and he wasn’t sure why the man’s words felt sickening as they settled in the air around him. The hand on your waist tightened, and he pulled you just the few centimeters it took to press you against his side. He was sure if his fingers weren’t pressed to you, they would’ve found their way around this man’s neck. “But let me know when you’ve had your fill, yeah?”

As he walked away, Choso stepped forward, unsure of what he would do but acting on an instinct he had yet to feel throughout his self-exploration as a human. Your hand, still warm from the tight grasp you had on the mug before you, wrapped around his fingers to tug him back. As if coming back down to earth, he blinked a few times, looking back at you with that familiarly terrifying expression— though you were already used to it.

“Are… you okay?” He asked quietly, still unsure of what had transpired and why it seemed to have changed the trajectory of their otherwise pleasant day. 

You nodded, looking away from his concerned gaze to top off his hot chocolate with some marshmallows. As he peered down at the mug now being presented to him, you held your breath. Slowly, he allowed his tired smile to once again replace his frown, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek in thanks. The memory of what had transpired still lingered in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to let it ruin his day as he began handing the filled mugs out to his brother and his friends. 

You hoped that Choso had forgotten the whole ordeal by that night. The scene kept replaying in your head as the steaming water from your shower ran down your back— how you just stood there and took it as he humiliated you. At the very least, you were grateful that your boyfriend wasn’t too well-versed in deciphering innuendos just yet, but it was clear that he knew something wasn’t quite right. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have pulled him back, let him act on whatever his instincts were clearly telling him to do at that moment. Though Hiroki was a talented enough sorcerer, you were confident in the ways Choso could outmatch him in size as well as combat. It would have been satisfying enough just to see the look on his face as your otherwise docile boyfriend stalked toward him with nothing but human instinct and lean muscle on his side. You smiled at the thought while turning the shower off.

No matter how much he probably deserved the reality check, Hiroki was still technically your coworker. The last thing you wanted was a meeting with the higher ups about how ‘mixing business with pleasure always ended badly’. It gave you a headache just thinking about it. You could be civil, you rationed with yourself as you towel dried. You only wondered if you could say the same for Choso if he ever put two and two together.

Sighing wistfully, you hung up your towel, moving to grab your clothes and get dressed. Blinking a few times in confusion, you took note of the empty counter where you typically left your clothes waiting for you. 

“Shit.” You groaned quietly, your heart picking up a bit at the mental image of your pajamas at the edge of your bed where you’d forgotten them. Chewing at your bottom lip, your eyes drifted to the closed door where you knew Choso was waiting on the other side of. 

You shook your head at your unnecessary nerves. Sure, you two had never… explored each other in such a way yet, but you were both adults. Ripping your towel back off the rack, you wrapped it snuggly around yourself before cracking the door open and peeking out. 

Your boyfriend was lying stomach down on your bed, surely pretending to be sleeping as he had a tendency of doing so you wouldn’t kick him out at the end of the day. Rolling your eyes at his performance, you quietly slipped through the door, hoping he’d keep his eyes closed long enough for you to gather your clothes and run back into the bathroom. 

As you tiptoed to the other side of the bed, you weren’t expecting his eyes to already be open, now staring widely back at you with an unreadable expression. With a small yelp of surprise, you flinched back. It took expert reflexes, but you managed to catch your towel swiftly as it began to slip down your chest. 

Choso would be a stone cold liar if he said he had never imagined what was always hiding beneath the chunky cardigans and oversized sweaters you seemed so fond of. Though he could say with full confidence that he didn’t expect to be so… distracted by it now that it was right in front of him. Well, underneath the towel you were clutching desperately to, but still— it stopped barely midway down your thighs, allowing his eyes to traverse the smooth expanse of your legs and give him just an infuriatingly small taste of the curve of your ass that began just where the fabric ended. 

He felt his fingers twist into the pillow he had clutched underneath his head as his eyes traveled up to your chest, where the swell of your breasts threatened to burst out the top of your towel thanks to the tight grip it now had around your body. They were almost heaving in time with your labored breaths, still glistening from the water of your shower, and god did he want to just lick it off of you. 

“I forgot my clothes.” You stated awkwardly, hoping that he’d either make a move already or just close his eyes. This though— the silent, wide eyed stares that did little to reveal just what was going on in that head of his, the anticipation of what might come— you weren’t sure you could handle it anymore. 

Choso licked his lips, finally blinking for the first time in what seemed to you like hours, before slowly sitting up at the edge of the bed. Tearing his gaze from you, his eyes landed on the neatly folded clothes beside him. It felt as though there was lead in his arms as he carefully picked them up. Instead of handing them to you as you thought he would though, they instead hovered over his lap as he continued to stare down at them in uncertainty. 

“Cho—” You began, but he finally looked up at you.

“Can I kiss you?” He requested, fisting at your clothes while his eyes gave your body another once over before meeting yours again. “Just like this?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the way his ominous eyes seemed to drink you in. Releasing a shaky breath, you took a tentative step toward him, now standing directly between his muscular legs. In an instant, he was dropping your clothes to the ground, head tilting back to watch what you’d do next. 

With your fist tightening around your towel, you carefully raised your knee to rest it beside his hip before doing the same with the other until you hovered over his lap. His glistening, pink lips parted, and you swore you heard the tiniest of moans slip past them as his hands quickly found the small of your back to pull you into a snug straddle on his lap. One of his hands remained firmly on your back as the other crept up to softly grasp your jaw as he finally kissed you. 

That long since dreamt about, golden spot between your legs was pressed right against him now, and, even with the god-forsaken barrier of his pants, he could feel its heat right on his groin. Choso whined into your mouth, the fresh scent of your body wash only adding to the circus of sensations that were overriding his system. 

The hand on your jaw drifted down your damp neck, testing its luck as it grazed over the mound of your breast still covered by the towel. You arched against his tentative touch, and he wondered if you’d think he was completely depraved if he asked you to take the damned thing off. If only he knew you were only keeping the useless fabric on for the sake of him setting his own pace. 

Despite this, you couldn’t help yourself as you allowed your hands to dance down his torso and creep under the hem of his crewneck. Your fingers greedily explored his chiseled physique, the sensation of his abs jolting against your touch making you press yourself into the steadily growing tent in his pants. Choso gasped greedily at the feeling, quickly pulling away from you to yank his shirt over his head once your hands reached his shoulders. 

Had you been given the chance, you were sure you could have spent hours staring at each rippling muscle of his abdomen, the way even his shoulders looked so deliciously defined— you wanted to just lean forward and take a bite of him. So, you did, hands gripping at his bulging biceps for balance as you sunk your teeth into his firm trap. His jaw dropped open involuntarily, and it was now his turn to drive his solid bulge into your center. You moaned softly around his muscle, releasing it in favor of wet kisses to soothe the now irritated area.

Choso wanted so desperately to chase that sultry sound that had just swam into his ears. He gripped at the nape of your neck to pull you back, panting softly as he stared into your blown-out eyes.

“Did… did that feel good?” He asked, hoping to any god that would listen to him that he wasn’t all alone with these confusingly craven feelings. 

“Yeah,” You quickly rasped out, placing a hand on his shoulder to push him back against the mattress. His hand hesitantly found your thigh, running his palm up the smooth flesh until his fingers met the hem of your towel. Leaning forward, you rolled your hips against his, delighting in the way his face scrunched up so gorgeously when he moaned. “Everything you do feels good to me, Cho.”

The fingers against your thigh squeezed at the fat there as his free hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear in hopes of getting a better look at you. Despite his mind being on a completely different astral realm at the moment, this movement struck a memory he desperately wanted to forget about right now. 

Shaking his head subtly, he pushed it to the back of his mind and allowed his hand to creep under your towel as you leaned down to kiss him once again. Your skin was still warm from your shower, and his fingers were a mere inches away from your bare ass, and god why the fuck can’t he stop thinking about Hiroki and his grimy hands in your hair?

You pulled back a bit upon noticing the falter in his movements. 

“You okay, Cho? You wanna stop?”

“No!” He insisted eagerly, cursing himself for ruining the moment. An amused smile played at your lips, and you leaned down to begin pressing wet kisses against his jaw. His dark eyes stared up at the ceiling, the same words replaying in his mind until he couldn’t take it anymore. In one swift moment, he sat up, hands gripped at your back so you didn’t fall off his lap as you yelped in surprise. “I just…”

The way your fingers were now tracing feather-light touches up the nape of his neck was making it hard for him to concentrate. Still, when he looked at you he could only see that unexplainably tense expression you’d given just a few hours ago. Whatever chills the sensation of your bare thighs pressed against the skin of his waist were producing though were wildly outnumbered by that gnawing feeling of dread growing steadily in his stomach. 

“What did he mean?” Choso’s question came out firmly despite his apprehensive gaze. You tilted your head in question, but he quickly clarified upon seeing your confusion. “Hiroki.” 

You didn’t say anything for a moment, but your knowing expression still made his stomach churn. 

“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now, Cho?” You tried to smile easily at him, leaning forward to press another chaste kiss to his pouted lips, to which he returned quickly. 

“Something is going on.” He pulled away just enough to mumble against your lips. With his forehead pressed against yours, you could feel the way his brows furrowed at the thought of being left out of something seemingly significant. You sighed, your warm breaths mingling in the minuscule space between you. 

“Remember when I was gonna go on that date? You know, before we got together.” You began as you pulled away to sit back on his thighs. After a short moment of thought, he nodded. The slow unfurrowing of his brows told you he was already placing the pieces together though. “It was supposed to be with him, and… I guess he’s just still upset about how I went about it, is all.” 

“So, when he said to let him know when you got your fill—”

“Choso, don’t think—”

“He meant of me.” 

The mark against his nose twitched as his face heated, but for the first time, you weren’t sure if it was born from embarrassment or rage. You tried to gage the far off look in his eyes but were coming up short. A shiver shot down your spine when he looked at you once again, his dark eyes sharp as daggers. 

“He talked about you like you were food.” He spat, the rest of the odd conversation finally clicking in his mind. The fingers against your back dug into your towel before he carefully maneuvered you to the spot beside him. You quickly sat up when he snatched his crewneck from the end of the bed. Grabbing blindly at your sweatpants, you shoved them on under your towel. 

“What are you doing?” You questioned cautiously, gripping at the other end of his sweater to stop him. 

“I’m going to talk to him.” But the enraged glint in his eyes told you he had more detailed plans than he was letting on. 

“No, you’re not.” You insisted, tugging on his arm. 

“This isn’t the first time he’s talked to you like this, is it?” He assumed, searching your face as if daring you to lie. “I don’t like this. I’m going to say something.” 

“Choso, I’m asking you to please let it go.” You pleaded as you tugged him down to sit beside you. “If you make a scene, I’m going to be the one who will have to clean it up later. Please, I’m a big girl— you don’t need to defend me.”

His shoulders slowly deflated while taking in the desperation in your eyes. He could feel his resolve slipping from right underneath him. 

“Will it really upset you?” 

“It really will.” 

The man’s sigh morphed into a quiet groan that you wouldn’t have noticed had you not been so close to him at the moment. His shadowy eyes, still swimming with that unmistakable vexation, watched as the frigid air finally caught up to you, and a subtle tremble shook your frame. Pursing his pouted lips, he slipped his forgotten crewneck over your head before pulling the damp towel off of you. 

“Are you gonna kick me out now?” He muttered, widening his eyes in the matter he knew you always seemed to melt for. As you had already come to recognize— Choso catches on fast.

“You can stay as long as you do that heater thing with your hands again.” You compromised with a grin, watching as he wasted no time pulling the covers over the two of you. Scooting closer to you, both his hands came up to cup your face, and you soon melted into the warmth that flooded them. Humming contentedly, you reached up to hold onto his wrist as you allowed your eyes to drift shut. 

He studied you as you relaxed against him, the fat of your cheeks squished against his hands, and he felt his heart accelerate. It had been a few months now since he began learning of this side of humanity— learning about you. No matter how much he seemed to squeeze at you when he had the privilege of being beside you, or how ever long he’d spend memorizing the divots and marks on your face, nothing Choso did ever stopped the longing he felt for you when you parted. A soft call of your name had you humming in question, too comfortable to bother opening your eyes. 

“Do you think you’ll ever… get your fill of me?” 

At his apprehensive question, you sighed wistfully, blindly trailing your hand up until it tangled into his hair. 

“I could never get enough of you, Cho. I— ” I love you. The words died in your throat. Cracking your eyes open, you found that he was already peering back at you, patiently awaiting the rest of your sentence. Was he ready for that? Were you ready for that? Even so, you questioned if he would really understand the depths of your words enough to reciprocate them genuinely. Twisting your fingers into the hair on his nape, you tugged at it gently, the way he always shivered over. “I think you’re my favorite guy.” 

The way he smiled warmly at you, eyes glistening as he started from scratch once again making sure he had every part of you committed to memory, told you that your meaning got across anyway. One of his hands creeped around to the back of your head to pull you against his bare chest, slotting his leg between yours in hopes of enveloping you completely. 

“You’re my favorite girl.” 

As the two of you went about your week, you prayed that your intimate reassurance would be enough for Choso. Though you could hardly blame him for getting so upset, you wouldn’t change your stance on him letting this one go. And, truthfully, he had all but forgotten it that next morning when he woke up beside you. The only thing still fresh in his mind was your sweet promise, the reassurance that, of all the men that had waltzed into your life, he had somehow managed to find himself at the top of your list. 

This haze-like bliss only lasted so long though, and he was rudely reminded of the need for that conversation in the first place when he saw Hiroki again. The man wasn’t even doing anything wrong, simply talking to one of the supervisors about his next assignment, but everything about him made Choso’s blood boil. 

You had agreed to go on a date with him once, so that must mean at some point in time, in some shape or form, you had been interested in him, too. It was selfish, childish even, but to hell if he didn’t feel like a petulant toddler at the very thought of it. Tearing his eyes away from the man, he continued to remind himself of your request. 

“You gonna show this dude up or what?” Nobara suddenly questioned with a quirk of her perfectly defined brow. Luckily, your fondness of the half-curse helped Yuji’s friends warm up to him more, though they still had difficulty relating to his strange demeanor half the time. 

Choso grumbled under his breath, continuing to collect the materials they needed for their sparring today. A part of him wanted to yell that he was trying to, but he thought it best to keep the kids out of his relationship with their sensei. 

“Yeah, bro, I can’t believe you didn’t kick his ass the other day.” Yuji guffawed with a shake of his head. 

“It’s not worth the trouble.” He responded simply, hoping that they’d change the subject so he could think of anything else. 

“Like hell it is!” The redhead scoffed, piling the targets she was holding into Megumi’s arms so she could pop her hip at the man before her. “You’re underestimating how much girls like a man that fights for them.”

This made Choso’s movements falter for a moment. Should he really be taking romantic advice from teenagers? Yuji circled around him as he continued driving home their point. 

“Yeah, you’re basically giving this dude free reign to flirt with your girl when you just stand there and let it happen.”��

“That’s not what I’m doing.” The half-curse finally defended, his mind reeling with the mixed information he was receiving.

“Then do something about it!” Kugisaki shouted in exasperation as the trio followed him outside. “You want her to feel unappreciated? Get bored of you?”

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks, the memory of Hiroki’s taunting playing like a sick melody in the back of his head. Perhaps if he had been in a different state of mind, not already plagued with insecurities of which he’d never had to worry about before, he would have been able to recognize that the teenagers probably didn’t know best. But it wasn’t different though, and insecurity and jealousy were rearing their ugly heads at him in a first time’s greeting. 

Choso was far too consumed in these new, vile emotions to not allow these kids’ words to seep into his veins. So, when Hiroki passed by him with that nasty smirk on his smug face as the student’s were sparring, purposefully shouldering at the half-curse’s already tensed arm, rational thought was out the window. His hand quickly wrapped around the man’s wrist before he could leave. Taking a calculated breath, he thought that maybe talking wouldn’t be so bad. 

“What’s your pro—”

“I know what you’re doing, and I’m asking you to stop.” Choso explained levelly, his grip unintentionally tightening around his wrist as Hiroki raised an amused brow at him. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“Easy man, c’mon.” There was the smallest trace of unease in the man’s falsely nonchalant voice. He tugged at his arm in an attempt to free it, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that was happening before he agreed to the request being laid before him. “I haven’t done anything to her.”

“I know you think I’m stupid, but I’m not.” Choso seethed, and perhaps that insecurity was doing the speaking for him, because he just knew how he appeared to everyone else. Despite his age, he was less experienced, less assimilated to the world around him, and though he tried, he wasn’t sure he’d ever catch up. Still, he wasn’t a child, and the last thing he wanted was for you to ever think of him as someone who couldn’t be there for you because of his inexperience with humanity. “And she might be worried about making a mess, but I’m not.”

He wasn’t sure what was coming over him, but it felt as though he might implode without the opportunity to prove himself to this scum who at one point had a shot with you— who was fucking with you right under his nose. Hiroki scoffed “There’s no need for all that. We’re friends right?” Using his free hand, he patted Choso’s shoulder with an attempted brotherly bonding gesture before leaning into his ear. “No bitch worth getting a black eye for, right?”

He wasn’t sure what caught the trio’s attention away from their sparring first— the instantaneous morphing of his blood mark as it traversed the length of his vexed face in tandem with his last resolve of patience snapping, or the literal snapping of Hiroki’s wrist under his crushing grip. 

“Call her by her name.” His heated demand somehow made it out over the pained yells of the man crumpling to his knees before him. 

“I—”

“Actually,” Choso’s indignation wouldn’t let him just shut the fuck up and let it go. The feeling of bones crunching under his grip didn’t quell his anger— it made it worse. He was boiling over, bursting at the seams in search of relief that was nowhere in sight. “Don’t speak to her again— don’t speak about her again.” 

He thought it would help, give him a sense of accomplishment that he’d protected you from the disrespect of the lesser than individuals you were forced to call coworkers. What he didn’t understand though, was the fact that he was protecting himself. This man could come and make you think lesser of him, and how could he not do anything to stop it? Though he’d had time for his confidence in areas such as combat and technique to flourish over the years, Choso still held the vulnerability of a man decades younger than his body revealed. 

Despite his own justification, nothing would do away with the precipicing guilt setting his guts ablaze with discomfort. It couldn’t be explained— Hiroki deserved it, he deserved the humiliation of having to wake in the morning with the knowledge that everyone saw him brought to his knees so easily. So, why was the half-curse’s mind reeling with dramatized scenarios of how he might explain himself to you when the news undoubtedly found your ears? No matter the myriad of alternate endings he’d concocted though, nothing could have truly prepared him for the betrayal in your eyes as you burst into his space that night. 

Choso stood from the edge of his bed with a haste, as if trying to shroud the fact that he’d been staring at the door with an inexplicable immobility for what seemed like hours. His eyes fluttered as the heavy door fell back against its frame with a thud. Your lips parted, almost as though you had your monologue pre-planned from the moment you began your enraged trek toward his living space, but they shut with a click of your teeth as your face scrunched in frustration. 

His feet were planted firmly into the wooden floors beneath him, preparing himself for the calculated rage that was surely building within that heavenly frame of yours. What came though was worse, because your words were quiet and your eyes lost that flare of outrage that they held when you first entered, replaced by a hoaxed glimmer that made your irises gloss over heartbreakingly. 

“I asked you not to, Choso.” Your cheeks were still ablaze with an unfamiliar rouge, and he wasn’t sure if it was the bitterness of the cold nipping at your skin or an internal ticking clock. 

“How could I have ignored it?” He tried, but you were shaking your head before the last syllables spilled from his lips. 

“Because I asked you not to.” You ground out once again, that rage making a sudden resurgence as you took an indignant step toward him. “Do you know how humiliated I was?”

“You didn’t hear what he said about—”

“I don’t care what he said!” You gasped in exasperation, a smile of disbelief gracing your face before it fell back into that painful scrunch that made his soul cry out. “I don’t care about him. I care about you, I care about my job, my reputation, Choso!” 

The man fell silent before you, his face beginning to sting from the blood rushing to his mortified cheeks. He could only stare down at you with that familiar pout as you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head. 

“I had to hear about how I was the cause of some pissing match today that put one of our sorcerers on leave.” You began pacing the room in your incensed explanation. Choso wanted to ask you what that meant, as he always felt so comfortable doing with you, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth. “Which, by the way, I am now having to help out on missions during said leave, just to put a cherry on top of this shit cake.” 

“I-I’m sorry, I—”

“No you’re not, you’re sorry because I’m having to clean it up like I told you I would.” You knew you might have been laying it on a little thick, but logic was racing from you in the midst of your humiliation. 

“You’re right, I’m not sorry.” He stated affirmatively, as if just now coming to this realization himself. Your brows shot into your hairline. “And you can’t expect me to be, it’s not fair. I can’t, I don’t know—”

“Yes, you can.”

“I don’t know how.”

“I’ve seen you learn to do things a hell of a lot harder than controlling your anger, Choso.”

“No— I don’t know how to not feel like I’m not good enough for you.” He finally confessed, face ablaze with a shameful tint of red. Your arms gradually fell from their defensive position, hovering at your sides with the weight of a thousand bricks as you watched the dampness gather in his waterline. “I-I’m sorry I made things hard for you, but I don’t know what to do with these feelings. You might have had time to figure it out, but this is my first time, okay?”

“Choso—” You breathed softly, reaching out for him when he turned from you to bury the heels of his hands into his leaking eyes.

“I’m sorry if I messed up. I just don’t know, I don’t—” His trembling ramble was cut short when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back. “Sometimes I don’t understand when someone is making fun of me right to my face, but I didn’t care until they started doing it to you, and I was…” You felt him take a shuddering breath. “I was too clueless to be there for you, or to defend you, or—”

“Cho, please look at me.” You pleaded gently. With an anxious air that was just so like him, he slowly shifted in your loosening grasp until you were looking right up at his blushing, tear stained cheeks. “I’m sorry I got mad at you. I didn’t know you were feeling like this.”

His somber eyes drifted to the side as if unable to look at you as he carefully sank onto the floor. You placed a hand on his shoulder while you lowered your beside him, watching carefully as he shoved his head into his hands.

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me. I’m the one that messed up.” He corrected affirmatively. After a moment though, he peeked up at you with a hesitant purse of his lips. “Well, I didn’t mess up when I broke his wrist. I’d do it to his other hand too if I had the chance.”

Despite the mess his aforementioned actions had spilled upon you, you couldn’t help but laugh softly with an incredulous shake of your head. 

“Can I be honest?” You questioned, nudging against his arm with your shoulder, and he nodded with a quick sniffle. “I’m almost more upset that I didn’t get to see it.”

This helped ease some of the palpable tension in his shoulders, knowing that if you were still able to laugh with him that he hadn’t entirely fucked everything up. A shy smile spread shakily across his wet lips. Leaning forward, you brushed a featherlight touch against his cheek.

“Sometimes I feel things so deeply, and I don’t know where to put it all.” His attempted explanation made your heart warm. “I don’t know how to make sense of them, and I don’t know if I’m the only one feeling them.”

“Give them to me then.” You insisted, shifting to sit on your knees in front of him. “I’ll help you. I always have, remember? You have to talk to me though.”

Give them to you? There was a point so early on in your relationship when he was willing to do so without question, eager to learn whatever wisdom your advantage on humanity could give him. You always seemed to have the right answer— the ones that made it all click into place. Choso was learning though that as your relationship blossomed, as did the complexity of all those human emotions— as did the intensity of them. How far could he push before the impending possibility came to fruition that he was alone in these alien feelings? 

“I thought if he kept talking about me that… eventually you’d believe him.” 

You maneuvered closer to him until his hands found your waist, inviting you to sit on his lap. Running your hands up the sides of his neck, he closed his eyes as your fingers slipped into his hair. 

“Did you think any less of me because of what he said?” You asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes quickly cracked open, and he stared back at you as if offended that you’d ask such a thing of him. 

“No, I would never—”

“Then how could you believe I’d ever think less of you?” 

Silence hung between you, weighing you down on his lap as he stared back at you. Your words made him feel guilty— as though he had betrayed you by thinking so lowly of your devotion to him. His eyes drifted down your face, lips parting with an unspoken apology lingering between the minuscule space separating your mouth from his. 

“I… I have something for you.” 

His words were familiar, making your lips curl up at the memory of the day he’d confessed his feelings for you. Tilting your head, you squinted your eyes teasingly. 

“Is it another car?” You quipped, almost breaking your resolve as you watched his face fall, eyes drifting to the side in doubt before meeting yours once again.

“Do you want another car?”

God, how could you ever stay mad at him?

You clung onto Choso’s shoulders as he piggybacked you back to your dorm, purposefully jostling you here and there just to hear your harmonious giggles. Though you told him you could walk just fine on your own, he insisted on taking you himself— not that you fought him terribly hard on it either. In fact, you found it endearing how much he delighted in carrying you around, though you weren’t sure if it was due to his own enjoyment or the knowledge that you simply melted each time for it. 

“Close your eyes.” Choso scolded as he looked back at your curious gaze once he’d reached your door. Huffing in frustration, you allowed your eyes to shut, your head falling against his shoulder in defeat. You heard him rustiling with the spare key you’d given him— not that he had ever managed the tenacity to invite himself in without your prior invitation. Each time, you’d shake your head in amusement at the sound of his gentle raps against your door, and each time you’d remind him that he had his own key. 

The lingering smell of your festive candle flooded your nose as he stepped into the room, making you sigh contendedly. He crouched down until you felt your bum hit the soft comforter of your bed, and he carefully released you. 

“Don’t look yet.” He commanded clemently as you bounced back gently against your mattress. 

“Not peeking.” You assured with a smile, anticipation tickling up your toes and into your legs as he leaned down to press a swift kiss against your forehead. Upon feeling him pull away, your chest caved a bit in disappointment, your thoughts already having wandered far from whatever likely innocent surprise he had awaiting you. 

There was a subtle rustling on the other end of the room before a soft click had your curiosity reeling. 

“Um— okay, you can look now.” 

Squinting your eyes open, you were met with a myriad of gently twinkling lights. Blinking a few times to focus your vision on the sudden onslaught of brightness, an abrupt gasp escaped you at the sight of the lit up Christmas tree in the corner of your space. The ornament adorning it were a mess of contrasting colors, some too close together while there were various bare spots on the tree. Most of the decorations, you noted with a suppressed giggle, were focused on the upper half of the tree while it remained awkwardly vacant toward the bottom. It was a bit crooked, leaning marginally toward the right in its stand. It was far from the meticulously coordinated trees you had grown so accustomed to setting up, but it was perfect to you nonetheless. 

“Do you like it?” Choso questioned anxiously, smiling apprehensively at his first attempted Christmas tree. With his shadowy eyes fluttering from his handiwork to your awe-struck face, he tilted his head. “I can change it if you don’t like it.” 

“When did you do this, Cho?” You breathed out incredulously, feeling the salty dampness already gathering pathetically in your waterline. Sliding off the bed, you took a few, slow steps toward the tree. 

“Oh— I… I came this morning after you left for class.” He explained with downcast eyes. “I’m sorry for coming in without— hmph!”

His practically instinctual apologies were cut short as you tossed yourself onto his chest, arms wrapping snuggly around his neck. Without question, he was trailing his needy hands up your back to press you closer to him, dipping his nose into your nape with that love-sick smile of his.

“This is alot better than a car.” You attempted a joke through your onslaught of emotions, but the slight tremble in your voice was betraying you. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“You said Christmas gifts have to go under a tree.” Your boyfriend said obviously, and you followed his gaze to the choppily wrapped present sitting under said tree. Biting down your grin, you peered back up at him with a raised brow. 

“And would that be for me too, babe?” You teased, revelling in the sheepish smile that softened his intimidatingly sharp features as he nodded. “Well what do you want for Christmas, Cho?”

The sun was steadily setting outside your window, causing the soft glow of the string lights to warm your sparkling eyes as they stared up at him in question. The warmth in his flushed cheeks seemed to drain from his face, settling like stones at the pit of his stomach. Gulping at the lump in his throat, he shook his head softly at your question. 

“I don’t think I should answer that.” He sighed out honestly, lips twitching nervously under your questioning gaze. 

“What do you mean?”

The tilt of your head made your luscious hair sway just so, the ends brushing teasingly against his arm and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Had you focused enough, you would have felt the way his heart was beating out of his firm chest, making his breathing labor. 

Give them to me. Your words rang in the back of his muddled mind. That overwhelming sense of uncertainty and confusion flooded him once again, and though you had specifically told him you’d walk him through anything, this just seemed too daunting a confession. 

“It’s not—” His tongue darted out to lick his drying lips, and your wanton eyes followed the movement with a sharp precision. “I don’t think it’s… appropriate.”

Your brows rose marginally at his claim, the realization flooding you with the unconscious squeeze of his hands on your waist. A deep, calculated breath had your chest rising to brush against his, and you felt him shudder at the proximity. 

“It’s… just us here.” You offered quietly, hoping your silent invitation was enough for him to burst out of the anxious shell he’d been hiding behind all these months. He furrowed his brows in contemplation at your words, weighing whether the fruits of his vulnerability would outweigh the humiliation of possible rejection. Biding his time, he leaned down to press a longing kiss against your awaiting lips, the little remaining blood that was keeping his mind functioning properly rushing down south. 

“Just us?” He repeated breathlessly against your lips as he tried to make sense of the new territory he was daring to traverse. 

You nodded urgently, reaching up on your tiptoes to chase his panting mouth. Choso’s hands traveled down your waist to hook under your bum, hoisting you up around his hips as he carefully sunk to his knees. The soft whimpers escaping him were driving you into a nonsensical stupor despite his attempts to swallow them down. 

Shifting your hips forward, you urged him to fall back against his hands, his long fingers digging into the plush rug beneath him. You took advantage of the exposed expanse of his heaving chest, running your hands down his pecks until your fingers were dancing across the ripples of his abs as you bit at his lips. His response to your explorative touch was almost instantaneous, raising his hips in a desperate hope that your hands would slip just a few inches lower. 

All his not-so-subtle thrust did though was drive his painfully constricted length right against your inner thigh, the friction nearly causing his arms to buckle underneath of him. You had never mentioned it before— all the times his cock would press against you in such an embarrassingly obvious fashion. It never took much at all, and Choso wasn’t sure if your nonchalance at the feeling was because it was normal, or if you were simply saving face for him as you so endearingly did more often than not. 

Whichever it was though, he couldn’t take it anymore, not when you were dragging your hips against him as though you knew much more about his affliction than you dared to let on. The moan that left him almost teetered on the edge of a cry, and he brought a hand up to push against the subtle arch in your back, pressing you firmly against where he needed you the most. 

Your warm breath shuddered against his swollen lips as you moaned. The hands you had on his abdomen clutched desperately at his shirt, fighting for your composure because you could feel every inch of him straining right against your core, and his sweatpants were doing little to leave anything to the imagination. Pulling away from you in a frenzy, his eyes remained squeezed shut as his fingers dug into the fabric of your sweater. 

“Help me.” He pleaded, opening his eyes hesitantly to catch your reaction with burning cheeks. 

“He-Help you?” You repeated unassuredly, and he nodded quickly as your face flushed with the implications of his request. 

The hand on your back snaked around to tangle in with your own fingers, tentatively maneuvering your hand down his naval. His breath hitched as he guided you over his waistband, and he peered up at you timidly. A damp warmth spread along the lining of your panties at the raw vulnerability of his movements. When you made no indication of protest, his fingers danced up to grip gently at your wrist before you finally took the initiative to finish his clearly set out path, wrapping your hand around the prominent length poking through the outline of his bottoms. 

“Please.” Choso gasped out, bucking up into your warm hand. A blissed out hum reverberated in his chest, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours. “This is all I want. You’re all I want.”

Your thusfar gentle grip on his cock tightened ever so slightly at his tender words, and it was almost instinctual when you palmed him purposefully, squeezing carefully toward his tip in a manner that had him reduced to puddy beneath you. Fighting through your lustful haze, you nodded deliriously at his request, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Choso,” It was clear that you were trying so very hard to steady your voice, and your careful tone flooded into his consciousness. His darkly-lined eyes were half-lidded as they regarded you in question. “Have you… ever touched yourself?”

This made his gaze widen just a hair, the mark across his nose twitching in a tell-tale sign of his embarrassment. Though it seemed impossible, his face seemed to flush that much brighter as he opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to gather his composure before he answered you. A shaky huff escaped him as he cast his gaze to the side, and your free hand reached up to brush the hair from his face. 

“It’s okay, it’s normal. I just want to understand how much you know.” You explained gently. At this, his lashes shifted as he hesitantly looked back up at you before offering a nod so subtle you almost missed it. 

His mind was reeling with memories of all the mornings he’d spent with his hand shoved haphazardly down his pants, dreams of you having roused him from his sleep and lingering without any hope of solace. He thought about how dirty he’d felt when facing you afterwards, ignorant to the fact that he’d spilled himself onto his own mattress with fantasies that one day it’d be you. After so long of feeling isolated and depraved in these unfamiliar cravings, you were right here above him, your hand stroking up his cock in an all too familiar motion, telling him he was normal.

You nodded slowly at his confirmation, releasing your grip on him to trail your fingers along the sliver of skin exposed between where his shirt had ridden up and his waistband. His large frame trembled at the miniscule touch, hips rising in anticipation of your next move. The sudden shift dragged his length right against your pulsing clit, and you could barely disguise your breathy moan as you leaned into the friction. 

The wheels were turning in his head as he absorbed your reaction, his curious eyes locked onto where you two were connected. He tentatively raised a hand and settled it testingly just below your belly button before peering up at you.

“Can I… touch you too?” 

You hummed affirmatively, quickly maneuvering back as Choso leaned forward purposefully to lay you against the pillowy rug just beside the Christmas tree. He hovered on his knees between your spread legs, eyes drifting all over as if he didn’t know where to start. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hands began their wavering trek up the sides of your thighs. Feeling him pause at your waistband, you cracked your eyes open.

“You can take them off.” You offered, watching the way his eyes lit up. “—if you want.”

If he wanted. The man could have laughed in your face, because he’d be damned if he wanted anything more right now. 

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, you assisted him by lifting your hips while he tugged them down. In his desperate pursuit, the laced hem of your panties were partially yanked down, leaving them bunched and just barely covering your intimates. He was leaning down, eyes locked on your center as though it might disappear if he blinked too long. His intense gaze made you flush, and you weren’t expecting it when he pushed the nearly translucent fabric to the side, the sudden gust of cool air against your wetness making you shiver.

Choso hummed, but you could swear it morphed into a soft groan as he decided that this view just wouldn’t do before sliding your panties off as well. The sight of your plush folds glistening under the twinkling Christmas lights was causing a sheen sweat to break out across his neck, and he pulled uncomfortably at the fabric of his shirt. 

“Take it off, Cho.” You pleaded, desperate to not be the only one so exposed. 

There was no need to tell him a second time, and his shirt was quickly joined with your discarded bottoms. Moved by the wanton way your eyes seemed to drink him in, he found himself crawling up over you to kiss you once again. Your hands wrapped greedily around his broad shoulders, nails working their way across his taut skin. He gasped against you as your hips rolled up in desperate search of friction, your wet warmth grazing against his covered thigh. 

“How? Show me how to touch you.” He rasped out, trembling hands already dancing down your naval as he propped himself up with his free arm. Much like he’d done just moments prior, you laced your finger through his, guiding them through your folds. 

“Here.” You gasped as his warm fingers grazed your clit. Choso’s face crumpled at the feeling, mouth falling open in a silent moan. You pressed down on his middle and ring finger with your own, encouraging the soft circular motions around your swollen bud. The back of your head hit the rug as you arched into his touch, slowly removing your guiding hand once the motion had grown familiar to him. 

“Am I doing it right?” His question came out practically a whisper as he watched you writhe against his hand. The strain in his pants was becoming painful at this point, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop the sensual circles that were sending you into such a whimpering frenzy, by his hand nonetheless. 

“Mhmm,” You hummed, one hand drifting up to grip at his bicep as the other trailed under your sweater, lifting it up in search of relief from the sudden sweltering heat Choso seemed to emanate. “You’re doing so good for me, Cho.” 

A groan worked its way up his throat at your praise, and his hips lurched forward in search of the pathetic friction your leg could provide him. His desperation was sending sparks up your thighs, making his slippery massaging feel that much more heavenly as you felt the familiar coil tightening in your stomach. 

Your jaw popped open, the hand that had found its way under your sweater clutching at your breast as if it could ground you. Choso’s eyes followed the movement hungrily. The swell of your breasts were just barely peeking out from the hem of your top, but it was enough to drive him into a frenzy if he couldn’t see what it was hiding immediately. 

“Take it off.” He commanded with a wavering resolve, his fingers increasing their pressure against you in anticipation. 

Had your teetering release not been solely in his hands at the moment, you would have teased him for his sudden burst of assertive confidence, but you thought you might begin kicking and screaming if anything deterred his rhythmic motions right now. Crossing your arms over your chest to grasp at the bottom of the offending sweater, you messily ripped it over your head before settling back against the rug that was now warm from your imprint. 

Your breasts bounced with your abrupt motions, and Choso felt the saliva gather embarrassingly on his tongue. It was far too clouded in your mind for you to notice though, your breaths beginning to come out in short pants as your peak drew nearer and nearer. 

“Please, please, please.” You babbled nonsensically, gripping at his forearm as your hips began grinding against his fingers. And, god, he wasn’t sure what you were begging for, but he knew he’d lay down his life right here and now if it meant he could deliver it to you on a silver dish, because he knew for certain that he’d never had the privilege of laying his eyes on anything nearly as debauchedly stunning as your naked body submitted so vulnerably beneath him. 

“Anything, I’ll give you anything.” He rationed through lustfully slurred words. Dipping down, he pressed drooling kisses against your heaving breasts, succumbing to a primal desire as he sunk his teeth into one of them.

“Cho—” Your choked plea pitched until it fell silent all together. 

Shifting his weight from his propped arm to his knees, he used his now free hand to press down against your hip as your thighs began trembling with the force of your climax. A warming flush spread from your scalp down your spine, sending tingles of relief down each of your nerves until you slumped back against the ground. 

“Ah— ah!” You stammered out as your boyfriend continued his purposeful ministrations against your now overly-sensitive bundle of nerves. Slamming your thighs shut against his wrist, you attempted to shimmy away from his relentless fingers. “Too much, Cho, it’s too much!”

His lips popped off your breast to pout wetly at you, the hand on your waist pulling you back down toward him as his fingers finally paused their assault on your center. Loosening the squeeze your thighs had trapped him in, he ran his hand up your stomach and chest before grasping the side of your neck. 

Upon closer inspection, you noticed the dampness that clung to his lashes and the way his brows were drawn softly together as he looked down at you hazily. 

“Choso? Are you—”

“I love you.”

Despite having been spread open before him just seconds ago while coming undone on his fingers, you somehow felt all the more exposed now. Your eyes fluttered a few times, and you drew your arms closer to your chest as though it would shield you from his raw gaze. A breathy, forced laugh escaped you as you shook your head softly at him. 

“You’re just turned on right now, Choso.” You tried to brush off his sudden confession, protecting your pride from falling victim to his naivety. He shook his head though, pulling you up until you sat perched upon his lap. 

“No, I love you.” He stated again, this time more matter of factly. “You’re the only one who treats me like.. I’m human and not a curse. You’re the only one who makes me feel like I am human.” His fingers wrapped hesitantly around your forearms as he gently coaxed your arms away from their defensive positions. “I love you. Don’t you love me?”

A soft tremor wobbled your bottom lip, but you willed yourself to pull it together. Allowing your protective walls to crumble down with your last bit of resolve, you pushed at his chest until his back hit the floor. Not once did he let his eyes drift from yours, even as your fingers dug into his waistband to tug down the remainder of his clothes. 

His swelled length sprang free from the fleece lined prison they had been straining against for painfully long, falling against his stomach with a barely noticeable smack. You thought he might shy away from you, flush that familiar shade of red you’d begun making synonymous with him in your mind, but it only felt so natural to him to have your lingering eyes on even the most intimate parts of him. 

“Of course I do.” You whispered, moving to straddle his slim, defined waist. A shudder racked your body at the feeling of his thick cock pressing against your stomach, his tip already smeared with evidence of his arousal. His mouth fell open, eyes widening at the sensation of your soaked folds running across his length. With his rustled hair splayed out on the floor surrounding his head, pupils creating black holes in his already midnight stained eyes, you concluded that Choso would never stop growing more beautiful. “I love you.” 

With a fluttering blink, a stray tear gathered at the corner of his eye, slipping down his temple as you nudged his tip past your slicked entrance. It had admittedly been a while since you were last intimate with someone, so you couldn’t help but wince subtly at the stretch of his girth forcing your walls open. For him though, he wouldn’t know the difference, because he was inside you, and your heat was enveloping him like flames licking up his every nerve ending.

 His hands hovered over your back as you slowly sank down onto him, unable to find the courage to disrupt you until he was finally buried in you to completion. With featherlight brushed against your spine, Choso ran his fingers down the expanse of the silken skin on your back until he met the curve of your ass. Curling his grasp around the plush of fat he’d learned he could utterly worship till the day his body became one with the earth, he held you in place for a moment. 

By the heaving of his chest and the tremble in his pitched moan, you knew he wouldn’t last very long, but you were satisfied enough to watch him come undone under the careful touch of someone who truly loved him— someone he truly loved. 

“Hah, I— I love you.” The man gasped again, teary eyes rolling back into his skull as you steadied your hands on his chest to lift your hips just barely off him before sliding back down. You bit at your bottom lip as his tip grazed against that plush of nerves that hadn’t been explored in so long. His lips were pulling down into his famous pout while he planted his heels into the ground to chase your rhythm with sloppy thrusts of his own. 

“I love you, Cho.” You reciprocated through a harmonious moan, watching his face scrunch up pitifully as the pace of his hips grew erratic. 

“Bite me—ah!” He whimpered softly, puppy dog eyes pleading up at you in the way he knew you could never refuse.

 Your lips curled up at his request, unaware of just how much your previous actions had lingered in his mind. Tracing up the firm planes of his chest, your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at it to maneuver his head to the side before leaning down to sink your teeth into the first bite you had left on him, the mark just barely faded on his trap. 

Choso felt utterly consumed by you, his heart thumping wildly in his muffled ears. With the pressure of your fingers’ grasp against his roots combined with the subtle sting of your canines against the sensitive skin just below his neck, it took all but one last supple roll of your hips for it all to come crashing down on him. 

His eyes rolled back, a delirious grin tickling his lips at the sensation that he was all yours to use. The once gentle squeeze his fingers had on your bottom morphed into a frenzied digging, surely leaving crescent shaped marks in the wake of his chipping nails. It was meant to hold you there, ensure your hips stayed glued to his own as he spilled himself inside of you with bone grinding thrusts.  He could feel himself oozing out of you and onto the unsuspecting rug beneath him, but none of it mattered to him because he finally understood.

 It didn’t matter the spiteful words that would slice across his vulnerable soul, and it didn’t matter whether or not someone thought he was human enough for you. What he was experiencing now, enveloped in the must of sex-littered air that surrounded you was all the confirmation he’d ever need that he was irrevocably soul tied to you. The half-curse had seen the absolute pinnacle of humanity, and you were perched upon it with your drooping breasts and pleasure-ridden face— the one that made the space between your brows crease and your nails dig into whatever slab of muscle on him was closest to you. 

As he finally began tumbling down the hill of his climax, his hands drifted up to splay across your back, keeping you pressed against his sweat lined chest. The twinkling lights in his peripheral seemed to blur at the edges of his sight as they mixed with his lingering tears. You were working gentle kisses up his neck, dragging your wet lips across his sharp jaw until you finally circled back to his still swollen lips. He hummed against your kiss, deciding affirmatively that he’d stay awkwardly splayed out across the floor of your dorm all night long if it meant he could keep you this close. 

“I… I think I have to get you a better Christmas gift.” Choso concluded, revelling in the sensation of your warmth still enveloping his softening manhood. “Yours was way better.”

You laughed tiredly against his cheek, pulling back to peer down at him in question. 

“What did you get me?”

His cheeks flushed, and he looked over at the small gift that sat just a few feet away from you under the tree with a soft pout. 

“It’s… it’s a Britney Spears CD.”

this was supposed to come out before christmas, but alas the procrastination won this time, so sorry for the delay :(

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

taglist: @huuuhwhaat , @trishiepo0 , @makingtimemine

[ochacoca]

hey could u write an angsty fic where the reader thinks akaashi is too good for them pls thank youuu

I WOULD GIVE YOU THE MOON

3rd year!akaashi x gn!reader

now playing ♫ moon song by phoebe bridgers

IN WHICH your boyfriend doesn't let the thought of you not being good enough for him haunt you.

word count: 1,286 words

content: angst, hurt/comfort, 3rd year!akaashi, 3rd year!reader, pre-established relationship, happy ending

Ever since you began dating, you never understood how someone like Keiji ended up with someone like you.

He was so attentive, so thoughtful, and so kind. He had his weird quirks that made him unique. Keiji remembered every small detail about you. How you liked your tea, how to calm you down, how to put you to sleep at night when your mind won't stop running laps. He was an amazing partner and you couldn't ask for more.

You'd consider yourself a good partner as well. But, you were just.. you. You were the one people approached to ask about your other friends, not you. The one who was always asked to take a picture of the group instead of being asked to be in the photo.

Anytime you tried, you couldn't find anything unique about yourself. Not your personality, not your looks, you were just average. That's what you thought of yourself and that was what you've grown up to think, even though Keiji insists otherwise.

But more recently, you've felt this weight on your shoulders. Anytime he'd bring you breakfast in bed, anytime he'd show you affection, or anything else he does on a regular basis, you would feel this churn in your stomach.

I don't deserve this.

The thought used to come and go before you even had time to acknowledge it. But now, it's all you think about.

And you become more fixated on your appearance. You couldn't blame it on the bright white lights in your bedroom or the warm yellow lights in your bathroom. Your hair was dry and frizzy, you had deep eyebags from the late nights you stayed up overthinking. You looked sick. But this never stopped his compliments.

“You look so pretty, my love.” He'd whispered in your ear when he sees you staring at yourself in the mirror for so long. He'd wrap his arms around your waist as he stood behind you, resting his chin against your shoulder.

You would always smile and thank him. But deep down, you always thought he was lying. Just trying to make you feel good about yourself, or trying to convince himself in the process.

You couldn't bring this up to him though. You wouldn't. All you could try to do was to try and be enough for him so he wouldn't find it in somebody else.

The hangout had been Bokuto's idea. After the third years graduated, there wasn't much time where the old volleyball team was able to see each other, so he curated a get-together where everyone was able to come. Even her.

You didn't hate Yukie Shirofuku. You could never. She was such a sweetheart, but you envied her with everything inside you.

She was so confident in herself without lifting a finger. So effortlessly gorgeous when you had to put hours into yourself to look at least a bit decent. When she laughed at something Keiji said, throwing her head back and holding her stomach, you felt your stomach twisting sickeningly. You hated getting jealous with every bone in your body. You wanted to brush it off, but it was hard. You didn't want to be that type of partner.

With her shine in the room, you felt invisible.

You tried to be active all night. Engaging in different conversations and such so it wouldn't seem you were in a bad mood. You didn't want to ruin the atmosphere with your negativity. But Keiji being Keiji, he already knew something was up with you.

“Are you okay?” He whispered in your ear, placing his hand on your thigh and rubbing it softly.

You moved your head to face him, slapping on a fake smile in hopes he wouldn't notice how badly you wanted to leave. “Hm? Yeah, I'm fine.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously but nodded, not wanting to push it any furthur incase you got uncomfortable. But after a few minutes passed, he could see it in your body language. The way you shifted in your seat, how you picked at your nails and cracked your knuckles.

“Do you want to go back home?” He whispered again in your ear. You sighed, you couldn't deny it anymore. You nodded and he nodded back before standing up and gathering your things.

“Okay, I'll drop you off.”

You stood up beside him and gently grabbed his hands. “But what about your friends?” You said. You didn't want to be the reason he didn't hang out with his friends.

But he only smiled at you and shook his head. “I have more opportunities to see them again. Let's go.”

You had been avoiding his gaze since you left Bokuto's house. You would see through your peripheral at every red stoplight in the car how he'd look at you, with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips slightly parted. However, you continued to look out the window. Now, you're standing in front of the door to your house, waiting to go inside. You unlock the door and twist the knob to step in, but Keiji's hand catches your wrist before you could open it wide enough.

“Wait.” He mumbled. He gently tugged you towards him, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing them softly. “Just wait for a minute.”

You finally met his eyes for the first time in an hour. He had concern etched all across his face. You could see it in the way he furrowed his eyebrows, the look in his eyes, his lips pursed. “You're not okay.”

The lump formed in your throat immediately. You swallowed it down, letting out a broken laugh before speaking. “I'm sorry.” Your voice broke slightly. “It's just.. I didn't like seeing her around you.”

“With who? With Yukie?” He asked with a tone of disbelief. There was a pause in the air, and he already knew with your silence that he was right.

“I'm sorry-” You started but he cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

“Stop,” He said quickly while shaking his head. “you don't have to apologize, darling.”

“It's just..” You trailed off.

“Just what?” He asked as he tried to coax out the answer from you, with the same softness he only showed for you. You took a shaky breath and exhaled.

“Sometimes I just think you can do better, you know?” You avoided his gaze as the lump in your throat grew stronger. “I feel like you’re wasting your time with me. I can't give you what you deserve.”

“What?” His expression softened. It looked like your words physically pained him to hear. “Stop it..”

“Keiji–”

“Stop.” He cut you off as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours while softly taking your head in his hands. “Y/n, I would give you the moon if I could.

He peppered soft kisses all over your face. On your forehead, your cheeks, your temple, before finally pressing them against your lips. “Why would you think you wouldn't be enough for me?” His voice cracked and it broke you.

You didn't have an answer. You could only shrug and try looking away from him as you fought off the tears that formed in your eyes, only for Keiji to gently direct your face to look in his eyes again.

“You are perfect for me.” He whispered softly to you, pressing his body even closer against yours as he embraced you. “All I want is you.”

©OCHACOCA 2025 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other platforms!

[coatree]

For the past few days I've been learning to make Minecraft skins since it's something I've wanted to learn.

Recently, I had asked my friend Maruu if I could use the reference sheets they had for their thesis so I could make some skins out of them, as a sort of learning tool. The designs were simple enough, yet unique enough too that it would still be a bit of a challenge to try and translate them and keep their original looks.

Skins made for @liloinkoink @kitsuneisi @cherrifire @hopepetal @applestruda @localwheel

Credits to @xmaruu11 for the art used!

In order: Maruu, Lew, Doody, Cherri, Zera, Bee, Local

If you want a more in depth explanation/want to read my thought process and struggles with each one it'll just be under the cut!

(Off topic if you want to commission me, I have emergency commissions open and if you like the skins I've made here and want me to make one for you, shoot me a DM I'd be happy to negotiate a price!)

Maruu

Maruu’s was the first I did and it was mostly because I wanted to try to experiment with hoodies and similar colours. It’s a lot of yellow tones which made a lot of the shading and lighting on it decently fun because of how careful I had to be with the colours.

Maruu also had a different hairstyle than anything I had done before so experimenting with multicoloured hair and the second layer on the head was very interesting.

Initially I wanted to make it so Maruu could take the hoodie off but I find it better this way mostly because of how baggy the hoodie is itself which didn’t look natural when it was all on the second layer

Lew

Lew was the second one and I had decent enough problems with them. A collared shirt was my first struggle, since I knew I wanted the jacket on the second layer, so figuring out that shading problem was nice.

Lew is also very monochromatic, with red being the only real colour, even with the white/black being shades of red. As such it was a lot of tricky maneuvering in order to try and figure out how to make each colour stand out while keeping it semi in line. Lew also has this particular aesthetic that I tried to nail which I think I did well

The hair was my biggest challenge, white is notoriously difficult for beginner artists to shade and even with me doing art for a while I have difficulty keeping the white colour while shading. Despite that, I think I did a decent enough job on it to give it some shading while keeping it white

Doody

Doody was up next and I was terrified LMAO, Doody has an outfit that is unique enough that I was worried going into it that I just wouldn’t be able to do it. Along with Bee, Doody took me the longest to do because of it

I knew I wanted the green part of Doody to be removable, which actually helped me out more than I was expecting it to. Having the entire green part be removable let me experiment more with the rest of the outfit which was a nice surprise

Along with Lew, I had a similar problem of “oh my damn god, there is so much dark colours here”, but they were all different shades of dark colours which just made it more difficult when I tried to shade. It was also, again, another unique outfit that gave me some trouble since I couldn’t do the pants the same way I usually do them.

The hair was the main challenge, I wanted to make sure it looked like Doody’s hair was the same poofy curly texture it is in the reference which I think I did well? I hope I did well. The dual tone was another scary thing since it was similar colours so I was worried my shading would just be bad, but I think it looks fine

Cherri

If I thought I had trouble with Lew’s red, I was not emotionally prepared for Cherri. Cherri was like a master class in trying to manipulate the colour red in too many different ways. Every single colour on Cherri is a shade of red, every single one.

It wasn’t just red too, it was dark red, which meant the combination of my anguish with dark colours and my anguish with monochromatic red just absolutely beat me over the head.

Thankfully though, the colours were just the main hard part. The outfit was actually pretty simple and gave me a nice break after struggling for like thirty minutes on Doody’s skin. Simple jacket and clothes which made it so much easier on my feeble soul

The bow was fun, this was the first time I had done a hair accessory, and I definitely think the experience with Maruu helped a lot.

This was the first time I had to actively check to make sure the skin was fine because I kept missing spots because there was so much red. Anyways a lot of that red is shaded with purple which I think is absolutely hilarious on my part. If you can’t make yourself laugh you’re not funny as I always say

Zera

Zera was a nice little reprieve, with a hoodie design similar to Maruu’s but not too baggy and pants similar to the ones I gave myself with the designs on them and the baggy pants I gave to my friend Middy, it was mostly a lot of touch ups.

The main issue was actually the face. I’ve been trying to match everyone’s eyes to their skins because I’m not just gonna make the skins and not let them use them, so I wanted to at least match the eyes to how they usually had them on their skins so it didn’t look too jarring. The thing was, I had never looked at Zera’s skin long enough to notice how the glasses were. It was a lot of switching between blockbench and name MC that’s for sure

Besides that, Zera was chill, insanely fun to do, desperately needed after back to back Doody and Cherri

Bee

I think I aged fifteen years trying to do this skin

Being honest, Bee was the main one I was worried about. The skirt was my main fear because, well, never did a skirt before. I think this skin was the one I just kept coming back to because something always seemed wrong about it. Even when I was working on Local’s I just kept coming back to change things because nothing ever looked right.

It wasn’t too difficult to do otherwise, the colours being more brown made it semi difficult as I had to manipulate lighting usage to make sure the browns didn’t muddle together, but really my main difficulty here was the skirt.

After that was done I was fine, I had to actually close the skin because I just kept coming back to it and I knew I’d never be satisfied with it if I couldn’t even focus on a completely different skin LMAO.

I am glad i did it though! Now I can say I have some skirt experience under my belt

Local

I’m so glad I ended with Local because oh my god I needed this after Bee.

Local was very simple, t-shirt and ripped jeans, very baby simple. Because of this I don’t really have any notes on him. Also I was doing this skin by like 11:30 after doing the other ones since like 5 so I desperately needed that break.

I think the thing that messed with me the most was both the hair and the shoes. Obviously sandals are very different from regular shoes and I would change them again but honestly I’m fine with how they turned out.

The hair I just had to adjust the colours a bit off of reference because it was MORE RED, but I think the way I did the shading there is fine enough for what it needs to be

I saw that Local sometimes just didn’t have the jacket so I made it able to be toggled which was fun, basically worked on two layers of skin

[xinfinityl0ve17]

Klaha [MALICE MIZER]

●Klaha

“I'm not as delicate as everyone thinks. I've got pretty thick nerves.”

PROFILE

(From left): yu~ki (B), Mana (G), Klaha (Vo), Közi (G)

The band name, MALICE MIZER, holds the meaning of “malice and tragedy.” Their concept driven songs soaked in a medieval gothic atmosphere, and their live performances transcending mere “shows” are truly worth experiencing

“I've been influenced by the other members in a lot of ways.”

- Klaha who joined MALICE MIZER as their vocalist last summer had already known the members for some time before officially joining the band. But what led him to make the decision?

“I’ve never really been interested in the band scene. What I’ve always cared more about is simply wanting to sing. But I felt like, if it’s MALICE MIZER, they could help elevate my singing and that my singing might also deepen their musical expression. To me MALICE MIZER is a solitary presence radiating a unique, lonely aura that you can’t find anywhere else.”

- For Klaha joining the band didn’t just affect him musically it also had a major impact on his fashion sense.

“We actually go shopping together sometimes (laughs). Before that, I always wore all black like, even in summer I’d be wearing long sleeves, sometimes even a coat. But after joining that started to change thanks to the other members. These days I’m into more natural styles. Since MALICE MIZER delves into such a fantastical world, I think it's more interesting to keep things natural in daily life. The contrast feels really refreshing.”

- Klaha is currently exploring a fashion style he’d never embraced before. Naturally, that comes with some missteps…

“When I only wore black i could tell what suited me without even trying it on. But now, even when I’m sure something looks good I’ll try it on at home and the collar will look weird or something. I mess up a lot now (laughs).”

- What about his hair styling habits?

“Well i put some styling lotion in and wrap the ends of my hair around my fingers to give it a wavy look, like natural curls. But if I zone out, I end up curling it the wrong way inward instead of outward. When that happens, I just spray more lotion, run my fingers through it and mess it up like, ‘Whatever, good enough!’ Honestly, I can’t even draw a decent circle, I’m that clumsy. So if it’s not working out, I just give up and move on (laughs).”

- A great cook and athletic too. But a bit of an airhead!? Tall, slender and quiet, he might come across as delicate and highly sensitive. But Klaha’s real personality is surprisingly relaxed and easygoing.

“People assume I’m terrible at sports, but actually I’ve got pretty good reflexes. If there were a sports festival for visual kei bands, I’d totally want to join (laughs).”

- One of his talents is cooking—he says he can make almost anything without even looking at a recipe.

“I haven’t cooked for the other members or staff yet, so they’re all kind of skeptical about it. But what really gets to me is when people say I’m an airhead. They say the way I talk is kind of offbeat, but I’m like. What exactly about it is off? As far as I’m concerned, I’m explaining things logically. It all makes perfect sense to me totally perfect, actually (laughs).”

[firespirited]

I ordered a mystery 20€ bundle, as a challenge.

The mystery was whether the sealant on those customs was damaged or if they had just gone gunky from glue head. The challenge would have been to neutralize the glue while keeping the faceup.

Jadora is deep stained so she's bleaching.

Rochelle's faceup is mostly intact (an acrylic heart came off) and non-tacky so I've cellophaned her while doing a Cif treatment. I'm hoping to keep these two.

Draculaura was too yellowed by glue to be worth saving but I have a lone head in need of her body + kept her hair for eyelashes.

Maddie hatter is getting glue treatment.

Spectra, Mummy, Abbey, Meygana and Gooliope all had horribly melted sticky sealant - probably not Mr Super Clear - feels more like acrylic sealant that got too humid, maybe even a glue mix like mod podge for Meygana.

Abbey had more of a 'flaking' and took more alcohol to remove, I think she used a much better sealant. She's been wiped and is now doing CIF treatment.

Gooliope had one stable layer for blushing and eyebrows which also protected her plastic from staining but the top layer was melted.

Meygana's eyes weren't removed before sealing the faceup, I'm soaking them in alcohol in the faint hope they weren't wiped with acetone when the doll was first prepped. Her faceup was literally melting off her face. It may be a chemical reaction from the plasticizers in vinyl as her and gooliope are both body blushed and that's held up fine.

If Rochelle's faceup survives the CIF treatment, it means that OOAK dolls can be saved from glue head so long as the sealant also holds up.

If you plan to drop a lot of money on a unique artist doll, do check their process to make sure they're looking for glue head, polypropylene hair and that they use a decent sealant if you want something with shelf life.

[blaithnne]

Local big sister experiences emotions, more at 6

Been wanting to do one of these with Lauren for AGES, but I never got round to it. Then I saw the Lydia and Phinium expression sheets on @littledigits’ website and I felt inspiration like never before.

The funniest struggle I have with Lauren’s design right now is that she nose too big for she got damn face. Literally, Hilda characters noses take up a fairly small portion of their faces, and her’s took up WAY too much, leaving little room for her to make facial expressions. But I struggled to find a fix because when I made the nose smaller it just didn’t look like Lauren anymore, so I took this as an opportunity to work on that!

She still has a larger nose than most characters, starting higher up (like her grandad!) and ending lower down (but not quite as low as before). I also made her eyes a little smaller and with a shape similar to Lydia’s (though you can see in some of these I hadn’t quite landed on that yet and her eyes are a bit too big), which works both as a nod to her parentage and because I think it makes the nose look bigger. This still doesn’t leave as much room for the mouth as most other characters, but that’s okay — Lauren is a very private person who keeps her feelings close to her chest, I think it works for her to have subtler expressions, adds to how guarded she is! Oh and I also updated the shape of her hair slightly, just to make it a bit more style accurate.

These changes are pretty small on their own, but I think combined they work well to make Lauren feel a lot more…alive? Far less stiff, anyway. I think she also has a more unique facial structure now, instead of just “what if Johanna was 90% nose”. She’s still got a big old nose and I love it but now she can emote, yay!

This is really all just concept stuff, I’m hoping to get a new fullbody style-ref for Lauren out soon! Now that I’ve improved the main issues I had with her face in the last ref, now it’s onto the silhouette! I want her to read as more of a strong character (though it comes across decently in her current ref, I wanna push it more without being as exaggerated as Ahlberg, which is. A challenge for me lol), streamline her silhouette, and finally make her taller than Johanna like she’s always meant to have been <3 I made her shorter for so long because I thought it would help her read better as her daughter but you know what? That’s dumb actually, she’s tall.

ANYWAYS, thank you for listening in on the annual Lauren redesign, and to the artists behind the show for posting so much amazing inspiring show stopping concept work for free because it makes my autism worse /pos

[ohnoitstbskyen]

thoughts on the syndra redesign that just dropped?? including old vs new splash arts!! :D

It's just a splash art refresh, so I wouldn't get too excited - Syndra's been well overdue for one of those for a while now.

It's fairly conservative as a redesign for that reason - mostly just it pulls back on the sexualization of Syndra (which her story has never supported anyway so that's a decent move), and... it gives her a face. Syndra's old splash has a very indistinct face that's mostly smudged out in the shadow of her helmet, but here we get a much more visible set of facial features which has the benefit of making her a lot more identifiable.

Much in the same way that Syndra's story doesn't really support sexualization, though, I would argue that it also doesn't really support immaculate makeup, perfect nails, high-end Dark Queen fashion and flawless smooth skin.

Syndra is a rage-driven, traumatized, magical explosion machine, who spent literal centuries sleeping imprisoned in a pool of magic water and upon awakening tore a mountain out of the ground and flew off to live alone on it, because she fundamentally does not want to be around people. She hates them, they are the source of her pain.

But she's designed to look like a cool, calculated, scheming Evil Sorceress who lives all day in a big opulent castle, sending servants into the world to do her dark bidding while reclining in a bed attended by captured slaves. There's a disconnect there - the design is trying to communicate a rather different character than how she's actually written.

Personally I'd like to see a Syndra who is wild and maybe a little bit feral, or hermit-like, an isolated lonely misanthrope who lashes out against others and uses her power to control and dominate her environment and others by sheer force and power rather than by any form of subtle manipulation or social intimidation. Less cool, calculated Maleficent evil queen self-control, more Carrie, more unstoppable force of nature.

There's this unexamined Default™ priority with female characters in League of Legends to make them look cool, beautiful and glamorous, regardless of whether that's what their story or concept actually invites, and I think it occludes a bunch of more interesting and unique design options. Syndra is an example of that.

Like, the best design Ahri's ever had was in the Ruined King game, where they leaned into her feral and animalistic nature, to better tell the story of how she's struggling between her desire to be human and her Vastayan instinct to feed and hunt

It didn't desexualize her or make her not beautiful in any way, but it did, at least, allow for something other than the immaculately composed not-a-hair-out-of-place silky smooth Default™ beauty that dominates her League of Legends incarnation to be a part of her visual storytelling, and I think she was a lot better for it.

I wouldn't mind if Syndra got that treatment as well.

[sweetestflow3rs]

NPC DIVE-IN || Cody the Messenger

"Holding you, they brush aside a streak of their blue hair. They seem almost familiar, but you can’t place why as you gaze deeply into their bright, golden eye. You think to yourself if this is how angels are supposed to look like."

SONG INSIGHT: life of the party by the weeknd - ruler of my heart by alien stage - sex party by left boy

Cody is a Person of Interest / NPC that can be found usually at Harvest Street in Landry's Pub. Cody will usually be seen behind the bar, bartending and serving customers there. To regular PCs, he just serves drinks, but to PCs with recognized fame and a criminal record, Cody is actually an information broker.

Once unlocked, Cody's mechanic is that he serves as a form of contractual employer who will provide the PC different tasks / "side quests" to go on that vary based on the PC's Fame, being able to earn large amounts of money for completing it successfully. At the risk of also increasing your criminal record exponentially.

However, failing at the tasks Cody gives the PC can have its consequences, too.

While Cody himself comes off as someone more relaxed than most, one thing Cody takes pride in is his work for the reputation he has built from it. The PC messing up looks bad on him, yet, at first, he plays it off as if everything is alright. Apologizing to the PC for giving them such a hard task, telling them to take it easy for the night and go to bed. But, the morning they wake up, the PC will sudden have an infamy in their Rape, Monster, Pregnancy, Sex and Prostitution fame with an increase of NPC Stalking Encounters. Cody has now spread false info and gossip about the PC as a consequence for failing.

And the punishment does not end there, as to return everything back to normal, the PC has to make it up to Cody. Which, of course, he will compensate them with a decent pay. The punishment varies depending on Cody's stats:

Low Love & Low Respect: Take on a risky job that can lock them into a soft bad end if they fail it.

Low Love & High Respect: Go to visit clients in a meeting with Cody who he allows to grope and fondle the PC, but intervenes if they try to push it further than just grabbing.

Decent Love & Low Respect: Forced to wear a revealing outfit and work a night shift at the Pub, advertising the Pub to people outside and serving drinks to guests inside. Cody records the entire thing while laughing, but intervenes if customers try to take advantage

Decent Love & High Respect: Will take them into a small room in the Pub, where there are horrific levels of paperwork scattered around. The PC has to sort them out for hours.

High Love & High Lust: Will take them into a small room in the Pub and overstimulate the PC into multiple orgasms until they pass out, laughing when they wake up

While Cody is a risky NPC to engage with, his mechanic does serve its benefits. With High Love & High Respect, the PC can unlock:

Cody's Apartment in the Barb Street Flats as a new safehouse.

Getting to join Cody on errands ( "dates" ) and unlocking unique interaction encounters with Cody bringing the PC to hang out either in Eden's cabin with him, or Bailey's Apartment, seeing rare moments of almost 'normalcy' from the two antagonists.

Cody being a figure to vent at to reduce stress and trauma. Low Love & Low Respect can do this too, but Cody will spread your info around which can affect the PC's stats with certain NPCs depending on what they said

If kidnapped or sold to Eden, during his weekly visits to them, if Cody sees a high stress & trauma PC there, he will try to convince Eden to lessen up on them and let them roam around again. He can only do this once, after that? His hands are tied.

After a year in-game, Cody will ask if the PC wants to 'shake things up'. Dependent on willpower, will either be tasked to cause hell for the criminal underground OR earn rank in the criminal underground ( both have varying "end" results and cannot be forgotten once accepted )

RANDOM TRIVIA & LORE

Cody is someone known to make a joke of everything, carrying a smile on his face. Almost nonchalant, with how sarcastic and mocking he can be.

Actually someone who thrives on chaos & causing it. He enjoys stirring up drama and trouble, and enjoys poking at the spots he knows upsets people the most. His mocking behavior is even worse, with how cruel he can be in the worst situations due to his nihilistic tendencies

His Respect stat dictates in what manner he treats the PC. Those with low respect, he tends to see as someone not capable enough, treating them in almost 'adoring' fashion, but it is in fact degrading and at times, dehumanizing. He tends to toss them around more.

High Respect means that Cody sees this person as an equal, and is more willing to give them insights on the personal workings of the town, giving them more responsibilities. While he still enjoys tossing around the PC in his hand, they now have the opportunity to make demands out of him too

Cody is a former orphan from the Orphanage. As a child, Bailey and Eden were considered to be like his older siblings, with how much time he spent with them.

Was there to witness Bailey's rise to power, the removal of the previous Caretaker, and the fallout between Eden and Bailey.

Part of the first generation of orphans that Bailey demanded debt repayment. Used to steal & work at the spa & do drag performances to make ends meet

A former delinquent & popular kid. Often skipped class to smoke weed in either the bathroom or rooftop.

Was classmates & bestfriends with Wren and Niki. Niki and Cody used to even date for awhile. Niki still regrets the breakup

Got kidnapped into the Underground Farm before it was as developed it is now before even Harper was employed, and was considered Remy's "favorite". Often SA'd by them personally, until they managed to escape.

Blamed Bailey for it, and let them knew how much it upset him. Saying it would've never happened if Bailey wasn't constantly demanding work from him, saying he was just as bad as the last caretaker. ( He apologized after awhile )

Joined the Temple in some hope of security. Actually was in there for awhile, and had a high position of authority, his halo proving that. But, Cody became disillusioned from the Temple's methods & passivity within the town after a bit.

Despite this, still kept his halo to spite the Temple. He felt that with his 'corrupt' lifestyle, with his halo still ever present, it spits on the 'good values' the Temple tries to preach to others.

Due to his previous authority in the Temple, and his high ranked divinity, the PC can actually go to Cody for certain Temple services like confession & asking for removal of the Fallen Angel TF

Broke off his bonds with Wren & Niki after they told him about accepting jobs from Remy when they knew what happened to him. It put a huge dent in their friendship. His now closest friends / "found family" is Bailey and Eden.

Paid off his debt with Bailey a month before he graduated high school, having started his information broking career during this era.

Is secretly very wealthy due to his career, though no one would ever guess from how he dresses and act.

His favorite dish is kwek kwek. Cody tends to prefer sweet & savory food, and has a big preference on street dishes.

Ethnically Puerto Rican & Brazilian

Is 6'2" / 187cm

Not everyone knows Cody's drag look, so he uses it to his advantage to pry information from others. Especially if they have a preference towards feminine company.

Mentors Noel ( my other NPC ). Was the one to convince to get matching pierced ears.

Has piercings all over his body & a venom piercing on his tongue. The day he feels like removing his chastity cage, he plans on getting a dick piercing.

[amethystarachnid]

15. A Handcrafted Gift – The reader makes something special for the character—something unique and meaningful that reminds them they’re cared for. How does your character react? Can you write this with Tony Stark for me, please? Something for their first year anniversary (one idea)... but it can be whatever you think it's the best ❤️

CHRISTMAS SECRETS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: on the 25th of December it will be y/n and Tony's first anniversary and y/n wants to make something special, handcrafted by her, but hiding something from Tony stark (who almost lives at her apartment given of often he's there) is very difficult, especially when he knows something's up, and he isn't scared to use some smooth talk and kisses and stuff like that to convince her to tell him what his gift is. 

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The soft hum of Christmas carols plays from the small speaker on your kitchen counter, mingling with the scent of cinnamon and pine. Your apartment glows with the gentle light of fairy strings and the flicker of candles, a haven of warmth against the December chill outside. You’re seated at your dining table, fingers nimble and focused as you work on Tony’s gift, the details etched in your mind since October finally coming to life. A faint smile curls on your lips as you imagine his reaction—a rare moment of speechlessness from Tony Stark, the man who always has something to say.

The project is ambitious, maybe overly so. Handcrafting a personalized keepsake for a genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist isn’t exactly straightforward. But you’re determined to make this first anniversary one he’ll never forget. Each brushstroke and detail feels intimate, a piece of you poured into the gift. You pause to sip your cocoa, glancing at the clock. The late afternoon stretches long ahead of you, promising hours of uninterrupted work. At least, that’s the plan.

Your peaceful bubble pops with a sudden buzz at the intercom. You glance at it, your heart skipping, and then rush to cover your work with a throw blanket. The clatter of your chair echoes as you step back to assess your hasty camouflage. Decent enough, you hope.

The intercom buzzes again.

"Hey, Y/N," Tony’s voice drawls, his tone warm and teasing, even through the crackly speaker. "Open up, would you? I’m freezing my nuts off out here."

You exhale a laugh, your chest tightening. Of course, he’d show up unannounced. He always does. Padding to the door, you press the button to let him in, smoothing your sweater as if that’ll somehow erase the slight guilt of hiding something from him.

Moments later, his presence fills the doorway. Tony’s bundled in a dark wool coat, a scarf loosely draped around his neck. Snowflakes cling to his messy hair, and his grin is lopsided, that infuriatingly charming mix of boyishness and arrogance. "Miss me?"

"Always," you say, leaning in to brush a quick kiss against his cheek. His cologne—a heady mix of spice and something distinctively him—lingers as he steps inside, shaking off the cold like it’s a minor inconvenience.

"You’ve been hiding," he remarks, his sharp eyes scanning the room with a casualness that doesn’t fool you. "No calls, no texts. Almost like you didn’t want me to come over."

You roll your eyes and shut the door. "Or maybe I’ve just been busy, Stark. Not everything’s about you, you know."

He smirks, peeling off his coat and hanging it on the hook. "Oh, but it is, sweetheart. You’re just too modest to admit it."

His gaze sweeps over the room again, lingering on the table for a beat longer than necessary. You follow his line of sight and curse inwardly. The blanket isn’t lying as flat as you thought.

"You redecorating or something?" he asks, sauntering toward the table. His fingers twitch like they’re itching to peek under the cover.

"Nope," you say quickly, stepping into his path. You plaster on your most innocent smile, which you know he sees right through. "Just, uh… rearranging some stuff. It’s nothing."

He stops, close enough that you can see the glint of mischief in his eyes. "Nothing, huh?"

"That’s right."

He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You’re a terrible liar, Y/N."

Your breath catches, but you manage a nonchalant shrug. "And you’re terribly nosy."

"Fair. But it’s part of my charm." His hands settle lightly on your hips, thumbs tracing idle circles. "C’mon, tell me. What’s under the blanket? You’ve got that look—like you’re plotting something."

"It’s just… some stuff for work," you lie, cringing internally at how weak it sounds.

"Work?" He quirks an eyebrow. "Sweetheart, you’re not even convincing yourself."

You’re about to retort when he dips his head, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your neck. The heat of it makes your resolve falter, and he knows it. Damn him and his unfair tactics.

"Tony," you warn, though your voice comes out softer than intended.

"Y/N," he murmurs against your skin, his tone all mock seriousness. "What are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing!"

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression a mix of amusement and suspicion. "You’re a terrible poker player, you know that? If we were in Vegas, you’d be broke in thirty minutes."

"Good thing we’re not in Vegas, then," you quip, trying to sidestep him. He blocks you effortlessly, grinning like the cat who’s about to eat the canary.

"Let me see." He moves toward the table again, and panic rises in your chest. You dart in front of him, arms outstretched like a human barricade.

"Tony, no."

He stops short, tilting his head. "No?"

"No."

His grin widens. "Now I really have to see."

"Tony, I’m serious," you insist, trying to sound stern, but the laughter bubbling undercuts your tone.

"And I’m curious," he counters, his hands sliding into his pockets as he studies you. He’s clearly enjoying this far too much. "This is cute, though—watching you scramble. What’s the big deal? Is it a new boyfriend? Should I be jealous?"

You snort. "Yes, Tony, I’ve replaced you with someone who doesn’t try to weasel secrets out of me every chance he gets."

"Sounds like a boring guy. You’re way too smart for that."

"Exactly. So why would I date someone who can’t take a hint?"

He laughs, his shoulders shaking, and for a moment, you think you’ve deflected successfully. But then his gaze sharpens, and he nods toward the blanket. "So, what’s under there?"

The shift in his tone catches you off guard. It’s softer now, less teasing, but no less persistent. He steps closer, his warmth radiating as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze.

"You don’t have to tell me," he says, his thumb brushing your jawline. "But if it’s important to you, I want to know."

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You bite your lip, torn. Telling him would ruin the surprise, but keeping it a secret feels like trying to hide sunlight behind a curtain.

"It’s nothing bad," you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know that," he says gently. "You’re not exactly the supervillain type. But you’re being… weird. And as someone who thrives on weird, I’m intrigued."

You exhale a shaky laugh, your resolve wavering again. "It’s just—"

Before you can finish, your phone buzzes loudly on the counter, the sound breaking the moment. Tony glances toward it, then back at you, his expression unreadable.

"Saved by the bell," he says, though his tone carries a hint of disappointment.

You take the opportunity to step away, grabbing your phone to answer the call. As you speak, you glance over your shoulder, watching him lean casually against the table. His eyes linger on the blanket for a moment before shifting to meet yours, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

This isn’t over. You can feel it.

You end the call and turn back to Tony, who’s still leaning against the table like he owns the place, which, to be fair, he nearly does with how often he’s here. His eyes are on you, twinkling with mischief, but there’s an undercurrent of curiosity that you know won’t go away anytime soon.

“So,” he says, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “Where were we?”

“Where I tell you to mind your own business,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light as you walk over and nudge him away from the table. He lets you, but not without a knowing chuckle.

“Sure, sure,” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll drop it—for now. But don’t think I’ve forgotten, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing the blanket-covered project and subtly moving it toward your bedroom. Tony watches you with amusement, clearly aware you’re up to something, but he doesn’t press. Not yet, anyway. You shove the whole thing into your closet, burying it under a pile of sweaters for good measure. He can’t find what he doesn’t know exists.

When you return to the living room, Tony’s kicked off his shoes and is sprawled on the couch like he’s lived here his whole life. One arm is slung over the backrest, and he’s scrolling through something on his phone, his face lit by the faint glow of the screen.

“You staying?” you ask, arching a brow as you lean against the doorway.

“Obviously,” he says without looking up, his tone casual. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you all alone on a cold December night? Besides, I’m invested now. Can’t leave until I crack the case.”

You snort, walking over to pluck his phone out of his hand. He protests weakly but lets you do it, his gaze flicking up to yours with a grin. “You’re not cracking anything.”

“We’ll see.” He tugs you down onto the couch, pulling you into his lap with ease. His arms wrap around your waist, warm and secure, and you feel the tension of the day start to melt away. “Missed you, you know.”

“I saw you two days ago,” you point out, though you soften at his words.

“Two days too long,” he says, nuzzling your neck. “You know how I get. Can’t go more than 48 hours without my favorite person.”

Your heart flutters despite yourself, and you lean back into him, letting the moment linger. His lips brush against your shoulder, and you sigh contentedly, your earlier panic about the gift momentarily forgotten.

The evening unfolds with an easy rhythm. You throw together a simple dinner—pasta and garlic bread—while Tony hovers in the kitchen, stealing bites and offering unsolicited commentary on your cooking techniques. He insists on setting the table, which mostly involves him putting plates and glasses in all the wrong places until you shoo him away with a laugh.

Over dinner, the two of you talk about everything and nothing. He tells you about the latest project at Stark Industries, his words animated as he sketches out ideas with his hands. You tease him about how many times he says “game-changer” in one conversation, and he retaliates by stealing a piece of your garlic bread. The sound of your laughter fills the apartment, blending with the faint hum of the Christmas carols still playing in the background.

Afterward, you settle back on the couch with a bottle of wine, the two of you nestled under a blanket. The city lights twinkle through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. Tony’s arm is draped over your shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm as you talk.

“So,” he says eventually, his voice low and playful. “Are you ready to tell me what you’re hiding yet?”

You groan, burying your face in his chest. “Tony, drop it.”

“Can’t,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s against my nature. You should know that by now.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though there’s no real heat in your words.

“And yet, you love me,” he counters, his lips curving into a smirk against your skin.

You glance up at him, your gaze meeting his. The warmth in his eyes makes your heart ache in the best way, and for a moment, you forget why you’re even trying to keep something from him in the first place.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I do.”

The smirk fades, replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable. He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s slow and unhurried, like he’s savoring the moment. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, and for a while, the rest of the world fades away.

When you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not off the hook, you know,” he murmurs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“I figured,” you say, laughing quietly.

The rest of the night passes in a comfortable haze of laughter and quiet moments. You put on a cheesy Christmas movie, and Tony spends most of it making sarcastic comments about the plot, though you catch him humming along to the songs more than once. By the time the credits roll, you’re curled up against him, your eyelids heavy with sleep.

“You’re staying the night, right?” you murmur, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” he says, his hand brushing through your hair. “Not when I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Your heart swells, and you tilt your head to press a kiss to his jaw. “Good.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy, you know that?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, though you’re smiling.

As you drift off, you feel his arms tighten around you, his presence a steady anchor. Despite his relentless curiosity, you know he’ll respect your secret—for now, at least. But you also know this is Tony Stark, and he’s nothing if not persistent.

Tomorrow, you think with a small smile, you’ll just have to be a little more creative in keeping your secret safe.

The morning light filters through the blinds, casting golden stripes across the bed. You stir slightly, still cocooned in the warmth of the blankets and Tony’s arms. He’s awake—of course he is—his head propped on one hand as he watches you with a soft smile. His other arm is wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close, his fingers idly tracing patterns against your hip.

You mumble something unintelligible, burrowing deeper into the pillow. Tony chuckles, the sound a deep rumble in his chest. He leans down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your temple.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs.

You groan in protest, pulling the blanket over your head. “Too early,” you mumble.

“For you, maybe. For me, it’s the perfect time to ask a few questions,” he says, his tone teasing.

You crack one eye open, squinting up at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He grins, devilishly handsome in the morning light. “What? I can’t help it if I’m curious.”

“Tired,” you mutter, trying to bury yourself back into his chest. He obliges, pulling you closer, but you don’t miss the way his hand moves in gentle, coaxing strokes, as though his touch alone might loosen your sleepy resolve.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “What’s under the blanket?”

“Hmm?” you mumble, half-asleep.

“The blanket,” he continues, his voice a velvety murmur. “What were you hiding yesterday?”

“Not telling,” you mutter, more coherent now, though you still sound groggy.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he coaxes, his fingers brushing along your arm. “Just a little hint?”

“Nice try, Stark,” you say, your voice muffled but amused. “Still not telling.”

He sighs dramatically, flopping back onto the pillows. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re relentless,” you retort, a small smile tugging at your lips even as you drift back to sleep.

By the time you fully wake up, Tony’s no longer in bed, though the faint sounds of movement from the kitchen suggest he’s taken it upon himself to make coffee—or at least attempt to. You stretch lazily before throwing on a sweater and making your way out to join him.

Sure enough, he’s at the counter, wearing a shirt that definitely belongs to him but somehow ended up in your closet. He’s already sipping a mug of coffee, and another waits for you on the counter.

“You’re up,” he says, turning to greet you with a smile.

“And you’re already drinking my coffee,” you tease, taking the mug he’s prepared for you.

“Guilty.” He winks, leaning casually against the counter. “But in my defense, it’s not stealing if I made it.”

You take a sip, humming in approval, and he looks entirely too pleased with himself. As you sit down at the small kitchen table, he slides into the chair across from you, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous glint.

“So,” he starts, resting his chin on one hand, “about this little secret of yours—”

“Tony.”

“What? I’m just saying, I’m very good at keeping secrets. It’s literally in my job description.”

“You mean the job where you tell the press everything about yourself?” you ask, arching a brow.

He feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart. “I don’t tell them everything. Just the stuff that makes me look good.”

You roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “Nice try, but the answer’s still no.”

The day unfolds with the same playful banter. After breakfast, Tony changes into another outfit he’s left behind—a testament to how often he’s here—and the two of you head out to run a few errands. He insists on carrying the groceries when you stop at the store, though he spends most of the time sneaking extra snacks into the cart while you’re not looking.

At one point, as you’re walking back to the car, he leans down, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You know, if you told me what you’re hiding, I could help you make it better. Two heads are better than one, right?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nice try, but I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m very good at surprises. Have you seen my resume?”

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” you reply, grinning. “But this one’s all mine.”

Back at the apartment, the two of you spend the afternoon decorating the tree. Tony insists on making it “high-tech,” suggesting LEDs that sync to music and other ridiculous ideas. You veto most of them, though you let him tinker with the lights just to see him light up with excitement.

Later, as you’re putting the finishing touches on the ornaments, he sidles up behind you, his hands settling on your waist. His lips brush against your neck, and you shiver, though not from the cold.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “If you tell me, I’ll stop asking.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie,” you reply, your smile evident in your tone.

He laughs, spinning you around to face him. “Okay, you’re right. But you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of laughter and shared moments. When the sun dips below the horizon, you find yourselves curled up on the couch again, a movie playing in the background while Tony’s hand rests on your thigh.

At one point, he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that starts slow but quickly deepens. His hands slide up to cradle your face, and for a while, all thoughts of his relentless curiosity melt away. But then he pulls back, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Still not gonna tell me, huh?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

He groans, burying his face in your neck. “You’re killing me, Y/N.”

“You’ll survive,” you reply, running your fingers through his hair.

As the evening stretches on, his attempts to charm the secret out of you become increasingly creative. At one point, he peppers kisses along your jawline, his hands roaming over your sides as he murmurs promises of “no judgment” if you tell him. When that doesn’t work, he tries distracting you with a massage, his hands firm yet gentle as they work out the tension in your shoulders.

“Tony,” you warn, though your voice is softened by a contented sigh. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Isn’t it?” he counters, his tone playful. “Because you seem pretty relaxed to me.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face.

“And you’re stubborn,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “But I like that about you.”

By the time the two of you crawl into bed that night, he’s still no closer to cracking your secret. But as he pulls you into his arms, holding you close against his chest, he seems content to let it go—for now.

“You know I’ll figure it out eventually,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“Good luck,” you reply, your voice laced with affection.

As sleep begins to claim you, you feel his hand resting lightly on your back, his presence a steady comfort. Despite his endless curiosity, you know he won’t push you further than you’re willing to go. And for that, you love him even more.

The apartment is blissfully quiet, save for the soft hum of Christmas music playing from your phone. A few candles flicker on the counter, casting a warm glow over the room as you work. Your hands move quickly yet carefully, the finishing touches on Tony’s gift finally coming together. It’s taken weeks of planning, hours of trial and error, and more than a few late nights, but now it’s done, and you can’t help the swell of pride that blooms in your chest.

The gift—a handcrafted, personalized piece that speaks to Tony’s love of tech and your shared memories—rests on the table before you, gleaming in the soft light. It’s small but intricate, with hidden details only someone as brilliant as Tony would appreciate. You’ve designed it with him in mind, every element a reflection of how much he means to you.

Just as you tie the final ribbon on the wrapping paper, your phone buzzes on the counter. You glance at the screen, heart skipping when you see Tony’s name pop up.

Be home in 10. Mission wrapped early. Miss me?

A pang of panic flutters through you as you glance at the clock. He wasn’t supposed to be back for another few hours, which would have given you plenty of time to hide the gift properly. Now, though, you’ve got ten minutes to make sure he doesn’t find it—or worse, that he doesn’t unravel the entire surprise.

Grabbing the gift, you rush to your bedroom, your heart racing as you shove it into the deepest corner of your closet. You pile a few blankets and boxes over it for good measure, muttering under your breath about Tony’s impeccable timing. By the time you hear the sound of the elevator, you’ve just managed to close the closet door and smooth your hair.

The door swings open, and there he is—Tony Stark, looking every bit the part of the hero who’s just come back from saving the world. His hair is slightly tousled, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, and his trademark smirk firmly in place. But his eyes, warm and familiar, light up when they meet yours.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Miss me?”

“Always,” you reply, walking over to greet him. He pulls you into his arms without hesitation, his embrace warm and grounding. The scent of his cologne lingers on his skin, mingled with the faint metallic tang of the suit he’d undoubtedly just peeled off.

You tilt your head up, and he kisses you softly, his lips brushing against yours in a way that makes the world fade for just a moment. When he pulls back, his gaze lingers on your face, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Something smells good,” he says, his eyes flicking toward the kitchen. “Were you baking without me?”

“Not baking,” you say, stepping back to give him space to shrug off his jacket. “Just… working on something.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and Tony’s brow arches in interest. “Working on something, huh?” he repeats, his tone instantly suspicious. “Let me guess—it’s the same ‘something’ you’ve been hiding from me for days?”

You try to play it cool, shrugging casually as you walk back to the kitchen. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s none of your business.”

He follows you, leaning against the counter with a knowing smile. “You know, the more you try to hide it, the more curious I get.”

“I’m aware,” you say, rolling your eyes. “That’s why I’m not telling you.”

He narrows his eyes, studying you like you’re one of his blueprints. You know that look—he’s piecing something together, and he’s far too clever for his own good. His gaze drifts toward the living room, where the remnants of your crafting supplies still sit on the table. You mentally kick yourself for not clearing them away sooner.

“Hmm,” he hums, pushing off the counter to walk over. He picks up a stray piece of ribbon, turning it over in his hands. “You’ve been busy.”

“Tony,” you warn, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

He looks back at you, a glint of triumph in his eyes. “It’s a gift, isn’t it?”

You cross your arms, leaning against the counter with a sigh. “I’m not saying anything.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, his voice dropping into that low, persuasive tone he uses when he’s trying to get his way. He steps closer, the ribbon still dangling from his fingers. “You’re killing me here.”

“You’ll survive,” you reply, though your heart skips when he’s suddenly so close.

He sets the ribbon down, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p” for emphasis.

His lips twitch with a smile, though there’s a hint of frustration in his eyes. “You’re too good at this.”

“I’ve had practice,” you tease, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “And you’re predictable.”

“Predictable?” he echoes, feigning offense. “I’m the least predictable man you’ve ever met.”

“Sure,” you say with a grin, leaning up to kiss him quickly. “Whatever you say, Stark.”

The playful tension lingers as the evening goes on. Tony changes into something more comfortable—another outfit he’s left here over time—and the two of you settle in for dinner. But even as you laugh and talk, you can feel his curiosity bubbling beneath the surface. Every now and then, he throws out a casual question or a sly remark, clearly testing the waters.

“So,” he says at one point, leaning back in his chair with a glass of wine in hand. “This thing you’re hiding… should I be worried? Is it dangerous? Explosive, maybe?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s not dangerous.”

“Explosive, then.”

“Not unless you decide to blow it up.”

He smirks, taking a sip of his wine. “Tempting.”

After dinner, the two of you end up on the couch again, Tony’s arm draped over your shoulders as he fiddles with a remote to adjust the lights. The room glows softly, the Christmas tree twinkling in the corner.

“You know,” he says, his voice casual but with an edge of mischief, “if I just looked around while you were in the shower or something, I’d probably find it.”

You shoot him a look, sitting up slightly. “Don’t even think about it.”

He grins, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Good.”

“Not yet, anyway,” he adds under his breath.

“Tony!”

He laughs, pulling you back against him. “Kidding. Mostly.”

The playful back-and-forth continues late into the night, his questions becoming more creative—and borderline ridiculous—as he tries to trip you up. But you stand your ground, refusing to let him ruin the surprise you’ve worked so hard on.

Eventually, he sighs dramatically, resting his head against yours. “You’re lucky I love you, you know.”

“I know,” you say, smiling against his shoulder. “And I love you too.”

As you drift off in his arms, you can’t help but feel a sense of triumph. The gift is finished, the secret intact—for now. But with Tony Stark, you know the game is far from over.

The 24th of December arrives in a flurry of excitement, the crisp winter air carrying with it the smell of snow and the faint sound of carolers in the distance. Your apartment is aglow with festive cheer, the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree casting playful shadows across the room. You’re in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner, while Tony, predictably, has made himself at home on the couch, scrolling through his tablet with one hand and nursing a glass of mulled wine with the other.

You glance at the clock—7:45 p.m. Dinner is almost ready, and you decide it’s time to move the gift from its hiding spot. Tony’s been suspicious for weeks now, but he still hasn’t pieced together the full picture, and tonight is the night to finally set the stage for your surprise.

Quietly, you slip into the bedroom and head to the closet. Your heart races a little as you uncover the box, carefully wrapped in festive paper with a ribbon you painstakingly tied just so. It’s perfect, and as you carry it out to the living room, you feel a mix of pride and nervous anticipation.

Tony glances up as you reenter the room, his brows lifting when he sees the gift in your hands. You ignore the way his gaze sharpens, walking calmly to the tree and setting it down right next to the neatly wrapped box he’d placed there earlier.

When you turn around, he’s already halfway out of his seat, his tablet forgotten on the cushion beside him.

“So, it is a gift,” he says, his tone triumphant.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “What else would it be?”

“I knew it,” he declares, striding over to the tree. He crouches down, his fingers brushing the edge of the paper as if he might unravel the mystery right then and there.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn, folding your arms and giving him a pointed look.

He glances up at you, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “But it’s Christmas Eve.”

“It’s not Christmas yet,” you counter. “You can wait a few more hours.”

“Four hours, to be exact,” he says, standing up and crossing his arms in mock indignation. “And you’re really going to make me suffer through all of them, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you say simply, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

The battle begins in earnest after dinner. By 8 p.m., Tony is back on the couch, his glass of wine refilled, and his focus fixed entirely on you. His earlier attempts to deduce what you were working on pale in comparison to his newfound determination to get you to crack.

He starts off slow, his tone casual as he gestures toward the tree. “You know, I’ve got a pretty solid track record of opening presents early. Just ask Pepper.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Good for you. You’re not breaking that record tonight.”

He huffs, placing a hand over his heart. “Do you hear that? That’s the sound of my spirit breaking.”

“Your spirit will survive,” you reply, your voice light but firm. “Midnight, Tony. Not a minute sooner.”

He groans dramatically, leaning his head back against the couch. “You’re a cruel woman, Y/N.”

The hours tick by, each one marked by Tony’s increasingly creative attempts to persuade you. At 8:30, he tries bribery, offering to cook dinner for a week if you let him open it early. At 9:00, he switches tactics, leaning close and murmuring sweet, persuasive words against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in a way that makes your resolve waver—if only slightly.

“Tony,” you say, laughing as you push him away. “You’re not playing fair.”

“All’s fair in love and Christmas,” he counters, his grin unapologetic.

By 10:00, he’s practically begging, sitting cross-legged in front of the tree and staring longingly at the gift. “Just one peek,” he says, holding up his thumb and forefinger to demonstrate how small a peek he wants. “I won’t even unwrap the whole thing. Just the corner.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“It is tonight.”

At 11:00, he tries reverse psychology, dramatically declaring that he doesn’t care what’s in the box and doesn’t want to open it at all. You roll your eyes, laughing as you call him out on his obvious bluff.

“Fine,” he says, standing up and pacing the room. “You’re good. I’ll give you that. But the clock is ticking, Y/N. Midnight’s not far off.”

By 11:45, he’s abandoned all pretense of subtlety. He flops down on the couch beside you, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you. His head rests on your shoulder, and his voice is soft but laced with mock desperation.

“Please?” he whispers. “Just this once?”

You turn to face him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. His brown eyes are warm and pleading, and for a moment, you almost—almost—consider giving in.

“No,” you say, leaning down to kiss his nose. “But nice try.”

He groans, falling back against the cushions. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re relentless,” you reply, smiling as you snuggle into his side.

When the clock finally strikes midnight, Tony’s impatience reaches a fever pitch. He all but dives for the tree, grabbing your gift and holding it up triumphantly. You laugh as he tears into the wrapping paper, his excitement contagious.

Tony’s hands linger on the unwrapped box, his expression softening with curiosity and something more vulnerable—an unspoken gratitude for the care you’ve poured into this moment. Inside, nestled within protective foam, is your creation: a custom, miniature arc reactor-inspired keepsake, its polished metal surface glinting under the tree’s lights.

But it isn’t just a replica. You’ve painstakingly designed it as a fusion of his world and yours. Around the glowing blue center are intricate engravings: constellations marking the night sky on your first date, subtle notches forming coordinates of the spot where he first confessed he loved you, and a delicate frame inlaid with a looping pattern—your initials and his intertwined in Morse code.

The piece is mounted on a solid base, its underside inscribed with a quote from Tony’s favorite piece of literature, “Part of the journey is the end.” But in this context, it’s no farewell—just a testament to the continuous journey of your relationship, one you’re building together.

Tony cradles the gift, the glowing core reflecting in his eyes. “Y/N…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. For a moment, he seems at a loss for words. His fingers trace the engravings, pausing at the Morse code. When he deciphers it, a faint smile curves his lips. “You did this? All of it?”

You nod, a mix of pride and nervousness fluttering in your chest. “I wanted it to feel like us. Something… meaningful.”

He turns to you, setting the piece down with the reverence it deserves before pulling you close. His hands cup your face, and his eyes are searching, warm. “Sweetheart, this… this is unbelievable. I mean, I’ve had some fancy gifts in my life, but this? It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You laugh softly, touched by his sincerity. “I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me. I wanted to show you.”

“You didn’t just show me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You knocked me off my feet. You always do.”

For a moment, you both sit in the glow of the tree, the gift gleaming between you. Then, with an almost childlike excitement, Tony springs to his feet and grabs the package he’d set under the tree earlier.

“Now it’s my turn,” he says, handing it to you with an eager grin. “Open it.”

You hesitate, partly to tease him, but mostly because his anticipation is contagious. Finally, you tear into the paper, revealing a sleek black box embossed with gold lettering: Van Cleef & Arpels.

“Tony…” you begin, your breath catching. This isn’t just a gift; it’s a statement.

“Keep going,” he urges, practically vibrating with excitement.

Inside, nestled on a velvet bed, is the most exquisite necklace you’ve ever seen. It’s delicate but striking, a white gold chain with a pendant shaped like a starburst. The center of the star gleams with a brilliant diamond, surrounded by smaller stones that shimmer like captured starlight. It’s timeless and beautiful—elegant in a way that mirrors his perception of you.

He kneels beside you, gently taking the necklace from the box and holding it up. “I saw it and thought of you,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Not because of the sparkle or the price tag, but because it reminded me of how you light up every room you walk into. You’re my north star, Y/N. You always find a way to guide me back when I need it most.”

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. “Tony, it’s… it’s beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” he murmurs, brushing your hair aside and clasping the necklace around your neck. His hands linger on your shoulders as you reach up to touch the pendant, your fingers brushing against his.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, turning to look at him. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” he interrupts, his tone firm but full of affection. “Because you deserve it. You deserve everything.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and for a moment, there’s only silence—comfortable, full, brimming with the unspoken love that defines your relationship.

Then, in true Tony Stark fashion, he breaks the moment with a teasing grin. “So, we’re both amazing gift-givers. I guess this makes us a power couple now, huh?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I think we were already there.”

“Well, it’s official now.” He pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. “But seriously, you’ve outdone yourself, Y/N. That arc reactor? Genius. How’d you even manage it without me noticing?”

“Trade secret,” you reply, smirking.

“Right,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “And here I thought you loved me enough to share your secrets.”

You grin, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Maybe next year.

[moonstruckme]

Hiii! I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x fem!reader where they have curly hair and they offhandedly mention wishing they didn’t or that they are thinking of getting it chemically straightened or something and all the boys are just like 😱 “don’t you dare” and super over dramatic bc they love her hair. Thank you!!

Thanks for requesting lovely!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 695 words

You smooth more product into your hair, blowing out a harsh breath when the stubborn curl springs back up from the top of your head anyway. 

“Argh!” You press your hands to your eyes, feeling on the brink of tears. “I cannot deal with this right now.” 

“What is it?” Remus asks from where he’s sitting on the bathroom rug, watching the rest of you get ready. 

“My hair isn’t cooperating.”

“It looks fine to me,” James says, and then at the ferocious look you send him, he adds hastily, “More than fine. Gorgeous, perfect. Just like you.” 

“It’s this frizz,” you huff. “I just want it to look neat for one night, is that too much to ask? This is ridiculous.” You seize a pair of scissors, thinking to simply cut the curl—there may be consequences in the long run, but damn it, you just want it to look decent now—but Sirius grabs your wrist.

“What are you doing?” He wrestles the scissors from you. “Shit, baby, it doesn’t look bad at all! Don’t get so riled up.” 

“You don’t get it,” you say, knowing you sound childish but too frustrated to care. “It’s unmanageable. It’s too much work, all of the time! There’s this thing where you can get it chemically straightened, I think I’m going to do that.” 

Sirius had started bringing his eyeliner pencil to his lash line, but it goes straight down his cheek at your words. “What?”

“Sweetheart,” James says, sounding appalled, “you can’t!”

“Why not?” You really want to know. Why shouldn’t you do the thing that’d make your life so much easier?

“Be—because,” he insists. “It’s your hair!”

“Dove.” Even Remus seems upset, a concerned line appearing between his brows. “Your hair is so lovely, why would you want to make it less unique?”

“None of you have to deal with wrangling it every day,” you grumble, attempting again to smooth down the rebellious curl and pointing at it accusingly when it boings back up. 

“Shit, I’ll do it,” Sirius says, batting your hands away and beginning to fuss over your hair. He hasn’t wiped away his eyeliner, and it sweeps down his cheek like a comically gothic teardrop. “If it’ll keep you from ruining it with chemicals, I’ll do your hair for you every day.” 

“You won’t want to,” you say darkly. “You’ll get sick of it soon. It’s impossible, it never behaves when you want it to.” 

James sets his chin on your shoulder, pouting at you in the mirror. “I think it looks cool when it doesn’t behave. It’s curly, part of the appeal is that it doesn’t have to be neat.” 

The compliments wash over you without your noticing. “But what if I want to look nice?” 

“You always look nice, darling,” Remus sighs, rolling his eyes like you’re being difficult. “And James is right. Your hair might not always look sleek or perfectly smooth, but it has its own personality. Don’t get upset with it because of its nature. Be nicer to it, hm?” 

You’re about to argue with him again, but Sirius takes your chin in his hand, turning your head and capturing your lips with his. His mouth is insistent on yours, and James snickers as you make a low, whiny sound. Sirius looks at you evenly as he pulls back, leaving his thumb on your chin.

“Let me deal with it,” he says firmly, “and when I’m done, it’s going to look so pretty you’re going to wonder why you ever thought of changing it.” 

You don’t reply, but he recognizes your silence for the assent it is, taking the errant curl and beginning to braid it into a small section of your hair. 

“Ooh, I like that,” James says, watching Sirius’ deft fingers in the mirror. “Moons, will you let me do that to yours?”

Remus sighs as though it comes at a great cost, but agrees, moving to sit down in front of James so that he can receive the same princess treatment you are. 

“See, dovey?” He looks up at you, smirking. “Now if you say your hair doesn’t look good, you’ll be insulting us both.”

[maissafespace]

I know you.

Shigure Sohma x Reader

synopsis: Shigure Sohma, a complicated man with a lot of secrets, knowing him gave you everything, from love to happiness to frustration and pain. It can’t help that you cannot get away from him.

warnings: age gap relationship. angst. mean!shigure, domestic fluff, heartbreak, arguments, mentions of break up, mentions of cheating (not happening). nsfw. emotional s*x, doggy style, missionary, cream pies, mentions of pregnancy, breeding.

a/n: it’s a brief story for one of the men that has my heart, but unfortunately is in a unique situation with a person I loathe lmao. It’s something that I needed more than anything, I haven't written for some time so I hope it's decent. please like, comment, reblog, send a coffee! thank you for reading!!!!

Masterpost • Masterlist

Living as a zodiac and as a Sohma, Shigure never saw anything beyond the walls of the clan when he was young, and he never thought about it either.

When he was kicked out after the whole thing with that woman and the other as well, he had no option but to. He had to find a house, find a job, a routine to follow, to live a life as a normal human and not one of the zodiac.

In that, he could not forget to fill his own release. How to pass time when he had the time to distract himself.

First, it was his few flees here and there, Mayu as well. But nothing and no one that made him feel less like the dog of the zodiac, only loyal to one woman in mind. No one was ever serious enough or enough in itself.

The appearance of the kids was a welcomed distraction but not ‘it’ yet, it was another failure. Their fights, their presence made him observing of what the zodiac was, therefore made her existence even worse and far more amplified.

When he met you, nothing changed at all at first. You were and are younger than him, just another woman, meeting him during your first year in uni in a random cafe in the city while he was 25.

It took you a bit of time to actually talk to him, to get the glances and looks to have an effect, to have him take you seriously at all beyond an 18-year-old looking at a slightly older man.

Maybe at that moment you were looking for a distraction from the workload as well, he doesn’t know really the motive behind your pursuing.

But he knew that neither of you were actually taking the situation seriously, it was all out of lust, for him to not think of Akito and the curse, for you to probably not think of family and your own problems.

Things weren't supposed to be taken seriously.

Yet, after three years, here he was, thrusting into you deep and hard, groaning into your mouth as he muffled your moans and made everything echo with the slick on your skin.

Your legs spread apart, feet planted on the futon while his hands pinned yours down. Chest against chest. Forehead against forehead.

You knew his secret.

His attraction grew even more after the discovery, you stayed and listened, you stayed and understood, you stayed and didn’t care.

You stayed.

He knew the difficulty in it though, you were a very affectionate person, for years you wanted to hold him, the man that was making your head go crazy but you couldn’t without ending up with the cute version of his dog.

Because while it was at least something, after years, and a title, it was still frustrating.

As he fucked you thoroughly, he could see the way your legs twitched every time to wrap around him and feel the most. He wanted it too, feel your legs tightly around himself, feel your arms around his back and leaving all the marks you wanted.

As he spilled into you, hands firmly on your waist, digging into your flesh as he pushed as deep as he could, he showed you the same amount of want and need. The marks perpetually being left on your skin, everyday you saw them, every time you remembered that none other would fit them as his hands would.

Panting against your chest, he was feeling your nails brushing through his hair, your lips leaving light pecks on the crown of his head.

It was an experience looking into your eyes every time. He never felt as overwhelmed as in those moments.

So much care and love that he probably shouldn’t deserve for who he truly was. He had told you things but not nearly as everything as he should have.

His head was still split into his zodiac and human, but now there was you, thinking of Akito felt like a betrayal each time, he felt shame that he still couldn’t figure out a way to break this curse and shame of feeling a pull that he would never feel with you. It was something unique with Akito, unfortunately and till then, when she called he would be with her as she wished.

While nothing physical had happened, that was the bare minimum. Just his thoughts were near enough awful for someone in a relationship, he couldn't do anything about the chain that tugged when she wished even in moments like these, where he had the only woman who truly loved him unconditionally with him, making love to her.

Much that he only snapped out of it when he felt you push him off your body. Scrambling around with the sheet covering yourself to find your clothes while he just closed his eyes with a sigh, knowing he had fucked up royally, his hand going to his face, eyes looking down with guilt and then at you, putting on his t-shirt and pants with your shoulders going up and down irregularly.

"I'm sorry." Is all he could say.

"It's not enough." You said with a crack in your voice. "I understand, okay? I do, I did for three years but I can't just ignore it every time. I know she's in your head but where am I? Are you wishing it was her? Are you just doing this out of pettiness? Are you just wasting my time? Am I wasting my time with a man that cannot stop thinking of his ex lover even when we are having sex? Did you cum because of her or me? These are all the questions that come to mind whenver this happens, I'm tired of it, Shigure." Tears were freely rolling down your cheeks, looking at him with sadness and disappointment as he just felt guilt. He couldn't even hug you.

"I know it's not enough but I'm trying. I don't want to think of her, I don't want to, I want to be with you. Why do you think we are where we are now? I want you, but I cannot stop that! I cannot break it." He said through frustration.

"And I get it! But you cannot expect me to not be hurt!" You said back to him.

The room fell in silence. When your breathing regulated, you started to walk off to the door, but he held you back by the wrist. "Where are you going?"

Snatching it back. "I will sleep with Tohru. I cannot be with you tonight."

You closed the door behind you. Shigure just fell back into bed, hunched over as he repressed the need to scream in frustration. He didn't want to admit defeat, unfortunately whenever this happens, he would lose you for three days at least.

He could not do anything, he had not found the way to break the curse yet. He was really trying, for you and for him to live a normal life. He was also sure that it will still take time for it to happen after he discovered a way.

He slept sporadically in the night, waking up every hour and hoping to find you back on the other side of the bed, but it was always empty. In the early morning he woke up and walked down to find the kids all up and about, you were with Tohru by her side wearing his long sleeved shirt and his sweatpants, with your hair wet after what he assumed was a relaxing shower whenever you felt stressed.

Tohru greeted him as gently and kindly as always, Kyo and Yuki doing the same with less enthusiasm, you stayed quiet, he only met your eyes briefly, recognizing the puffiness and the slight redness you tried to cover up, looking away as quickly as possible.

The kids knew to not ask. They ignored whatever had happened every time it happened. Breakfast happened as normally as it would've.

When the kids were gone, so were you, locked up in your shared room with him as you worked from your computer, he knew already he had to stay out of it, he stayed in his study room, writing when he could not do nothing but think to how fix things with you this time.

The first two days went exactly as he predicted, each of you staying in your own spaces, not a word said between you two. He felt anger that you got mad at something he could not control at all and frustration that he could understand it. He saw you each day with the same puffiness around your eyes.

The third was not as he imagined, after the kids went to school, he waited for you to walk up the stairs and disappear till they returned, instead you spoke to him. "We need to talk, Shigure."

Those words didn't inspire faith in him, just fear. Hearing his full name from your lips felt even worse, whatever it was, it was not something he probably wanted to hear.

You two sat in front of each other in his studio, in silence, heart racing in both your chests as you tried to find the right way to put it out. But there wasn't a right way, so you just said it.

"We should break up."

Your words felt like a bucket of ice poured onto him. His eyes widened and he spoke without even thinking. "No."

"I'm not asking, Shigure."

"I said no. I'm not breaking up with you, I don't care whatever you have to say about it, I am not ending my relationship with you." He said, anger visible in his eyes. "We are happy."

"If you think happy means having an argument every two weeks because of another woman, I doubt and am scared of your definition." You said with a chuckle.

"Are you unhappy?" He asked directly.

"I'm not happy entirely." You swallowed. "We have our happy moments, I know, everything apart from this is perfect. But I just can't overlook it every time. It hurts, Shigure, I feel it breaking me all the time physically and emtionally." You said to him. His jaw clenched.

"I'm trying, it's not something I asked for. I want to break it as much as you do and live a fucking normal life."

"And how much time is that going to take? A year? Two years? Five? Ten? Never?! I am 21, I am young and have time to start and build something with someone else, Shigure. I'm not wasting time being your second choice, I will want to get married and have children. What will happen then? Akito will have me end up like Kana and then what, Shigure?"

"You're not a second choice-"

"I am if there is another woman in your heart and mind. Because there shouldn't be. I do not have another man pop up every now and then to which I cannot say no, to which I cannot not accept advances from."

"You know, nothing ever happened. Don't start that shit with me, Y/N. You won't end up like Kana, I won't let Akito get close to you, I made sure of that for three years and Hatori knows he cannot. This conversation is over, I'm not breakiing up with you, forget it." He got up and started to walk away.

"Shigure. Shigure. Shigure!" You yelled following after him up till you were in your shared bedroom. "Stop behaving like this."

"I told you I'm done with the conversation."

"But I'm not. Can you not understand that I'm hurting and we have no way to know if this will end up in tragedy or will work out."

"Do you think I don't want that? I just want to have a fucking life, away from that, now that I'm with you. I did think of it, I want to get married and have a family with you, I just need time to figure this out and break it." Tears rolled down your cheeks at the thought of not having that.

You had fallen in the deep end with him.

"I'm not throwing away the best thing that happened to me." He said sincerely, with fear in his eyes as he looked at you. "I know things are not the best right now, but we endured it and I'm not giving up."

You sniffled, frusteation growing in you as well. "What if I want to get married right away?"

"Then we will get married, tomorrow if you want."

"First you'll have to get permission from the head of the family." You spit back at him.

"I don't care. I've been kicked out, despite being called back from time to time, I call all my choices. I'm marrying you, whether you want it or not, tomorrow or whenever you think it's right." He shrugged. Your jaw clenched.

"What if I was pregnant? What would happen then when you get called back, when she finally wants you openly because she will not want you with another? Where do we end up? Shigure, just understand, for once, things will not change." Your voice had some sincerity, his eyes narrowed at it. Looking at you up and down.

"Are you?" His voice was hoarse, in disbelief.

"I said if I was."

"And I'm asking if you actually are." He just looked at your frown, the veil of tears that was buidling up in your eyes as you shut your mouth in a thin line instead of giving him a proper answer. "You are." He said taking a step towards you, as you took a step back.

"I don't know if I'm keeping it, don't get your hopes up, I'm not raising a child in these conditions." Your words held bitterness. "You didn't even want anything when we started our relationship, you didn't want the committment, I'm sure a child was not in it as well."

"Things changed you know that. For fuck's sake we live together, how do I not want committment? With you? I just told you I'd marry you tomorrow if you want. I'm 28, a child is not going to scare me off and make me break up with you. It's just making me love you more."

Your breathing became visibly irregular from the anger or frustration he didn't know. But you had only given him a reason more to fight for you. "Gure, please." You just cried, breaking. "I am scared." Your head fell down, eyes shutting as you cried.

Despite it, he understood. He understood your fears, he understood that you were scared, you were young, pregnant and in a relationship with a man that it's chained to a woman he grew to despise, and that could not touch fully without becoming a dog.

His gaze softened, walking towards you and leaning his forehead down to the top of your head, the most intimacy he could give you, kissing your head. "I love you. I truly and incredibly am in love with you." His hand slid on top of your flat stomach. Your hand going on top of his. "I'm here with you, just hang with me a little more."

You faced him, lips colliding with yours as you locked in a burning kiss. Your hands quickly pulling down his yukata from his shoulders, pooling on his waist as your nails quickly dug into his skin as always giving him indication of your need for him.

It wasn't long after that you both found yourselves naked on the bed, his cock into you as he dug his fingers into your thighs to keep you down and yours in his shoulders in a position where it didn't trigger it.

His length going in and out of you deeply, whispering sweet things into your ears as you just moaned his name, making something snap in him, something he wasn't quite sure of.

"Mine, mine..." He repeated as changed and pounded from behind you, his hand keeping your head to the side, looking at you fucked out state as he erased any idea of breaking up from your mind.

He felt the pull, growing restless to have his attention, but he just couldn't, he was caught up, he had you, he had you forever, and with you he had a child that was enlarging his own proper family, that tied you in a way that he cannot be tied with anyone else, his dream of a normal life with you and away from everything else.

A tear fell down his cheek as you moaned out his name coming on his cock as he kept going in and out of you sloppily, reaching his own point of release as he came deep in you, spilling his seed in you once again, feeling the knot releasing and something completely breaking in him.

You both panted for air, crying silently and he fell on you, the urge in him to hug you tightly.

So he did, he hugged you.

[heylittleriotact]

It-was-WIP-Wednesday-but-now-it's-Thursday

Thank you for the tags, @pseudospaceship @razildor and @emmg - I've been dawdling around some writer's block and the inability to make up my mind about whose POV certain parts of this chapter of i heard people are dying to get in here should be in.

Basically, Rook and Emmrich have ditched the Wintersend dinner in favour of a live music venue and all that comes with it.

Enjoy.

(Tagging anyone who wants to and hasn't yet because most of you have WIP-ed your Wednesdays already)

Like all decent mid-sized music venues in a city of Nevarra’s size, the Night-Owl was located in a basement at the bottom of a narrow stairwell that served as the only means of egress from the place, effectively making the dark windowless room a fire-trap.

Was he uncomfortable with that knowledge? Yes: the idea of being trapped underground, shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of other likewise trapped people - slowly suffocating, overheating, crushing - in the event of an emergency was a literal nightmare for him.

Was he going to do what he’d done since his late teens when he started attending such places and simply drink until any anxiety and fear was a drowned out voice floundering helplessly against a churning sea of inebriation? Certainly.

It was nearly Wintersend after all: no better time to cut loose and indulge, right?

Rook seemed to be of a similar mind, because as soon as the door girl plucked the cash from Emmrich’s fingers for cover and branded them with a stamp on the inside of their wrists, she beelined for the bar, half-dragging him through the packed space that smelled of flat beer, pot, body odour, and the nebulous but unmistakable aroma that was unique to fog machines.

The bar wasn’t well-lit, but from what he could see from the glow of the three televisions behind the bar and the dim pot-lights set into the black ceiling tiles, he and Rook were exceptionally overdressed in their cocktail attire: punks, skids, skins, creeps, and weirdos milled about. Some leaned against the bar, slugging back tall cans of PBR and talking loudly over the music being played over the sound system. Some lurked in front of the stage waiting for the band to start.

“I’m very sorry, ma’am - I’m afraid you don’t meet the dress code for the evening and you’ll have to leave: this is a high-class place.”

Emmrich‘s hand had settled on Rook’s waist while they waited for the bartender to acknowledge them, and he reflexively held on a little tighter at the sound of the stern but apologetic voice.

Rook turned in his arm and she grinned broadly at the sight of the handsome and broadly built man next to her who shook his long wavy black hair, grinning smarmily. He held a pint glass filled with something hazy, and wore a purple and green plaid button down over a t-shirt that had ‘MOGWAI’ printed across the chest.

“Yeah, I’ll leave - if you can manage to get me back up the stairs, asshole” Rook scoffed.

“Done it before,” her friend shrugged. “And you were dead weight too - that was the Fireball and tequila night.” He wagged a finger at her, and despite not knowing this person, Emmrich thought his voice sounded familiar. There was a charismatic and playful quality about him that was instantly endearing.

“On the topic of the dead—” his head shifted and he looked at Emmrich. “You’re ‘The Guy’ aren’t you? Emmrich, right?” His eyebrows raised and lowered twice, and he held out his hand. “Leon de Fiorino - best known around town as Leon The Loon on B-96.9’s late night show: Mom always said I had a face for radio, so I like to think I’m making her proud.” His grin widened.

Ah of course - this was the infamous Leon: Rook had shared many a tale of misadventure with featuring her old roommate. He hosted a late night radio show every Sunday spotlighting local alternative artists - of course he’d be here.

Rook had pulled out of his grasp and was standing on the brass bar rail, making her a few inches taller so she could lean in for the pretty bartender with a pixie cut to hear her.

“What do you want?” She hollered over her shoulder at him.

“I’ll have what you’re having, darling!”

“Three jaegers and two PBRs, please!”

Oh it was going to be that sort of night, then - Emmrich could already feel his head throbbing in advance of the hangover that was in his near future.

He returned his attention to Leon. “A pleasure to meet you, Leon - I’ve heard so much about you!”

“And you still want to date her?!” Leon tossed his head back and laughed loudly. “Just fucking with you, man - but if you’re ever looking for an embarrassing story about Rook, I lived with her for two years: I could write a book!”

“So could I but about you! Do you want this shot or not? Keep talking and I’ll do ‘em both!” Rook reached into her jacket for her wallet and Emmrich put his hand over hers.

“I’ll buy, darling,” he said, quietly enough so that only she could hear him.

“Don’t be silly,” she retorted, eyes reflecting the dim bar lighting prettily. “You can get the next round.”

If he had it his way, Rook wouldn’t pay for a single thing out of her pocket ever again, but he understood that letting her do things - small kindnesses like a round of drinks - meant something to her.

“Of course, dear.”

Smiling, she counted out the cash for the drinks and handed it to the bartender, pocketing some of the change and dumping the rest in the tip jar before sliding down from the rail, her heels clicking against the hard concrete.

“We just found out our funeral home has been bought out by a pair of raging sociopaths and will be run by a dumbass whose spine has the structural integrity of overcooked spaghetti!” She told Leon, picking up a shot and handing it to him, then handing one to Emmrich before she picked up her own. “So: fucking cheers!”

She cozied back against Emmrich and lifted her shot glass.

“Fucking yikes, bud!” Leon concurred, and all three touched their glasses together before tipping them back.

Oh it was bad. It was foul. It was concentrated evil.

It tasted like cough syrup and regret - how it left his throat feeling sticky was a marvel: a trait of a concoction that could only be dreamed up by a sadistic madman.

The cloying, herbal taste of the jaeger dragged Emmrich instantly back to the hazy, sloppy nights of a younger man, and a wave of nausea punched him square in the gut: a fist with a message tattooed on brutal knuckles that said ‘you are too old for this, old man.’

The cheap beer that he chased it with did little to take the edge off: foaming and bubbling all the way down to his stomach where it mingled with the jaeger and made the acute nausea even worse.

Perhaps he’d vomit right here at the bar, ruining Rook’s costly new shoes - and any chances he had of making their relationship last beyond the night.

He swallowed the mouthful of ominous saliva that had flooded his mouth and forced his constitution to heel: he could do this - ‘rally’ as the youth called it these days.

[sexybritishllama]

well. i finished clair obscur: expedition 33

my non-spoiler thoughts: i love this game. have YOU played clair obscur? will you play clair obscur? when will you play clair obscur

my spoiler thoughts (warning- many):

ughhhh uGHHHHHHHHHH. i'm still processing the ending and honestly my thoughts on that are going to be its own whole post so i'll sort of avoid talking about that for now, but my more general thoughts:

the fact that they found the composer through him just posting on soundcloud and some indie game forum is insane, the music is SO GOOD. it's so atmospheric, there's so MUCH of it, it's such a delight to hear consistently different battle music. nothing bugs me more than when a game has decent music but it only has like, one battle theme and one boss theme, and you hear it so often that you just get sick of it. never happens here! unique themes for EVERY area and then some, unique themes for each boss, each character, variations on different motifs in more calm or frantic environments. love

i LOVED the gameplay, the mix of turn based and QTE kept me so engaged i wasn't bored for a single second. i actually found expeditioner mode perfectly challenging for me.... UNTIL i got to the end of act 2 of so, when the story bosses suddenly starting feeling like they were made like tissue. the final bosses were particularly atrocious for this- i had to literally skip turns just so i could see all the dialogue because even my base attacks were doing too much damage

it seems like they scaled everything for the player who has done literally not a single piece of side content at all, which is kind of an insane decision considering how MUCH side content there is and how natural it is as a player to want to explore and try that out before finishing the story. and i was only level 60! i actually left a lot of side content because my bf warned me in advance not to overlevel. it's a real shame because the final bosses have SUCH cool music and presentation and i wish they felt like an actual challenge

more gameplay notes: the different builds you can do are very fun and i'm looking forward to seeing the mental multipliers people manage to make. i think around a third into the game i was a bit overwhelmed with just HOW MANY weapons and pictos there were, and how often i had to allocate new points or get skills. i got used to it but i do wonder if maybe just turning down the number or frequency of levelling up at least would help + make it feel more significant when you DO get new stuff

some other QOL stuff that would be nice: an actual save button that doesn't just = me forcing autosave; a 'restart battle' button that doesn't make me go back to my last save; an option to save 'sets' of pictos or lumina so you could have different preset builds without needing to manually select them all each time; a beastiary of some kind maybe to keep track of monsters and get some lore as well? that'd be fun

controversially, i think the idea not to add a minimap was great. minimaps kind of ruin games for me. i DO think the addition of some kind of marker on the overworld map to indicate like, you have visited this before, or you have got all of the treasure in here before, would be nice though

art: the landscapes are beautiful, stunning, the contrast between light and dark occasionally a bit much when it came to trying to go down shadowy paths but considering chiaroscuro is literally the name of the game i suppose it was kind of part of the experience

the game did seem to experience occasional textural issues (notably i walked into my bf's room at one point when he was fighting some random enemy, saw that maelle had white hair, asked if that was a spoiler, he said no. ironically enough it actually WASN'T her actual white hair, he hadn't gotten to that point in the game yet- it was genuinely just a textural glitch. it happened with outfits and stuff sometimes too. not crazy common but i assume it could definitely do with some optimisation)

good character designs! i didn't make much use of it because of immersion but i do appreciate the different outfits/hairstyles, will make it fun in postgame or ng+ content

i saw someone with the most baffling take ever which was that 'all the women in this game have same face syndrome and only the guys get to be unique' which i thought was insane because the guys look so similar i literally thought it was a plot point that they were going to end up all being the same guy or something. also two of them were actually related and so kind of had an excuse. so like. what game were you playing

that same person also said that verso and sciel was 'pseudo-incest' so yknow. i don't think their general reading comprehension or perhaps perception in general is the best. it took all my power to not make this its own vaguepost jsyk. i'm going to hide it in here instead because i know no one will actually read all this but know that reading those takes actually made me feel like i was losing my mind

ANYWAY

i do think the romantic relationship things were unnecessary and felt pretty shoehorned in. luckily they were such a tiny part of the conversation dialogue and pretty easy to ignore that i'm not tooooo bothered, but i really think they should have just left them out

or at the very least let sciel/lune be an option. cmooooon at least in acts 1 and 2 when she doesn't think she can get her husband back. be so fr rn

voice acting was 10/10 across the board, just incredible work all round, honestly no notes here it was just really good

i'm not saying renoir and emet-selch are the same characters by any means. but it IS the second time i've played a jrpg with a compelling old man antagonist who is (initially without our knowledge) mourning the main protagonist's original self and is essentially committing genocide in a world of people he doesn't really consider 'people' so that he can save HIS loved ones. so that's a thing. great character btw

in general the characters were all really well done, dialogue was really believable and flowed well, i loved the way they had actual conflicts with each other and it felt like everyone had their own rich inner worlds and motivations. even just little things like the fact lune is both a scientist/mage person who is very intellectually curious AND she plays guitar- not to be funny but in a lot of jrpgs those would be two very distinct character types ('music type', 'nerdy type') and never the twain shall meet. v refreshing

gustave i miss you. gustave i love you. gustave......

i don't think verso should have been the player character after gustave died. i get from a mechanics standpoint of him taking gustave's lumina and weapons and whatever (even if it does UPSET ME) but he shouldn't have acted as the player character in camp for several reasons

i DID like though that you can swap between what character you can be during any other time without it affecting battles. i liked floating around as lune. wheeee

OH did i mention the general enemy designs are just really cool too?? some like that weird marionette one are so genuinely creepy. great designs

hmmm this has become very long. i have more thoughts probably but a lot of them are to do with the plot and ending, and that's going to be its own thesis entirely, so i'll make a separate post for that. but overall nitpicking and QOL improvements aside, please know this is such a fantastic game. i can tell it's easily going into one of my top games of all time already. everyone say thank u clair obscur. if you haven’t played it yet you shouldn’t be reading this because my blabbering will mean nothing to you anyway but on the off chance you’re lost and ended up at the bottom of this post without having played it pls go buy it right now or get it on game pass or WHATEVER idc just come join me

[ilostthewar]

Okay but Baby Moth, I need your opinion of any of the 141 guys and their biggest kink and why does John "Soap" MacTavish have a over stimulation kink 🤔

OH MISS VANTA. First thanks for the ask, this is my first official one ✨. But you are absolutely coRRECT. More under the button, of course.

If you ask Johnny what his biggest kink is, he wouldn’t even think to name overstim. In his opinion that’s just how you should be having sex every time. If you both aren’t sitting in a pool of your own fluids and nearly about to pass out, then what’s the point? Most of the time, it’s unintentional, he just likes you so much, he has to show you. It’s a crime, really, if he doesn’t have you from the entryway to the bedroom. He has to touch and worship every inch of you, how else do you know how much he wants you? Plus, a filthy part of him likes when you squirm and whine, likes that he gets to pin you down and make you take whatever he has to give you. Likes when you’re a little frantic that it’s simply too much and that you can’t take anymore. Likes it even more when he proves you wrong and you squirt around him while sobbing his name.

Kyle likes to pretend he’s a lot more decent than he actually is. By the time you realize he’s a fucking freak you’re already in too deep, and that’s kinda the point. He’s a control freak and a middle child, mans needs all your attention on him. He wants to train you into a perfect pet, obedient and loyal and entirely his. He gets off on the amount of shit you allow him to do, the devotion and all consuming love in your eyes gets him hard. Also the way you’re crying and drooling around his fingers. Wants to dress you up and take care of you, wants to fulfill any wish you have, doesn’t want you to stress about a thing when he’s around. Is constantly picking those who are mean to everyone except him. He is the exception. He probably wants to get your hair and a collar with his name on it, writes filthy things on you because you’re his. One fantasy is getting his name tattooed right above your pussy. But he’ll take that cute little golden chain with his initials on it clinking against his ear when he has you folded in half.

Everyone thinks Simon is out here with a list of 100% BDSMtest results, and you aren’t wrong. But if you asked him his favorite and he didn’t immediately shut you down, he actually likes being guided and praised. He’s a soldier and he’s great at following orders. It doesn’t matter if he’s domming/subbing or topping/bottoming. Tell him what you want, tell him you like it, tell him he’s doing good. He can get a little in his head when it comes to sex, especially with partners on the more quiet side, it can make him anxious. He will make fun of you a bit, taunt you when you tell him to “do that again”, cause he’s an asshole, but he knows exactly what you meant. The other arm of this kink of his is begging. Likes when you’re desperate and need him to give you what you want. Definitely likes it when you’re a little whiny and teary eyed. Thank him once he gives you want you asked for, floods his ego.

I’ve said this once and I will say this a thousand times. JOHN PRICE IS HERE FOR BRAT TAMING. John is the king of taking a brat and turning them into his own personal service sub. Have you seen the fucking idiots he deals with on a regular basis? Cracking a brat is honestly the least concerning thing he has to deal with in his day to day. Every brat is different and his approach to taming them is unique as well. However, he does have a soft spot for brats who are brats for the fun of it. Who dig themselves deeper and deeper into trouble and running their mouth cause they like the sound of their own voice. Makes him get creative in his punishments cause a spanking isn’t going to solve whatever the fuck is wrong with you. Has prenegotiated pet names for the both of you when you’re playing. It’s Daddy, it’s obviously daddy he’s a gross old man He gives you chores and duties that must be done every day, the list ever evolving depending on what he wants, wants proof after you finish them. Loves to pamper his brat when they behave. His favorite moments are after a punishment when you’re all soft and a little humiliated and need him to piece you back together with kisses.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

we've already talked about the limited body types in spop which didn't care enough to give us more than one (1) slightly larger character (spinerella; and as someone pointed out, it's strange that her face is still skinny, despite her being a larger woman).

but as i was looking at the characters in carmen sandiego, another thing i want to talk about is the facial features. specifically the noses.

the nose is quite possibly the most distinct feature a person can have. different nose shapes really help frame a character's face and set them apart from other characters.

and uh, spop..

does barely anything on this side either.

most of the characters seem to have the exact same nose shape, decently long-ish and straight, with the only difference being that some of their nose bridges are slightly more visible.

look at these pictures and tell me they do not have the same nose. and again, diversity isn't just different skin tones. different races and ethnicities have different facial features. and spop doesn't take this into consideration at all.

the only character who seems to have a different nose shape is scorpia, whose nose is larger and slightly hooked (not even hooked, it's just like curving outwards instead of inwards).

and glimmer used to have a slightly shorter button-type nose when she was younger, but in s4, they changed that so her nose looks exactly the same as everyone else's.

and you know, this might seem like a nitpicky thing to complain about, but it's a genuine flaw in character design. the best way to create distinct characters is to give them distinct nose shapes. otherwise they're all practically the same character, just with different hair and skin color. and that's what it seems like in spop, because there's barely any distinction in the characters' other features too, like their eyes and mouths.

and if you want to say that "it's because of the artstyle!" or "they had restrictions!" (which makes absolutely no sense in this scenario, but i've still seen fans use that as a free ticket for any situation) let's take a look at gravity falls, a show that was released 6 years before spop was, was known for getting unnecessary restrictions from the execs for the stupidest reasons, and had a distinct cartoonish artstyle.

oh, would you look at that! they still all have very distinct nose shapes! and unique facial features in general, and even different body types?

and you know, you could say that there are other shows that don't pay attention to facial features just like spop, but i guess the reason why spop specifically bothers me so much is because of the emphasis they put on representing diversity.

if they really want to make the characters look like real people and not like "barbie dolls" as so many of the fans lovingly call the 80s designs, they should have committed to it. they should have done some research on people of color and looked at all the different distinct features that set each race and ethnicity apart from one another. instead they just gave everyone slightly different skin tones and called it a day.