✦ Claude
What a cute bunny 🔞 ➤ Wilson, Vanta and Claude go to a special kind of club where all sorts of bunny girls work. They get to spend some special private time with you, their favourite bunny.
My handsome cleric 🔞 ➤ A request for the prompts "Off-collab shenanigans" and "friends with benefits" with Claude.
My favorite camgirl 🔞 ➤ A request for the prompt "My favourite camgirl" with Claude and Kaelix.
A Potion Of Courage ➤ You and Claude had been in love with each other for a little while now, but neither of you had the courage to talk about it. Until you spend a night drinking and watching movies.
You look kinda cute wearing that ➤ You felt insecure about your weight. You really wanted to wear your boyfriend's clothes. After some searching, you found something that fit, and it drove your boyfriend insane.
My sexy camgirl 🔞 ➤ A partial sequel with only Claude to the previous camgirl fic.
MY LITTLE FLOWER OMGGGG, GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET SO HARD. YOU COOKED SO GOOD WITH THIS ONE FLUSTERED CLAUDE IS MY EVERYTHING
ヽ(*´∀｀)八(´∀｀*)ノ
claude solves the word problem
okay this is the last one i swear. thank you all for the warm claude reception i really like writing for this guy
tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, teasing, butt slap, more pet name bullshit are you ready to rumble
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
a week later claude spent the night with you. you woke up alone on one side of the bed, blankets wrapped around you, which should’ve clued you in. you’re never this bundled up when you sleep alone. then you notice the steady drip of the coffee machine and the scent of espresso waft into your room, like a sensory trail to your boyfriend.
claude’s leaning against the kitchen counter. he’s visited so often lately that he left his own mug at your place for convenience, a gaudy green ceramic fish with a tail for a handle, just a few inches from his mouth. the steam floats around his face, warming his skin. it’s a surprisingly cold morning, even inside, and you’ve just realized you fell asleep in his baggy tee last night. that explains why he’s in sweatpants and not much else.
he can hear you approach in the quiet, crisp morning, and glances at you as you enter the kitchen. low in morning voice, you say, “good morning, boyfriend.”
“good morning, All-In-One,” claude says, significantly more awake than you.
“when are you going to drop that?”
“never.”
“okay, creampuff.” claude makes a face into his coffee as you call him that. over the last week you’ve learned that overly sweet nicknames shut him up. out of disgust, sure, but at least you have a reason to call him your sugar free gummy bear. besides, he’s fine with being ‘normal’ ones, like babe and honey and what have you, so you’ll happily take that compromise. “when did you wake up?”
“like thirty minutes ago.” he takes a sip of his coffee, sighs with quenched thirst, and grabs a mug for you once your coffee is done brewing.
you try to thank him but you yawn instead. you’re already out of bed, but it feels like you woke up earlier than usual, and claude’s shirt is so cozy…
he pats you on the head. the fingernails gently guide you over to him so he can press a kiss onto your forehead.
you blink up at him. he’s so casual about these things. steam rises around you, since he moved his coffee to make room for you, dissipating by his brow. “morning, flowery.”
“mm,” you say, too drowsy to really say what’s on your mind.
claude laughs anyways. it’s short but hearty. “oh shit, you’re so gone.”
the steam swings around in an arc. the fish mug clunks on the counter surface. and claude leans in, one hand still in your hair, the other on the hem of your shirt—his shirt—holding you close.
this isn’t an elegant kiss, he took you by surprise on this one. dark espresso and sweet milk lays on his lip. it’s too early for tongue, you’re too disheveled to open your mouth, but you raise your lips just right.
claude bumps his forehead against yours tenderly. his nails scratch at your head as he relaxes his arm and says, “i said good morning, little flower.”
“no, you said flowery,” you correct. unfortunately you’re awake enough to be sassy despite all the fluffy syrupy affection. maybe because claude himself is so casual, so teasing... “you’ve played undertale, right? you may as well call me...“
double unfortunately, a yawn sneaks up on you. you squeeze your eyes closed as you raise your hand to your mouth, letting out the yawn—
—which gets cut off once claude slaps your ass loud enough to interrupt your smartass comment. “i said good morning, HP OfficeJet Pro 8710 All-in-One Printer!” he barks. “we steer clear.”
Thank you for the claude x reader again i felt my soul cleansed by how cute it was!! Heart feels so full..... claude is so easily flustered....
claude figures it out
continuation to this post i just like writing flustered guys. thanks for the enablement
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
waiting for you to finish your laughing fit, claude holds a pillow close to his chest, despite having a perfectly good reader spooning him on the couch. his nose barely pokes up from the edge of the pillow. he settled on covering his face while he tried thinking of nicknames for you. it took about ten minutes of schmoopy out-of-character pet names to get to now. "can you hurry up and get it together already?" he blusters, squeezing the pillow tight.
you squeeze him in return now that your laughter is fading. "sorry, it's just..." you clear your throat. "really, none of these are working for you?"
"they're too corny." the edge of claude's lips rub against the pillow as he speaks. "i feel like i'm reading off Good Housekeeping's relationship advice."
"what, you don't want me to call you cuddlebug?"
"no, i don't." claude inches closer to you, unconsciously proving your point. you can't see the bottom half of his face with that pillow, but you just know he's pouting up a storm.
you stroke the side of his face, fingers tracing along his cheek and loose strands of hair. he leans into the touch despite his grumpy stare. with your other arm, you lower the pillow to over his tummy instead, and admire his slightly puffy cheeks, the plush of his lip, the blush blooming over his features. about time you got that pillow out of the way. he looks good in red.
you slightly shake your head in admiration. "you're as red as a flower."
"okay, well..." claude doesn't even bother finishing his protest. without the pillow to preserve the heat, he wraps his hands around your arm as he nuzzles you.
you end up with your arm as a makeshift stuffed animal for him. once claude gets comfortable you may as well have him in a loose headlock. a warm breath gleans across your arm as he speaks, low and contented, too shy to go louder than a whisper. "you got me slipping, flower," he admits as he buries his face into the crook of your elbow.
the next thing you hear is him inhale, then let out a muffled whine. it wavers, uncertain whether he's embarrassed or delighted.
you kiss him on the head because you may as well add to whatever emotion he's feeling. "is that how you see me, pretty boy?"
"oh my godddd."
"i'm your pretty little flower, huh?"
"i just called you flower," claude retorts, only to whine a few seconds later. "no, i didn't mean to—i mean, you're—you're putting words in my mouth."
you tilt his head back so you can meet his eye. poor guy looks like he's about to have a heart attack, but it's just too fun teasing him. he must be secretly enjoying it too. you brush his bangs back and leave another kiss on his forehead. "then say it again."
"little flower."
you have a wicked smile. "ah?"
claude realizes it too late. "you are so—" his words turn into squeaks as you attack him with kisses. "i'm never calling you that again!" he lies. "are you fucking serious right now, OfficeJet?!"
you poke claude's cheek. "c'mon, just try one, handsome," you purr.
your boyfriend makes a face, even though it's hard to look intimidating while he's squished up in your embrace as you spoon him. if anything, he's about as fearsome as a puppy with his head in your hands. "handsome," he declares.
you giggle. "without copying me, thank you."
"well, the fuck am i supposed to say?" claude gripes, still in your arms. despite the tinge of red around his ears he makes no move to get away. "it's hard. i don't get how to think of a nickname."
"it's just like a normal name. you call me my name all the time."
"that's because it's your name, duh!"
despite his protests, claude looks up at you. he squints, inspecting your face as if he hasn't memorized it already, analyzing between the lines like a grand secret will unveil itself to him.
"baby," he finally says.
he promptly slaps his hands over his eyes. "ahhh! no, no, no, that was ass. that was so ass."
that gets some more laughter out of you. "okay, so not baby. try again."
"hmmmm. sweet..." claude peeks out from between his fingers. the red's traveled from his ears to his cheeks. "...sweetheart."
"see, that wasn't so bad."
"yes it was. it feels weird coming out of my mouth."
"so maybe you need to think of something else."
claude spits, "well, what the fuck am i supposed to call you, HP OfficeJet Pro 8710 All-in-One Printer?!"
ft. kunai nakasato x f! reader — ttt, nijisanji en
╰₊✧ it’s for the better, but it doesn’t hurt any less┊1k words
contains: heavy angst!! breaking up, fighting, historical au where reader is from a wealthy family, mentioned homophobia & arranged marriages, probably ooc because kunai is really cheery and this is really heavy
➤ author's note: this shit is so ass
“must you leave?” the tears won’t stop falling, stinging your reddening eyes and rolling down your face in fat droplets. “kunai, please— why?” your words are short and breathy, bordering on hysterical wailing, unable to accept the news as you cling onto her arms.
she pulls away from your grasp, turning her back on you with a sigh, “don’t make this harder than it means to be.”
you can’t see her face when she’s facing the window, see if she’s silently weeping or could care less about breaking your heart so cruelly. “i don’t understand… why do you need to leave? i thought you loved me?” your entire body is violently trembling nonstop as your voice becomes higher in pitch, clutching your hands together and bringing them to your lips while sniffling. none of this feels real, a horrid nightmare you can’t break out of. “what about us? all the memories we shared… did it all mean nothing to you?”
kunai would always hold you when you’re upset, wrapping her arms around you, patting your head, resting your face in her chest, and consoling you as if you were a child who woke their mom after having a nightmare. she’s always a little silly while doing it, taking your mind off your sorrows and replacing them with laughter.
she doesn’t even so much as look at you this time. she seems so far away.
“listen… it just wouldn’t work out. we both know that deep down, we never had a future together to begin with.”
you were going to shout that it simply wasn’t true, but you bite your tongue knowing that it was. a vigilante hero who runs around wearing a mask while fighting crime and the daughter of one of the most influential dukes in the kingdom, it’s a surprise the stars aligned to allow this meeting to happen in the first place— a life-changing meeting that you’re beginning to wonder if it was even meant to happen.
“we could have found a way…” the strain in the statement made it clear you didn’t believe in it either, trying so desperately to inject some hope in such a hopeless situation.
she finally turned back to look at you. her beautiful green eyes, which usually sparkled like emeralds, were now duller than rock, devoid of emotion and impossible to read. “no, we couldn’t have. people won’t accept two women together, and you’re already arranged to marry someone else. we can’t keep sneaking around forever.”
“n-no, no… what if… w-what if we ran away together?”
“don’t be ridiculous.” the word stabs you in the heart. she always entertained your dreams before, no matter how fictitious. “we’ll both be hunted down by the king’s men…” she trails off, not needing to finish the sentence of how she’ll be executed for kidnapping a noble. “besides, you’re so used to the life where you’re fed on a silver spoon, could you even handle life on the road when you’ll have to become an outlaw and go hungry some nights?”
the truth hurts. this sheltered life you have been born into has given you soft hands that have never worked a day of their life and you don’t know the first thing about how to survive outside the manor walls.
“please, kunai, don’t leave me behind,” you cry. “you know i have no home here, i only have you. i would go through hell if it meant you would let me go with you!”
“i don’t want you to abandon everything you know for a life where your safety isn’t guaranteed,” she spoke sharply, shutting down your pleading in an instant. “we’re at a dead end here, i’m doing this for the both of us.”
you watch helplessly as she turns on her heel to leave.
there’s nothing you could do to stop her.
“could you at least… hug me for one last time?”
it feels so cold, the beginning of many more years of loneliness.
she doesn’t look back and puts her mask back on, as if it would block the new tears from flowing past the corners of her eyes. she knows she wouldn’t be able to let go if she did. it takes every last bit of restraint in her not to run back to you, kiss away the sadness she caused, and apologize, whisking you away with her on a journey of unpredictability and freedom.
it’s not that easy, she wants to keep you safe even if it means letting you go. you’ll forget about her eventually, it’s just the ending of another chapter of life. your tale shared isn’t a fairytale, but a tragedy
the wanted posters with her name stamped onto them eventually disappeared with her. you keep a few of them hidden in your room to look at every now and again, but the drawings don’t actually look like her since no one has ever seen her up close long enough to transcribe it from memory into sketches.
no one except for you, even if you’re starting to forget what her face looks like over the years. It's becoming difficult to remember which details are incorrect and have melded together to form the face of another woman who only vaguely resembles her. you don’t know the difference anymore.
there isn’t much time for you to think about what you lost when you now have children who need your attention and a husband who you can’t look at with half the love you did for her (he doesn’t know any better. he’s never seen you with that look in your eyes and never will).
you miss her just as much as the day she left, hoping no one hears you weeping late at night and wondering how she is. safe or at risk, in love with someone else or forever longing, dead or alive— you have no way of knowing. all you can do is hope that her skies are as sunny as the smile she used to give you.
technical guide and example scenario to kissing with a tongue piercing
this started as a shitpost style warmup/hc and then spiraled into a fic which spiraled into a style experiment. p much everything is deliberate except for the lowercase because i don’t believe in capitalization on my phone. now here’s a pretentious makeout scene where neither reader nor claude get the big 4k 120fps big picture at all
tags: gender neutral reader, pre-relationship, requited unrequited pining, oral fixation, making out, implied sexual/suggestive content, yeah i guess claude comes across as a sub here idk i didn’t really consider those dynamics much for this fic but if that means something to you then power to you
⚠ claude and reader jokingly call each other whores
⚠ implied piercing kink, hand/mouth play
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
reader: what’s it like to make out with a tongue piercing
claude: huh
good?? question??? he isn’t a prude but he doesn’t kiss and tell either. that shit stays locked up. he’s a private person no matter how much he likes the one asking questions. unfortunately
claude: why do you ask?
but he does like the person asking the questions. regret courses through him the second he says it aloud.
reader: just curious
reader: it’s just a stud so sometimes i forget you have one but when you’re kissing it’s hard to not notice isn’t it
claude: it could be
reader: can you stick your tongue out?
claude: [he does so]
regret! regret! regret! it’s turned to a flood washing over his thoughts. he chides himself. why are you so obedient, claude, why are you so eager to please, and for the love of god quit thinking like that before you get any ideas!
great. now there’s a nasty little thing called hope twisting through his brain and making it feel emptier than usual.
reader: i guess you’d have to be pretty into it to feel it
claude: [closes his mouth.] i guess
reader: so what’s it like?
reader: kissing, i mean
claude: that’s just your lips so it’s whatever
reader: no, dummy, i mean with tongue
claude: it’s just making out
claude: even i forget it’s there
reader: there’s no difference at all?
claude: woah woah woah woah i didn’t say that
reader: so you do notice it?
claude: well i don't but other people do
reader: is it good?
claude: i hope
claude: i mean
claude: well i don't think it's bad and no one's told me it's bad and i'm not bad [he thinks]
claude: so it's probably good. but i wouldn't know
reader: i should have guessed
claude: [a little.] yeah
claude: i mean
claude: yeah
he feels like he went outside in only boxers and got roped into an all-day affair. admitting things is already too much exposure. there’s so much he wants to say but it’ll take up all the space, ruin the mood. true feelings tend to come out clumsy according to claude.
the shred of hope lingers.
claude: i guess
claude: it’s smooth?
claude: because it’s so small?
claude: and the metal is just like that?
reader: [understanding, theorization]
claude: if it was a hoop it would be different
claude: but it’s not
claude: [unelegantly.] so it’s not
reader: i’m going to ask something stupid
claude: [gets a grip.] hey, i’m stupid
reader: no you aren’t
reader: i wonder what it feels like
claude: is this the question
reader: now it is
reader: can i try?
claude: getting a tongue piercing?
reader: no, kissing you
claude: [a brief sound]
claude: me?
reader: yeah
reader: i want to know how it feels
reader: i won’t be weird i promise
reader: and if not that’s cool
reader: i shouldn’t have brought it up i don’t want to make you feel weird or anything
reader: but i’m
reader: really curious
this is a bad time for his mouth to go dry. claude presses his lips together, only to pry them apart after remembering your request. he needs a swift bonk to the head. cold shower. 50,000 years of solitude. fuck he needs to stop thinking about this.
or keep thinking about this. it’s the best chance he’s got. it hurts his heart thinking about it. it’s indulgence. he can’t let himself pretend but he can’t let go of it either
claude: how are we doing this
reader: i guess we could try kissing first
claude: like frenching or
reader: lips first?
claude: oh right right
aaaaaaaaaa.
he feels giddy and heartbroken. and anxious. and it’s over before he really figured it out
claude: wait
why are lips so malleable? why do the tiniest presses make him feel so? so? giddy-heartbroken-anxious-dirty. this is out of order. friends don’t kiss friends with tension like this. but they are now.
reader: we forgot about the piercing
claude: right
reader: i guess that was a warmup. ha-ha
claude: yeah
claude: here goes nothing
reader: you’re such a dork—
he knows. he could always use the reminder. not now though. instead he refamiliarizes himself with lip on lip, slightly ajar, then rising. a gap between for hot breath to escape. the air grazes the slope of his cheek.
reader: mmh—
anxiety and dirtiness outweigh the other two, and the latter more than the former. he’s kissed before. reader has too. it doesn’t have to mean anything. it doesn’t have to mean anything. he repeats the thought but the message gets lost along the way.
claude: —.
reader nips so claude opens more. predictably so. and traitorously fervent. doesn’t mean nothing. his heart begs for some honesty but he can’t speak, mouth’s a little busy at the moment, not a great time to talk about feelings and whatever. he’d like to but, you know, clumsy words
clumsy tongues
the one over the bite, he means; warmth follows the lick at the tip of your tongue and down his throat and straight to his belly
claude:
you make yourself right at home. the breath is interrupted before it grazes his cheek because your hands rest there instead. claude follows your movements, shadowing as you explore, marking the depths before lulling at the entrance
reader: stay still
claude:
reader:
dammit, obedience, like a subservient dog. trembling like one while reader reenters. he nearly forgot the whole reason they were doing this until it prodded at the soft tip of his tongue.
claude: []
he’d nearly ignored the instruction. he tries not to think of it as a command, not while you trail up his tongue. little swirls that set him at ease and on fire. down onto the central. the answer at the top of the stud.
do NOT hit teeth, claude clawmark. do not hit teeth. he knows how it’s done but it’s so over if he messes up with you. fuck, this is wrong. you can’t be this hot and claude is so going to hell after this.
the metal preserves body heat but it tends to feel cooler to unfamiliar tongues. it’s important to be gentle with this. he licks low and languid, beginning a rhythm. simple circles. shouldn’t be difficult for you to predict the bead. god. what is his life
his laps are simple enough to pick up on. you lay your tongue on his in different positions to feel the stud. at this point claude’s done trying to analyze. his notes are minimal: sometimes you’re flat on his and that’s a strange feeling. the tip seems to have no effect on you, but it hits the space usually glossed over because of the metal so that’s exciting. when you press the sensitive side to the stud, you twitch back, and claude’s urge to chase rears its head.
reader: .
the challenge is taken. and now that the rhythm’s established claude speeds up. the sensation helps filter out the thought that this is an error. not on your part, of course, you’re just curious. that’s exactly why he should have denied: this is never going to happen again and he’s never going to admit how tragic that is.
but you nudge the piercing more, and the pressure makes his heart lurch.
he tilts your chin to his in a moment of surrender.
you play him like a damn instrument. his throat is full of lava boiling over with your touch, each hungrier than the last. the shivers just give you more openings to eat him up
claude: [needs to breathe.] hold on
reader: nngh?
claude: gotta
claude: gotta breathe
claude: christ,
claude: you’re shameless
reader: [between kisses at the corner of claude’s mouth.] yeah, i’m the whore here,
reader: said the guy with a tongue piercing
claude: hey since when are tongue piercings a whore thing
reader: since you kissed me like one
he’d been extremely polite, what the hell. at least, polite compared to what he really wants. still. you’re the one kissing me even when we aren’t using tongue, he thinks. the emotion behind it is unrecognizable.
yet you hum with muffled laughter as you kiss him. for not the first time it registers that he likes making you smile, even at his expense
he likes you but that’s never been a revelation.
and he quite likes how this feels when he tells his conscience to shut the hell up already. he takes your hand
reader: [with curiosity. you'd call it unrecognizable too]
thoughtlessly he holds it to his lips
claude: this is what it feels like when you touch it
the piercing, indeed, feels smooth on your fingertips as it rolls by the pads. his tongue lingers not far behind. those fingers twitch at the blend of tongue and lip; one of them sweetly curls at the stud. it’s always been easy to forget that the piercing is there but especially now as the plush of his lips closes. open-mouthed kisses become closed, leaving the true motions of his tongue—and the piercing, and the finger coiled beside it—they're obscured.
tags: gender neutral reader, pre-relationship, significant lack of claude in the claude x reader fic, au where everything is the same but nijisanji en is just a giant smoke circle, weed as described by someone that doesn’t do weed, other liver mentions
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The air goes rich with cocoa as Shu skims the surface of the bowl. Ribbons of instant brownie batter unfurl from the mixing spatula as he raises it, then slaps the surface of the bowl again.
His phone rests on the counter. No matter how hard he wills it the screen remains blank with zero notifications. How long does it take to meet up with your plug, anyway?
Still, there’s not much else he can do while he waits for you to return. Folding the batter would be fun, but you told him over-mixing is a one-way ticket to tough brownies, so that has to wait. Especially since he hasn’t added the chocolate chips yet. The best brownies have an obscene chip-batter ratio but that requires folding, so… waiting.
In a rare moment of impatience Shu stabs the spatula into the batter and picks up his phone, just as the door clicks open.
“Got it?” He asks as you step inside, noticeably sans weed. “You got it, right?” He repeats even though he thinks he knows the answer and your empty hands confirm it.
You bitterly shovel a handful of chocolate chips in your mouth. “He’s not selling.”
“But Finana just bought from him the other day.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not Finana.”
Shu peers at you. When you invited him over to take the piss out of a crappy movie you were in a good mood, but now your eyes were pointed and narrow. Not to mention they weren’t red at all, which was going to be a problem. Sober commentary is fine, but zooted commentary goes way harder.
You flicked on your phone, unaware of Shu’s observations. “You think I could I.O.U. Feesh for some of her stash right now?”
“She’s out of town.”
“Fuck, you’re right.” You grimaced at the screen, then met his eye. “Hey, you wanna see something stupid?”
“Yeah?”
Without a word, you handed your phone to Shu. He took it gingerly and held it to his face. “From Claude: Find another weed guy I can’t [frick] with you?” Shu glanced back at you with all the understanding of a gerbil lost in a quantum physics seminar. You gestured for him to go on. “Uhhhhmm nothing personal, I can’t—“
Shu’s jaw dropped as he scrolled down. “—I can’t fall in love right now?!”
“It gets worse,” you said.
“You’re Everthing (with a big E and no y, huh) I love so if I ever see you again I’ll never let go of your hand sooo yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“Woa,” Shu said.
“So no weed.”
“Infinite weed glitch.”
“No, I just said he’s done selling to me.”
“Reader, he’s asking you out,” Shu said. “So if you stay together you have access to like his entire stash.”
You furrowed your brow. “I know he’s your friend, Shu, but are you seriously telling me to take advantage of him ‘cause he’s a dealer?”
Shu didn’t say anything.
“You’re an awful liar.”
When caught in a lie Shu always reacts childishly, a far cry from his usual laidback attitude. Guilt paints his face. “Okay, maybe he’s trying his best and doesn’t know what to do!” He cries. “This is the guy that routinely says he’s afraid of women, of course he doesn’t know how to ask anyone out!”
“He does that?” You bury your face in your hands. Surely you’re turning a deeper shade of red, too. “Oh, no. We’re both clueless.”
You slump down into the couch and groan for a while. Shu follows, brownies forgotten in favor of patting you on the back and occasionally, awkwardly giggling.
“It’s not that bad. You can get to know each other,” he tries. “I guess you’ve talked with him a little but not enough to be a friend instead of weed guy? So you could, uh, try being friends?”
“Shu, he professed his love to me and I don’t even know his last name.”
“Clawmark.” He rethought what you said. “He’s really bad with romance.”
You groan some more. Shu pats you on the back again, albeit even more awkwardly.
“You knew he liked me, didn’t you?”
He hesitated, but mustered up the words before you could call him out on it again. He sheepishly laughs. “I didn’t not know… he wanted to talk to you more.”
“Wait, did he keep cutting me deals because he liked me? I thought it was because I was a regular!”
“He gives you deals?”
“Yes?”
Shu buries his head in his hands just like you. “I didn’t realize he had it that bad.”
You both sit on the couch, unaware of how identical you look, until Shu grips your sleeve. “You don’t have to be cool with it, and he won’t be weird if you aren’t cool.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t cool.”
“Oh.”
“He’s kind of cute.”
“Okay.”
“In a lost dog type of way.”
“Huh.”
You exhale as you rub your fingers through your hair. “You have to tell me if I’m about to make an awful decision in my dating life.”
“I don’t think it’s bad, no.” Shu giggles again, but this time relief colors his words. “He’s a good guy but you should think about it before telling him anything.”
You set your phone on the table, lean back into the couch, and stare into the ceiling with laser vision. “Great. Now I need to get high and we don’t even have weed for the weed brownies.”
Shu sighs, resigned. He picks up his own phone. “I’ll go ask for Kunai’s prices.”
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi ✧. ┊ sorry i can only find this meme on ifunny
