#Which might be after the game ends. Who knows.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Quinn X “I’ve seen the way you look at me”

Um...so this might be a little angsty? Oops... 1000 Followers Celly Currently ongoing 🥳🎉 (please read the rules) Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

It's ridiculous that you're still here, still around him after everything. You're not dating anymore, Quinn had seen to that when he called off your relationship...you were passing as friends, but friends don't look at each other the way you two do, friends don't avoid getting tipsy around each other because you know where it'll end up, friends aren't in love with each other.

It's killing you. To be so close but also so far from him. You see him all the time, support him at his games, you're the first person he wants to see when he's back from a roadie, but you're no longer his girlfriend. You decide it's time to address it and if you're wrong, if he doesn't still love you then you'll cut off contact, rip the band aid off because sure you might bleed for a bit, but it's got to be better than this feeling, this limbo you're stuck in with Quinn.

He's round your apartment for the third time this week, sat on your couch flicking through Netflix like it's the most natural thing in the world, like you're not two exes that don't know how to let go.

It's a building sort of pressure to know where you stand with him that has you turning to him on the couch abruptly. So abruptly he stops his scrolling, remote falling besides him.

"What?" Quinn's brows furrow in the middle, nose scrunching at you and you want to ask so many things. How can he be so casually sat there with you when he broke your heart? Why does he still come around? Why won't he let you heal?

“I’ve seen the way you look at me."

"And what way is that?" The confusion drops to seriousness, the way Quinn looks at you is assessing, cautious like he knows this conversation isn't supposed to be easy...like he knows his words have a lot weight.

"Like you still love me."

You're not sure what gave you the audacity, the confidence to finally say it...but it's like a weight is lifted off your chest. You've noticed it for months now since the break up: the soft looks when he thinks you're not looking, the way his eyes soften on you, small smiles that reach his eyes, gentle brushes of his fingers against you that can be passed off as an accident.

He doesn't even try to deny it, just leans his head on the back of the couch, neck elongated as he looks across at you as if he's not rocking your entire world right now.

"Because I do."

"...So why?" Why break up with you? Why hurt you? Why put this ridiculous distance between the two of you, if he still loved you...why break up with you in the first place? Did he just not love you enough?

"Because..." There's a pause in which Quinn lets out the deepest, heaviest sigh you've ever heard from him. The sort that says he's tired, that says this is a lot right now, "Because I can't give you everything. I'm gone half the time and when I'm here? When I'm here I'm so focused on fucking hockey and being the captain. I can't give you what you want..." Each word is ridiculous...ridiculous when he's the one who makes time for you, when he keeps spending hours with you without a single mention of hockey. But, mostly it's ridiculous because he's decided he knows what you want better than you do.

"You never asked what I wanted, Quinn...ask me." You scoot closer to him, close enough that your knees brush with his, close enough that you can count the beauty marks on his face and down his neck...like you've done a million times before.

"What do you want?"

"You. You when you're stressed about being captain and you when you're busy trying to find the time to eat between practices. You when you come back from a roadie and hold me tight. You. I have always been prepared to deal with all the shit that comes along with dating you, Quinn. You were the one that gave up." There's a tightness to your voice, a restrained sort of anger because he gave up you, you never did. You would have gone to the ends of the earth for him...you still would.

"I...I didn't give up." The way he looks away combined with the flush to his cheeks is enough to know he's lying. Quinn gave up, for whatever reason, he gave up and he knows it even if he doesn't want to admit it.

"Then why aren't we still together because last I checked it wasn't me that ended things..." You hadn't been the one to ask to see him after a long roadie, to turn up at his door at midnight only to drop the biggest bomb on him. No. That had been all Quinn...you'd just been the idiot who let him keep coming back under the guise of friendship.

"I just...I didn't want to hurt you in the long run, baby."

"No. You didn't want to hurt yourself." Maybe you're being mean, maybe you're being harsh, but you want him to sort it out, to come to terms with how he's feeling, what he's done and give it another shot. Fix things. Maybe you're just trying to lead a horse to water...maybe he won't...

"Y/N..." His hand reaches for yours on instinct, an instinct as old as time, it's so natural to let him. So natural to twist your fingers with his like you used to do all the time...

"Do you still want me?"

"Yeah..." He admits it like it's shameful and maybe to him it is, not because it's you, but because it's admitting that he walked away from something good...admitting that he made a mistake.

"Then ask me."

"Can...will you..." It's like the words are stuck in his throat and you briefly consider just ending it there, telling him to get out, but you love him too much, enough to be patient. You love him enough that you know the three squeezes to your hand are his way of saying 'be patient please'. "Will you give me another chance?"

"At what?" You're being a little mean, pushing for him to be specific because you need to be sure he's serious about this, that he's not just trying to appease you.

"To be yours."

You make him wait for an answer until he's biting his lip raw, knee bouncing because fuck, you were right all along...he was scared but maybe he was more scared of never having you in his life again. He's certain that you'll cut him off this time, that if he fucks this up again he won't even have you as a friend. The thought of existing in a world where you want nothing to do with him is perhaps the scariest one yet.

"Yeah, I'll give you another chance...but Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"If you call it off again because you're scared I won't be waiting next time. It's okay to be scared but we're in this together."

[minosbull]

“We are now cranking up another edition of the “will he or won’t he” Trump song and dance, this time about firing Fed Chair Jerome Powell. Trump manages to add an additional pungency to these dramas by trying to fire the guy who is actually his own Fed Chair. Biden renominated Powell. But Trump actually gave him the job. Axios just pushed a newsletter update that ran through this drama, first reporting the events of the day and then adding this: “What we’re watching: Federal law and Supreme Court precedent say presidents cannot fire the Fed chair over a policy disagreement.” It then goes on from there. But that’s actually the end of the story. The other possibilities are illegal.

It is actually critical to remember these things. I’ve often used the metaphor of a pilot’s flight instruments. Under instrument flight rules you’re taught only to follow the instruments. Your body and senses may be telling you you’re right-side up but actually you’re upside down. They may be telling you you’re going up but you’re actually going down. Your instruments are reality; your body and sensations are lying to you.

In a moment like this, and very much like that flight analog, you may not be able to control what’s happening but you need to know what’s happening. The whole conversation ends with that quote above. Anything else is illegal. The Supreme Court might allow Trump to break the law. But that will be what it is – allowing him to break the law. We will collectively have to grapple with that reality. But it will still be illegal. The Court can say up is down but up will still be up. It is simply not the case that Congress made the law, understood what the law meant, that it was universally understood what the law meant but that we now have a Supreme Court which can simply start history from scratch. We might as well say that Moby Dick was a Donkey rather than a whale.

And this brings me to a key point. Trump is hungry to walk through this door of lawless autocracy. But it is the conservative legal movement, embodied in the Federalist Society, organized by Leonard Leo and others who opened the door. They manufactured the fraudulent idea that presidents cannot be constrained by the law. They imported it from abroad, from the degenerate ideologues of autocracy. They did this. They created the current moment in which a renegade President can simply start chainsawing through the legal fabric and do anything he wants and we, the citizens of the country, must wait in anxious expectation to learn which if any of the laws turn out to be real. That’s not how the rule of law works. It’s not a game of Magic Eight Ball, built by design on inherent suspense and uncertainty. It’s nature is its clarity and fixity, especially during arduous times of tumult and fear.

Yes, I am fully versed on the theory of purported unitary executive power. It’s a fraud, literally a foreign imposition. It unquestionably fails any test of the ideas of the people who wrote the constitution as well as the bounds of the text itself. The only other reasonable standard is one of function. And the present moment illustrates with an almost perfect clarity that it fails that test as well, the test of constitutionalism itself since the doctrine’s central feature is to empower and tear away any obstacles that a renegade, lawless president might confront. We’re literally seeing that right now. Anyone who has read the Federalist Papers in their totality knows that somewhere between and third and a half of the essays are very specifically about Donald Trump.

The core aim of the 1787 constitution was to create a viable national government with a robust executive power. That represented a significant national course correction from the first years after the overthrow of the monarchy. The question was whether that could be done without creating a tyrant-in-the-making. That was the challenge of writing the document and it was the sales challenge that the newspaper essay campaign (which we now call the Federalist Papers) was meant to answer.

We can talk endlessly about whether we’re still in a democracy or whether Trump wants to be or is acting like a dictator. We can debate words ‘fascism’ that were unknown before a century ago. But what we are seeing right now is the definition of tyranny, a half-archaic concept the founders of the American Republic were very familiar with. Trump’s rule is both lawless and arbitrary. He has taken the bundle of powers the constitution provides him to govern and defend the constitution and turned them to an entirely different and corrupt purpose: using them as weapons to attack the people and institutions he deems his enemies.

This kind of creature is precisely what the core architects of the constitutional order said document could never be used to create. The President is no King; he is subject to the law. And yet here we are. And it is the fraudulent doctrine of unitary executive authority which is walking before him like a statutory bushwhacker, clearing a path for him through every law and restraint. As I wrote above, this doctrine is based on theories and philosophical principles totally unknown to the architects of the constitution. It’s legitimacy can only rest on an argument about function. It fails the test totally. The constitution was sold to the American people, designed to prevent such a creature from emerging from its words and structures. But this doctrine turns out to be that creature’s greatest ally.”

“We can talk endlessly about whether we’re still in a democracy or whether Trump wants to be or is acting like a dictator. We can debate words ‘fascism’ that were unknown before a century ago. But what we are seeing right now is the definition of tyranny, a half-archaic concept the founders of the American Republic were very familiar with. Trump’s rule is both lawless and arbitrary. He has taken the bundle of powers the constitution provides him to govern and defend the constitution and turned them to an entirely different and corrupt purpose: using them as weapons to attack the people and institutions he deems his enemies.”

—

SCOTUS Can Let the President Break the Law; They Can’t Change It

America does not have a king. Trump is a tyrant.

[catssluvr]

misty quigley with loser!reader headcanons <3

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Misty is used to being perceived as the weirdo in the group so gets honestly so happy when the attention she receives is of the good kind.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ First sees you sitting on the stands watching the soccer practice and thinks you’re there because you have a crush on of the girls.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Is honestly surprised when you come up to her stuttering about how you think she’s great at helping the coach and ‘picking up cones’. Might think you’re mocking her at first but quickly realizes it’s just your painfully awkward way of trying to compliment her.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Feels so giddy to know that you sit there even without caring about soccer just because you want her attention.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Starts talking to you at every opportunity and joins you for lunch since you’re usually alone. Even brings extra dessert so she can share it with you.

“Here, i made some sugar cookies with strawberry frosting. Would be a waste if you didn’t try them :D”

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Probably doesn’t realize she’s head over heels at first even though everybody else has noticed she’s incredibly obsessed with you (wouldn’t be misty if she wasn’t.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Also doesn’t notice how her skin feels tingly every time you accidentally touch because you always end up scrambling away from embarrassment and regretting it right after.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Tries not to giggle when you join the soccer club just to fall face flat on the floor and get a bleeding nose without as much as touching the ball.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ She does calm you down after it though, cleaning you up and wiping your embarrassed tears. Feels bad for thinking it was funny now that she knows you were really trying to impress her.

“C’mon don’t cry. I think it’s amazing that you tried!!”

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Invites you over to her house for her first ever sleepover and literally makes sure everything is perfect for you even though you’d take anything she prepares for you. Makes a pillow fort so you can watch movies and spends the whole day preparing hundreds of snacks.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ It’s in that sleepover that Misty gives you your first ever kiss, which at first is a bit of a mess since it’s also her first kiss but you quickly get the hang of it. After that moment she definitely knows she’s in love with you and can’t help but press her lips back to your again when you pull away to blurt an apology.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Treats you like a girlfriend from then on, talking about you to her friends until they can’t hear your name anymore.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Loves your clumsiness but is constantly worried and hates it when you get hurt because of it, mostly if you were trying to impress or do something for her.

“You already have my attention, silly.”

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Really enjoys the fact that for the first time in her life she isn’t the one who has to run after someone in order to be seen and gets to have all the affection in the world being thrown at her.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Wants to learn about all of your silly hobbies. Will gladly spend an afternoon making bracelets or playing board games if that means she gets to see you happy.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ She has been considered quite the loser for her whole life so hates the idea of anyone mocking you for who you are. Defends you even if that means getting teased too.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Isn’t just your girlfriend but also your best friend, there’s not one secret between you. You know all of the good and bad things about her and vice versa.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ You’re always together, to the point where people will look for you if they don’t know where Misty is.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Probably calls you very corny pet names like ‘silly’ or ‘bug’ but it really comes from the heart, her love for you is very loud and there is no shame when it comes to you.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ Even though there is absolutely no way you’d cheat on her, Misty can’t help but get jealous whenever you make one of your horrible jokes to someone else (but quickly calms down when she hears you tell the person you have to tell Misty that joke).

[cursed-charms]

you should draw Tomura playing with Mon :3 <3

...i got sidetracked and drew something else. still tomura with mon though....but not playing :(

pls forgive me

"For the last time,"

[Tomura gets one last chance to meet with someone from his past as Tenko for one final talk. He chooses to talk with Mon.]

(written continuation below the cut)

"...Hey there, Mon."

[Mon pounces on him eagerly, barking with glee.]

"Woah! Buddy, wait, hold on!"

[Mon doesn't stop licking his face off and it makes him laugh from how ticklish it feels.]

"Sheesh, do you just greet everyone like this now or is this just because you still recognize me?"

[Mon barks as if to answer, but Tomura doesn't know what it means. It doesn't matter, he's the one doing all the talking soon anyway.]

"Mhm, just going to guess that means you're happy. Well, I'm happy too."

[Mon lies flat on his back to ask for belly rubs from his favorite person, and of course Tomura gives them to him. Five fingers land on Mon's body, but this time nothing happens. No crumbling, no dusting - just like the good old times.]

"I'm sorry for what happened, Mon."

[Tomura watches as Mon simply closes his eyes to enjoy the belly rubs he was given - well, that was what he expected. Dogs don't really understand what humans say, no? Not to mention how Mon has that look in his eyes, where it's clear that there's not a single thought behind them. He lets out a soft chuckle, realizing he just chose to talk to a dog who's incapable of understanding what he felt and experienced that day.]

"...I wonder what you thought about that day. Hell, do you even remember?"

[Tomura stops rubbing Mon's belly, which causes Mon to stir and prop himself up again. He looks up at Tomura with that same thoughtless gaze, seemingly content with just existing in this moment with his favorite person.]

"...Maybe you don't need to remember. What's done is done. Remembering everything wouldn't change anything. At the end, we all end up here together."

[Tomura smooths down Mon's fur and prepares to stand up. With a soft smile, he gives Mon one final pat on the head before pointing to the far end of the space.]

"Go there now, Mon. Where the light shines the brightest, you can play fetch with Hana."

[Mon might not be as bright as other dogs, but he does recognize certain words. "Fetch" was one of them - his favorite game, after all. He bites at Tomura's pants, trying to tug him into the area he pointed.]

"I'm sorry again, Mon. I can't join you - I'm being punished just like before with dad. Dad's not the one punishing me this time though, which is good."

[He crouches down to Mon's level, emphasizing his apology with more pats on the head.]

"Don't worry, okay? This time I have friends with me. I'll be fine with them, so you don't have to come with me anymore."

[He wraps his arms around Mon, hugging him tight as their time starts to run out.]

"Thank you for being there for me, Mon. I promise to play fetch with you when my punishment's up. Until then, play with Hana first, okay? And if you can, you know, speak over there...tell her I don't care about what happened - I don't blame her. You're the best boy, Mon. Now go."

[With that, he releases Mon. Mon starts walking to the light, but not without glancing back. It could be meant as a goodbye, or maybe a see-you-soon, but who knows? Tomura considers it as a promise, and he keeps that in mind even as he starts walking to the darkness, side by side with his allies.]

[choccy-zefirka]

For the first time ask prompt:

Rook of your choice and Emmrich: First fight and how they made up after <3

It's great that Emmrich comes with a pre-packaged argument scene hernhtebevev

I immediately thought of Evaraas, my very first Rook, who came to Emmrich pre-Tearstone Island to present him the amulet of the kadan. 😔 Which they eventually do after they are fished out of the Fade! But Emmrich gets to stew in angst in between, made particularly bad as he remembers Nadia and Elio (the podcast characters, who may not be canon in-game but are in my heart). Elio was also lost in the Fade, and desperately as Nadia tried to reach him, it was too late; he didn't make it.

I actually had fic on the subject, but Tumblr is acting like I never posted it, which I know is not true! I had to copypaste it from AO3, and it took several tries as my app kept crashing (and it is not even as long as another fic I also tried to cross-post in response to another ask!)

Anyway, enjoy some classical Fade prison angst

They hover on the threshold like ghosts. It still feels wrong to disturb Rook's privacy... Even if they are gone. Even if their quarters are empty, and the blue shimmer of the aquarium has never been so cold.

They look the part of ghosts, too, pale and worn down from lack of sleep over several days, nights, whatever Fade units of temporal measurement, of working on the replica dagger. And scrying the vast indifferent void, again and again, for any sign of a familiar presence.

Emmrich in particular is a stark contrast against his usual perfectly groomed self. His hair is in disarray, loose silver strands hanging over bruised, almost feverish eyes; he has misplaced his skull collar pin, and seems not to have bothered buttoning down his shirt, or even changing it, for about as long as he has not bothered to shave his ever-darkening stubble.

Beside him, Lucanis is drifting off to sleep, finally out of his precious coffee; the only thing that keeps him from falling head-first into the leering emptiness of Rook's room, is Spite propping up his limp, tired body.

"Go in!" he snarls through Lucanis' lips, eyes flickering a vivid, impatient purple. "We must search!"

Neve, who has picked a hat with a veil today, to hide the harried shadows on her face, pushes the delicate mesh aside to rub her temples.

"We did agree that a personal article of Rook's would be ideal for establishing a connection. Just like — "

Her sentence hangs in the air — which is still and thick, as though in the anticipation of a thunderstorm that will never erupt in the Fade. She never finishes it. But they all know what she must have meant. Whom she must have meant.

An eternity ago, in another, simpler life, when Solas was just an exciting mystery to chase and the sky still looked mostly normal, all of them, in one way or another, had a run-in with Nadia Carcosa. A haunted young woman from Tevinter, desperately searching for a dear friend, a lover, a man who meant everything to her, as he, too, had gotten trapped in the Fade. Nadia's companion Drayden has since sought them all out and written them letters about how that story ended. They made it through the whole ordeal alive, as did Nadia. Elio, however — the lost soul whose name Nadia called out at night, in broken, wailing sobs... His ending was not a happy one. The Fade did not return what it had swallowed. They all think of it now, suffocating in the stillness; Emmrich claws at his own grave jewelry, knuckles white.

At last, Taash breaks the silence.

"Okay. Think I got a clue."

They shuffle awkwardly past the others, finally breaching that unseen, unspoken barrier. To tread across the same floor where Rook once walked... It must take the same resolve, the same courage, as to step into a dragon's lair.

Once they stand square in the room's middle, Taash inhales deeply, their keen adaari senses picking up the subtle hints of scent that still remain in Rook's wake.

"Shoulda done this sooner; it might have gotten cold..." Taash mutters to themself.

And then, a spark lights up in their eyes — which are just as tired as those of their companions, and a little red around the rim. Though, of course, they will never admit it. Crying is vashedan. And Rook, their big sibling Rook, who understood what it's like to be Qunari and also not, and to struggle with making all parts of their body, their very self, fit right — Rook is not gone like their mother. Taash had not held their body in their arms. So it does not count.

"Oh yeah! There it is!" Taash cries triumphantly. "Metal and leather and still a bit of smoke! I got it!"

With a grin that almost creates an illusion that everything is back to normal, Taash dives into a chest of drawers in the corner, and flourishes their find — a large, curved pendant.

Lucanis' nostrils flare: Spite seems to recognize the scent as well.

"Dragon?" the demon asks, sounding rather... hungry.

Taash nods.

"Yeah! Fangscorcher! Remember the fight we had, huh?"

They run a finger along the leather straps wrapped around the pendant, and their expression softens to a sudden, un-Taash-like sadness.

"I got a trophy from her, and then Rook came along and asked to help with a thing. A Qunari thing. I'm Rivaini, they were — are! — Tevinter, but some Qunari stuff just makes sense. To us both.”

Their brows knit together again, and their gaze snaps back, directly at Emmrich.

"The Qunari have a custom," they say with deliberate slowness, extending their open hand with the pendant.

"When two people want to show how much they mean to each other, they take a dragon's tooth, split it in two, and each keeps a half on them. Always. So — "

They pause; Emmrich slowly raises a shaky hand to his mouth, realization beginning to dawn.

"Rook had one half with them already. This one was meant for you. I think they wanted to give it to you before we sailed to that stupid island, but..."

"...But I made it all about myself and my foolish anxieties," Emmrich whispers, his sleep-deprived gaze dimming with welled-up tears.

"Thought I heard your door slam."

Taash does not break eye contact with him; every angle of their face, their hard-set jaw, is an accusation. But eventually, they catch a breath, and force themself to go on explaining.

"My mother said that this amulet meant to signify a warrior's bond or whatever, but lots of people outside Par Vollen use it to show romantic love. Like..."

Emmrich interjects again; it looks like he is about to double over, and Lucanis slips back into consciousness just long enough to place a supportive hand on his back.

"Like engagement rings. Oh, Rook — "

He raises his hand to meet Taash's, but his fingertips do not quite touch the pendant. Do not quite dare trace the curve of the dragon fang. As if it might strike him with a bolt of punishing magic.

"Rook, my dearest heart... I was too much of a coward to tell you I loved you; I never even apologized for all the things I said that night... And all the while, you had so much faith... in us both... Rook..."

"Hey," Neve approaches him on the other side from Lucanis, and touches his elbow. "You will get to tell them all of this once we find them. This is the perfect conduit: they hold one half, we — you — hold the other. They are bound to call to each other, across the Fade."

Emmrich's lips twitch, and slowly, the tear drops begin to spill.

"Nadia had an engagement ring as well... But she was too late."

"We won't be, though," Taash objects, their voice decisive as the chop of an axe.

"We won't!" Lucanis and Spite insist in unison.

"Come on, Fade expert," says Neve, guiding Emmrich's hand to Taash's and closing his fingers around the pendant.

"Do what you do best."

[emile-hides]

With the release of Chapter 4 I was once again tossing around my Poppy Playtime but the Protagonist is a Child AU and thought it was about time I drew out some of my monster death scenes

And then I realized CatNap is ridiculously hard to draw and quit so. Here's what I had done before the Cat struggle. I'll be back eventually though.

[vaguely-concerned]

I was just ambushed within the turbulent halls of my own mind by some headcanons about rye ingellvar's childhood that did 15000000 points of psychic damage to me and my heart personally and also made me almost sure of how I want to play it all at the end (very very differently from how I imagined going in!). some 'oh holy fuck this changes everything' rocking my own world bullshit going on in my neurons right now I'm reeling

[soov]

how many aura points do i get when ppl shut up when its my turn to talk and other 5 say they want to get to know me better 🙏🙏

[evenmorecrows]

kieran is my little guy. my boy my son. maybe i Am rotating an au in my head where hes the datv protag. maybe he enters into a romance with lucanis. like father like son (his dad being m!amell who romanced zevran.) plus itd be. so fucking funny

[muirneach]

i may or may not have the ability to go to a Real Life Party tomorrow but like. do i really want to do All That. that sounds like a lot of work. and also its the most important pwhl game of all time tomorrow night like come on. this is mostly a joke i wouldn’t miss my social life for a hockey game my main concern is that i’m not actually invited to this party per se… i just sort of am aware of its existence and some girls that i am acquaintances with said last week that i should go. i would ask them tomorrow in class for the details on its whereabouts but i don’t think i’ll see them so like 🤷‍♂️

[sleaze4sleaze]

Just occurred to me the outlast-y part of the dreams last night were speedrunny like… I would zone out a little like when you’re playing a game and you’re super focused. I’m still trying to plat outlast 2 which means insane mode + no battery reload. Two hours of gametime, so many long unskippable cutscenes, unreliable unpredictable ai, stamina in a game where you’re supposed to run from everything, minimal to no night vision underground in the mines. It’s literally a nightmare. I am going to do it but I will die a little in the process irl. And also in game, likely .

[butchlifeguard]

primrose's ch3 is GOOD btw

[freaktoru]

DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH ME BABY!

✰ pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader ✰ summary: after several sexless months of a very vanilla marriage, nanami kento learns how his slutty wife actually likes to be fucked. wc; 4.1k ✰ warnings: food play, a tiny bit of ass play, dirty talk, unprotected sex, praise, fingering, pet names, very light bondage, hair pulling, some very sweet after care, nanami is soo addicted to his wife, honestly just pure filth. 18+ MDNI

your sex life with your husband was basically dead—buried so deep, it felt like it might never come back.

i mean, you shouldn't be surprised right? when you got married, everyone warned you it would be this way. “just wait until the honeymoon phase is over”, “wait until work gets in the way”, “wait until you start sleeping in separate beds” they told you. although you thankfully hadn’t made it to the third phase yet, you didn't believe them—at least not at first.

the first few months of your marriage felt purely euphoric—like a drug you just couldn't get enough of. you were bathing in the seemingly never ending marital bliss, convinced that nothing could have come between you and your husband— at least not when the two of you were fucking like animals in heat, absolutely devouring each other no matter where the pair of you were. well, it seems life has a way of being deceiving, doesn't it?

so here you were, only one year into your marriage and somehow, sex had completely fallen off your marriage itinerary. you don’t even know how it happened. your work lives took over, and the honeymoon rush had slowly but surely died out. your daily orgasms slowly turned into weekly orgasms which eventually turned into none. the number of times you and your husband have had sex in the last few months has been a big, fat, zero. your revised daily routine now looked a little like this: wake up, breakfast, work, dinner, sleep. exciting right?

kento was a very busy man—you couldn't blame him. he was always working overtime, always being pushed past his limits by his boss and always coming home completely and utterly exhausted. but that didn't change the stark reality—your marriage had become painfully sexless, and severely depressing. and you’d endured months of this silent, dry torture before you finally stepped up and decided you had had enough.

you and nanami were a picture perfect couple—that much was obvious from just looking at the two of you. you had the perfect wedding, the perfect house and perfect vanilla sex. though, despite its initial merits, clearly it hadn't gotten you very far—not if you found yourself so sexless this early into your marriage.

you couldn't let your marriage go down like this, you simply wouldn't. something had to change; you both knew that. the only question was, who would be the one to fix it first? so, you finally mustered up the courage to tell your husband you were sick and tired of the drought, and you were more than ready to break this invisible wall which had stood between you two for months.

when you told nanami that you wanted him to fuck you nasty, whenever and however he pleased without so much as a warning— naturally, his cock hardened, and nanami had displayed the rarest of his facial expressions: shock. though, despite his obvious shock, he was just as desperate to bridge the painful distance between the two of you.

so, of course he agreed— because nanami kento was not one to deny his beautiful wife.

and then it began—the waiting game. a semblance of hope finally returned as a light in your plain, boring days and the thrill of the unknown had you going absolutely feral. not knowing when and if he was going to fuck you had you living through your day to day life in a constant state of need and arousal. you finally felt yourself getting closer and closer to the light at the end of the tunnel where a long, loving marriage awaited you.

it had only been two days since your conversation when he walked into your shared apartment after work, and saw you standing behind the kitchen island in the tiniest, sluttiest white dress, preparing his favorite after dinner dessert—apple pie. what a perfect, thoughtful wife you were.

you looked up from the recipe book to see him standing in the doorway, looking exhausted and overworked as usual but, also looking remarkably handsome in his clean suit. gosh. he had just walked through the door and already your warm and wet arousal was settling comfortably in your panties.

“hi kento, how was work?” you asked softly, your lips pulled into a light smile.

“tiring” he replied, his voice an octave deeper than normal. he must have worked very hard if he sounded this exhausted, you thought. his bag dropped to the ground with a thud and he took his shoes off followed by his blazer, leaving just his dress shirt and pants on. you watched him intently as he walked over to where you stood behind the kitchen island, rolling up his sleeves and throwing his tie on the marble surface.

you flinched as he wrapped his big arms around your waist, welcoming the warm yet unexpected touch. he nuzzled his stubbly face in the crook of your neck, placing feather light kisses along its delicate skin. you let out small, pathetic whimpers, feeling another rush of heat settle in your core. your slick would start dripping through your panties and onto the floor if you didn't fix this soon.

“my dear wife, i didn’t know you were so dirty” he mumbled into the sensitive flesh of your neck, lightly nibbling at it, and leaving a trail of wet kisses down it’s stretch. fuck. why had the two of you ever stopped doing this in the first place?

“w-what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly, already feeling worked up from his minor act of intimacy. he inhaled your sweet vanilla scent—relishing in it, before he spoke up.

“yes kento, i want to be fucked” he started, while slowly snaking his fingers down the side of your dress. “whenever you want, however you want” he finished, mocking you sweetly with your own filthy words from just days ago. he was playing with you, baiting you—and you were falling right into his waiting hands.

his fingers met with your soaked panties as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder, feeling him rub slow, lazy, teasing circles on your clothed clit, leaving you wishing you skipped the panties entirely when you got dressed this morning.

“is that not what you told me just a few days ago, my dear?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, watching you in amusement as you squirmed under his light touch. he’d barely given you anything yet your head was already clouded with arousal, making you literally tremble with need. dirty, dirty girl. “mhmmm” you hummed in response, not bothering to utter any words. not when you were so busy relishing in your husbands sweet proximity—a proximity you hadn’t felt for months.

“if i had known my wife was such a slut—” he said, slowly moving your wet panties aside with two long fingers “maybe we would’ve never had this issue in the first place” he finished, his deep, velvety voice sending little shivers racing across your skin. you closed your eyes, letting out sweet little mewls and whimpers while he toyed with your drenched pussy.

“k-kento” you moaned, desperate for more. it just wasn't enough. after so many celibate months, you were brimming with need, ready to burst at any given moment.

“yes baby? what is it?” his coo was sweet and honeyed. he toyed with you like a doll, teasingly pushing his fingers in and out of you, slowly pushing each and every coherent thought out of your mind, leaving you in a hazy, blur of need.

“ah— i n-need more” you whined pathetically in response, reaching a trembling hand up to the nape of his neck while your knuckles turned white on the other from your desperate grip on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“more what sweetheart? use your words for me” he practically purred in your ear, his voice a soft caress. the bastard knew exactly what he was doing, teasing you like this.

he pressed himself closer against you, removing your dress strap from your shoulder to give himself easier access to your tits. you bit your lip, desperately stifling your moans as he seized a handful of your breast, kneading and teasing the supple flesh, his fingers rolling your nipple with a torturous precision. fuck him.

"p-please kento, want you t-to make me feel g-good" you let out, voice shallow and breathy. your whines and moans were music to his ears, and he vowed they would be the only sound he ever craved to hear again.

you let yourself surrender to the waves of pleasure that coursed through your body as nanami pumped two of his thick, long fingers in and out of you. god, what a sight you were for him—eyes squeezed shut, rosy-cheeked and completely breathless. until this moment, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed in these last few sexless, stressful months he had lived through.

you whimpered a desperate plea as your husband pulled his fingers out, leaving you teetering on the edge of release. no, he was not going to give it to you that easy— especially not after this long of a wait. he turned you around to face him, and in one swift motion, lifted you onto the kitchen counter, the cold marble cooling the burning, aroused skin of your thighs. you felt a strong, big hand grab your waist while the other rest on the soft skin of your cheek. he looked at you through lust filled, hazel eyes—admiring his irresistible wife.

growing impatient, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. "kento" you breathed against his lips, desperate for more of his attention. no matter how much he gave you, you felt it would never be enough to make up for all the time you missed with your husband.

he kissed you softly, mapping every inch of your mouth with his wet tongue. you flinched, as he caught your lip between his teeth, teasingly biting down and nibbling on it before pulling away and leaving you whining and aching all over again. removing his hand from your cheek, he reached his arm around you and picked up the bottle of whipped cream that stood with the rest of the pie ingredients.

"my dear wife, when was the last time you made me this pie? the day after our wedding?" he chuckled deeply, studying the can in his hands.

"thought you'd like it" you mumbled, embarrassed by his mocking tone. you'd never seen him like this. his expression was one—in all your years of dating and one year of marriage—you've never seen him display. he looked hungry. a hunger that went beyond satisfying his human needs—this hunger looked feral, almost primal and he looked ready to do whatever it took to satisfy it.

nanami took a step back, opening your legs further apart to give him a better view of all your sweetest parts. you watched him flick the cap off the whipped cream can, buzzing with impatience as you waited for his next move. a strong hand pushed the fabric of your skimpy linen dress up to your waist, and you almost jumped when he sprayed some on your leg.

"ah- kento, what are you doing?" you gasped, looking down at your bare thigh, where a cute little heart of whipped cream was now drawn.

"apologizing to my sweet wife" he muttered, placing the can back down on the counter. he leaned his head down to your thigh, one of your hands instantly tangling itself in his hair. that's right. this is how nanami kento would apologize for all your missed orgasms—for unknowingly denying his wife.

his tongue met with your leg and he began slowly dragging it up and down the skin of your thigh, licking up all the cream that sat in the shape of a heart. a soft moan escaped your parted lips, and you tugged on his hair to pull his head up despite him not being finished.

"dear husband, when did you become so dirty?" you echoed his earlier words right back at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you locked eyes with his ravenous gaze. there it was, that hunger— that pure look of desire which you hoped would never disappear from his eyes. marriage was hard but in this moment you were both convinced that doing this every night, would make it feel effortless. nanami only smirked lightly before diving his head back down to meet your trembling thigh. that's right, he had you trembling with need—that's how desperate you were for his touch.

strong hands held your thigh down as he finished licking the heart of whipped cream on your leg. this was an interesting way to apologize to say the least. he lifted himself up, locking eyes with you as he slowly licked the last traces of cream from his lips. holy fuck, you almost came from the sight alone.

moving his hands, he pulled your dress over your head, leaving you in just your skimpy, soaked, panties. "so beautiful" he rasped, drinking you in with just his gaze while grabbing the can and getting to work on your tits. you giggled, watching him spray two hearts of whipped cream, one around each of your nipples.

"baby you- ah" the words died on your lips as he began licking the cream, finishing off with a light nibble that had your toes curling from pleasure. with a groan, he worked his way to the other one, sending chills down your spine and whimpers past your lips. one thing was for sure—nanami knew exactly what he was doing. and he wasn't going to stop.

"please" you whined desperately— impatiently. nanami was holding you on the brink of release, dangling your orgasm right in front of you before ripping it right back when you were about to finish. it was fucking frustrating.

so many nights, while nanami stayed late at work, you lay in your shared bed, desperate and aching, your fingers working tirelessly—trying, and failing, to replicate the feeling of his. little did you know that your dear husband spent his time in similar ways. in the late hours of the night while you were soundly asleep, he stood in the giant two person shower of your shared bathroom, hand wrapped around his veiny cock, warm water streaming down his body, pumping himself endlessly. he tried, he really tried. but nothing—nothing could compare to the addictive pleasure that came from your warm, tight walls clenching around his cock or the heavenly feeling of your soft, wet lips wrapping him so sweetly. yes, it was safe to say you were both very desperate and very frustrated.

"you wanted it nasty baby, that's exactly how i'll give it to you" he groaned in your ear moments before you were flipped face down onto the counter, toes barely touching the floor. you had awakened something inside him, and now that you'd gotten a taste of this nanami, you never wanted to go back.

you craned your neck to look back at him, watching him unbutton his now crumpled white dress shirt. he met your gaze, smiling at you while he reached beside you to grab his tie. you had never reacted to your husband this viscerally before. just the mere sight of him was intoxicating, leaving your head light and hazy, as if you were drunk on his presence alone.

he moved your hands behind your back, crossing them over each other before binding them together with his tie. a light moan escaped you, and you wiggled your hands, getting a feel for the restraint.

"spread your legs" he ordered, his suddenly stern and commanding voice only fueling the desperate throb between your thighs. you obeyed, stepping your toes further apart to allow him to stand between your legs.

you'd never thought you'd be this pliable, this eager to please. but here you were, pushed against the marble counter, wrists tied and ready to fulfill any of his wishes and demands—no matter how filthy. nanami held a dangerous level of control over you and your body, and the thought of wanting it any other way terrified you. surely this is what addiction felt like.

you flipped your head over to the other side, enjoying the cooling feeling of the marble against your burning cheek while you watched him pick up his handy whipped cream once again. guess he wasn't done with that huh.

"kento" you whined, indulging in the slow, sweet pleasure but impatiently needing more than just the teasing he was giving you. it wasn't fair. you had waited long enough.

"ah ah, so impatient, my dear wife" he clicked his tongue, grabbing hold of your wrists. you shuddered slightly when you felt the cold whipped cream meet with your tight holes. oh. he placed the can down, and got on his knees, still holding your bound wrists tightly with one hand and squishing the flesh of your soft thighs with the other. he dragged his tongue up all the way from your clit to your ass, licking up the string of cream he had drawn on you just moments before.

god, this man was filthy. his tongue lingered around your rear entrance, licking playful circles around it and prodding it with his tongue. the initially foreign feeling slowly grew on you, shooting warm pulses of pleasure through every vein in your body and deep into your aching core.

he dragged his tongue away from your tight ring, lapping up the last bits of cream left around your drenched cunt. you clenched your fists, desperate to hold something—anything to help you cope with the overwhelming pleasure you felt.

"kento— e-enough, i need you inside me" you uttered, unable to contain your restless, writhing need for him any longer.

"fine, if my beautiful wife so desires" he replied lazily, letting out a low laugh. you heard him unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the ground while he unzipped his pants. finally.

"my dirty, filthy wife" he muttered, idly pumping his hard, veiny cock with one hand. before you could protest, his fat, leaking tip found itself at your seeping entrance, prodding the wet flesh around it. you heard him suck in a sharp breath, a low hiss slipping from his lips as he pushed into you slowly, stretching you so wide that your eyes fluttered to the back of your head.

"nngh- ah" you moaned at the feeling of his tip reaching your cervix. he was sheathed inside you, waiting for your quivering body to adjust to his thick length. nanami was huge—there was no denying it. no matter how many times you had taken his cock, it was always an adjustment for you.

wiggling your hips, you tried to get as comfortable as you could on the hard, white marble countertop while he started slowly moving his cock in and out of you. "i-i haven't ah-adjusted" you whined, needing more time to get used to him. after all, the months of fucking yourself with your small fingers were nothing compared to your husbands cock.

but nanami only said, "you can take it" whilst speeding up to an almost frantic pace. you felt like you were going to fucking break. but don't say you didn't ask for this. you exposed your most vulnerable self to your husband just days before, begging to be treated like this. so yeah, you asked for it. and he was only doing what his wife desired.

nanami began to question his sanity. he never cracked under pressure, no matter the circumstance, but he felt his once strong grasp on his self control now slipping through his fingers. yup. this felt almost too good to be real—like he was either high on the most potent drug or finally losing his damn mind. he couldn't recall the last time he'd ever felt like this—not even during all the other times you had sex. you just felt that good in this moment.

each thrust had you crying out and clenching around him tighter and tighter—reassuring you that this marriage could be saved, that your sex life was not dead forever. your mind was swimming in pleasure and pain, the head of his cock kissed your cervix so roughly yet so sweetly. you silently said your final goodbyes to the sweet, innocent, vanilla versions of yourselves, and welcomed this new beginning for your marriage. you wanted this version of nanami for the rest of your life.

he fisted a handful of your hair, quite literally pulling you out of your lustful haze. nanami wrapped the strands around his hand once, securing you in place—not that you had any intention of being anywhere else anyway.

"fuck- baby you feel so fucking good" he growled from behind you, his breaths slowing into heavier, raspier ones. push. pull. push. that's what this fucking felt like. your scalp ached from the strong pull on your hair and your pussy throbbed from how hard he fucked you. your bodies fused together, connecting with each of his slams inside of you.

"nngh k-kento gonna c-cum" you stuttered out. he had you so fucked out on his cock you were barely able to even think, let alone form a sentence. it was fucking pathetic.

"yeah- f-fuck come for me" his voice came out in a ragged breath and his erratic pace began to slow into a more languid, agonizing one. he couldn't help himself—he wanted, no— needed to feel every single muscle along your tight walls clench around his cock. nothing felt better than this.

a desperate cry ripped from your throat as your entire body tensed, the long built up pressure in your core finally snapping free. your breath hitched, and you surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation, finally unraveling around him. your walls clenched and throbbed, milking his cock with every pulsating wave of pleasure that coursed through your body.

"that's it, good girl" nanami purred behind you, feeling his cock throb deep inside you— the unmistakable sign of his climax finally reaching him. he went still, letting his cum spill out inside of you as he came down from his high. he gently untangled his hand from your hair letting your head drop back down onto the counter top.

your eyes were shut and your body was limp. there was no way that you’d be able to get up and walk around— at least not for a while. you felt your husband finally pull out of you, hearing him buckle his pants back up. warm hands met with your still trembling body, and he gently flipped you over, scooping your body up into his arms. not a single word would come out of you. you were fucking spent.

“my love” he whispered softly, placing you onto the plush bed of your shared bedroom. you looked up at him through half lidded, blurry eyes. “hm?” you hummed out, hoping that was enough of an answer for him.

“let’s take a bath” he said simply and you nodded in response. you could use a warm soothing bath right about now. he stalked into the bathroom and you heard the water turn on. he came out naked moments later, and picked you up off the bed, carrying your limp, exhausted body to the bathroom.

he lowered himself in, and you followed, sitting in between his thighs, his huge frame towering over you from behind. he pushed you lightly to sit up and you obeyed, tilting your head backwards to give him easier access to your hair. he began running his long fingers through the strands, untangling the little knots that resulted from his pulling earlier. you hummed lightly at the feeling, enjoying this small, sweet act of intimacy.

he moved his hands down to your shoulders momentarily, placing light, wet kisses on each one, and a few down the length of your back. “you did so good for me” he whispered sweetly, his gentle praise sending a rush of warmth through you.

god. you loved your husband. he was so caring and so tender, and moments like these made sure to remind you of that. you hoped you’d never have to experience another drought in your marriage like that again and you would do anything to make sure it stayed the way it was in this very moment.

“kento?” you spoke up softly, eyes still closed and head thrown back as he began to lather your hair with your vanilla scented shampoo. “yes my love?” he asked in response, waiting to hear what you mustered up all your remaining strength to say.

“i didn't finish baking the pie" you said, letting out a soft laugh. so much for being thoughtful.

he let out a deeply chuckle in return, recalling how adorable you looked, baking in a cute little white dress. he'd never eat his favorite pie again if it meant sex like that for the rest of his life.

he lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered "it's okay, i already had my favorite dessert"

a/n: holy shit if u made it this far thank you so much for reading. this ended up being wayyyyyy longer than i planned it to be but i had such a good time with this <3

[yeyinde]

also. Johnny is an accidental cockwarmer. he whines and goads you into letting him fuck you before bed every night because he cannae kip wi'oot fuckin' yer cunt. but it's always a bad decision because after rutting into like an animal, panting and groaning into your ear from being oversensitive and chafed (he'd fucked you three times already), when he does cum, he passes out. instantly. won't budge. won't wake.

and in the morning, when he does stir, well. why waste the opportunity, right? he's already buried inside of you, anyway.

Soap can't handle anything other than accidental cockwarming. he tries to have you keep him in your mouth while he watches a game, but ends up face-fucking you after a minute.

Gaz is a daddydom (without the daddy kink) and no one can convince me otherwise. but it's just about the caretaking. the affection. cradling you in his lap as he leans against the headboard, flipping through reruns of Golden Girls and spoon feeding you desert despite you protest because you're so full already, Gaz, you can't—

but of course you can. because Gaz wouldn't give you more than you can handle, right? he knows what's best for you. so sit pretty on his cock and be good for him, yeah?

(he might also be a lil bit of a mean!dom, too, but it's buried under so many layers of affection that you can barely notice it.)

Gaz, like Price, will keep himself inside of you any chance he gets.

and Simon is just mean. likes fucking you until you're oversensitive and raw and then stays tucked inside of you, tucking a smirk into your nape when you whine and squirm and beg him to just pull out already, it's too much.

he won't, of course. because he likes it when you cry yourself to sleep in a frazzled mess of overstimulation and sensitivity, still wrapped up nice and soft around his cock. likes fucking you through the night, too, while you whimper in your sleep, his come spilling out all over the sheets.

(fucking Simon is a razor's edge of pleasure and pain, and you better get used to the ache, the sting, because he's a big boy with an even bigger appetite and who wouldn't like having their little bird roosting on their lap?)

Simon is shoving you to your knees to keep him warm when the mood strikes him, which is usually whenever is most inconvenient to you.

[goddamnshinyrock]

The scene: new year’s morning, 8am, my wife and I wake up at my parents’ house after a night of revelry (playing board games until 10pm).

There is one minor problem this morning: no running water. This is a mysterious state of affairs, as 1) the power is still on and 2) there was running water the previous night. We brush our teeth with emergency bottled water as my father, extremely disgruntled by the lack of his usual morning shower, goes out to tinker with the well pump.

Shortly, my father comes back in, triumphant: good news, he’s fixed it, there was a wire with worn insulation on the pump and he snipped the worn end and re-attached it. There is water! Peace is restored.

15 minutes later, as we’re eating breakfast: no more water.

No problem, my father has a fresh theory as to the culprit: the new water filter/softener. My mother suggests they call the guy* who replaced their filter unit only six months ago, and pulls out her massive binder of household records to look for his number. My father** insists that he wants to “just take a look at it” first, since he’s “pretty sure” he knows what might be wrong with it. He vanishes into the basement.

There are a few minutes of minor swearing and banging noises as the rest of us discuss the situation upstairs, but the conversation is interrupted by a sudden FWOOOOOOSH from below us, as if someone has just turned on a fire hose in the basement. We all leap up and clatter down the steps, to be met with the sight of my father, soaked and defeated, standing in the middle of the room and staring at the geyser issuing from the general vicinity of the hot water heater and holding a small metal pin.

After a about 20 seconds, the roar of the geyser began to taper off and my father was able to explain, damply, the events that had lead to ‘basement geyser’. First, he’d determined the problem was indeed the new filter, and had (logically) begun trying to engineer a temporary fix by re-routing the house water supply to bypass it. He had accordingly turned off the valve leading from the well pump into the filter, and then went to open the valve that exited the filter to drain the unit. The filter valve was held shut by a twist cap with a pin. He pulled the pin, but didn’t get so far as twisting open the cap, because it had already shot across the room under the pressure of all the water currently in the house draining at once. Into his face. And thence onto the basement floor.

But, on the bright side he did solve the new year’s day water mystery, and even got his morning shower after all.

—

*Their Filter Guy is not a plumber. He was described as “the water filter whisperer”, a title which, after this incident, I am extremely skeptical of.

**Also not a plumber.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The JJK men want YOU to wear their jersey

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, college au, sports au, mostly fluff and/or crack, suggestive only on Toji’s (nasty bitch), itafushi makes an appearance

An: This has been heavy on my brain recently 🙂‍↕️ Also, I don’t know if this concept is only in like my area, but basically, the concept is that on game days, a common thing for highschool/college players to do is to wear their jersey to class, and their sweetheart wears their home/away jersey. it’s just a cute thing to show support. Another thing, I know Kamo is not Choso’s last name, and I know Sukuna is not Sukuna’s last name. Sukuna might not even be Sukuna’s name at all. idk and idc. this is a no curse au anyways so who cares! let me know if i should do more sports au :)

Incl - Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Toji, Sukuna

SATORU

Girls will literally hunt Satoru down to get his jersey from him, and if you were the lucky girl who got to wear the jersey of the star quarterback… you either became instantly popular, or every girl in the university wanted to kill you.

“I’m sorry, ladies. I already have someone in mind.” Satoru flashed a grin towards the crowd of girls surrounding his seat. Disappointed sighs and whines emitted from the group as they slowly dissipated from his desk.

Satoru couldn’t care less. They could be mad at him if they wanted to. They were no where near as special as the girl he had his eyes set on.

Class had yet to start, and Satoru was growing tired of just staring at the back of your head. He finally got up, and he slumped down in the chair next to you.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked with a bright smile. He hadn’t interacted with you much, but he always had his eye on you. You were the one of the few girls who didn’t dumb down their intelligence for him to make themselves more appealing.

“It’s not.” You replied shortly. You weren’t rude, just incredibly matter-of-fact.

“Wanna make a bet with me?” Satoru asked as he tried to catch your eyes from your book. He was really pining for your attention, and you wouldn’t pass him a second glance.

“Not really.” You replied, not looking up from your book.

“I bet the professor will be twenty minutes late.” Satoru went on anyways, not taking your rejection to heart.

“Hmm. Doubtful. He’s normally prompt.” You say finally looking up at Satoru, which causes him to flash an easy smile. He’s happy to have your attention — now he wants to keep it.

“If he isn’t here within the next twenty minutes, you have to wear my jersey today and every game day for the rest of the season. If he makes it here before twenty minutes is up, I’ll buy you as many books as you can carry.” Satoru proposes as he taps on your book with a cheeky grin.

You think for a moment… all the books you can carry?? “Deal.” You say with a smile, offering your hand to him to shake on it — thinking you just easily won yourself a free shopping spree. Satoru takes your hand, and he gently shakes it before bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

He’s already won.

Satoru knows that you’ll be wearing his jersey today, and you’ll wear his colors for the rest of the season. He’ll make more bets… win you over slowly with false bets. Oh, he’ll buy you all those books you want too just because he can.

He’s already set Geto in motion to go run into your professor with large cups of coffees in his hand. Your professor ended up cancelling class after being 25 minutes late.

When the group of girls sees you with “GOJO” written on the back of your jersey, their faces contort in utter disdain, but Satoru looks at it with a shit-eating grin on his face. He won.

SUGURU

Suguru really didn’t get the thing about giving a girl his jersey on game days. Basketball season is pretty ruthless. While football teams only have 12 games in a season, basketball teams play over 30. That’s 30 days in one season that he’d have to find a girl that he gave enough of a shit about to give his jersey to? No thanks.

Of course, if he had a girlfriend it wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but the whole attitude around giving a girl your jersey was just something Suguru didn’t subscribe to.

Well, he didn’t think he subscribed to it until he saw one of his teammates offering you their jersey.

Maybe on a more psychological level, this was territory marking, and Suguru would be damned if he sat back and let another man mark you as their territory.

Even though he’s not proud of it, Suguru immediately marched straight up to you and his teammate with his away jersey thrown over his shoulder. He placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, and he gave his teammate a piercing look with his violet eyes. His lips curled into an easy smirk.

“Sorry man, she’s already agreed to wear my jersey today, isn’t that right angel?” He asked in such a condescending tone, and his fingertips dig into your skin with just enough pressure to make your face flush.

Luckily for Suguru, you were into it — and not his teammate. “Yeah, sorry. I almost forgot.” You agree, giving his teammate an empathetic smile.

So no, Suguru doesn’t get the idea of giving his jersey to a girl on game days, but he does get the idea of giving you his jersey. He loves how he towers behind you in the halls, seeing the name “GETO” written on your back with his number. He loves remembering the way you easily went along with his plan. You just fit him.

NANAMI

Nanami doesn’t need antics to get you to wear his baseball jersey.

Plenty of girls pine for Kento. Who wouldn’t? He was the leading star of the baseball team… who’s ass just so happened to look so good in those white tight-fitting pants.

Your college certainly played into it, giving Nanami the big screen when he takes off his helmet and shakes out his messy blonde hair that a bit damp from sweat. His cheeks are smeared with his eye black smeared on his cheeks (the charcoal black lines that athletes sometimes have).

They knew what they were doing when the yearbook crew took professional level pictures of Nanami looking absolutely jaw-dropping while delivering the nastiest pitch.

He was like eye candy that enticed a bunch of girls to buy tickets to the baseball games, and dammit, it worked.

Despite his celebrity status at the school, Kento didn’t act above anyone else. He didn’t flaunt money or act posh and sophisticated like a lot of the wannabes did at your university.

He was down to earth, smart, caring, and humorous to the right group of people (the dry humor enjoyers). Kento was the type of man to be able to reject someone without them even feeling rejected, which he did a lot when girls would ask for his jersey.

You often came to baseball games to watch (to watch nanami lets bffr), but you weren’t bold enough to ask Kento for his jersey on game days. You had witness girls before you, pilgriming the way to Nanami before they turn back empty handed. You couldn’t risk the heartache.

It wasn’t until one day after class you and Kento were the only two still packing up after a lecture, he casually strolled to your desk. “Will you be at the game tonight?” He asked with a genuine air of curiosity to him. This wasn’t awkward forced conversation because you two were the only two people in a room together.

You hadn’t even known that Nanami noticed you, much less noticed your attendance at games. You could feel your heart start to thud obscenely loud in your chest as you came to terms that you’re not invisible in Kento’s life.

“Yeah, I think I’ll show up…” You try your hardest to sound casual, but you just sound terribly nervous.

“I’ll look forward to seeing you.” He said politely before he reached into his bag and pulled out his spare jersey. “Hopefully wearing this..?”

Your eyes widen as you realize he was offering his jersey to you. “That- are you sure? Me?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He gives an honest laugh. His multimillion dollar smile makes you swoon, and he hands his jersey out again. “You should put it on now. That’s the tradition, right?”

You slowly slip the jersey on over your long-sleeved white top, and it definitely hangs loosely on you, but with a few tucks and adjustments, it finally sits on your body appropriately.

“It looks good on you. I’ll see you tonight.” Kento smiles before leaving the classroom.

You had never gotten more shocked stares than when girls saw you with “NANAMI” printed across your back.

CHOSO

“Hey Yuji, why does Megumi wear your jersey on game days?” Choso asked his teammate as he sat down on the bench in the locker room.

He had seen quite a few people - guys and girls who weren’t on the basketball team wearing the jerseys of his teammates, but he didn’t understand it. He figured he’d ask the one teammate who he considered to be more of a brother to explain.

“Because I make him.” Yuji laughed as he dried his pink hair off from the shower. It was a pretty brutal practice, even Choso’s raven hair was down, messy from sweat.

Choso furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would you do that-? I thought you liked him.”

Yuji laughed even harder as Choso clearly didn’t understand the dynamic he had with Megumi. He also clearly didn’t understand the concept behind giving someone his jersey.

“I do like him, so I like seeing him wearing my jersey on game days. I think he looks good in it too, even if he pretends to hate it. I know he likes showing his support.” Yuji explained, but he went on, “People give their jerseys to someone they like. It’s like a courting gift, and it lets everyone know your intentions with that person.”

Choso nodded as he began to understand. He should give his jersey to someone he liked - to someone he wanted to court, and his intentions would be made known.

That’s how shy, timid Choso ended up at your dorm door late one evening. After much encouragement and convincing from Yuji, he finally gave your door a soft knock, and Yuji ran around the corner to hide.

When you opened the door, looking at Choso with those big pretty eyes, he completely clammed up and forgot the mental script he had prepared about how he really liked you, and it’d mean a lot to him if you wore his jersey.

Instead, “I want my intentions known.” He nearly shouted as he gestured his jersey to you.

Yuji facepalmed around the corner.

You blinked a few times, looking down at the jersey then back up to him. He was lucky that you’re very good at filling in the blanks. “You want me to wear your jersey, Cho?” You asked with a small laugh before taking the jersey from his hands.

His cheeks were flushed, and he gave you an awkward smile before nodding his head vigorously. “And uh.. I want to court you.” He finally added all in one breath.

To Choso’s delight, you agreed, and now, he finally understands the real reasoning behind giving his jersey to someone he likes because seeing “KAMO” on your back makes him feel all dizzy with love and adoration.

TOJI

It started off as a small prank amongst girls. A prank that really pissed Toji off. A group of girls decided it would be cute to steal Toji’s spare hockey jersey and wear it without his knowledge.

When Toji saw one of the girls wearing his stolen jersey with his appalling last name printed on the back, he was livid.

Needless to say, he got his jersey back, and the girl couldn’t even look him in the eye after that whole experience.

He hated his jersey. He hated how his last name was on the back, and he hated how anyone else would want to wear it.

He couldn’t just get rid of his spare jersey. Then, he’d owe the school even more than what he already owes them. He couldn’t trust to keep it in his dorm because he didn’t put it past those bitches to try to sneak into his dorm to get their filthy hands on it. That was when he had a genius idea.

“Wear my jersey.” His gruff voice demanded as he dropped the fabric on the table in front of you, his too responsible friend.

“No, it probably stinks.” You pushed the jersey aside, trying to focus on the homework in front of you.

“Nah. It smells like the last bitch who stole it.” He remarked as he plopped down in a chair in front of your desk.

“Even worse.” You respond back unamused, still not giving Toji the time of day.

“Do you remember who hunted down the fuck who stole your headphones?”

You sighed, finally looking up at Toji to show that you were paying attention. “Why do you think me wearing your jersey will deter them?”

“Maybe they’ll think you’re my girl and piss off for a while. I don’t know, but if I see another preppy bitch wearing it without my knowledge, I’m going to burn it.” Toji’s voice sounded stressed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And you don’t mind them thinking that?” You inquire, raising your eyebrow.

“Doll, you know I’ve spent the last three years trying to get you to hop on my-“

“Eughhh, give it.” You interrupt Toji before he can go into any further detail, snatching his jersey up and putting it on over your clothes. “There. Happy?”

Toji didn’t expect to have such a reaction to seeing you in his jersey. He knew he was serious about liking you, no matter how much you liked to believe that he didn’t actually like you, but seeing you in his jersey — the way it swallowed you whole. He figured he’d still hate seeing his last name on you, but there was something satiating those deep primal urges when he caught a glimpse of “ZENIN” across your back.

SUKUNA

Sukuna is much comparable to a dragon. He sees something pretty and shiny (you): he wants it all for himself. He wants to hoard treasure (you) to keep, and he definitely does not like the idea of anyone else looking or touching his treasure.

So, how does he keep wandering eyes off his treasure? He cloaks her in his favor, making her brandish his last name on her back along with his number. Yes, Sukuna demanded for you to wear his football jersey.

There was just enough satisfaction of seeing you walk around campus with “SUKUNA” written on your back that kept him from trying to hoard you in his room.

Oh, he’s also like a dragon in the sense that he’s absolutely devastating out on the field.