#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

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

Isaac explained his type to Maya with great details, as Maya asked him to do. Taut model-like physique, hairs on his legs curled up but his upper body smooth with not even a scar, with classic Anglo-Saxon feature that makes the guy can pass as some Victorian era young nobility. His eyes should reflect the depth of his thought and looked like an English pond in the summer, calming and clear. Soft-spoken, matched with his grace and gentle movement that won't ever indicate any sort of danger or threat to anyone that come across him. Isaac wanted his ideal man to be lefty, just because it's unique, and at last, he wanted his man to be fully devoted to him and him only. Maya listened intently while Isaac revealed all that as he's busy typing his work, not even taking a glance to Maya. But once a sultry, manly voice coming out from the bed behind him where Maya supposedly lounged around, Isaac instantly turned around and found himself surprised

"Maya???"

"Well....yes, but not really, as you can see,"

"H---how? W--why? What the fuck is happening here?"

"I enjoyed your company a bit too much. Like, I'm so tired dating these dudes trying to find my Mr. Right when I have an incredibly smart, kind and attentive best friend like you that beat most of those crusty men I dated. So I said, fuck it, I'll be your man,"

"Have you heard how insane that sounded like, and how is this situation totally not something you encountered everyday? Like.....for starter, how the fuck you--"

"It's actually simple. Turns out my family have this kind of power that skipped generations that reemerged with me right after that last eclipse. The said power bestowed us the capacity to change physical form of ourself and the people that we exchanged bodily fluids with. In other words, not only I can change myself, I can change you too since we fucked that one time when we were still sophomore,"

"That....is wild. And I don't want to be involved in any of this. Please just change back, okay?"

"Oh cmon, you literally are having a boner while talking to me now. You like this, you want me, and I definitely want you to be my man. I mean, just imagine how crazy the sex we can have now that I can mold you into any of your wildest dreams too,"

"Maya, no. You are not thinking clear. What the fuck is this desperation? I cannot be your man, and you cannot throw away your life just like that for me. I'll hate myself for that, it makes me feel selfish,"

"Desperation? This is me being kind to you. I cannot help but notice how you've been dating not a single person since we graduated uni. You are certainly lonely so this is me---"

"What is that insane gaslighting you are doing? Stop all of this madness and for fuck sake, change yourself back. It's so jarring looking at you like that. You will always be Maya for me, whatever form you take,"

"No,"

"Okay, whatever. If you want to continue being a nuisance, please sort yourself out. Just.....walk around the neighborhood and clear your mind or something,"

"No,"

"Maya--"

"No, don't call me that! I'm no Maya. Gosh, I hated to do this, but freeze,"

And just like that, Isaac froze in his place with no way of moving a single muscle whatsoever. Then, Maya grabbed Isaac's head and chanted some intelligible words before letting it go as Maya goes back to the bed while waiting for the spell to unleash its full work. Like a breaking ice, Isaac's frozen body started to be able to get back moving and pulsing. It started from the fingertips, that gets thicker and hairier as his finger and both of his hand turned calloused from heavy workout while his feet stretched his wool socks and enlarged to a decent size 13. As blood started flowing once more, the veins in his arm thickened while his legs bursted with muscle and blond hair in an otherwise lanky former runner legs. This built his physique is turning into clearly doesn't belong to a runner. As the pumped blood causing the arm to swole closer to 19 inches, it also affected the shoulder that becomes rounder and sturdier. The long sleeve he worn earlier of course already tattered to pieces while his pants already ripped due to his now incredibly muscular thighs. As the change spread across his neck and torso from the top, his lower body parts perfected itself into a sick v-taper that leads to a snaking 7 inches perfection stuffed into a tight white briefs that left nothing to the imagination. His tiny waist contrasted heavily with his massive back and shoulder, showcasing an insane dedication to his craft which is clearly bodybuilding. When the whole body parts below his neck completed its transformation, he's now a towering 6'6" muscle beast, clearly looking down on most people including the rendered-in-awe Maya. Is this Isaac's deepest desire? Turning into a massive bodybuilder? The power she used on him is to unearth his deepest desire, so having a boulder cannon for a shoulder is clearly part of his deepest desire then? How is his final look going to be? Babyfaced brutal beast? Matured daddy? All will be revealed in the next couple seconds as the transformation move upward

His jaw hardened but his face turned into more square-like, with dirty blonde facial hair framed the angular jawline. From the way his face remained clear and not much visible wrinkle formed, this is definitely a young guy, probably the same age like Isaac's current age, but he can be wrong though. As the lips turned into a smirk, Maya knows that the change is almost complete and that smirk indicated that he enjoys what he sees so far. As Isaac eventually able to move, he's practically no longer Isaac, but an entirely different person altogether. Maya ensured that this new version of Isaac, Maya named him Rod, would be falling head over heels for Maya's new look

"Theo," Rod said in his gruffy voice

Well, that's a good name....

"Why are you not spreading your ass in bed already? You know I have to get back to work later at 1, time is tight so I need to breed inside you ASAP before having my lunch and then get back to work,"

Maya is in shock......Isaac's deepest desire is to be an assertive alpha or something? And it dawned upon Maya, or Theo now, that he cannot acted like brats or said no to Theo's order. Is this part of his desire too????

"You are always one hell of an obedient boy, that's why you're my favorite cum dump. Now say aaaaaa-----

[eskumii]

yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[eldritch-spouse]

Lemoana’s so cute, I just wanna smother her in kisses

She wants to kiss you too! In many ways and many places.

You're not the only one to think she's cute. This succubus firmly cemented her own uniqueness by using her natural traits to give herself a "sexy sheep cosplay" kind of look. Her naturally puffy hair, her fur jacket, the cattle bell and her droopy horns make it all slot together perfectly. She has starred in many a "farm set", with other concubi playing the roles of "sexy cattle".

Putting aside her successes, she's also genuinely sweet as a person. Most of the time anyway, she's still a demoness. You're getting hugged and nuzzled and peppered in so many kisses that the lipstick marks hardly fade.

You only get to survive because she does genuinely think you're gorgeous. If she didn't, then you can rest assured Primin would be biting into your neck.

This doesn't mean that she'll go quietly, a barrage of insults and "Who do you think you are?!"s are tossed your way as she half-heartedly pounds on your back. There's a furious blush on her face that you can't see.

She's actually quite glad you're this bold, it'll make it easier for her to have an excuse to boss you around later. After all, look how you humiliated her! Make it up to her right now! You're going out and you're going to treat her to something decent! And you're going to beg to touch her later...

Hah.

Hahah.

You think you can walk out of this one. That's funny.

[keischreiber]

Tailored For You

Synopsis: He's your boyfriend, isn't it only natural that he observes you the most?

Contains: Fluff

Pairings: Reiner x reader

Reiner's your boyfriend, so it's only natural the he observes you the most.

You're always eager to do things with your boyfriend, however you also know that he's busy. This is why you never demand him to go with you. Instead, you always invite him, giving him the option to say either yes or no.

※ "You do know that you can ALWAYS just tell me to go with you, right?"

He had a semi-apologetic look on his face, as if it was his fault why you can't just ask him upfront. But you explain that you don't want to bother him if he's busy because when it came to Reiner and work, things just tend to happen last minute.

This was one of the reasons why he can't help but to continuously grow in love with you. You were always so considerate.

As usual, he agrees to go with you. He never says no unless there was something more important. Thing is, there was simply nothing that was as important as you.

When you arrive at the mall, he knows that it's to get the essentials which often consisted of: Food, cleaning supplies, toiletries— the basics. Sometimes, he'll see that you'll get some things that he knows was for him.

※ "Is this really necessary?"

He'll ask, to which you just say yes because it's for him. You tend to spoil him when you can, knowing that he hardly does that for himself. He uses his money mostly for his mom, his cousin, his aunt and uncle, you.

The one thing that he doesn't usually see you get are things for yourself outside of the essentials. Sometimes, he would see you looking at a dress or two only to walk away mumbling things like, 'my pair at home is still pretty decent, I don't need that'.

He knows that you love stuffed animals, plush toys, anything that was soft and cuddly. There were instances where he'd see your eyes sparkle at the oddest looking one in the store, and then he remembers how your perception of cute was… unique. He saw your collection of monster and other odd plushies amid your zoo of a collection. Even from that you'd walk away, muttering to yourself that 'it's not within this month's budget, so maybe next time'.

Reiner also knows how fond you were of trinkets. You liked jewelry, no matter the price. You always seem to be in a good mood when you pass by a trinket shop that sold all kinds ranging from hair clips to anklets; some plain, others intricate in make. But again, to you it's more of a want than a need. So, it'll have to be for another time.

He knew why you were so tight when it came to money. The both of you have talked about your future together, and you wanted to save as much as you can so that he didn't have to shoulder everything. You even told him not to spend needlessly on you, but rather, spend it on his family. They come first.

And, to be honest, the fact that you care about the people who were important to him made you very endeared to him.

Which was why he honors this request.

But that doesn't mean that he can't spend a little. He never splurges, as per your request, but he does do what he can with what he has.

Because you'll scold him if he buys you new clothes, one time, he would invites you to his house, telling you to bring a few old white shirts, and maybe some old jeans while you were at it. You were curious why you needed to bring clothes, but you did anyway.

When you arrive at his modes home, he's waiting there for you with a do-it-yourself tie-dye kit. Gabi's there too, happily offering her help in turning your old white shirt into a masterpiece.

While you and Gabi did that, Reiner was with some needle and thread, sitting with his mom. There, Reiner was getting a quick lesson on how to do some embroidery, and when the day was over, you had a bunch of colorful shirts (Some being Reiner's whites which will now be yours), and jeans that looked like new because of the embroidery.

※ "I know it's nothin' special, but I hope this makes you happy."

But it was special. Not only that, it's priceless. A full-on Braun effort.

You love him for his consideration of you; and you love his family for making this day more memorable than just sitting alone at home with a good book.

These were now your favorite things to wear. Sometimes, when Reiner sees you in his (now yours) oversized tie-dyed shirt, he'd be a blushing mess. He always found it… uplifting… to see you in his clothes.

There was also a time when you caught Reiner red-handed.

※ "Wait, I can explain. This— I… I mean… I know it looks like a mess right now but I'll—"

But you cut him off with the tightest hug. Reiner thinks that it wasn't the cutest plush, after all, he had handmade it himself. He didn't really know how to sew, and everything skill that he employed into making the patterns and actually sewing was something he had asked his mother's help for. Teaching him how to make sure the patterns made sense, how to ensure that when he turned the material inside out, all the stiches were invisible… the success rate was… well, it was messy. But it was a plushie. Reiner wasn't satisfied with it, and was about to undo the stitches when you found him with it.

To Reiner, it looked like an abomination, but to you it was the most adorable thing. You take it from his hands and hugged it to yourself.

"Can I keep him?"

You ask him, and he just smiles in defeat, before pulling you against him.

※ "He's supposed to be yours to begin with… so of course you can."

You had noticed prior the bandages on his fingers. He worked so hard on this cute plush doll for you. It's now your treasure, something that means the world to you.

And then there was a day that was especially tough on you. You normally don't vent out to him, and instead, simply want to be close to him on days like these.

※ "Hold on, I have something for you."

He'll tell you, before reaching into his pockets. He's been waiting for a good opportunity to give you something, but felt short on occasions. However, today was as good a day as a birthday, or anniversaries, or Christmas. Today, you were feeling down, and he wanted to try and remedy that.

When his hands emerged from his pockets, he was clutching at something.

※ "C'mon, your hand. Give it."

He would demand sweetly of you, to which you show him your hand.

What he began putting on you was a bracelet. It was made of tumbled stones of varying shapes and sizes, stones whose colors complimented each other. Accented with small white beads that almost looked like tiny stars.

※ "I would've gotten you something more expensive, but I know you'll get mad."

He began to explains with a grin, trying to comfort you with a light joke.

※ "So, I picked everything out instead and made something myself. It's not much… but I hope it can cheer you up."

And since you were already vulnerable, you ended up crying against his chest. He said nothing thereafter and simply allowed you to cry for as long as you needed. He held you carefully, offering your back with gentle pats and soothing stroked up until you fell asleep in his arms.

As you drifted into the land of slumber, all you could think about was how every bit of Reiner's love and kindness meant everything to you.

You didn't need fancy, expensive things.

After all, the things that you've receive were enough.

More than the material things, you had Reiner who chose to stay in your life.

And that in itself was priceless.

[sadruru]

...Hey, I'm still alive! I've had a lot going on lately. Especially bad moments that have hit me hard mentally… But I'm feeling better now, and I'll share at least some fun artwork and a board game.

You can't have too many tieflings, right? I'm running a short Pathfinder board game called “Robbery in Absalom”. Fate has suddenly linked three thieflings from Absalom, one mysteriously tiefling from Cheliax, a beautiful white-haired tiefling girl, and three students from a fencing school. I so love the fact that these guys were invented by real people and play for them... It really sounds magical!

And I'll tell you a little bit about them.

I'll start with three swordsmen and a cute little girl: Alessio - no comments, just an IDEAL AT ALL aazimar from azat 👄💅 (only the others don't seem to agree with it), the main instigator in the company.

Dominic - a beautiful dark-haired guy, a daredevil, a noble swordsman and a burning simp Roslyn, because of such passionate love for her guys often make fun of him 🤣

Rael - a tiefling swashbuckler with a fire, screams funny from women, and loves to read books marked +800 about Queens of the Night (a group of four unique female demigoddesses) 🔥

Roslyn - an adorable tiefling who, as the story progresses, becomes a client for thieflings. She has a cute little mouse with a bow and a HUGE WEAPON FROM NUMERIA AND SHE'S A SNIPER!!! Constantly fending off Dominic's attention.🔫

Now let's start with the thieflings and their mysterious new acquaintance: Marishka (or Panochka) - an arcanist, gold digger and just a charming follower of Calistria who will appreciate you from head to toe. Familiar is a funny flying dinosaur. She is from Irrisen.

Oscar - a “tiefling” (aasimar undercover, no one has figured that out yet!), Grandma's* favorite grandchild. He's a very reasonable guy.

*If in Mendev, for example, sister Kerismei is in charge of the thieflings, then in our story in Absalom the Babushka (Grandmother) is in charge. She is a very sweet old lady who takes care of all her grandchildren, especially the little ones (they can easily get into the most difficult places) and feeds them all with pies.

Firuza - tiefling-cat (rakshasa), my street bully 🐈 Bloodrager with demonic heritage. Lives in Absalom, but judging by her slight accent she comes from the Empire of Kelesh. The brute force of the team and it's got a lot of intimidation! 💪🏻

Ruggiero* - an alchemist, also a client. A very charming, decent young tiefling from Cheliax with secrets of his own (HE'S WANTED IN TWO COUNTRIES AND BY THE HELLKNIGHTS!!!) 🧪

*Once I saw him at the game and his portrait, I screamed for a long time in my head... I probably don't need to explain that I have a weakness for dark-haired, curly-haired tieflings? Yes I'm a sinner 🗿

There will be a next post about Firuza, in case anyone was wondering ;D

[sn0w-games]

Twst as Genshin Elements

Okay, you can point and laugh at me now for this.

I play a lot of Genshin and major fan of twst

I am here to dump my thoughts.

Heartslabyul :

Riddle - Pyro - Listen , he uses fore magic the most part. With being passionate about his studies, I can definitely see him using some type of Pyro magic.... He would be a sword user. If not a Pyro user, then he would be a Hydro user, for being the one to lay down the Queen's Laws and hold the rules and justice.

Trey - Dendro - This one is biased, with his green hair. He would be a bow user, to be honest, I am basing this idea off Tighnari.

Ace - To be honest, this was hard to think of. I kind of wanted to say pyro off my head, but I didn't want to make it seem like I was making the whole Heartslabyul a Pyro based dorm. But thinking more I think he could have an Ameno after his out burst towards Riddle in chapter one, standing up and fighting for "freedoms" or against the Queen's Rules. A sword user 100%

Deuce - Pyro, he works too hard , he seems like a hard worker like a Geo user. I might lean more onto being a Geo than Pyro, but I am throwing these off the top of my head. He seems like to use some sort of polearm!

Cater - Definitely Electro do I need to go into detail? He is a polearm user fully.

Savanaclaw:

Leona - Cryo - His mood swings towards being Cryo. But he could also be Electro. He could he a claymore user.

Ruggie - Geo for his hard working personality. Because if he was a Pyro user, he would be a pyromaniac! Ruggie is a sword user, have you seen those arms, he has tried to lift a claymore, but he fell backwards.

Jack - Geo or Hydro, I am not sure how to explain this. So just, trust me bro. He too will be claymore.

Octavinelle:

So I am biased, and I am going to keep in one paragraph or two. The three are Hydro users! I could say Jade as some sort of Dendro user for being in a Mountain Club ( I forgot what his club was called and too lazy to look up) same with Floyd being Electro , his whole mood swings can be seen as misunderstood by other students as violent. But I am biased and since all three comes from the sea, they are Hydro users.

Azul would be a catalyst user, Jade would have a sword, and so will Floyd too as a sword user.

Scarabia :

Kalim - Pyro user, gives off Bennett personality vibes but instead of using a sword, I want him to use a catalyst. Only because I don't think he has good aim with a bow and also with a sword and polearm I think he would do decent, but it isn't his first weapon choice, claymore is for buff Kalim. And we don't have buff Kalim.

Jamil - Cryo ONLY because I want to make both his and Kalim's opposite elements and have more angst for chapter 4 ! Jamil is polearm user.

Pomefiore:

Vil - I am going to say Electro for the aesthetic purpose, he is a catalyst user.

Rook - From Savanaclaw to Pomefiore his element transfer over and he is a Dendro user. I believe he could use that power to help with his hunts...... He is a bow user, I am biased.

Epel - He seems more into Electro , but after seeing his unique magic, it's going to be Cryo only due to the fact he has little ice crystals. He could be a catalyst user like Vil.

Ignihyde :

Idia - He wouldn't be Pyro because of his fire hair - I am more into Cryo Idia myself . You think he would lift something light, nah, he be lifting a claymore.

Ortho - Eletcro would be his element since he is the only robot person we know in Twst! He is a catalyst user throwing beams of Electro from his hands.

Diasomnia :

Malleus - I'm a die hard Cryo for him.

Sebek - He would have Electro from his one card chapter 7 ( if you know, you know) . Or he could be a Geo????

Silver - Anemo would be his, only because I can see him wanting to be like his father.

Lilia - He would have an Anemo element, this man literally has fought in a war and even probably lost a lot of people in the battles too. He seems like the type of person who would have knowledge too, but not Dendro, like an Anemo type.

As for weapons for them

All of the would have a sword as their weapons, except for Lilia who would have a claymore. He could carry it, his weapon in battle was probably heavy.

Now some bonus here for staff, RSA, and Roll.

Crowley - Anemo - Polearm

Trien - Hydro - Sword

Crewel - Pyro - Catalyst

Sam - Electro - Catalyst

Vargas - Pyro - Claymore

Neige - Hydro - Catalyst + Healer, negative crit rate Kokomi style

Chenya - Electro - Bow

Rollo - Pyro - Polearm

Now this is an Extra EXTRA, Grim + the Yuus

Grim - Pyro for his flames, definitely, catalyst

Yuuken ( Heartslabyul) - Pyro - Sword

Yuuka ( Savanaclaw) - Hydro - Polearm

Yuuta ( Octavinelle) - Pyro - Polearm - I am basing him off Xiangling lol

[intheticklecloset]

Test Subject (Bungo Stray Dogs)

One Shot

Summary: When Sigma expresses an interest in getting Dazai back for tickling him all the time, Atsushi takes it upon himself to help him learn how to go about it.

A/N: So, this started out as a Lemonade request from an anon, but as I was writing it the words just kind of kept coming, and the next thing I knew I had almost an entire fic on my hands, so I just committed and turned it into a complete story. Congrats on the upgraded request, anon! I hope you enjoy it. It was a lot of fun to write! 💖

Disclaimer: The original ask was for the setting/theme to be camping, but as you'll read, that particular aspect didn't make it into story. Sorry about that. 😅

Word Count: 1560

~~~

“Hey, um…Atsushi?”

The weretiger turned at the sound of his name, offering a smile to the newest member of their organization. “What’s up?”

Sigma seemed to consider his words before saying, “I have a question…about Dazai.”

“Oh boy.” Atsushi chuckled. The two of them were going through some essential records at the office, with the younger man showing the newbie what needed to be done and where to file things. Sigma was clearly unused to teamwork, but he was putting in the effort to learn, and Atsushi appreciated that. He gestured for him to continue. “We all have questions about Dazai, but I’ll try my best.”

Sigma nodded, seeming to consider his words again. “Does he…um, he seems to…I don’t know exactly how to say it, but…” He sighed, impatient with himself, then muttered, “Does he have a thing for tickling?”

Atsushi blinked, taken aback for a moment, then grinned. “If by ‘a thing’ you mean a unique liking of it, then yes, he does.”

“It’s just…he seems to find excuses to tickle me, and I’ve noticed he does it with you and a couple of others as well, so I just wondered…”

“It’s just how he is, really.” Atsushi turned to give him his full attention, leaning against his desk and smiling. “He’s a weird goofball, but he doesn’t mean anything bad by seeking you out all the time. And if you’re uncomfortable—”

“It’s not that,” Sigma replied quickly, then seemed to realize what he’d said and glanced away with a blush. “It’s just…I want to…get him back?”

The detective’s smile was so wide it could have rivaled the Grand Canyon. “You want to tickle him, too?”

“Y-Yes, but…I’ve never…” The dual-haired man hesitated. “It’s all so new to me, I don’t know how to…”

Atsushi understood at once. “You don’t know how to tickle anyone, let alone Dazai.”

Sigma nodded.

The weretiger hummed, all too familiar with that feeling. “Well, the good news for you is that Dazai loves being tickled, so you won’t be making him upset by giving it a try,” he replied. “As for how to do it, just mimic what he does to you. You’ll find a spot that gets him going, trust me.”

Sigma nodded again, though the way his eyes darted around the room made Atsushi realize he still wasn’t confident about the idea. He considered for a moment. Hadn’t he been in this exact position just recently? Gradually learning about how ticklish he was and how it could be fun, and wanting to return the favor to his mentor? Wouldn’t it be decent of him to now share his findings with the newest member of the Agency who was clearly in the same boat?

He cleared his throat and – after  moment’s hesitation –  murmured, “You can…try it on me first, if you want.”

Sigma looked startled. “Oh, I…! I don’t want to impose…I know we aren’t close.”

Atsushi shrugged, feeling a slight blush even has he plowed bravely onward. “Dazai trusted you enough to bring you into the ADA, and that’s good enough for me. Besides, I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. And tickling kind of is a bonding thing, so…”

Sigma hesitated a moment longer, clearly interested but also nervous about the idea. “Are you…are you sure?”

“Yeah,” the weretiger replied, strangely at ease now that he knew the other man was feeling just as self-conscious. “I’ll stop you if I feel uncomfortable.”

It was understandably awkward at first – Atsushi eventually decided it would probably be best to lay on the ground with his arms up, giving Sigma full access, despite how his nerves sang with anticipation at the vulnerability. For his part, Sigma knelt beside him and hovered uncertainly over his torso, as if trying to decide where to begin. He only finally made contact when Atsushi specifically guided him to start with the ribs – as good a place to start as any, and not his worst spot, so they could both ease into the situation.

After a few minutes, Sigma seemed to be getting the hang of drawing squeaks and giggles out of the weretiger, who fought to keep his arms above his head. The more Atsushi reacted, the more the dual-haired man seemed to relax. It was oddly satisfying to witness.

“You knohohohohow,” Atsushi dared to attempt speaking through his light giggles, “tihihihihickling is p-prehehehehetty new to mehehehehe, too.”

“It is?” Sigma seemed surprised. He dug a bit more firmly into his ribs, making the weretiger squirm instinctively.

“It’s ohohohohohonly since johohohohoining the ADA that I r-reheheheheheally started experiehehehencing either side of it,” the younger man continued, letting out an involuntary gasp when Sigma’s fingers grazed his belly. “Ehehehehehehehe!”

“Sorry!” Sigma retracted his hands, looking concerned. “I didn’t mean—”

Atsushi couldn’t help but laugh at the whole situation at this point, grinning genuinely up at the newcomer. “No, no, it’s all right. You, ah…you have good instincts.”

For a moment his companion seemed confused. Then he broke into a hesitant grin and asked, “Was it a good spot?”

Atsushi nodded. The taller man reached for him again.

The weretiger tossed his head back and squealed when Sigma focused his efforts on his tummy, scribbling and scratching all over. Through it all, he caught glimpses of their newest member’s face, which was lit up with joy at this newfound discovery and his growing confidence in being able to make someone else laugh like Dazai made him laugh.

“Ahahahahaha! Seehehehehehehee? G-Goohohohohohohood instihihihihincts!”

“Is it especially ticklish here?”

The innocent question flustered Atsushi out of his mind, but he managed a whiny, “Yeheheheheheheah!” all the same.

“You said earlier that I’ll definitely find a spot that gets Dazai going,” Sigma mused, seeming much more natural about this whole tickling thing now, as he was able to hold a conversation while drawing helpless giggles out of the smaller man. “Does everyone have a spot like that?”

“Mohohohohohostly!”

“Do you?”

Atsushi whimpered and covered up his blushing face, trying not to roll over and protect himself as his new friend continued to experiment. “Hohohohohohow are you sohohohohohoho good at teheheheheheasing already?!”

Sigma sounded genuinely confused when he said, “Teasing? I’m just asking a question.”

At that exact moment the dual-haired man slid his fingers even further downward, one of them catching the weretiger’s navel as he went, making Atsushi spasm and bark out a laugh, arms flying down to push him away instinctively. “Ehehehehehehe, wahahahahahahait!”

For a moment an easy silence descended between the two. Atsushi took a moment to regain his bearings before looking back up at Sigma, who was grinning openly at him now. “Another good spot?”

Atsushi smirked and shoved him playfully. “Shut up.”

“May I…? That is, if you’re still comfortable…” Sigma looked flustered now, too, even as he asked, “Can I see how much it gets you going?”

The question – while again innocent – made Atsushi blush bright pink. He let out a groan and flopped back down on the floor, putting his hands behind his head. “Better be intentional about it. I can’t promise I won’t try and kick you off.”

Sigma frowned, concerned. “If you’d rather not—”

“Hurry before I change my mind,” the detective shot back with a laugh.

The taller man’s fingers purposely sought that tiny spot on the weretiger’s tummy this time. As soon as one found it and slipped inside to wiggle, Atsushi burst into louder cackles and held on for an impressive three seconds before shooting his arms back down to cover up protectively, rolling onto his side as he gasped, “Ahahahahahahaha, okahahahahahahay, that’s enohohohohough! Plehehehease!”

Sigma stopped immediately, but his smile never left his face this time. He waited for the weretiger to catch his breath before saying, “Thank you for that, Atsushi. That was…surprisingly fun.”

Atsushi giggled for another moment or two and then sat up, grinning right back. “See? Tickling isn’t so hard once you get into it.”

“I suppose not. Thank you for…offering to teach me.” Sigma’s cheeks turned slightly pink as he averted his gaze, the reality of what they’d just done seeming to catch up to him. “I hope it wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“Nah. Once I got used to it, I learned I actually kind of like being tickled. It can be fun as long as both parties are respectful about it.”

The dual-haired man nodded. “I understand. I must admit, I look forward to trying this out on Dazai. Which spot should I go for first?”

Atsushi laughed. “Trust me, it will be much more fun if you find his weak spot for yourself. But, if I can offer a word of advice?”

Sigma nodded eagerly.

“Remember how I reacted when you teased me?”

“I…was not trying to tease you, but yes, I remember.”

The younger man smirked. “Definitely give that a try on Dazai. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Sigma nodded in consideration, getting back to his feet and helping the younger man back to his as well. “All right. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Oh, and Sigma?”

For a moment, they both looked at each other in surprise, realizing it was the first time Atsushi had called him by name. Then the weretiger grinned again.

“Let me know how it goes when you get him. I want to know everything.”

Sigma agreed with a grin of his own.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Wait... Soundwave wants to turn the human kiddos into cassettes? How does that go? Does it work?

I have been sitting on this idea for a while now and I hate that it took me literally two months to formulate a response, but here it is-

Previous part here.

═════════════════

The humans belonged to him. He found them, he tended to them, and he learned who they were more than anyone else ever bothered to. The three human sparklings, his perfect cassettes... they were soft, weak, damageable, and likely to perish in but the passing of a cycle in his mind's eye. He refused to allow that, not after he finally found little ones in need of aid who could be his new cassettes.

The Autobots claimed the children as theirs, but the simple fact that they came back to him when they wanted affection told Soundwave all he needed to know. There was no need for him to abandon Megatron or join the Autobots to keep his precious cassettes. All he needed to do was make his cassettes strong enough to endure being handled like Cybertronian cassettes and all would be well. He could take them back to the Nemesis and they would adapt with time. Emotions like anger and sorrow would pass under his dutiful care. There was no need for concern, he just needed to play his cards right until he had what he needed.

Soundwave has always been quiet in his work, thus it was not difficult to begin formulating plans. Rafael was the easiest to begin with, largely due to the fact that he already had unique abilities. It was not hard to leave a simple hologram dummy in place of Rafael and take the child to Shockwave. Singing to Rafael and injecting him with mild sedatives kept him from waking as he was placed onto an operating table and Shockwave was allowed to begin his work. It was a simple process, a small implant in the child's head around his growth glands that would slowly begin turning the child's cells into something more Cybertronian in nature and allow for energon to begin being integrated into the body. Then beyond the tiny implant that would fly under human scans were tiny implants in the spine that would with time, change to allow plating to start to develop once the child's body was strong enough and at least more than 60% non organic.

Rafael didn't even know he'd been altered and was returned home without issue. Shockwave was happy to do the work for scientific purposes and Megatron was merely tolerating the situation since it ensured Soundwave would remain loyal. All was well, and while it was most certainly harder to worm his way into collecting Miko and Jack undetected, he managed to get them the correct implants too without their knowledge. The Autobots suspected nothing and allowed Soundwave to roam as he pleased. Out of pure caution he never revealed their whereabouts or knowledge to Megatron, he couldn't risk losing his cassettes before they were ready. Besides, the Autobots were decent caretakers while Soundwave was away working.

Thus with the implants ready, Soundwave began the second phase without issue. He prepared his little cassettes food and laced it with just enough energon to be of use. He did this every. single. day. for months until at last he started getting results.

The children began getting aches and pains, all of them not wanting to move around much and rather preferring to stay still or with Soundwave. Their food choices differed and they started only wanting what Soundwave prepared to the point of concerning the Autobots. The children began getting tired, sleeping more and moving less while also seeing and hearing more than they should be able to. Even still, they weren't strong enough, so Soundwave waited and waited until at last he had his sign.

Hair began to stiffen and turn to metal, soft flesh hardened, and bones grew sturdier. Bit by bit the children found metal in their frames, growing and changing them to match Cybertronians in some peculiar way. However Soundwave did not snatch them up until Rafael showed the first signs of plating growth when he ran his hands through his hair and small metal plates shined where Soundwave could see. He needed no other reason to wait, and thus too the children swiftly as he had so many months prior. The Autobots should have been more careful. Did they not fear one who was once a servant of the council and a gladiator in the pits?