#so you get a palate cleanser instead

[dollysilena]

IMPERFECT FOR YOU (18+)

you, doing a friend a favor, have to tutor miya osamu. but instead of learning about chemistry, he’s more interested in learning about you.

WC: 5.8k (send an ambulance)

WARNINGS: explicit drug (marijuana) usage, dubcon (sex under the influence), mentions of female anatomy and female identifying reader, use of ‘baby’ as petname, this is severely under-edited i’m so sorry

TAGS: frat/popular!osamu x nerdy/unpopular!reader, f!reader, porn with (some) plot, college au, post-timeskip, smut, hair-pulling, cunnilingus, petnames, reader has anxiety somebody pls give her a hug, if you get a magnifying glass osamu has a corruption kink

NOTE: i needed a palate cleanser so i can get back into writing so thus this was born. i intend to make this a mini-series (maybe?) or maybe just blurbs/headcanon series, who knows! let me know what you guys want <3

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon,” Your friend whines, folding her hands together in mock begging, giving you the best puppy eyes she could muster even throwing in a quivering lip for her dramatic performance. “He’s a perfectly nice guy!”

“So what you’re telling me, this guy–” You begin, dumping a sugar packet into your coffee.

“Who I’m tutoring.”

“Right. The guy you tutor, who never comes to class–”

You stir your coffee. She nervously chuckles.

“Who is on the verge of failing–”

You stab your straw into the cup. She lets out a tense ‘mhm’.

“And needs to pass this final to avoid being on academic probation–”

You raise the straw to your mouth. She nervously fiddles with her fingers.

“... Needs to be tutored by me instead?”

You take a sip of your coffee as your friend shrinks into the booth seat. 

“Well, you didn’t have to put it like that,” she grumbles through a slurp of her drink.

You should have known that when your best friend offered to take you out to your favorite cafe, on her, she was up to something. And you knew that when she bought you your favorite muffin, she was going to be asking you something ridiculous. The last time you were offered a free muffin, you ended up having to pretend to her parents that you were dying in the emergency room so that she could sneak out to her hookup’s place. 

The plan almost worked until they came to visit you out of concern, only to find you both not there. She was grounded for another two months.

You turn to her.

“And why can’t you do it?” Your friend was supposed to be the one tutoring him, so you were confused about why it suddenly had to be you instead.

“Because,” She grumbles as if it were obvious. “I’m already busy trying to pass my own exams, that stupid research paper for Professor Takeda is driving me crazy, babysitting my piece of shit brother–”

Translation: I’m in over my head.

“Besides, everyone knows you’re a genius and you’ll pass no matter what, so why not take on a charity case in your free time, huh?” 

She grins at you, not bothering to hide her obvious attempt at fluffing your ego to convince you.

“Does this guy even have a shot at passing?” You sigh, taking a sip of your latte. “I mean, if he doesn’t bother to come to class, how much effort do you think he’s gonna put–”

“He’s a smart guy, trust me! It’s just… y’know how college is.”

Right, he’s a college guy. He was probably knee-deep in parties instead of his textbooks.

“Why’s it on you to let this guy pass? I mean, it’s not your problem–”

“Well, his brother sorta said if I’d help him, I’d be invited to all the frat parties on campus this semester…” There it is.

She trails off but still stares at you with pleading eyes, and you notice her sliding her muffin towards you.

“You’re not gonna let up on this, are you?” You ask as you inspect the blueberry-crusted pastry now on your plate. 

“Nope,” she replies, popping the ‘p’ and grinning with her coffee straw dangling in her mouth. “Does it help that he’s super cute?”

You sigh again and pinch your nose bridge. She takes your lack of response as a victory.

“Great! I already told him that you’d come by tonight. I’ll send you his address and phone number–”

“You told him I was coming before you even knew I’d agree?!”

“Well, what else were you gonna do tonight? And don’t tell me you’re gonna watch that shitty soap opera again.”

Again, you don’t have an answer. Maybe because she’s already said it for you. But it’s not shitty! It’s romantic, moving, thrilling– okay, yeah, you’re starting to hear yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t stay in tonight.

“Fine, where does he live?”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

At no point did your friend mention to you that the address she was sending you to would be a frat house.

You thought it was odd that the address was in the dead center of campus– but you figured that whoever you were tutoring happened to get an apartment with a great location. It should’ve been obvious to you that this area would be Greek life housing when you realize all the houses on the block were way too nice to be afforded by a typical college student. You have never stepped foot on this end of campus. Well, you hadn’t, until now.

You should’ve stayed home, nose-deep in the romance novel weighing down in your bag. But now, you’re standing on the front porch of one of the most popular frat’s on campus.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you sneer into the phone pressed to your ear.

“Quit your yapping! It’s not like there’s a party going on or something.” You could practically see your friend rolling her eyes through the phone.

You anxiously dart your eyes throughout the house exterior. It’s massive, obviously well-funded based on how nearly every window seems to be polished, and definitely better than the shitty dorm you lived in a few blocks away. You couldn’t help but dread imagining how many frat brothers lived inside.

“I’m gonna leave–”

“Hey brat, put that down!” She screeches to presumably her younger brother on the other end of the line. “Ugh, gotta go. Have fun!”

“Wait!--”

She already ends the call before you can say anything else, and you fume at her contact information staring back at you. Seriously, if somebody axe-murdered you here, you’d make sure to haunt your friend for the rest of her life.

You weigh your decisions– a part of you wants to bolt back to your dorm, imagining the comfortable blanket and pillow resting on your bed practically awaiting your return, or you could not chicken out and actually fulfill the promise you made to your friend.

Damnit, you knew you had to pick the latter. You’d feel really shitty if you didn’t.

Besides, you’d never hear the end of it if you ran out with your tail between your legs.

You ready yourself to knock on the door, admittedly through a few deep breaths first, and as your fist is about to meet the wood of the door, it swings open from the inside. Had you been a second quicker, you probably would have tapped your tutee in the face.

Except, now that you’re looking at him, he’s quite tall. It would be more at his chest than anything. His broad chest was covered in a tight black shirt, with strong shoulders… In fact, you couldn’t even see his face if you were simply staring forward. 

“Ya the tutor?” He states simply, breaking your train of thought.

You look at him to notice that there’s a face attached to the chest you were staring at. You look up, and dammit, your friend was right. He was super cute.

His hair is dark, with heavy gray eyes– bored and lazily staring at you, dumbfounded on his doorstep There’s a series of tattoos snaking beneath his shirt and piercings you couldn’t even begin to count– you nearly forget that you have to respond.

“Uhm– yeah, that’s me,” you reply, trying to regain your mental footing. “You’re Osamu, right?” 

“Mhm, come on in,” he says, sticking his hands into loose gray sweatpants…. You should really stop staring. Or at least pretend you have a semblance of class.

You step inside and slip off your shoes as you briefly inspect your surroundings. The frat house is above all else, what you expected. Minus for the fact it actually seemed clean despite the typical frat stereotypes you heard– though, you’re sure their cushy funding got them cleaning services. There’s no way a bunch of college guys living together could keep a big house like this clean without some help.

However, that makes you take note that there is a lack of frat brothers in the frat house.

“Are ya just gonna stand there and stare or come inside?” Osamu remarks and your spine grows twice as stiff. You nod quickly and follow him inside and he leads you to what seems like a living room area– some couches and chairs around a TV and coffee table.

Osamu gestures for you to sit and you cautiously sit down, as if the couch had a trap door, leading you to fall into whatever scary basement sat beneath the house.

“Where’s–” You clear your throat, hoping you can keep a firm voice. “-- the rest of your brothers?”

“All of ‘em left on a trip for the weekend, somethin’ ‘bout a party at another school, but I gotta stay back and study for this damn final.”

You quickly pull out the textbooks and notebooks from your bag and place them on the table to ignore Osamu, who takes a seat beside you. He makes you unbearably nervous like you’re about to drop on a rollercoaster. But Osamu is… He’s… stoic? No, that’s not right. Maybe calm was the right word. You wouldn’t know– you’re anything but calm right now.

No, because, quite frankly Osamu looks like he was plucked straight out of one of the daydream sequences you fall asleep to. And you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest from how fast it was racing.

“So, you need help with medicinal chemistry?” You notice your voice is an octave higher than what it usually is.

“Yeah, I missed too many classes and now I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Whatever you do, do not look at the way his arms are flexing or the distinctive veins charting throughout his forearms.

“We can start–” you flipped through your textbook to avoid staring at his arms any longer, “with the chapter on structure-based relationships–”

“Yer not who I thought Yuki would send.”

“I’m sorry?” You sputter back, and you think that your glasses pivot off your face. You were taken aback, did he think you were somebody else? Was he expecting someone else or?--

“She’s one of my brother’s friends. And my brother… Well, I don’t think ya would hang out with the likes of him.”

Oh, that’s what it was.

He was disappointed that you weren’t… someone more interesting, like your friend, or the people he knew in his frat, or…

It doesn’t matter. You should’ve expected this. After all, you’re just the tutor he has to tolerate for a few lessons until he passes his final. 

But still, you feel some sort of rejection. You couldn’t blame him, his Friday night was being wasted on some nerd who couldn’t even look him properly in the eye because she wasn’t used to being near cute guys, let alone one of the most attractive guys she had seen in, well, ever.

“Don’t look like that, I think that’s a good thing.”

“I look like what?” Your hand flies to your face, instinctively going to hide it.

“Like I kicked yer puppy,” he muses. 

You look back at him, and you see that he’s almost amused by your nerves. Your cheeks burn and you feel the need to wrap the cardigan you had on tighter around you, as if the wooly cotton would act as some sort of shield. But Osamu’s still right beside you, and you feel as if he’s intercepting some sort of barrier between you. But he sits still next to you.

“I like it, ya seem chill, and better than the damn morons I’m always ‘round. Yer a nice change of pace.”

A nice change of pace? You didn’t think that anyone would find your company… enjoyable.

“Please,” you laugh. The idea of you being chill momentarily makes you forget about your nerves. If only Osamu knew half the thoughts racing through your mind. “I’m a goody-two-shoes, and definitely not chill.”

“What, ya a good girl or somethin’?” 

You falter. You glance back at him and notice that his eyes still haven’t left you.

“What?” You say, but it comes out more like a squeak. You’re not dumb, you could hear the indication ever so slightly tinged in his voice.

“Ya just interest me, I guess. Wanna know ‘bout ya.” You hear slight amusement in his tone. 

“So tell me, what makes you a goody two shoes?”

“I, uhm–” You barely are processing an answer with the way his dark-rimmed eyes bore at you. “Well, I haven’t ever smoked–”

“Weed or–?”

You shake your head. “Neither.”

“Ya drink?”

“Sometimes. Not often. I don’t go to parties or anything like that, and drinking alone is kinda depressing so–”

He snorts. You aren’t sure why you were answering his sudden questions, you were just here to tutor him in chemical structures. But something about his presence beside you is commanding and you feel the need to comply.

“Maybe we can change that sometime.”

You barely compute what he just said before he turns to the textbook in front of you.

“So what’s this ‘bout structure activity?”

Osamu’s smarter than what you expect for a student possibly facing academic probation. Honestly, you question if he had ever needed you in the first place. He’s quick to pick up on the topics you lay out, and he probably could have self-taught himself most of the material if he applied himself. 

Or showed up to class, but you keep that thought to yourself.

“That’s pretty much all of chapter five,” you say, closing the textbook in front of you.

“I honestly think if you just kept studying on your own, you don’t need me to tutor you, I can send you some videos too if you’d like, but I think that you’re fine–”

“Nah, I’d prefer if ya came over.”

He says it simply in a lazy drawl. But for you, it sends your brain into overdrive. You feel like a computer whose code has an error but keeps trying to run its system. 

“Oh– Alright– I can come around sometime next week then.” You barely maintain to keep your composure. You just needed to be on auto-pilot until you got home, where you could properly freak out in the sanctity of your own room.

“Ya okay with late nights? Stupid frat schedule keeps me busier than I’d like to be.” He asks.

You nod your head. “Mhm, I’m fine being over late.”

“That too much for ya?” And there’s a lazy smile across his lips. “Ya got a bedtime or something?”

You give him another small laugh. “No, I usually stay up late anyway.”

“Ya stay up late? Doin’ what?” 

There it is again. That sliver of amusement in his tone, as if he knows something that you don’t. But he keeps his calm demeanor, the one that makes you question if you’re just reading too much into things.

“Reading, watching shows, y’know, the normal stuff.”

Reading the stack of romance novels piled in your dorm until you see the sun peak through your blinds, watching soap operas until the screen asks ‘Are you still watching?’ because they assumed you left it open when in reality you’ve watched about five hours worth of television, dreaming, and wondering if someday you could attain even a fraction of the romance you see in fiction.

Yeah, the normal stuff.

At least for you, anyway. But hell would freeze over before you admit that. 

Especially to Osamu, who you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of a flutter in your chest for.

“That’s all ya got planned for Friday night?” He hums, fingers absentmindedly twirling a pencil in his free hand.

“Yup,” you reply, softly. Great, now he probably thinks you’re a loser just like everyone else. You should have just told him you were going to head to a party, like any other normal college student your age.

“Ya wanna do somethin’ with me, then? I’m bored as hell being in this house all alone.”

For a moment, you think that you hear him wrong. Certainly, a guy, as hot, as intimidating, and– and so many things you’re not, and certainly couldn’t match to, was offering to hang out with you. No way, this doesn’t happen. Not to girls like you.

“You wanna hang out with me? Like right now?”

“Would ya prefer a different time, then?” His tone though, doesn’t suggest that he wants to reschedule. It’s painfully sardonic. It seems like it would be now, or not at all.

“N-no. I’d…”

For once, you have a chance to not have a nose in a book. To not spend your weekend alone wondering if that was going to be the rest of your college life. You have the chance to do something for yourself. 

And something as simple as hanging out with a cute guy on a Friday night could be the start of that.

You sit up straighter and hold your head up. Something is tickling in your chest as you look back at Osamu, finally meeting back those eyes that couldn’t seem to stop studying you.

“Yeah, I’d like to.”

Something is screaming inside you. This is unfamiliar territory. This is foreign. Leave now. Abort mission. But you shove it down, you weren’t stopping while you were already ahead. New is good, you told yourself. But you still feel the urge to bolt out the door to cower under your covers.

You had put all your school supplies back into your bag and nestled yourself into the corner of the couch, making yourself as small as can be. Osamu said you two could ‘watch a movie and chill’. You could do something as simple as a movie, right? 

“Ya comfy?” He asks.

“Yeah, thank you,” you say quietly, as if speaking up would take up more space in the room.

“I can tell that yer nervous,” he comments. It was that obvious, huh?

“Yeah, I don’t…” you pause to collect yourself, “usually do this.”

“Hang out with guys only after a few hours of meeting ‘em?” He laughs, relaxing himself on the couch.

“Hang out with guys,” you mutter under your breath.

“What’d ya say?” He says, looking over at you questioningly. It seems he heard you.

“I don’t hang out with guys, at all,” you replied, tone clearer now, “much less cute ones–”

Shit, shit, shit. You didn’t mean to say the last part.

“Ya think I’m cute?”

You wondered if you sank deeper into the couch, that’d you’d disappear completely.

“I mean, yeah– you’re attractive, of course.” He has to know that, right? A guy like him definitely knows he’s attractive. “And usually… guys like you don’t hang out with… people like me, that’s all.”

You’re not sure where the sudden gust of courage comes from, considering you were so anxious moments ago– but the question spills out from your mouth before you can think twice about it.

“Why’d you want me to hang out with you?” You ask suddenly, turning to him.

“Maybe ‘cause I think yer cute,” he states simply as if it were an easy answer, leaning back and looking back at the TV.

You haven’t been paying attention to whatever movie Osamu turned on– What was this? Some slasher flick?-- Something with a girl shrieking at the top of her lungs while obviously fake blood pours out of her. It’s ridiculous and you would laugh if there wasn’t a weight weighing on your mind– the weight is also sitting right next to you.

No, you can’t notice the terrible special effects when you know Osmau is beside you– warm and taking up the majority of the space on the already small couch you’re both sitting on.

You can’t help but have your brain go into overdrive over what Osamu said. Did he just call you cute and then drop the topic? What were you supposed to do? Just watch the movie and just not address it? Is this what guys did? Is that how you flirt?-- you have a lack of answers. Mostly due to a lack of experience.

You spend the first thirty minutes of the movie wondering if you were just imagining Osamu slowly inching towards your half of the couch. By the time the first half of the movie is through and the killer is on his third victim, you decide you’re right when you realize that Osamu’s thigh is ghosting yours.

Now you really can’t deny it. 

A part of you thinks Osamu wants to be closer to you. 

But also, he could just be doing it subconsciously.

It’s probably the latter, but maybe…

“I can hear yer heartbeat from here,” Osamu practically chuckles from beside you.

“What?”

You try not to stammer it. You fail, anyway.

“I can tell that yer nervous, relax. I don’t bite.”

No, you’re certain that Osamu doesn’t bite. But you know that he’s close to you. Which could be worse. In fact, that is worse.

It’s worse because your senses are going haywire from how close he is.

You can tell he smells good. He smells better than whatever cologne sample you’ve ever smelled in a store or magazine. He smells like– what’s the term? Musky? Woody? You aren’t sure, you just know it’s slowly becoming your favorite scent.

You can feel his body heat, warm and consuming. You can hear his breaths– low and steady. You focus on all these other things to ignore the fact he’s boring his dark eyes straight into you.

“I got something for ya,” Osamu suddenly remarks. “Stay right there.”

You barely process what he says before he removes himself from the couch, and heads out of the living room.

Your brain isn’t able to overanalyze like it usually does because Osamu is back in about a minute. Your defenses are still up. What could he possibly have for you? Your mind is sprawling with questions as Osamu plops himself right back beside you.

“C’mere, this should help yer nerves,” Osamu hums, as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

You don’t ignore the way you feel his hands skimming over the sliver of exposed skin between your sweater and jeans, like hot coals brushing against you.

 “Ya never smoked before, right?”

“No, I’ve never…” You realize that what he was holding in between his fingers was a freshly rolled blunt.

“Would ya like to try?”

You couldn’t lie, you’ve always been curious to try, especially since your friends were always talking about how ‘amazing’ it made them feel and how it would do wonders for your nerves. 

You look at the blunt between his fingers cautiously and peek back at him.

“It’ll be okay, I got ya, nothing to worry yer pretty little head about.” 

Pretty. Did he call you pretty? He has you?-- Fuck it, you needed something to put out the fires of your nerves.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you nod meekly.

“Attagirl,” Osamu grinned lazily. You don’t even bother to think about that comment, either. If you did, you’d be dead in a minute.

You watch as Osamu digs around the coffee table for a lighter, which is conveniently laid out on the table, as if ready for this moment. You watch as he flicks a flame to the blunt. He languidly takes a hit, and the smoke that hits the air is pungent. You’re glad there’s a window cracked open so the smell doesn’t collect in the room. 

You should be studying his motions to mimic them for when it's your turn, but instead, you drink in the fact that he looks oh so fucking attractive. 

He leans back on the couch, and you watch the way he tips his head back to blow out the smoke into the air above. You study the way veins flow through his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he exhales. You feel– fuzzy, warm. Are you high already? There’s a heat creeping from your chest, and you think you feel dizzy.

Yeah, you’re high. Totally. That has to be it.

When Osamu takes a look back at you, you avert your stare to your lap– reminding yourself that you’re acting odd. Cool girls don’t gawk at a guy smoking a blunt, they would– Well, you have no idea what they would do actually because you’re not cool.

And that’s obvious from the way you look at the blunt in Osamu’s hand like he’s handing you an unpinned grenade.

Osamu clocks in on the terror painted on your face. It’s so obvious somebody ten miles away could probably sense the nerves emitting from your body. You’re hoping you aren’t giving the deer-in-headlights look you usually have.

But you definitely are.

Osamu’s face softens at you.

“Do ya still wanna try? Ya don’t have to if ya don’t wanna–”

“Nono! I wanna try it.” you nearly jump at Osamu’s words. You’re a lot of things– nervous, nerdy, probably weird if you asked the guy who sat next to you in chemistry, but maybe that’s because he’s seen you write in three separate color-coded planners before. 

“Alright,” Osamu chuckles as he watches you take the packed roll from him.

But you’re not a quitter.

There’s a sudden adrenaline rush for you, almost like you’re taking a shot of tequila. You pinch the blunt and raise it to your lips before taking a hit– your very first.

You make sure not to inhale much. You’re already on the verge of coughing from the taste alone. You pull it away, letting out a meek cough, as smoke expels from your mouth. It tastes shitty and gross, like you expected. But you feel good? 

“Not bad,” Osamu muses, and you realize he was watching you the entire time.

Osamu looks at you. He’s been looking at you a lot tonight, you realize.

But that doesn’t mean anything.

“I have no idea how you don’t cough,” you say, as you pass the blunt back to him. 

“Taste bad?” He grins lazily. His arm is still around your waist. It feels good, too.

“Horrible.” It doesn’t stop you from inhaling more of the sour smoke.

“Look at ya,” Osamu chuckles. “Like it, don’t ya?”

You’re making Osamu smile, laugh even. And it makes your head spin even faster.  It’s so good.

Good, good, good. 

Everything feels so fucking good.

Osamu makes you feel good.

“What are ya mumbling about?” Osamu asks plucking the blunt from your fingertips, and you snap out of it. Well, almost, the feeling is still pooling in your chest, head– everywhere.

“I just– I feel–”

“Feel what?”

You start giggling. Doesn’t Osamu feel it too?

But maybe he does because he’s smiling at you. It’s not the same giddy heart-melting feely smile you have plastered on, it’s more relaxed. But you almost could see… a bit of amusement.

“Figures ya would be a lightweight for yer first time– probably shouldn’t have given ya the strong shit, but’s all I had.”

“I wanna do it again,” you sleepily smile waiting for Osamu to pass you the blunt. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, Osamu pauses to look at you again. This time he seems… inquisitive. He looks at the roll between his fingers, and you can tell that he’s calculating something in his head– then he looks at you.

“Ya wanna try something?”

His voice is low and there’s that tone of interest again. 

“Try what?”

“It’s a… different way to take a hit.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you and you nod at him. You just wanted more. More of the good feeling, more of Osamu.

You expect him to pass you the blunt, maybe with some sort of instructions, but instead, he takes another hit. You’re about to ask whatever question you had before Osamu reaches for your chin and takes it firmly.

Despite your brain being foggy, your brain is working overtime. Osamu is touching you– staring at you. And now his face is ghosting yours. You’re close enough to notice the slightest freckle ghosting his left cheek. Were you always this warm? No, you’re burning. There’s a fire sweeping in your chest, your head, your face– everywhere. You’re so warm– Osamu’s so warm.

And there’s a moment where you zero in. Osamu isn’t exhaling.

You realize what he wants to do.

The smoke inside his mouth isn’t for him– it's for you.

Your lip doesn’t even quiver in the way it usually does whenever you blurt out something nervously. Instead, your lips part invitingly, and you barely even register Osamu has closed the distance until his lips are brushing against yours and there’s a wisp of smoke pooling from his mouth to yours.

Osamu still had one hand steadied on your chin and the other was caging you into the couch corner. The further the smoke spills into your mouth, the more you sink into the couch. You barely even register there’s no more smoke to inhale because your back hits the seat of the couch, and Osamu’s on top of you.

“There’s a freckle on your left ch– mmph!”

Osamu’s mashing his lips into yours in an instant. You didn’t even think there could be any more room for Osamu to close in– he was already so close to you– but you were wrong. 

The kissing– it’s sloppy, depraved, even. Your glasses press against your face painfully from how quickly Osamu pounced on you, so you pull them off your face, not even caring where you throw them. You both feverishly want more, more, more. Osamu’s grabbing at your hips, his hands big and pawing at you. Your own hands are mapping the outline of his shoulders through his shirt. Osamu’s large body dwarfs your own, his weight resting on you. Your hands feverishly grabbed at him as your lips chased after the feeling you’ve been relishing– the good feeling– the feeling is pouring straight into your lips like rushing water and you’re drinking it in. It marries itself with the dizzy euphoric feeling clouding in your mind. So, so good.

He’s everywhere– you feel him everywhere. Your head is spinning. Osamu’s lips– coated in saliva mixing with your chapstick, pull you in even further. You don’t even know how you’re breathing, you haven’t gone for air in what feels like years.

But Osamu, selfishly, wants more. And so do you. So you don’t protest when you feel him rut his hips directly into yours– the throbbing bulge in his pants hitting that sweet spot you weren’t even aware was wanting for more. You moan feverishly against Osamu’s lips, the sound barely spilling out against him.

Osamu pulls himself off your lips, burying his face into the crook of your neck so you can feel every rugged heavy breath against your skin.

“Fuck, baby.” He’s panting, his hips grinding deeper into yours. The sweatpants he’s wearing, the jeans you have on, it’s too many layers. You’re unashamedly pawing at Osamu’s pants, begging for him to take them off so you can feel more.

“‘Samu, please,” you whine. You don’t even think of the nervous, shy, girl who walked into the apartment a few hours ago. She had been replaced with someone more desperate, unashamed in being so greedy for more.

Osamu doesn’t need to ask what you’re asking for, before shrugging off his pants and kicking them off somewhere on the floor. And in a moment, he’s unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off you like it’s burning you. Osamu’s already dark eyes– grow even darker at the sight of the wet spot growing on your panties and your sweater riding up your stomach.

“Please, please,” you cry with moans of his name in the absence of movement.

“Tell me what ya want,” Osamu pants.

“Wanna feel good.”

“Fuck,” he groans, before lowering his face to meet your stomach. He trails wet, firm kisses along your stomach, trailing down until his face is centered with your dripping cunt– clearly begging for more the way it clenches when you feel his hot breath ghosting the outside of your panties.

You absentmindedly grab at his hair, pushing him further to your aching cunt, encouraging him to continue– practically pleading the way you attempt to grind your pussy into him.

Osamu yanks off whatever panties you had on, and you swear you hear fabric ripping. But you couldn’t care less when you feel Osamu’s tongue languidly lick a stripe against your slit before beginning to circle your clit.

Your back arches off the couch and your wanton moans fill the empty air. You hope that Osamu’s didn’t have thin walls. But when Osamu suddenly slips a finger into your– it’s suddenly the least of your worries. 

The combination of Osamu’s tongue suckling at your clit and his now two fingers pumping in and out of you sends you into ecstasy. Every nerve in your body was vibrating as your head clouded between the weed running through your system and Osamu buried in his pussy eating you out like his life depended on it. Fuck what you smoked, Osamu was the real drug.

There’s a moment where your nerves pinch together– and everything in your chest collects, all those funny feelings turning hot and heavy in your lower stomach, before you cum. And you cum, hard.

You grab Osamu’s hair at the roots with a moan– no, scream, almost reflective of the horror movie actress you were making fun of earlier, as you coated Osamu’s face with slick. You don’t even realize how much it was until Osamu raises his head and his mouth reflects glossily.

You’re swimming in the hazy cloud of pleasure for a while, until your breathing steadies and you’re settling into the couch with heavy pants.

“Not bad for yer first time, right?” Osamu chuckles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” H-how did he know–

“Yer first time smoking?” Osamu smirks as he pulls himself up so he can sit on the couch.

“Oh, y-yeah,” you mumble, pulling your sweater down so you can cover your lower half.

You avert your gaze from Osamu, embarrassed by the lack of clothes you had on. You felt a tinge more sober now– enough to realize that it was way past the time you thought you’d stay. The movie credits weren’t even playing anymore– the TV had just gone into sleep mode. Osamu notices this too when he takes a glance out the window.

You think about what he said. Your first time was good. And maybe… Maybe you should try having more firsts.

“It’s late, ya shouldn’t be walkin’ home at this hour–” So that’s why…

“Ya wanna just crash here?”

You let Osamu take another first.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

LIKES, REBLOGS, COMMENTS, & TAGS ARE APPRECIATED + HELP ENCOURAGE YOUR LOCAL WRITER (ME)! ♡

[ozzgin]

Girl I love Daitou but I'm ngl I need more of Yazuya😭 if you can, can you write headcanons about him please? I'd appreciate it thank you <3

Yandere!Yakuza x Reader Headcanons

Ultimate dating guide and palate cleanser featuring the gangster boys (Kazuya and Daitou). For those that have been left hanging for proper romance.

Content: gender neutral reader, mildly NSFW

Tags: @swagbucksjester @lucienbarkbark @moonieper @nu-vino @vee-love @tamaki-simp @pinkazelma

[Yakuza Masterlist]

Kazuya

Kazuya was raised in a brothel, surrounded by women, so he is much more knowledgeable than the average man when it comes to feminine matters. Similar to someone who grew up having sisters, you can talk to him about anything and everything and not only will he be empathetic towards your problems, but he might offer tips and tricks you didn’t even know about. Not too shocking when he’s already heard multiple variations of whatever is bothering you.

The downside to his upbringing is that intercourse has always felt terribly transactional to him. He has a hard time associating it with intimate relationships. He will flirt a lot with you, but despite all the sexual innuendos, he won’t actually do anything until later in the relationship. He struggles with the irrational worry that sex will somehow taint the quality of your bond, making it feel cheap. Dating you has helped him realize that such things can be done out of love as well.

He is extremely affectionate and well mannered when dealing with you. Which may sometimes cause you to forget there’s a reason him and Daitou are good friends. While he isn’t as ill-tempered as his younger self, it doesn’t take much to anger him still. It’s a rare occurrence for you to witness it, but when he has it out for someone, he nearly matches Daitou in ruthlessness. He's very prideful and protective and will not hesitate to crush whoever challenges him or messes with you.

If you have a group of (girl)friends, you can confidently bring him with you with the only risk being that he’ll steal your spotlight. He can charismatically slide his way into any kind of conversation and you can hardly believe that this is the same man cracking gross jokes over his latest murder to his fellow criminal buddies. You might consider him a social chameleon, having no trouble adapting to any environment.

Smokes like a chimney and you have to slap the cigarette out of his hand sometimes because he’ll just light one up anywhere (including your bedroom).

Now this one is for the ones that are into it: God forbid you accidentally call him Daddy because he’ll ride that high until the end of time. He loves the idea and will tease about it with every opportunity. “Terrible weather today. Should Daddy drive you to work instead?”, or “Is that any way to talk to Daddy?” for when you’re out in public.

Daitou

One neat detail about being with Daitou is that you get to see a lot of things you took for granted in a new light. Whatever you assumed was a common experience for everyone, like having a picnic or going to the amusement park, is utterly foreign to him. He was raised by the Yakuza and barely interacted with anyone before meeting Kazuya; civilian past times were never presented to him. So you get to witness his shocked and delighted expression as he tries all these things with you.

Thankfully you don’t have to worry about teaching him the…intimate aspects of a relationship. Kazuya has that covered. And Daitou seems to be a rather fast learner, because he’s incredibly gentle and careful with you. Part of it is due to his own fear of messing it up. He’s only ever been good at breaking and killing people. Despite that, he loves you so much. He has to be the best boyfriend for your sake. Surely these hands of his can do more than just damage.

He might actually be a little too eager to learn the ropes. More than once you’ve walked in on him reading a graphic manga and nearly choked, mumbling an apology for interrupting his…activity. He’ll look at you with a confused expression, completely unbothered and wondering why you’re so embarrassed. He was flipping through the pages for ideas, given he’s never had any kind of experience himself. Ah. That explains the random kinky gestures he’s started doing without shame or doubt. You’ll have to do some tweaking in the near future.

This may come as a surprise, but Daitou is exceptionally good at household chores like cleaning and cooking. Registering with the Yakuza involves a mandatory apprenticeship of several years where you do menial tasks for your higher ups. Additionally, the time he served in jail has left him with a lot of discipline and organization. Somewhere between adorable and comical is how you’d describe the sight of him kneeling on the floor and carefully folding the kitchen towels while waiting for the stew to simmer.

Daitou isn’t exactly what you’d traditionally call jealous. His only frame of reference is Boss, thus he will treat you with the same kind of loyalty and dedication. You wouldn’t expect a mere nobody to walk up to the Head of the Family, so anyone approaching you will, similarly, be violently kept away until their intentions are clear. You are his most prized possession, after all. He’d do anything for you.

[astonmartingf]

HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT ; MSC47

childhood friends to lovers! mick schumacher x verstappen!reader . . . when push comes to shove, you would never admit to having a crush on mick as you grew older. this however ends up with you convincing yourself that he would never love you outside the platonic relationship you built through the years, despite all evidence pointing to the obvious— he loves you, but you think not.

amgf this has been plaguing my mind, and after writing atrocious angst (ybom) i'm here to write a palate cleanser on my mind 😔 i also chose to write this instead of study for a chemistry exam, i keep making the wrong decisions but seeing as i made this was it so wrong??? i think not. enjoy like always 👍

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, maxverstappen1, and 76,863 others

yourusername some things never change 🐻

view comments...

user1 and now what? what are we?????

user2 awww baby mick and baby yn are adorable

user3 the way yn is more attached to mick than max

user4 i remember in an interview where jos said when he couldn't find yn he'd look for mick since he was a tall boy

user5 wait where? when was this?

user6 in an old interview, idk when but it was with michael as well

user7 they're actually so adorable, oh my gosh

mickschumacher terrorizing the earth, one forest at a time, here's to more hikes in the future 💖

yourusername you bet i'll be there, it's scary how we aren't sick of each other yet

mickschumacher i mean it's you, why would i be sick of you?

yourusername as you should!!! i'm great to be with

maxverstappen1 mick is just too kind to kick you out

yourusername you're jealous we kicked you out!

user8 they're actually all that's in my head

user9 how are they not dating????

user10 because people of different sex can be friends?

user11 i get the shipping but they're good as friends so why?

user12 i mean they look good together, it's just wishful thinking

user13 oh imagine having a good looking childhood friend and not dating them, ofc they've been friends for so long wtf

user14 i mean, they are a good match so, leave people alone for shipping them

user15 they may be a good match but it's still weird so idgaf you're wrong

mickschumacher

liked by yourusername and 726,947 others

mickschumacher with the feel of your hand on mine 🐇

view comments...

user16 oh gosh please help them realize what they're made for each other

user17 i was so convinced they're just friends but then mick pulls shit like this

user18 i can't keep on defending you if you do this???? boy?

yourusername if you hadn't held my hand then and there i would've flown away

mickschumacher okay that's exaggerating, but as if i'd let that happen

yourusername because it was so strong, you were holding my hand tightly

mickschumacher are you complaining or thanking me?

yourusername thank you mick 🫡 you're the bestest friend ever

user19 they're actually driving me insane

user20 even the wind ships them

user21 don't you think that's the universe making a sign to both of you?

user22 "as if i'd let that happen" okay mick, wtfffff why is he doing this?

user23 they can't keep doing this and just pulling the best friend card at the end, they need to hold responsibility for us

liked by maxverstappen1

user24 bro max liked????

user25 what does he know? wym??? max oomf, why are you liking this comment?

user26 max is tired of their bullshit i know

user27 if max is tired we can be of help, i for one am volunteering out of the goodness of my heart and not because of my nosy ass

user28 okay yn and mick you can share it with the class

yourusername

liked by gina_schumacher, victoriaverstappen, and 86,047 others

yourusername a week of mick 🐻

view comments...

user29 yn is with mick instead of being at a grand prix????

user30 you're telling me they're just friends? shut up actually

user31 i'm deluding myself and saying they're dating

user32 they're so cute (they're driving me crazy 😮‍💨😩😭😀😊🥹😠)

mickschumacher thank you for watching me hase

yourusername ofc!!!! i am your number one fan bärchen 💖

maxverstappen1 is this the important thing you have going on?

yourusername yes it is, it's not like you won or smth

maxverstappen1 wow... am i going to have to steal you from mick now?

yourusername bold of you to assume i would leave mick

user33 they're actually insane wtgfhfjg

yourusername uploaded a new story

[look, it's a bear!] [jk it's my boyfriend hehehehe]

view replies to your story...

user34 OH NOOOO

user35 is this MICK? hello? mick stand up??!

user36 what about mick 🥹

user37 a soft launch out of nowhere? wth????

user38 this is mick? it's Mick isn't it? please tell me tkzusbdkajdj I NEED TO KNOW!NNN

mickschumacher you're evil hase, what have you done

i want to have you to myself a little longer, is that so wrong 😠

mickschumacher i don't think anyone can have me like you do

YEAH!! that's right, i love you bärchen 💖

mickschumacher i love you hase 💖

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 10: WORKING FOR THE KNIFE

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He’d like to eat you. Curse of a girl. Could be the prettiest of his repertoire, he thinks. He remembers the shock on your face when you killed that curse in the forest — while something horrible rooted itself inside you, sheer terror from the rot you were capable of, disgust with yourself — his face was warm with affection. Or something twisted like that.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, impact play, alcohol, mentions of mild violence

ੈ✩ wc: 5.4k

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

February, 2010

The winter months had never been kind to Suguru. It was ironic, being born in February—he thought that he eventually wouldn’t mind the cold, because at least his birthday fell after all the important holidays. Shoko’s birthday, Satoru’s birthday, Christmas, New Year’s.

He didn’t care for his birthday the way that Satoru did. It was another day, always. Wake up, work, exorcise, swallow, sleep, repeat. He’s built for work and routine—broad shoulders, strong hands, tough mouth. Thick-skinned enough to handle swallowing the tragedies and sufferings of human nature. Satoru used to joke about him being akin to a Grim Reaper, swallowing hell’s leftovers instead of leading them to the underworld.

Both of them, myths as boys. One cursed with being impenetrable, and the other cursed with having to absorb everything.

Suguru had started kissing Satoru as a teenager to get the taste of curses out of his mouth. Now he had you as a palate cleanser too. He liked that you always tasted sweet to him, no matter what. He doesn’t kiss you like Satoru, who is always a little overeager, desperate to devour. Suguru kisses you slowly, savoring it until you realize that you’re the one begging. You’d gotten to his head like a drip of paint spreading through water—slow but absolute. Gradually feverish like Oxycontin releasing in the bloodstream.

He can’t sleep. His cock is throbbing, thinking of you. Thinking of Satoru in your mouth. 

He had ignored everyone’s requests to have an impromptu party like last year—he didn’t need to count down the exact minute he got a year older, didn’t care for the exact strike of midnight. But now, it’s his birthday, and it’s two in the morning, and he’s half-hard and frustrated while thinking about you. Pathetically so.

He’s never needy. Not the way Satoru is. But all the curses he’d swallowed on his mission today made him feel like he was fucking dying. He thought he’d gotten control of it, being able to mask the putrid taste with your mouth, with food. He’d spent half an hour over the toilet bowl before bed, his tongue tasting like vomit and sea salt. 

You would never taste it on him—he would ask in between making out. To you, he tasted like cigarettes and ginger candy. The kind he started sucking on so he wouldn’t get so sick from the curses, the kind that he’d steal from the konbini because Satoru liked them.

Suguru isn’t usually this restless, let alone bothered by cottonmouth. Weed didn’t satiate him tonight. It helped his dick harden for sure, making his insides feel gooey and warm just at the thought of being touched, but usually, it was also enough to get him to sleep. Despite this, he stares at the ceiling in frustration. Craving touch like a predator, if intimacy could be synonymous with a collision.

It’s why he ends up in front of your room now—knocking, just barely. After no immediate response, he’s impatient. 

Suguru rolls his eyes once he finds out your door is unlocked. You didn’t need to lock it since Satoru could warp, and he was more than positive that no one else was falling into your bed at night. Perhaps you left an invitation for him. Either that or you were naive and forgetful as could be. He’d have to tease you about it later. 

He slips into your bed, hands smoothing over the bare skin of your stomach, the silvery roughness of your scar. Remnants of a dead man. Suguru cringes whenever he thinks about it —how he thought you were dead along with Satoru. It always made his mouth taste like bile again.

You stir with a hum, which surprises him. Ever since the incident, you became a heavy sleeper —it was all that alcohol that Shoko would slip you. Indulging in vices that only she would. It wasn’t that Suguru didn’t approve of this the way Satoru did, but he noticed that you would act more like him. Moody. Less likely to take Satoru’s shit.

Suguru stares at you, half-tempted to wake you with his mouth in between your thighs, but he doesn’t, not yet. He only curls a finger at the nape of your neck and strokes your hair from root to tip, following along the shell of your ear. You move again, lip twitching. It entices him more than it should.

He licks a strip from your collarbone to your jaw, and you keen into his touch immediately. Curling towards him as if he were the sun. 

You blink awake slowly, a lazy smile spreading among your features as your eyes adjust to the dark. 

“Birthday boy.”

“Baby girl.”

You pretend to gag and he laughs.

“What do you want?”

“My present,” he says roughly, pulling you closer by the hips. “Missed you.”

“You saw me earlier.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “God, I sound like Satoru, don’t I?”

The mention of his name makes your cheeks warm. Suguru notices it immediately. 

“No one is as needy as Satoru,” you snort. “How’s it feel to be able to legally drink?”

He chuckles. As if that mattered when Shoko was getting contraband since they started at Jujutsu High.

“Great. I can finally pay for overpriced cocktails.”

 “Wait, I have your present. It’s kind of corny.”

“Yeah?” he grins. “Let me have it.”

“Close your eyes.”

He sits up and crosses his legs, closing his eyes as if in meditation. Nervously, you pick his gift out of your drawer and place it in his lap. When he opens his eyes, he unwraps the tissue paper, messily wrapped and covered in stickers, and sees a scrapbook.

“My disposable film photos developed,” you mumble. “They’re probably not as good as yours, but I thought I’d make a scrapbook of… you know, everything.”

Suguru turns the pages carefully. There are relics from last summer, before everything had gone to shit. Polaroids of him and Satoru lounging lazily in the grass, Satoru always blurred because he was always moving. There are more intimate moments of you in his t-shirt and boxers, the flush of your cheeks suggesting he or Satoru had taken surprise snapshots of you in your post-sex haze.

His throat feels dry.

“Happy birthday, Suguru.”

He puts the book down and leans in to kiss you. It’s gentle, feather-light, giving you goosebumps in a way that makes you realize it’s been a while since you've been touched so delicately.

“I love it,” he murmurs into your ear. “Can I get my other gift now?”

“What do you– oof!”

You always underestimate how big he is, how easy it is for him to overpower you. He has you on your back in seconds, smiling as he runs his warm hands on the bare skin of your waist. You let out a low, satisfied hum when he squeezes your lower back slightly, massaging it with his fingers. Your face warms at the visible bulge in his sweatpants.

To your surprise, he parts your legs, pulling off your panties immediately, and lowers his head. 

“Don’t you want me to–”

“Shh,” he whispers, shutting you up with a bite to your inner thigh. “Wanna eat you.”

You exhale as he rubs your clit in lazy circles. He doesn’t tongue you just yet—merely picking and prodding at your cunt with his fingers while he watches you squirm. He has much more patience than Satoru, intent on playing with you until you cry. 

“Suguru,” you whine.

Before you can make another complaint, his mouth latches onto your clit, tongue swirling tenderly at the bundle of nerves while his fingers sink into your cunt. He lets out a short laugh as he watches you try to hold back a moan. You taste like you’ve been waiting for him.

“So fucking soaked,” he murmurs, half-mad at the sight of your glistening pussy. You make a small noise of protest when he pulls his face away. He moves towards you, resting his head on your pillow before forcibly pulling your thighs onto his abdomen. 

“Can you not throw me around like I’m a ragdoll?”

“Sit on my face,” he demands, ignoring your comment.

“What?”

“C’mon. It��s my birthday,” he grins. 

“O-Okay,” you whisper, crawling until you’re hovering over his face. You often felt mortified in this position, always feeling too exposed. You’d only sit on Satoru’s face when the two of you were drunk.

You yelp when Suguru pulls your thighs down to each side of his head, immediately sucking on your clit. You whimper as he laps at your bud, his hands grabbing your ass and squeezing the flesh. His tongue keeps up a constant pressure and rhythm. You have to resist the urge to ride his face, but he seems to be encouraging you with the way he kneads your ass.

“Take off your top,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. You oblige, stripping off your thin tank top. 

He groans when he sees you exposed, your nipples perky as you run your hands across them. You lean into his mouth, your legs shaking from the way he’s sucking you, from the way his eyes widen like moons as he watches you from below. 

“You look so good from here,” he slurs, cunt-drunk. His lips glisten pink even in the dark.

Your wet cunt throbs when you look down, seeing his black hair fan out like an angel underwater, eyes half-lidded in desperation. You can’t even react to his praises, your tongue numb and heavy in your mouth as he pushes his palms against your ass, encouraging you to grind on his face.

“Pull my hair,” he rasps. 

Your pussy drools all over him, but he takes it all, lapping up every drop of your arousal as he moans. You pull his hair and it feels like silk in your hands. 

It was all more sensitive from above, you didn’t know why. You could barely take it.

You cry out once his tongue rolls over your bud in a constant rhythm, his hand reaching into your cunt with fingers curled towards him. Your orgasm is overwhelming, has you clutching his hair so you don’t completely fall over. You groan at the overstimulation, on the verge of tears as Suguru clamps your thighs down against his shoulders so he can keep tasting you.

“T-too much!” you whimper.

He finally releases you, letting you lift your thigh to stumble onto your side. You whine again when he grabs you, forcing you to straddle him again. He groans as he lifts his hips. You feel him against your ass, his dick hard against it. 

“You want me on top?” 

“Yes,” he moans. He’s quick to pull off his sweatpants. You’ve never seen him like this — desperate, begging. The opposite of his usual calculated demeanor.

You hover over him, your cunt dripping. He wants to slam your thighs down with his hands, fill you to the brim himself, but he waits. Even after all this time, his size intimidates you. You touch yourself as you kiss his neck, reveling in the satisfied sounds he makes.

He pulls you onto him gently, playing with your clit before he coaxes himself into you. You moan at the same time—you wincing at his size, him groaning at your warmth. 

“Oh,” you gasp.

“Do you get this wet for Satoru?” he taunts.

You say nothing in response, only whining. 

“You’re almost tighter than him,” he mumbles, low enough that you can’t hear. You’re too busy caught up in rapture, pulling his hair the way he likes, ravished by his hands all over your thighs and up your bare stomach.

“Sugu,” you breathe, your body trembling at the sensitivity. He helps you through it, guiding your hips so that you roll against him smoothly as he moans. 

You’re so fucking warm. So tight around him. He almost feels like he’s dreaming as he bucks up into you, staring at you with a slack mouth. His eyes scan over your bouncing tits, the way your thighs tremble just slightly above him as you squeeze them, coaxing you to ride him even harder.

“Love this fucking pussy,” he growls. It makes your cheeks flush, too embarrassed to look at him, so you shut your eyes as you move your hips.

You ride him through his babbling, his moans. It’s unusual that he’s so vocal right now — Suguru is often more reserved with what comes out of his mouth during sex if it isn’t a grunt or praise. He’s never desperate like this, never whining the way Satoru does. Even when you feel yourself keening for him, you still suppose you have him in the palm of your hand.

You test this theory, pinning his hands above his hands just like the way he often does to you. He moans, jaw falling with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He looks vulnerable, eyes unfocused. Pointed towards you, like he’s squinting at the stars. 

You try not to let the power get to your head. 

“Hit me,” he moans, his voice sounding drunk.

“What?”

“Hit me. Slap me. Just—do it.”

You grind against him slowly, blinking at him. You lower your hand to caress his jaw. His eyes are closed, his mouth still falling in surrender. Open and loose. After seconds of apprehension, you do it—it’s a small slap against his cheek, hard enough to hear, soft enough that it doesn’t leave a mark. He moans louder than you’ve ever heard him. 

“Oh, fuck—”

He brings his thumb to your clit as you ride him and it makes your bones loose. Melting within his grasp. You breathe heavily, watching him with wide eyes. 

Suguru grabs your hand and places it at the base of his throat. It’s then that you notice the large bruise below his collarbone, peeking slightly at the collar of his t-shirt. In the dark, you can’t tell the color—but in your field of vision, it looks purplish. 

You squeeze the base of his neck like he wants, and you see his eyes roll to the back of his head. You whimper as you bounce his cock, your tiredness catching up to you. You hadn’t been in a position of power during sex many times, especially not with Suguru. The thought of it makes your head spin, the expressions on his face making your cunt throb.

“So fucking good, baby,” he grovels. “Perfect girl.”

You hold him by the throat, your small hands incomparable to his body as a whole, but you apply pressure regardless. Fascinated by his expressions, by your ability to make him come undone in ways you hadn’t even imagined before.

“Harder,” he groans. “Make yourself cum on my cock.”

Even with his demanding tone, Suguru’s face appears otherwise. He’s flushed, mouth parting and trembling. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable.

“Oh,” you whimper. “Gonna—”

He holds you by the hips firmly, fucking up into you. Holds your hands, interlocking your fingers. When he cums at the same time as you, he has your fingers in his mouth, his teeth grazing your knuckles as he sucks on them with a muffled moan.

You fall onto him and he’s quick to let you nuzzle your face into his collarbone, rubbing your back gently. Eventually, you straddle him, tracing your fingers over the bruise under his collarbone.

“What’s this?” you breathe.

He looks down, chuckling. 

“Satoru’s gift,” he smirks. “I’ll give you a matching one.”

You let him nibble on your skin without protest, but something aches in your heart despite it all.

Suguru discards his shirt in the middle of the night. You don’t notice—at least, you aren’t awake for it. He’d had you passed out in his arms immediately the night before. 

When you finally open your eyes, he’s staring back at you. You nearly jolt out of your skin.

“Don’t do that,” you whine, hitting his shoulder lightly. “You’re like Satoru.” 

He doesn’t answer. Only laughs.

“Where are all these bruises from?” you mumble, touching them with your fingertips. 

“Satoru,” he says plainly. He doesn’t elaborate. Not even when you look at him with raised brows.

Suguru doesn’t feel the need to hide anything from you. Neither does Satoru, apparently, but he had barely been intimate with just you in the past two months. Suguru was always included, which you didn’t mind, considering your love for both of them, but you still craved tenderness. 

It’s the first time that it occurred to you that Satoru and Suguru were together separately from you. It was stupid—they’d kissed before you were even truly in the picture. Probably messed around, too. You didn’t have any deeper access to Satoru’s heart, even if you had known him as a child. You had to remind yourself of that.

But still, it felt odd to see the remnants of Satoru’s hunger on someone other than yourself. You liked to think of yourself as the mediator between them, the center of their universes, when you let yourself think more loosely, more confidently. 

But now, you’re small again. Separate from them.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru asks.

“Nothing.”

“Something.”

You smile warmly, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing.”

You’re not jealous. You can’t be. You would be annoyed by short quips from either of them during sex, teasing you about the other like it was a competition, but it was never serious. You were a plaything between the two of them, you knew this. You liked it.

But the prospect of the two of them together without you made your stomach hurt. It was almost as if the idea itself was to spite you—it made you feel endlessly guilty. You were so willing to be there, to be used by either of them, to be the favorite. How selfish it was that you hadn’t noticed that the boys had wanted each other, perhaps more than they even wanted you.

“You gonna ask us how often we fuck without you?”

“Suguru!”

He laughs, but it’s not out of spite. 

“Some of these are from sparring. You know how he likes to play.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. Embarrassment colors your features. He didn’t need to say it as if he was reassuring you.

“He wouldn’t let you be his punching bag,” he ruffles your hair. “You’re too precious.”

You can’t find it in yourself to believe him.

April, 2005

Suguru empties the remnants of the curse in the toilet. It's not the parts themselves, more like the ghost of the cadaver, his insides making themselves sick from the taste. He was still getting used to it. 

He coughs and wipes his mouth. Examines himself in the mirror, frowning, hair unkempt. His hair was getting long, down to his collarbone. The girls liked it a lot, which he didn’t understand —the length made him get greasy. They’d compare him to male idols, not that he cared. 

He washes his hands in Satoru’s fancy sink and moisturizes his hands with jasmine-scented lotion, the kind that his father would maybe gift his mother on a holiday. 

When he leaves the bathroom, he nearly collides with you. You mumble an apology, barely making eye contact with him. Did Satoru have a sister?

The two of you didn’t look alike, for starters. You didn’t have the same blinding-white hair as the rest of the Gojo family, plus Satoru probably would’ve mentioned a sibling. Suguru watches you leave, face warming slightly when he realizes he’s looking for too long. He curses under his breath when you notice, but you don’t look perturbed at all—you flash him a small smile. 

He returns the smile sheepishly and heads back to Satoru’s room.

“Who’s that girl?” he asks.

“Huh?” 

Satoru is barely paying attention. His eyes are fixed on his game, Final Fantasy.

“The girl downstairs. Our age.”

“Oh. She’s the maid’s daughter. Family friend. Kind of.”

Suguru sits on the floor next to Satoru, knees touching as they sit up against the foot of the bed. 

“You never mentioned her. She’s cute,” he remarks.

“Off limits.”

Suguru scoffs. “I didn’t even—”

“Seriously. She’s like… family.”

Satoru is lying through his teeth, jaw clenched only slightly. He nearly said sister instead of family, but that would be a hole that he was not willing to dig for himself. He pretends to blame his attitude on losing the game. Grimaces when he hears Suguru snicker beside him.

You must’ve been one of Satoru’s toys. Suguru knew the boy hated sharing. 

“So you’ve claimed her already.”

“Shut up.” Satoru throws the controller at him, huffing like a child. “I can’t fucking beat this guy. Try it.”

“That’s because you fucking suck,” Suguru laughs.

Satoru grumbles and folds his arms. He was always too candid in the face, terrible at hiding emotions, and everyone knew it. He liked that Suguru didn’t care to pry. He hated that Suguru was exactly the kind of guy that you would have a crush on. Soft-spoken but quick-witted, pretty in the face.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Satoru hadn’t had a real conversation with you in over a year. 

April, 2010

You are not a jealous person.

Satoru is talking to a girl who is much too close for comfort, and you are not a jealous person. Both are objective facts. Maybe.

For once, everyone is getting drunk somewhere that isn’t a Jujutsu Tech dorm room, but it was a shitty venue that wasn’t much better. Yuki played bass in a punk band, and the girls weren’t willing to go without you and the boys as chaperones. Despite this, Shoko and Utahime had fucked off during the first set, probably making out in the bathroom.

“Need a breather?” 

You spin around to see Suguru with his hair down, cigarette nested above his ear. You look back at Satoru, who is now being entertained by two more girls. 

“Yup,” you nod.

The night is moderately warm. The moon hangs above the velvet black, jagged like a piece of glass. Suguru wraps his arms around your middle, lighting the cigarette and bringing it to your mouth.

“Didn’t think you were the jealous type,” he says.

“What?” you frown, crooning your neck to face him.

“Oh, come on,” he teases. “I’ve never seen you make such hostile faces.”

“That’s just my face.”

“Sure.”

He kisses the top of your head. He pulls your hair and tips your head back so he can kiss your mouth, his lips upside-down against yours. 

“People give me looks when both of you kiss me within the same ten minutes,” you murmur. “Did you notice that?”

“No,” Suguru chuckles. “I’m usually too busy looking at you.”

You exhale smoke before putting the cigarette in Suguru’s mouth, peering at the moon again. He was bored. Considered taking you in the bathroom so he could spill inside of you, just for Satoru to find out when you’d sleep in his bed later tonight. There wasn’t a rivalry, not truly, but he liked knowing that it made Satoru tick. 

Satoru had started healing his bruises for him. They’d fight, rolling around on the floor before fucking it out. He would only let his Infinity through a handful of times, but always let it through when they fucked. Suguru knew that Satoru liked feeling the roughness of his hands on him. It made him feel alive. 

It’s all carnal. Instinct as desire. Satoru wouldn’t let you see that side of him. He thinks about when he came back to life and feels horrified, sick like he came back wrong. He was never sure if you were looking at him differently or if it was vice versa. Suguru always looked at him the same way. It’s a mutual understanding. 

Suguru looks at you that way, too. There’s something hungry in his eyes now, something that feels like an ultimatum. He grins at you with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

He’d like to eat you. Curse of a girl. Could be the prettiest of his repertoire, he thinks. He remembers the shock on your face when you killed that curse in the forest — while something horrible rooted itself inside you, sheer terror from the rot you were capable of, disgust with yourself — his face was warm with affection. Or something twisted like that. 

The way he scooped you into his arms, your fragile body all bloodied. Naive little thing. He’d held you as the two of you flew back on the manta ray and he had felt like he saw something he shouldn’t have. A turning moment. Not even Satoru would be able to make sense of it. 

“Wanna go back intside?” Suguru purrs into your ear.

You nod.

You take his hand in yours just as Yuki’s band is about to start. Satoru is exactly where he was before, but this time he’s staring at the both of you. You’re too busy watching the stage to notice. The lights flood over you in a way that makes you look like a heavenly body. You and Suguru had matching eyes tonight, black kohl smudged over your eyes by Shoko during the pregame. 

You feel a pair of small arms circle around your middle, the scent of tobacco and men’s Issey Miyake perfume filling your senses. Speak of the devil. 

You turn your head and Shoko grins, Utahime in tow behind her. You laugh when you see the lipstick smudges around Shoko’s mouth. 

“Have fun?” you ask.

“Huh?” she shouts.

“Never mind!” you yell back. 

Satoru watches from afar, trying to get his way through the crowd, but is bombarded by the sheer amount of people in his way. Everyone’s too drunk to care about politeness. His size wasn’t helping him either — no one was willing to let such a tall guy get in front of them. 

“You get our girl drunk yet?” Shoko asks Suguru.

He shakes his head. “She’s being responsible tonight.”

You giggle and stumble. Trying to move your body in a way that feels appropriate for a punk show. Shoko flashes a grin to Suguru.

“I think your girlfriend is lying to you,” she murmurs into his ear. “Where’s Satoru? Expanding Japan’s gene pool?”

“Shut up,” he mouths, laughing. Well, probably.

He didn’t know if Satoru was seeing other people. He didn’t care, but he knew that you would. It wasn’t something he felt like bringing up when he was alone with him, though. He trusted Satoru enough to not break your heart, but he knew that the boy was restless lately, almost manic. 

Satoru had made out with a girl who looked like you at a bar two weeks ago, then cried on the way home. Suguru almost found it pathetic. 

Suguru holds you again once Shoko busies herself with Utahime, the both of them thrashing and running toward the front of the crowd, close enough to touch the stage. He rests his head on top of yours, slips his large hands underneath your shirt just to feel the warm skin of your stomach. 

Satoru is a few feet away. His mouth is moving, but Suguru can’t figure out what he’s saying amongst all the fucking noise. He looks drunk. Something lurches inside Suguru when he sees a girl nearly hanging off of Satoru. 

He spins you around in his arms and presses his mouth to yours with more force than he intends. 

You succumb immediately — is it always that easy? It must be. You were arguably easy to the two of them. It was something Satoru liked talking about when they were in private without you, something to tease Suguru about when his hand was wrapped around his cock.

She’d be so good if she was here right now, wouldn’t she? So fucking wet… so warm.

Suguru sucks in your tongue and holds your face. He opens his eyes to lock them with Satoru’s — they’re blazing blue, almost brighter than the stage lights. 

Satoru laughs, though his eyes look mean.

May, 2010

You are nodding off in the courtyard when you feel a light kick to your thigh. When you open your eyes, Shoko is looking over at you, a lollipop in her mouth. It’s one that you had gifted her one day as a joke — “smoke stop pops.” She liked them anyway, the herb flavor weaning her need for nicotine while also replacing her random cravings for black tea. It didn’t actually curb her smoking habit, but it was a new oral fixation. She’d eaten three a day for the past week.

“It’s time for quality time,” she grins, the lollipop making her left cheek jut out.

“You’re taking me out on a date?” you question, blinking at her. If she moved a little to the right, she’d block the sun out completely. Unfortunately, it’s still bright beside her head. You squint at her.

“I will later, if you want. But Yaga wanted us to do a little… project together?” 

She lowers her hand and you take it. She pulls you to your feet and picks a leaf out of your hair. 

“Is that why they call you Twigs?” 

“What?”

“Never mind,” she snorts. “C’mon.”

Shoko takes you to a greenhouse that has a path leading through it. There are cherry blossoms and hakone grass, azaleas and bonsai trees. A koi fish pond with a small wooden bridge. 

“This is beautiful,” you say.

“It is,” she nods. “I used to come here a lot when I was a teenager. My old high school is pretty close to here.”

“Is Yaga-sensei forcing us to go on a date?”

“Okay, even if this was a date, you would’ve gone on it regardless, you ass,” Shoko laughs, pinching you on the side. “Anyways, this is more of an assignment. Or experiment, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

She leads you to the little bridge and you gaze at the orange and black-speckled koi fish below. 

“Have you ever brought anything back to life?” Shoko asks. Her hands tremble ever so slightly until she reaches for one of her lollipops and puts it in her mouth. 

“Twice. The first time was when my kitten got hit by a car when I was a kid. The second was a bumblebee I killed. Just to see if I could do it.”

“You didn’t try it any other time?” 

You shake your head. 

“Okay, well, come outside with me.”

You follow her out back. There’s a plot of dirt with pots of small trees lining the square of land. She presents a few small plants stuck in their little pots, dehydrated as hell. Brown and drooping.

“You want me to… ‘heal’ these?”

“Your technique isn’t necessarily healing. And you can’t do reverse cursed technique like Satoru and I, but you can regenerate cells, right?”

You pause, staring at her, then your hands. Then the plants.

“I guess.”

“Great. So bring these plants back to life.”

You frown at her bluntness. You hate being put on the spot. To be honest, you hadn’t showcased the strongest output of your technique since the Star Plasma Vessel incident, and before that, the mission with Suguru. Every time you were in fight or flight mode, you’d pass out with a nosebleed. 

Bringing a plant back to life probably wasn’t a huge feat, but Shoko’s wording made you grimace.

You lift your hand and close your eyes. You touch the dead leaves and exhale, circumventing the energy inside you into something tangible, something to hold in your hands like a spiritual weapon. Within seconds, the plant straightens its leaves and turns green with solid stems. Leaves that extended past the bottom sprouts, which also rose from the dead roots.

When you open your eyes, you see Shoko smiling. 

Over the next week, you bring back small animals. Bugs and mice. Guinea pigs. Shoko nearly has you try it out on the little fetuses suspended in formaldehyde in her lab, but you refuse. 

You’d never thought about using your technique in this way. Since Riko died and Toji Fushiguro left a scar on your body, you felt weak. Your cursed energy would manifest enough power for you to fight, but using your actual technique would be exhausting. Like a muscle, it was finally beginning to strengthen again, and at a rapid rate.

When you’re walking home from an easy mission, you find a stray cat that limps with only three legs. You feed it milk from the konbini. When you hover your hand over it, it heals. Regenerates another limb that looks like it was always there.

Your cell phone rings at the same time you open your eyes.

“Hello?”

“Are you almost back?” Shoko asks. “Yaga-sensei wants to talk to you.”

[aishangotome]

[Gilbert] Choose Your True Love: Part 3

Part 2

♡———♡

A scream filled with all the agony of the world shook the tense air.

Curious, I approached the window, but was immediately pulled away from behind by my waist.

Gilbert: You're quite curious, aren't you?

Emma: ...............

(...What was that...?)

I think I only saw it for a few seconds.

But in those few seconds, there was a scene that burned into my mind.

My body wouldn't stop shaking, and I felt sick.

Emma: What... what was that?

Emma: ...Blood...

Emma: The square... was bright red...

Gilbert: Ah, you saw it?

Gilbert: It's the Emperor's game... Obsidian's famous public execution.

Emma: Execution...?

Gilbert: His methods are messy. Even experienced cleaners get sick sometimes, so it's best you don't watch.

Emma: ...Ah...

Gilbert: There, there, you were scared.

Gilbert held me in his arms and stroked my hair as if soothing a child.

If I had seen that sight alone, I might have screamed.

(...People's heads... were lined up.)

(So many... like a spectacle.)

Emma: In this castle... Do people die so easily, every day?

Gilbert: Yes. Life is cheap, equal to a scrap of paper.

Gilbert: You're normal to think it's abnormal. It's better not to lose that sense.

Gilbert: If you become like me and see that and feel nothing, it's too late for you as a human.

Emma: ...............

(Assassinations, executions...)

(...It's a nightmare.)

If this isn't a dream but a reality of the past, then I understand why Gilbert, who was once a kind boy, had to become a trampling beast.

(This is... He couldn't have survived this without becoming a beast.)

I clung to his cold body, and Gilbert's fingertips tightened.

Gilbert: This is not a place for you to be.

Gilbert: I don't know what the future me was thinking when he brought you to Obsidian, but...

Gilbert: I want to kill the "me" who brought a pure you to this dirty place.

(His voice... He's serious.)

Roderich: Prince Gilbert.

Gilbert: Ah, thank you for your hard work. Have you secured the route?

Roderich: Yes. Since the execution is in progress, now is the time to go.

Gilbert: I see. ...Can you walk?

(...We're leaving this place.)

When I nodded, Gilbert let go of me.

Instead, he took my hand and pulled me gently, as if escorting me.

I stumbled, but managed to move my legs.

Behind me, the death throes were still rising.

Men and women alike--if there is a hell, this place might be it.

-

Gilbert: You look pale. ...Roderich, bring the medicine.

Roderich: Yes.

We left the castle through a deserted area and were led to one of Gilbert's hideouts in the city.

Thankfully, the hellish spectacle wasn't taking place in the city, but what I saw on the way here was different from what I knew.

(Everyone looked depressed and tired, there was no vitality, and the whole city was desolate.)

(...I like the Obsidian of the future, but the Obsidian of the past is very...)

Gilbert: Can you take the medicine?

Emma: ...What kind of medicine is it?

Gilbert: It's a medicine to calm your nerves.

(They have that kind of medicine on hand?)

I was handed a small vial while sitting on a chair.

Judging by the familiar, unique color, it might be something Walter had made.

Next to the vial was a drink that looked like it could be a palate cleanser. It was very thoughtful.

Emma: Thank you...

Gilbert: You're welcome. But be careful, it tastes awful.

(...I know, Gil.)

I accepted his kindness and poured the liquid from the vial down my throat in one gulp.

I masked the peculiar taste that made me feel even worse with the sweet juice.

Gilbert: Now, you said you came from the future, but you don't know how to solve the current situation.

Gilbert: Since we don't know, we need to investigate, and I'll take care of that.

Emma: Huh?

Gilbert: I'm going to have you evacuate to Jade until I find out more.

Gilbert: I'd really like to send you to Rhodolite, but...

Gilbert: The Bloodstained Rose Day, wasn't it? I think that war you were talking about will happen soon.

Emma: ...

Gilbert: I'll report back to you. So, with that said...

Gilbert: Take care, "Little Rabbit."

Gilbert stroked my hair and turned his back.

It seems he's going to return to the castle without resting.

Gilbert: Roderich, you don't have to come back for a while.

Roderich: Will you be alright on your own?

Gilbert: Who are you talking to?

Roderich: ...My apologies.

Gilbert: I'll make sure you get to Jade safely.

Gilbert: If you get even a single scratch, your head will be next, so be careful.

Emma: Wait... please.

I stood up from the chair and grabbed Gilbert's mantle.

Gilbert: What is it?

(Gilbert in the past has been so kind to me.)

(But I... haven't been able to thank him for anything.)

When I thought about what I could do now, the first thing I noticed were the dark circles under Gilbert's eyes.

(...Come to think of it, there were documents piled up in his room too.)

(Maybe he's taking over all the government affairs of the country instead of the Emperor, who neglects domestic affairs.)

In the future, Gilbert seemed to have his own time by training people and delegating tasks, but if that nightmare is happening every day, he might not even have that luxury now.

There's only one thing I can do for Gilbert, who is being targeted and working so hard.

Emma: Would you like to rest for a bit?

Gilbert: Do I look tired?

Emma: ...Yes.

Emma: You don't look "alright."

Gilbert: ...

Gilbert: I see. If you, who are sensitive to people's emotions, say so, then maybe I am?

Gilbert: ...That's a very tempting offer, but...

Gilbert put his hand over his mouth, paused as if in thought, and then lowered the corners of his eyebrows.

Gilbert: But... I'm sorry.

.

.

.

. Part 4 | YouTube SE in JP

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[littleplantfreak]

Hiragi & an S/O with stomach issues

(I made the stomach issues vaguish because...the stomach is insane and many things can happen to make you feel like crap lmao personally mine makes waaay to much acid so im just constantly feeling spicy and..not in a good way, so here's to all you reflux, gerd, ibs, peptic ulcers, and other stomach issues people Hiragi and I feel your pain.)

Hiragi Toma

-One of the first times you met up with Toma, you saw one of his flare-ups. Stomach clenched, hunched over, popping pills out of a small package, only to start chewing them whole had you stressing yourself. At lease he didn't try to dry swallow them, but still it's gotta be bitter. Handing him, your unopened green tea, he grabs it and twists the top. Only to give it back to you with a soft here you go even though he's literally gritting his teeth right now.

"Huh? I was giving it to you! To get the medicine taste outta your mouth." But he just smiles at you, a rough chuckle rumbling in his chest, telling you he's used to it, and that it doesn't bother him. You start carrying candies in your pocket for the next time he does that, insisting he takes one as a palate cleanser if he's not gonna get a drink. Gas-kun 10 is able to be taken without water but that doesn't mean anyone should have to!

____

The first time he sees you have a stomach thing, he's full of concern, though you tell him you're totally fine. A drink and the medicine from your bag will have you semi-decent, but he's insistent on taking you home earlier from your date which has you so upset it makes your stomach worse. He ends up having to calm you down, saying once you're feeling up to it, you can put on a movie and cuddle instead. From that point on, he starts paying attention to what triggers it (if anything, sometimes the universe just decides to give you a shitty hand no pun intended) and your tolerance for certain foods and drinks.

____

If you have bad impulse control, you really don't have to worry with him since he'll grab the coffee you got from the vending machine right out of your hands before lecturing you about it. If you absolutely insist, he'll give it back, just grumbling about how reckless you are with your body, but you shoot back that you don't wanna hear it from a guy who regularly comes back bruised and bloody from fights and he shuts up real quick. Later as he's holding you in bed, you're sobbing and sulking because the coffee WAS a bad idea, and you're so sick and he's saying told you so in his head.

____

If you're stuck in the bathroom and absolutely don't want him to come in? He's outside the door, phone in hand texting you and asking if you need anything. No he doesn't care if you clog the toilet, and yes he'll hold your hair back if you puke. There's not a thing he won't do for you, all you gotta do is say the word because he knows when he's on the other end of it, you're just as attentive and caring.

[gffa]

This is a long rant and I apologise if this comes off as too much 😅 I just want to let you know that I'm SO GLAD you're part of the star wars fandom. You're one of the few reasons my interest in this franchise has survived despite the toxicness that it has seeped into everything the past few years. Yes, star wars fandom has always been pretty much a mess but I feel like these days it's somehow gotten even worse. And there isn't even anything coming out that could distract everyone from the constant drama.

Your blog and your posts about the books are always a breath of fresh air in all this. I really appreciate that you take time to make all these long canon references and share them with us. And that you actually engage with canon content! For some reason that seems to be a tall order for most 'fans' these days.

It's exhausting seeing the ice cold takes about the jedi be repeated over and over again by people who seem to have barely even watched the films, let alone read the random book they're referencing to show how the jedi are So Evil and failed poor anakin by Forcing him to let go of his Attachments so they definitely deserved to all get massacred down to the last child!!! And if you push back by citing literally anything canonical to show how ridiculous their takes are they reference a random obscure legends novel (that they are often twisting and also usually haven't even read) And if you point out that, no, Legends isn't canon (and never has been) and we could discuss it as its own separate thing instead of dragging it into canon discussions, they completely flip and say they don't care and to stop taking star wars so seriously 🙄 ( u can probably tell I've had some pretty frustrating fandom arguments recently lol)

It does feel like groundhog day sometimes with the same arguments being repeated over and over again to villainize the jedi while absolving the genocidal mass enslaving space fascists that are Very Clearly the Bad Guys. And it feels pretty much deliberate at this point when people misunderstand star wars' canon definition of attachment and project all their issues in their own lives with their christian upbringing onto the space monks... This has only been exacerbated by people like Headland jumping onto the franchise and doing this with fuckass disney's approval, so now the racist anti jedi youtubers have started attacking this new anti jedi show so if I defend the jedi I get lumped in with them *sigh*

Anyway, I just listened to Padawan's Pride because of your posts and it was fun and a much needed palate cleanser for me after the months of anti jedi takes. I also started reading your jedi citations project and it's gotten me back into reading some other of my favorite jedi fics and maybe writing some of my own. So tldr; Thank You!

Oh, anon, I hear you and I went through a lot of similar feelings over the last few months. In between a lot of IRL stuff coming up and the fandom getting incredibly weird about Jedi fans (soooo much projection going on that it started getting unsettling sometimes) and the same old constant beratement on my posts, I was thinking that I was just too tired to deal with any of it.

It did get hard some days because it felt like no matter how hard I tried to be friendly and make a point to say that everyone needed to be allowed their space whether we agreed or not, that I would still get words put in my mouth or my posts misinterpreted or accused of trying to shut down other people's conversations, when I've never even interacted with that person, I've never reblogged anything from them, never talked about them, just made my own posts about the Jedi on my own blog.

That aspect of how, if we write posts that cite Lucas quotes or moments from the movies and shows, we're taking things too seriously (or the super weird one of how we're trying to "force" people to have to take Lucas' commentary as a holy grail or whatever), then we're taking it too seriously is SO REAL, I have been through that SO MUCH. And it's like, no! Nobody has to take authorial intention into consideration! But if you're going to say that I ~missed the point~ of what Lucas intended with the movies, I'm going to break out the Lucas quotes to show that, no, I didn't miss the point. You're still not obligated to agree, but the point is that I'm not coming out of nowhere with my views and deriding me as not a ~true fan~ or whatever is asshole behavior.

And it's hard to have that groundhogs day feeling, especially because you don't necessarily want to spend that time getting into arguments with people--they are allowed their own space, if they want it! But if they're coming into our space, then yes we get to respond with an essay if we like. (And, hey, some of us genuinely like writing essays, it's satisfying!) But I've found the best mindset for me to have when arguing is: I'm not going to convince this person in front of me and that's fine, they're not going to convince me, either. But there are other people watching this discussion and they are seeing which one of us is being a pill and which one of us looks kinda fun to hang out with.

Which is my way of winding around to what I really want to say--I'm so glad that I can help you want to have fun in this corner of fandom! There's always going to be times to respond with sharp edges to Jedi-critical stuff (especially when it starts dipping into the racist, xenophobic, bigoted nonsense)(not all of Jedi criticism is this, but it does happen all too often), I don't blame Jedi fans for having their nerves scraped raw by people feeling absolutely free to treat our posts like public property instead of them coming into someone else's lane to make a mess. (I've met some very nice Jedi critical people, this isn't about them, this is about the assholes.)

But is it really worth being in a fandom where that's all we do anymore? We can't avoid the negativity, we can't avoid people being assholes to us, but we can work on making the content we want to see at the end of a long day when we get home and log onto the computer and want to see something that makes us feel joyful.

I hope I'm doing my part to make it fun to stick around the fandom, to want to read some of the books or some of the fic, I love the artists who are drawing the cutest Jedi art, I love the fic writers who are writing great Jedi-positive stories, I love people who make silly shitposts about how funny the Jedi fan be, I love people who cry over the deaths of their favorite Jedi, they help make the fandom worthwhile.

It really does make a huge difference, I think! Whenever I need that same palette cleanser, I just take a week or so to push aside all discourse (don't even go look), just pick up some of my favorite Jedi fics, just go looking for some of my favorite Jedi art, reread "Padawan" or "Padawan's Pride" or "Obi-Wan & Anakin" or "The Living Force" or "Dark Rendezvous" and just spend time thinking about the things I love about the Jedi in canon, thinking up headcanons about lineages or nerdy Jedi philosophy arguments or adrenaline junkies, and it helps create the space I want to be in.

Hearing that I can help you with that is a huge boost as well--I hope you know that it helps me in return to know that we can help build something together here in our corner of the Star Wars internet. We're in this together and we can cheer each other up with cute content and I am getting out the pom-poms for you to have fun with that fic! <3

[cosmic-light-fics]

I honestly can't get over Carmen Anthony Berzatto getting relationship advice from Neil Fak of all people in "Bolognese".

Neil, the one almost everyone refers to as a child. Neil, the one almost everyone doesn't take seriously. That Neil.

So why have a deep conversation with an unserious person?

Well.... because the conversation isn't seriously about Claire.

It's about Sydney.

The Crane Wife 3 by The Decemberists plays in the background as Carmy suddenly asks Neil "Is Claire my girlfriend?" He could have asked Sydney that question. You know, the person who prompted him to think of Claire as a girlfriend instead of a friend that's a girl. But all he was concerned about in that moment was being a shitty person (to whom he doesn't specify. It's purposely left open-ended).

The song playing draws on the Japanese folk tale of the crane wife. A blogger who analyzes The Decemberists' album The Crane Wife had this to say about The Crane Wife 3.

We begin here with the end of the tale of the crane wife, told from the point of view of the now-estranged husband who deeply regrets driving her away. If you’re like me and you know nothing of the story going into the album, all that you’re likely to pick up on is the fact that a man drove his lover away due to some sort of mistrust or disagreement between them, and you’d probably take the lines referring to her shed feathers and her choice to take flight as metaphors for a scorned woman walking out on the man she once loved, not realizing it’s all actually quite literal, as she was a crane who had taken human form. The source of the betrayal won’t become clear until much later in the album.

Up until this point in the season, Carmy and Claire haven't really faced any dips in their relationship due to Carmy's inability to define their connection. The person who is affected the most is Sydney. Claire hasn't felt betrayal from Carmy. Sydney has: from him standing her up for their palate cleanser, to him not updating her on the structural changes to The Bear, and his most egregious betrayal being the construction of the chaos menu without her. Making the chaos menu without her and gaining input from Claire.

Carmy betrayed Sydney. And I think what compounds this fact is that he decides to confirm who Claire is to him to everyone else except Sydney. Sydney is the one who asks for confirmation, the one who confronts him to decide and yet!!! Carmy never confirms their status to the one person who was concerned enough to point it out.

Who suffers from Carmy's relationship the most? Sydney. She loses his time, his focus, his dedication to their creation. But the biggest thing she loses is their connection (up until Carmy finally decides to give her his full focus in ep. 9).

Nothing confirms all of this more than Sydney's Three of Swords tattoo. A song of betrayal playing in the background as Carmy decides if Claire is his girlfriend, a couple's montage between Claire and Carmy undercut with shots of Sydney, and the reveal of a tattoo that symbolizes betrayal and heartbreak.

[cakerybakery]

22,000+ words for From the Dust Anew (Adam’s designed is based on @inubaki ‘s prideful AU) and I’m real sick of writing Lilith. I need a bit of a palate cleanser so I’ll write a scene of succubus/incubus Adam.

Not sure how it would fit into the story, time line wise. It’s based on a currently deleted scene but I’m thinking about working it back in.

Warning for intersexed Adam

Leaning against the wall in the line, Adam didn’t feel like he stood out too much. He was kinda of average size for an incubus it seemed. Maybe even a little on the tall side.

He grinned and stood a little straighter.

Yeah. He was actually a little taller than most of the succubi, both he chicks and dudes. It wasn’t much but he was used to sinners towering over him. It was nice to be one of the tall ones for a change.

‘Ugh. Speaking of sinners.’ Adam thought watching from the corner of his eye as two lizard sinners catcalled and propositioned all the succubi in the line.

“Come on ladies. You don’t need to buy your lust, daddy has some for you right here.” He thrusted his hips at a particularly small succubus in the line.

The two sinners boxed her in and ignored the protests from the succubi around her.

“Come on, baby. It’s what you’re for, right?” Said the ugly red bastard on the left.

Adam stepped out of the line for the new succubi restaurant and, taking as long of strides as he could at his size, he confronted the two.

“Fuck off. Leave her alone, assholes.” Adam knew exactly what these creeps were doing. Targeting her because she was small and weak.

She barely looked old enough to have switched to feeding on lust instead of love.

He knew this was hell, but he was ashamed of the kinds of people that had come from his nuts.

A few members of the line up backed him up and joined in telling the sinners off, but most just seemed like they didn’t want to be the next target. Adam couldn’t blame them. These freaks looked like they were almost as tall as he had been when he was an angel. Their teeth were sharp, their claws looked sharper.

Most of the succubi looked like him. Small and weak. They were used to being near the bottom rung. Lucky ones worked in the mortal realm to gather lust. The rest had to make do here. Without Lu, he’d be like them. Getting a meal from anyone he could.

“Ohh, you want to take her place, baby? What do you think, man?” Ugly and red asked ugly and blue.

Adam stood straight, put his hand on his hip and told them, “how about you fucking leave before I kick your fucking ass.”

Ugly and blue grabbed his arm firmly, “don’t be like that, cutie. Why don’t you lift your pretty skirt and give us a good time.”

He tried to stay calm but he could feel his anger starting to reach the boiling point.

Adam let himself drop suddenly to his haunches, yanking the guy forward, then shot back up and head butted the asshole in the jaw.

He let go of Adam and stumbled back, holding onto his chin as he screamed. Blood dripped from his mouth as his sharp teeth had bit into his long tongue.

The new him might be small, but he had been a fighter for thousands of years. There was one thing that would help keep the creep down. Adam kicked high and got the guy square in the nuts. He was real happy he was wearing Lu’s boots that day. The ones with the pointed toes.

They looked good with his skirt, and he made that skirt look real good. His legs and ass were hot, he was man enough to admit it and flaunt it these days.

Ugly and blue screamed and Adam was pretty sure he felt something pop. Served the freak right.

Ugly and red grabbed him by the elbow and lifted him up. “You little cunt!”

Adam was small. He was weaker than he had been on Earth or in heaven. Unlike sinners or even a lot of the hell-born kind, succubi as a species didn’t have a lot of non-sexual ways to save themselves from danger. His claws were little, his horns couldn’t do much, and succubi wings were more for looks than function.

As he dangled, Adam knew he couldn’t kick the guy. So he did the only thing he could. He dug the tiny claws of his free hand into the guy’s arm and unfurled his golden wings.

They tore through the back of his shirt, turning it into tatters. He never could get them through the slits without Lu’s help.

At least it was just the back and his tits were still covered. Adam didn’t want to give the guy a free show.

The average succubus wings barely did jack shit. His on the other hand, when he made them full sized, lifted him and the sinner high in the air above the street.

“You know, I was calling you Ugly and Red in my head but I just thought of a new name for you.” Adam let go of the sinner’s arm and the guy screamed. He begged and apologized as he held on to Adam.

Adam raked the sinners arms with his claws and the sinner let go. “Bye-bye, Street Pizza.”

He landed to some nervous faces.

A parade in his honour would have been overboard but they could at least look like he wasn’t about to taken to the gallows for killing a sinner and popping another guy’s nuts.

Speaking of, where the fuck was popped nut?

No way the guy got up and ran so quickly. All Adam could see was the busted body of street pizza and a smear where he had left popped nut.

A familiar hat caught his eyes as it rose up. Lu was a few inches taller than the group of succubi and incubi. His hat was even more distinctive.

Lu saw him and smiled, then frowned. “Adam.” The hell-born parted for their king as Lu moved towards him. “Are you okay? Feeling faint?”

Adam’s could see the girl from where Lu had been. Looking starstruck and blushing.

“I’m hungry, but fine. Where’s popped nut?”

“Who?” Lu looked over at the bloody smear on the ground when Adam gestured that way. “The blue sinner? Don’t worry about him. He won’t be reforming anytime soon.”

Lu insisted on looking Adam over as they joined the line up again and no one seemed to quite know what to do upon seeing the king fussing over a low level demon. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Ducky. You have to stop loosing your temper.”

It was lucky that Adam thought Lu was cute. “What was I supposed to do, Lu?” He lowered his voice to maintain the illusion of privacy at least. “They were creeps at best, and trying to coerce her into sex. She barely looks old enough for her first heat and she looked scared. I had to do something.”

Sighing, Lu cupped Adam’s cheeks, thumbs on Adam’s black heart cheek marks, and kissed his nose. “What am I going to do with you, Ducky?”

“I can think of a few things we can do after dinner.” Adam teased.

Lu’s hands wrapped around Adam’s waist and pulled him close. “Hmm, we could skip dinner and I can feed you.”

“Fuck no.” Adam let himself be held. “I’ve been dying to try this place. It’s almost impossible to find synthetic lust in the pride ring, now there’s a whole restaurant? This is amazing.”

He wasn’t the only one that thought so, given the slow moving line up.

Sex was great. Ten out of ten, no complaints. But he liked to have a meal on occasion that didn’t involve Lu being balls deep in him. That being said. Sometimes it was nice just to have sex to have sex. No feeding involved.

Adam hated creeps like those sinners. He and other succubi weren’t walking flesh lights just because they needed to fed on people’s lust to live.

He just wished there was something more he could do to help.

[mbakuetshurisprincess]

A Betting Woman

AN: Hey y’all! So I’m trynna do some palate cleansers while I work on BTB3 cause lord is that one just emotionally taxing to create lol. 80% of this fic is just Riri and Shuri talking about you and how they view you so there's that. This was heavily inspired by the wonderful work of @generallysapphic who is thee supreme when it comes to Shuriri postings. There's someone else who wrote a Shuriri fic but I can’t find them anymore. Just some cute shit to post fr. Set on a timeline where you went with Shuri to defeat Namor but Riri is a super genius. 

Summary: Normally these types of moral dilemmas don’t bother Riri but after meeting your girlfriend, the queen of Wakanda. Riri decides to pay you a visit to end things. 

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader, Riri x Fem!Reader and the beginnings of Shuri x Riri.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of D/S dynamic, kissing, i think thats it. 

Translation: Sthandwa - my love , Entle - Beautiful & Usana - baby. 

Word count: 2,864 

Suggested listening: WILSHIRE - Tyler, The Creator. 

“It's morals I really have, it's lines I could never cross But you got somethin' that make All them good intentions get lost I try to keep it together, never felt this way”

Riri knocked quickly on the door three times, rocking on her heels as she did it. 

“Busy right now!” Someone called from the other side of the door. The genius didn’t know if the voice was yours or not but she didn’t care.

‘Oh no, that bitch did not.’ Riri thought to herself. She brought her fist to the door and knocked harder this time. Everything was always on your schedule and Riri was going to be damned if her ending this fling was on your time too. She heard some rustling around and the bed creek before the door opened up enough to reveal a person on the other side. 

The person Riri was expecting to see behind your dorm door was you, it was your room after all. Instead, she was met by the exact person she was here to talk to you about, Shuri. The taller woman stood in your doorway leaning up against the post. She was wearing a black sports bra and a matching pair of black sweats with golden embroidery on the side. The sweatpants hung low on her waist and Riri could make out the band of Shuri’s boxers. ‘She’s a Calvin Klein girl huh,’ The thought came to the mechanic quicker than she could stop it and she mentally cursed herself for getting so off track. 

“Riri Williams, right?” Shuri tilted her head to the side, allowing the name to roll off her tongue. 

Riri’s eyes flashed over Shuri’s figure one more time before she finally pulled herself together. “Yeah that’s me,” She cleared her throat. “Is uh Y/N here?” Riri tried to look further into the room but Shuri blocked her movements with her body. 

This unintentionally gave the younger girl an opportunity to ogle at the Queen’s perfectly sculpted abs and steal a glance at her waistline again, so she wasn’t complaining. 

“No Y/N is busy right now, can it wait?” 

Snapping back into the conversation Riri finally got back to her original plan. “No it really can’t wait, I’ve been needed to talk to her about this.” 

Shuri pondered over Riri’s words for a few moments looking her up and down as she did. Riri wondered if she might melt under Shuri’s gaze. Something about the monarch was slowly starting to make her weak in the knees. She averted her eyes back down to the floor, once again sneaking glances at Shuri’s body as she did. 

“Well I’m sure whatever you wanted to tell her, you can tell me and I’ll relay the message,” Shuri suggested. She had noticed the way Riri was staring at her and decided to play into it. “Is it normal for American girls to make it this obvious when they’re checking someone out, or is it just you?”

Riri snapped her head back up to meet Shuri’s eyes, “What!? I wasn’t- Why would you say that? No, I wasn’t! '' Riri slowly started panicking.

Had she really been that blatant in her staring that the queen would notice? And this was totally not what she came here for or what she had rehearsed saying. 

Shuri relished seeing Riri’s cheeks flush with a dark red blush as she tried to regain herself. “Ah. No matter.” Shuri said with a smile. “What is it that you wanted to tell Y/N?” 

‘No fucking way.’ Riri thought to herself. ‘No fucking way did I just get bested at my own game! Bitch had me stuttering over MY words when I came here to end shit with HER girlfriend. I can’t go out like that.’ 

Riri opened her mouth to speak, after brainstorming something logical like ‘No I need to talk to her in person.’ or ‘I literally have her location and know she’s here right now. I need to speak with her.’ All of those would have been rational things to say but instead what came out of Riri’s mouth was fueled by nothing but good old-fashioned Chicago pride. 

“I’m fucking your girlfriend.” She blurted out.

Shuri tilted her head to the side and chuckled lightly before turning around and closing the door behind her. Riri was left standing in the dormitory hallway staring at the now-closed door. What the fuck was she thinking?? Telling the Queen of arguably the most powerful nation in the world that you were not just seeing her girlfriend, but FUCKING her? Surely that was enough to get her killed and probably in a way no one would know. She would just slowly fade out of the popular consciousness until no one remembered her name; all over some pussy. Great pussy at that, but still. She was roused from her thoughts by the door opening and Shuri standing on the other side once again. 

“I know you’re ‘fucking my girlfriend.’” She said the last part in air quotations with a chuckle. “Are you going to come in so we can finally discuss this or just stand outside confused?” 

The question caught Riri off guard and she stood there staring at Shuri, unsure of what her next move should be. She hadn’t planned for this at all. She had expected to come to your dorm room today and completely end things with you. Normally she didn’t have an issue with sleeping with people who were cheating on their partners. That was someone else’s moral dilemma not hers. But after interacting with Shuri today while she was a guest speaker at a lab on campus, the guilt started eating her alive. 

Eventually, Shuri got bored of waiting and grabbed Riri’s shoulder pulling the small girl into the dorm room and shutting the door behind her. 

“Come in and sit down.” Shuri walked back over to the bed and hopped onto it. When Riri didn’t move it prompted Shuri to speak again. “Do not act like you do not know her room entle, make yourself at home.” 

Riri wanted to ask what entle meant but decided that was the least of her problems right now. She made her way over to the bean bag in the opposite corner of the room and sunk down into it. She could hear the sound of the shower running in the bathroom connected to your dorm and assumed that's where you were since your location had pinged as here, yet you weren't in the room currently. 

“She shouldn’t take too long,” Shuri said noticing where Riri’s line of sight was going. “We can wait till she gets here or you can ask whatever you’d like to ask now.” 

The younger girl shifted in her seat and contemplated what Shuri had proposed. “I’ll wait for Y/N to get out of the shower.” 

Shuri nodded and picked back up the book that was lying on the bed. Riri watched Shuri intently as she read. How was she being so cool right now? Sitting in the same room as your girlfriend's lover would typically draw a stronger reaction out of the average person but the royal seemed to be in a very relaxed state. 

‘Duh’ Riri thought to herself, it’s because Shuri already knew. She had told Riri already so her presence couldn't have been that much of a surprise to her. This thought in turn only raised more questions for Riri. 

‘How long had she known?’

‘Was she upset with Y/N?’ 

And most importantly,

‘How much did she really know?’ 

Shuri looked up from her book and caught Riri staring at her once again, which must be a theme for the night. Riri cleared her throat and spoke. “I change my mind, I’d like to ask my questions and you answer them.” She paused, “Right now.” 

Shuri chuckled at the girl's forwardness. “Y/N did say you didn’t have much patience, I see she wasn’t lying about that… Among other things,” 

Riri swore when Shuri said it she caught Shuri looking her up and down. Shuri didn’t even give her enough time to react before continuing. “But go ahead, I’ll do my best to answer them.” 

“How long have you known about us?” 

“Since the beginning,” Shuri replied simply. 

“And you’re not mad?” Riri questioned, sitting up in the bean bag chair.

“Why would I be?” Shuri questioned back with a genuine look of confusion on her face. 

Shuri’s look of confusion was replicated on Riri after hearing her answer and seeing the woman's face. “Uhh, because while you’re in Wakanda saving the world and shit, I’m here with two fingers buried deep in your girl!” 

“Just two? Normally she likes three but whatever works for you guys really.” Shuri’s sarcasm left Riri’s mouth agape and which only fueled Shuri’s laughter. Once she had pulled herself together Shuri apologized and said she would actually answer Riri’s question, earning a huff of agitation from her. 

“You already answered your question in your question, entle.” Once again Shuri spoke coolly and used that entle word that Riri couldn’t understand. 

“What the hell does that even mean!” Riri sucked her teeth as she spoke. “No more weird shit, no more nicknames in other languages, just explain this shit to me 'cause it’s not making any sense.” 

Shuri nodded, understanding that Riri did deserve the full story. She wanted to wait for you to come out of the shower but the combination of not knowing exactly how much longer you were going to take and her sensing Riri’s agitation; she was compelled to speak. 

“What I mean by that is you gave yourself the answer already. Y/N is here for school for most of the year and I’m kept busy looking after Wakanda. My love has needs that unfortunately due to the distance most of the time I cannot fill. She’s permitted to fulfill these needs in any way she chooses, as am I.”

Riri looked dumbfounded once again as she digested Shuri’s words. “So you’ve known this whole time?” 

“Mhm.”

“About everything?” 

“Pretty much yeah.” Shuri tapped her fingers on her stomach where they lay interlaced. 

“Even the sex?” Riri probed. There was no way Shuri was just so chill about this. 

Shuri was humored, sensing that Riri was hoping to incite an angry response. “Yes, even the sex. Of which I only heard good things about so I must give you credit Ms.Williams, you kept my girl satisfied.” 

The blush returned to Riri’s face and she felt her lips creep into a smile upon hearing Shuri’s praise. Her cocky side came out and she decided to get smart. “You weren't worried I was gonna take her from you?”

“Oh, not for one second. Y/N’s collared, she’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” Shuri replied confidently. Seeing Riri’s confusion she moved her hand down to the necklace resting on her chest; holding it up before letting it fall back down. “Never noticed her necklace? I know she doesn't take it off.” 

Riri’s mind flashed images of you and to Shuri’s credit in all of the scenes, a golden necklace with a small claw was hanging from your neck. Even in the ones where Riri’s head was buried between your thighs and your head was thrown back as you cam-

‘Focus Riri!’ She thought to herself. 

“So she’s your submissive?” Riri clarified.

“Wow, you are pretty smart. Maybe you do live up to that genius title after all.” Shuri quipped with a smirk. “But yes, Bast has gifted me with an amazing girlfriend and sub.”  

Riri desperately wanted to make a smart remark back at the royal but she stifled it in favor of getting more information about your dynamic Shuri. What she had learned thus far intrigued and turned her on. “And she listens to you, a hundred percent of the time?” 

“A hundred and fifty percent of the time.” Shuri corrected her. “Does she not do the same for you?”

“Hell fuckin no she does not!” Riri exclaimed. “There is not a bone in that girl's body that knows how to listen, everything with her is a fight.” 

“My Y/N? Never. She knows better than to even make me repeat myself.” Shuri was baffled at what Riri had said but also intrigued at the idea of seeing a more bratty side of you.

“I don’t believe it, she’s not physically capable of listening.” Riri tapped the side of her head to mimic how hard-headed you acted with her. 

The sound of the shower turning off, signifying your arrival soon gave Shuri an idea. “Do you want me to show you just how well she listens?” 

A smirk slipped onto Riri’s face as she picked up on Shuri’s idea. “Yeah I do, show me how well your girl listens.” 

Shuri let out a puff of air along with her laugh and nodded. You stepped out of the bathroom looking down at something on your towel. 

Let the show begin.

Your bathroom door was on the wall that ran parallel to where your bed was, so when you looked up you were first met with Shuri. “Whew! I needed that baby, I don’t think I was conscious for the first ten minutes of that shower.” You beamed as you made your way over to the bed, still unaware of Riri’s presence in the room. 

“Of course sthandwa. And more to come tonight, you know that. We wouldn’t want to be rude to our guests before that though. Why don’t you go say hello to our friend.” Shuri nodded past you and to the corner. 

You spun around confused at what “friend” Shuri was referring to and immediately alarm bells began ringing in your head. There sat Riri, looking calm as ever manspreading on your bean bag chair. 

“What’s up ma.” She said with a smirk. 

“Oh fuck no.” You murmured under your breath. Never in your life did you expect to mix your worlds like this. Sure both women had known about the other but never in a million years had you imagined them to be in the same room together. You instantly started moving towards the bathroom door, hoping to lock yourself in and formulate a plan without being under either woman's gaze. 

Of course, Shuri calling out a strong “Stop.” ended all hopes of that as a means of escape. “Go give Riri a kiss, I’ve taught you better manners than that.” 

You looked back at your girlfriend as if she had lost her mind. Yes, you had told her every detail about your relationship with Riri and described the sex in explicit detail. But to kiss her in front of Shuri? Something about that felt so wrong it was right. 

“You know I won’t repeat myself without punishment, usana. Go.” Shuri gestured over to Riri who was taking the whole scene in. She watched as you shifted your weight between your feet, debating if you would listen to Shuri. If Riri was a betting woman, she would have bet her entire life savings at that moment that you wouldn’t listen. 

Good thing Riri didn’t like to bet. 

You walked over to Riri and gave her a small smile, slightly embarrassed knowing that Riri just watched you fold to Shuri. “Hi.” 

“So you do know how to listen the first time?” Riri concluded, the smirk still on her face. 

“Only when the right person asks me.” You maintained, crossing your arms across your chest to keep the towel from falling. Shuri heard your response and let out a light laugh and a “Be nice my love.” 

“You heard what your girlfriend said though ma, gimme me a kiss.” Riri sat up in the beanbag chair awaiting you to make the move. 

You looked back at Shuri one more time, kissing other girls had never been an issue for you before but for some reason doing it in front of her felt different. Secretly it turned you on to know that your girlfriend not only ordered but encouraged you to kiss Riri. 

Fuck it. 

You bent down and Riri pulled your face to hers so that your lips met. As soon as they touched Riri hungrily devoured them savoring the taste of you. By now you knew her style and you opened your mouth slightly so her tongue could come in and meet yours. Shuri watched from the bed as you two made out, turned on by the hunger you both displayed. She could tell the two of you were getting into it, Riri especially as she brought her other hand up to cup your cheek.

Deciding this was the perfect opportunity to prove her point Shuri ordered. “Step back Y/N.” 

Once again if Riri could bet she would have bet her life on the fact that you wouldn’t pull away. You loved kissing and she could tell that you were especially enjoying this little makeout session by the way your chest was heaving up and down. 

And once again it was a good thing Riri didn’t bet often. 

You unlatched your lips from Riri’s and stood back up, taking a few steps back in the process. Riri’s eyes flashed between yours and Shuri’s unable to believe what had just happened. 

“Told you she could listen.”

[roomwithanopenfire]

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday everyone and thanks for the tags @nausikaaa @monbons @you-remind-me-of-the-babe and @artsyunderstudy!!

This weekend I've finally had both the time and motivation to write—a marvelous occurrence when they both line up. I finally finished the 3rd chapter of my COBB, then decided I didn't want one chapter all Baz's POV and one chapter all Simon's and played scene tetris to get everything into chronological order instead. Which meant I ended up splitting all the scenes between 3 chapters instead of 2. So now I've finished 4/8 chapters of my COBB instead of 3/7, which feels distinctly better somehow even though it's the same word count 😂 Halfway there 🎉

Here's some Simon POV:

I don’t argue with Fiona as she leaves (taking my mug with her, still half full of tea). While I don't like it, if hunting with her one night is all I have to do to clear this up, I'll take it. I lean back against the fridge, letting my eyes fall closed and releasing a long sigh. Baz’s face fills my mind. Once this whole thing is sorted maybe I’ll be able to stop thinking about him. The Baz behind my eyes raises an eyebrow. Fat chance.

I really think once I finish Proof of Life and this fic I need to write a oneshot that stays a oneshot. I'm too long winded for my own good. Need a palate cleanser. Should write something under 10k again—it's been years.

Tags and Hellos:

@alexalexinii @angelsfalling16 @arthurkko @beastmonstertitan @blackberrysummerblog

@bookish-bogwitch @brendughh @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cutestkilla @drowninginships

@emeryhall @facewithoutheart @fiend-for-culture @hertragedyconnoisseur @horsesarenotdeer

@hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @larkral

@m1ndwinder @noblecorgi @onepintobean @prettygoododds @raenestee

@rbkzz @rimeswithpurple @run-for-chamo-miles @shrekgogurt @skeedelvee

@supercutedinosaurs @talentpiper11 @thewholelemon (HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🍋 🎉) @valeffelees + anyone else who wants to share! I love getting tagged in these <3

Please let me know if you don't want to be tagged 🙏

[blinkysrewatchparty]

YOUR APOTHEOSIS IS UPON YOU!!

JOIN THE HIVE!!!

Erm, uh, I mean, it's time for our first Hatchetfield-themed palate cleanser! No end of the world here, no sir, just a musical, though if you're a certain guy named Paul that may be an even worse fate...

That's right! Blinky's watching The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals this weekend! Get your sniggle on and please join us for a visit back to the incredibly special show that started it all.

Please note that the THE WATCH PARTIES WILL BE ON SUNDAY (NOT SATURDAY) due to the Pit Stop In Hatchetfield Livestream. And because TGWDLM is a full musical and the two timeslots are so close together, we will be starting right at the announced time, instead of allowing for the usual grace period for people to join. Have a La-Dee-Dah-Dah Time Letting It Out!

[celestialspiritbabe]

Fairy Tail 100 Years Quest episode 18: thoughts + opinions

the fight between Natsu and God Seed Aldoron has been looking good so far!

GUESS WHO WILL HAVE THE LAST LAUGH, ALDORON?

GSA: ''Did you think you could defeat me with physical attacks? With your pathetic mortal limitations you'll never land a blow on—'' N: ''LOOKS LIKE I GOT YA'!''

''The God Seeds will eventually revive and my strength will be restored once again.'' // *laughs in power of friendship*

GAJEEL(ZILLA)!

Cana = Aquarius?

forest of swords? well, these look more like toothpicks than swords to me, but alright...

some Gruvia for the soul! 💙🩵💙

some Gajevy for the soul as well! 🖤🧡

LUCY THINKING ABOUT NATSU! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

WE GOT ROBBED OF SUCH AN AMAZING NALU MOMENT! THEY SHOULD'VE TOTALLY PUT MORE EMPHASIS ON NALU IN THIS SCENE, BUT OF COURSE THEY MANAGED TO FUCK IT UP AND MAKE IT MORE ABOUT EVERYONE ELSE OTHER THAN NATSU AND LUCY SPECIFICALLY (well, at least the Edolas/Elentir arc is coming up so it should be a good palate cleanser after this nothingburger of an arc for us Nalu shippers)!

let me tell you, Natsu's big ass fights against the big bad guys and Todd Haberkorn's amazing voice acting go together like peanut butter and jelly!

''I'M JUST ME. I AM NATSU DRAGNEEL OF THE FAIRY TAIL GUILD!'' // WELL, YOU'RE ALSO LUCY'S FUTURE BOYFRIEND!

BYE BYE ALDORON, YOU NASTY PIECE OF SHIT! NOBODY'S GONNA' MISS YOU AND YOU'RE BETTER OFF BEING USED AS A FIREWOOD INSTEAD!

LUCY CALLING OUT FOR NATSU! 😭😭😭

Selene >>>>>> Ignia

YES, GET HER MADMOLE!

K: ''Damn that cocky lightning dragon...'' M: ''You love him, cha.'' K: ''Yeah, I can't wait to devour him completely.''

Suzaku looks really good!

GRUVIA! 💙🩵💙🩵💙

J: ''I'm so glad my icy hot hunk is safe!'' G: ''Yeah, likewise.''

JERZA! ❤️💜❤️💜❤️

E: ''You've changed, for the better.'' J: ''It's all because of you, Erza. I'm finally ready to share my heart with someone.'' E: ''I'm glad.''

Look, I really don't want to shit on whoever Gajeel's new English VA is, but they'll never be able to capture the essence of Gajeel the way David Wald was able to. I know that might sound really harsh, but I'm still entited to my own opinion anyway!💁🏻‍♀️

BUT OH MY GOD, THAT FINAL JERZA SCENE! IT WAS DONE SO BEAUTIFULLY (PROBABLY EVEN BETTER THAN IN MANGA AND THE JAPANESE VERSION) AND IT ALMOST MADE ME CRY TEARS OF JOY!💕

Anyways, next week's episode should also be awesome because we'll finally get to see both Nasha and Greige, and I've already seen some screenshots from the episode, and both kiddos look so stinkin' cute!

[smaller-comfort]

It is WIP Wednesday, my dudes!

I need to work on necron stuff, but instead I've been kicking away at actually fluffy SoS things. Palate cleansers, now that Save Scumming is done.

A little bit of Outshine the Sun, Etudes, and Modern AU.

Untitled Aephorul/Resh'an, the extremely silly, porny sequel to Save Scumming.

--

“Let me look at you,” Resh'an said at last.

“Hmph.” He didn't want to. It didn't matter what Resh'an said; there was always that moment when he could see the pity in Resh'an's eyes. And then the disgust. Resh'an was good at hiding it- but he'd always been an open book to Aephorul.

Still. They were trying something new. He let go of Resh'an. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

For a moment Resh'an just stared at him with narrowed eyes, but then he shrugged. “On three?” Resh'an tucked his fingers under the edge of his mask.

“One.” Aephorul rearranged the flesh beneath his hood into something vaguely face-like.

“Two.” Resh'an's eyes glowed a little brighter.

“Three.” In unison, Aephorul pulled back his hood and Resh'an pulled down his mask, and they both dispelled the illusions that hid their faces.

He hissed again, this time in sympathy; when they'd last met, Resh'an hadn't looked good, but he'd at least been relatively whole. Now, half his face was missing, the skin torn away to reveal the skull beneath. The lower mandibular angle was crazed with hairline fractures.

----

Etudes: Beginnings (B'st/Resh'an). I'm still going to finish Glass Harp first, but now this series has over 15k words and at least five separate stories in it and I've clearly lost control of my life. Resh'an is such an unmitigated disaster in this series, but he's trying so hard.

----

He rarely used his bedroom in the tower; on the rare occasions that he actually slept, he usually just put his head down at his desk. The actual bedroom and living quarters had become a secondary storage space for his research notes. The first time B'st had found an entrance to the Archives, Resh'an had thrown him into a time loop in a mild state of panic, and then hucked everything in the bedroom into an extradimensional storage closet. 

He'd gotten so used to solitude- but that was no excuse for poor hospitality. When he released B'st from the time loop (hopefully none the wiser, but he wasn't going to ask) the bedroom was sparsely furnished, but clean. In the end, it didn't matter; they hadn't spent any time there that first visit. He gave B'st the tour of the tower, such as it was- the library and the reading room at the heart of the Archives, the laboratory, the living quarters- and then they'd spent the rest of their time on the observation deck.

It took considerable effort to unmoor his tower from its physical anchorage, but he did it anyway. It let him relocate the observation deck anywhere he liked, so they could look at the stars from new vantages. Resh'an had, quite frankly, been showing off.

And it had been worth it, to see B'st's eyes- already so bright- light up when Resh'an transported them into the center of a meteor shower.

----

Alternative Sleeping Arrangements (working title), Aephorul/Resh'an, college students au. Aephorul goes home with Resh'an over spring break; he meets Resh'an's aunt; a pillow fort gets built. I'm not sure if this one will ever really get finished, but I like fleshing out some of the background for this AU.

This is a non-magical AU; it literally takes place in New Jersey. But Anais and her partner Estelle are still also Guardian Gods, despite that.

--

He was surprised by how much she looked like Resh'an; she was nearly as tall as Aephorul, with the same long-limbed, willowy silhouette. But on her it looked graceful, where Resh'an always looked like he was surprised he had elbows. Her hair was a frizzy cloud of strawberry blonde to Resh'an's dead straight auburn, but they had the same eyes and the same smile. 

She drifted in on a cloud of sandalwood, peasant skirts swirling above her bare feet and silver bracelets jangling down her arms. “Darling boy!”

Resh'an looked slightly pained at his aunt's endearment. “Hi auntie. This is Aephorul.”

She kissed Resh'an on both cheeks despite the way he rolled his eyes, and then she turned to Aephorul.

He understood what Resh'an had meant when he said his aunt was a lot, now. Anais looked at him like he was a bug caught under a glass. For a moment, her face was as still and cold as a marble statue, unsmiling and distant. Then she smiled at him, the same radiantly beautiful smile that Resh'an used when he was genuinely happy. 

It took considerable effort not to flinch when she offered her hand to shake. Her grip was surprisingly firm. “It's nice to finally meet you,” she said warmly. “Resh'an can show you around the place- Essie's out getting groceries, but when she gets back we'll start on dinner.”

Resh'an rescued Aephorul from his aunt's handshake and tugged him away, down the hallway. “Come on, my room's this way.”

[aldeanotes]

the art of cooking

aemond / modern!reader, 16+, fluff / comedy / mild angst in later plot points. inspiration taken from kdrama mr. queen. reader is very bi and loves girls so much.  

summary: in which you are a famous young chef whose soul was transported into the body of some way too pretty and privileged noble woman. oh, and you’re supposed to marry a prince or whatever. anyway, can you test this to see if it's ready ? 

warnings: reader is batshit wild and doesn't have time for westerosi norms : ). characters will be ooc at times and this story is not entirely canon compliant.

chapter one: palate cleanser / 4.6k words

  When you open your eyes, flashes of your final moments pass by your mind in quick succession. You had thought your usual thinking spot at the bridge in the evening was your safe haven, but all it took was a hard shove from behind you to send you flipping over the edge. The impact on the water’s surface took out all of the air in your lungs before the water could. Maybe that was life’s final mercy to you – or its cruelest joke. After finally achieving what you’d set out to do in your tumultuous childhood, the universe had decided to rip it away from you. It was so ironic to you how easy something that had taken so long to build had crumbled.

  A dull headache has settled in your skull already when you come to, making you grit your teeth. You hiss a little and shift under the sheets of what you assume to be a bed. With a groan, you roll over onto your side, closing your eyes once more and  trying to escape the light coming into the room. Even that action caused your entire body to ache. Pulling the covers up closer to you, you hear the muffled voice of someone next to your bed but you bury your head deeper into the layers of fabric instead. 

  “Leave me alone,” you say, your voice coming out indistinguishable from under the covers. 

  It’s rather rude for someone to wake you up. 

  …. 

  That can’t be right, though. You live by yourself in your apartment. As that barely conscious thought comes to your mind, you snap your eyes open again and lower the covers down to peep up at the person. You’re greeted by an unfamiliar appearance – soft features on a small face. You’ve never seen this girl that’s staring at you with such concern before in your entire life. 

  “My lady,” she says. You can pick up the wavering at the beginning of her words as if she’s been startled by something. 

  You can only stare at her, perplexed. Your eyebrows knit together as you begin to slink away from her. 

  Undeterred by your reaction, she lets out a shaky sigh of relief. 

  “My lady, you’re awake!” She says as her hands come up to grip onto your shoulders. You freeze up. 

  Who is this strange girl dressed like she’s about to attend a renaissance fair?

  You open your mouth to say something, to tell her to get out and to demand who the hell she is, but she beats you to it. Your voice dies in your throat when you see the beginnings of tears appear in her eyes. You’re not sure if that makes you soften or if it makes you more confused. 

  “It’s so good that you’ve finally woken up,” she says, her grip getting a little tighter. You wince a bit in response. “It’s all my fault. Because I didn’t watch you close enough …” 

  Finally, you get your bearings enough to speak. “What is –”

  You cut yourself off. This isn’t your voice. You suck in a gasp, your hand coming up to rest on your throat. 

  “My voice,” you mumble. It’s still not right. Why do you sound like that? It’s much too high-pitched, too sweet sounding. This can’t be your voice. “What’s happened to my voice?” 

  Panic starts to seep into you. You push off the covers in a haste. The girl retracts her hands from you in response, and you scramble to your feet now that you’ve been given the opportunity to do so. Your body screams at you to stay still, but you refuse and will yourself to stand up straight against the aches. You point at the girl, who seems to cower away from you in both fear and confusion. 

  “Y-You–” You hear your voice stutter. “What did you do to my voice?!”

  “My lady,” she responds, almost pleading. “Y-You’re still out of sorts from the incident. Just calm down. Please!” 

  “Answer me,” you demand, but soon your eyes flicker around the room. 

  This is not your room back in the city. The room is made of stone and marble, a smooth and tall ceiling accentuated by a cool floor underneath your feet. Furniture made of finely carved wood decorates the interior, and the light coloured rugs and pillows pop out nicely amidst it all. And the bed – definitely not your twin sized bed back from home. An embroidered canopy sits above it, hung from the wall, while the haphazardly thrown bed covers seem to shine in the light cascading from the large windows.

  It’s extravagant – from the carvings in the walls to the thread of the pillows to the food laid on the side table and even the seemingly simple desk with books sprawled about it seems oddly … out of your budget. 

  “Where am I?” You ask, frantically glancing around. Kidnapping? Dream? 

  “You’re in your chambers, my lady. Your chambers in the Red Keep,” the girl answers, taking a small step towards you. Your eyes refocus back on her as she does and she stills immediately. 

  You don’t even know where that is. Must be someplace overseas. 

  “Who brought me here?” You start shuffling away from her when you see the large doors on the other side of the bed. If you make a run for it – 

  “The palace guards brought you here a-after you fell in the water,” the girl says but starts coming towards you slowly once more. “Please, my lady. You must rest. You need to preserve your health.” 

  “‘Preserve my health’, my ass. You–” You stop. 

  Your steps have carried you almost halfway through the room before your face becomes visible in a mirror propped up on a vanity. 

  Who is that girl looking back at you? Her hair falls down her shoulders in dark waves; her mouth is small; her face portrays a sweetness to her with such large, brown eyes. 

  “Who–” Her mouth moves with yours. What?

  You rush forward, your hands fumbling as they grip the mirror. Surprised gasps fall from your lips as “your” fingers come up to pull and pinch at “your” face. This is a dream. This is not you. Without a second thought, you bring a hand and slap yourself across the cheek. 

  The girl gasps from somewhere behind you. “My lady, what are you doing?!” 

  You slap yourself again on your other cheek. They both sting now but nothing happens. You don’t wake up. Your face doesn’t change. 

  “What did you do to me?!” Your voice carries through the room. 

  You whip your head around to look at the stranger that’s been in this room with you. Given the shocked expression that adorns her face, you almost feel bad for yelling if it weren’t for the wild way your heart was hammering inside of you. Your chest rises and falls so rapidly it should really frighten you. The girl’s lips quiver as she stammers to answer you, but you can’t wait any longer and make your way clumsily towards the door, nearly tripping over the edges of your sleepwear. You hear her call for you but you ignore it as you fling open the doors. 

  What - or rather, who - is before you surprises you just as much as the girl. The two guards dressed in their armor stand next to the doors. When they hear the doors open, they both turn their heads to look at you. You feel afraid when their eyes peer down at you, but they spin on their feet towards you and bow. The gesture catches you off guard for a second before you snap back to your senses and take off past them and into the vast, stone hallways of wherever this place is. 

  You hear them yelling for you but you keep trying to flee. Your legs grow heavy with each step. The skin of your feet hurt each time they meet the hard flooring underneath. It feels as if needles are slowly being sunk into your muscles, immobilizing more and more until your body unceremoniously slumps against the wall. You cling rather pathetically against the stone as you hear the sound of armor getting closer and closer before hands descend upon you. You’re dragged back kicking and screaming obscenities that even the devil would cover his ears for if he heard. 

  ***

  Whatever your “lady-in-waiting” – called “Jacquetta” or so she says – had given you after you’d called down knocked you out for some time again. A sensation of floating settled onto you before your eyes closed completely. You wished to dream. You did not. You never did anymore. 

  When you come to, you feel a hand softly brushing a lock of hair from your face. It reminds you of your mother. Foolishly, as always, you open your eyes and hope to see her there, but it’s just another stranger. This one looks weary like your mother used to, but she gazes upon you with a certain tenderness that disarms you. She smiles at you, and your lips twitch upwards involuntarily. 

  “How are you feeling, my sweet girl?” The woman asks you. 

  You can do nothing but look into her brown eyes. Even in a hazy state, you can pluck out the contents that swirl in her irises – kindness, exhaustion, something guarded. Her chestnut hair is held together too tightly in a pristine bun, and even her green dress almost feels too put together. You’re not suited to be near such order, such cleanliness. But no matter, you think. 

   You shake your head weakly at her. She gives your hand a light squeeze. 

  “The Maesters will help you. You must rest.” And she does something you longed for – she tucks you into the bed further. 

  As your eyes close, you hear her sigh. An uneasiness makes its way into your chest. You did always hate disappointing mothers. Jacquetta and the woman seem to whisper in some distant corner of the room. You don’t care about the urgency in their tones. For the first time in a long time, you wanted to see your mother. 

***

  “And the queen is Alicent Hightower,” you say, watching Jacquetta brush your hair in the mirror. “That’s who came to visit me last week, yeah?”

  Jacquetta smiles widely at you. “Very good. You’re still a quick learner, my lady.” 

  You’ve come to realize that she’s a rather cheerful young lady. After you calmed down in the following days, you had to deal with her sobbing in your arms because apparently you are the source of all her concerns and sorrows. (‘My lady, how could you forget about me? We have been childhood companions for so long! Oh, by the Seven!’ - you’d never had anyone be so upset about something outside of your control like that before). 

  You wink at her in the mirror. “I’ve got plenty of good qualities.” 

  Even though your antics perplex her, she seems to go along with them for your sake. 

  You’ve been in this body for exactly eight days and six of those had been used for rest and treatment by the maesters. Therefore, when you’d been allowed out of bed, you made sure to poke Jacquette for things you “forgot” and scribble them down in a journal for your convenience. You look over the bullet points every night. You’d made peace with the fact that as long as you are confined to this elaborately decorated room, you won’t be able to look for ways to go back home. Your mind had concocted a temporary plan to go along with whatever the hell your life has become. For right now. 

  “Do we like her?” You ask. 

  “‘We’?” Jacquetta says, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, like,” you say, “Is she cool?” 

  “‘Cool?’”

  You sigh. “Is she our friend, basically?”

  That seems to dishearten Jacquetta a bit, but she answers anyway. “Queen Alicent has known you since you were a child at court. She had you at the side of Princess Heleana as a childhood companion. Your house and House Hightower have been close allies for many decades, my lady.”

  They do say that networking is a great professional skill. Turns out who you know holds true even in this world. You didn’t have the time or will power to comb through the anthologies that Jacquetta had brought from the royal archives about the intricacies of the families across this land called Westeros. The history must certainly be rich, but you don’t plan on staying here. It would be a waste to try to learn everything aside from what you need to make it through the daily happenings. 

  “It was the most joyous day of your life when Queen Alicent had you betrothed to Prince Aemond.” 

  Huh. 

  You meet Jacquetta’s wide smile with a look of pure horror. Your mouth is hanging open like a fish that’s surprised it bit onto a hook instead of a worm. Jacquetta’s smile falters. 

  “W-Wait,” you stutter, “Hold on. You didn’t say anything about getting married. I can’t get married. I don’t want to get married.” 

  She senses the panic in your voice and tries to comfort you. The brush is set aside, abruptly forgotten. 

  “You’ve been wanting this arrangement since you were just a girl,” she says, giving your shoulders a comforting squeeze. “The incident has confused your mind so much. You’ve dreamed of this day since you were younger than ten years old. You practically begged your parents for them to accept the proposal. Even your elder sister couldn’t have made a finer match than this.” 

  “People’s dreams can change!” You counter, standing up. 

  The chair screeches across the floor. Even in this new body, you fall back into old habits as the panic grips on you suddenly. You pace - back and forth, back and forth. You rub the back of your neck with too much force. When that offers no comfort, your fingers dig into the fabric of your dress, bunching up the skirt. Back and forth, back and forth. 

  “No, no, no,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t get married. No way. I’d rather die. I mean, look at me!” You give Jacquetta a pleading look. “Is this the face of someone who is ready to get married?” 

  “My lady, you are a woman grown already,” she responds.

  “To who?!” You shout back. 

  Who even is a woman grown at this age? Your age is similar to that of this person you've found your soul transported into. However, through many unpleasant incidents during your formative years, you've grown up quicker than your peers your age. But the “you” of this world is still a young idiot in your eyes. Someone like “you” shouldn’t be getting married to anyone for anything. Not even the glamor of marrying a prince and becoming a princess can enthrall you. 

  Not to mention – you’d already decided since you were young that you didn’t want to get married. It’s better for you to stay by yourself in your apartment with your herbal plants growing plentifully on the balcony. Marriage is not a joy to look forward to for you. It’s a trap. It’s a predetermined failure. 

  “Uh–” You draw out your voice before you snap your fingers. You had an idea. “Tell Queen Alicent that I need to talk to her. I changed my mind about the marriage. Tell her to break it off.” 

  Jacquetta looks at you as if you’ve gone insane. “You cannot just break a royal marriage agreement, my lady. This is for the benefit of the realm, and it would certainly make it so you will never be able to find another match again.”

  “Perfect.” That’s what you want anyway. 

  She huffs at you, finally having had her patience tested enough. “I will call for the maesters again. You are still unwell.” 

  “I am not unwell!” You yell after her as she exits your chambers. “I’m perfectly normal compared to the people in this place!”

*** 

  The maesters come anyway because nobody really cares what you think or what you want, you realize. They ask you some questions that annoy you (like what your name is, your house, all of that tedious information you can barely remember) because you’re certain you got at least half of the answers right but that wasn’t satisfactory enough for them apparently. So they whisper amongst themselves and then whip up some god awful concoction for you to sip on. You don’t ask what it’s made of because you think you’d prefer not to know. Your taste buds have always been good, though, and you can taste the distinct flavor of mint and vinegar. 

  You prove to be a difficult princess-to-be, demanding they clean their utensils several times over before you allowed them to bring them anywhere near you. Maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself, but you have the distinct feeling that this world hasn’t learned of aseptic techniques yet. They inspect your throat for a cold and then give you the plague. Dramatic, but it could happen. You don’t plan on dying before you can get back to your original body. 

  Their visit irritates you until their final treatment plan for you – go back to the original place of the incident to summon back your memories. You take back every horrible thought you had about them. This is exactly what you wanted. It supposedly had been vehemently refused by Alicent and Otto ( “Her father, the Hand,” Jacquetta whispers in your ear when your fast twists into a confused expression), but you made a big plea to them through Jacquetta to allow you to go outside. You used the excuse that you wanted to start walking again and not be confined to your chambers, and you could have Jacquetta with you. 

  That’s how you end up taking a leisurely stroll through the gardens of the Red Keep. Unfortunately, in addition to Jacquetta, you have an entourage of other ladies trailing after you. You have to admit that the flora and fauna on display in the middle of spring here are lovely, and you can recognize some flowers that grow back in your world as well. The ambiance is perfect. Maybe you should consider adopting the decor for an outdoor patio for your restaurant. 

  “When they found you, it was just in time,” Jacquetta explains as she leads you through the gardens. Her hands hold firmly onto your arm as you walk, almost as if you were going to keel over by a gust of wind.  “You had fallen into the large pond in the southernmost part of the gardens at night. It had shocked everyone, even Prince Aemond had rushed as soon as he heard the news.” 

  Your betrothed, apparently. Jacquetta seems to want to paint him as someone concerned for your wellbeing, but you roll your eyes when she looks away. For a guy that is supposedly someone “you” were happy to get married to, he didn’t come to see you the entire time you’ve been recovering. Though, admittedly, it had only been Queen Alicent who came. Whether it was because he just wasn’t interested or wasn’t able, you didn’t care. You plan on leaving this place before you have to go through the complex situation of marrying this Prince Aemond guy. 

  “Oh, he did?” you reply, more focused on the flower you’re twirling between your fingers. “That’s nice, I guess. Hey, Jackie – ” She gives you a strange look. “Which part of the gardens are we in right now?”

  “The eastern part, my lady.” 

  You point behind you. “And that way?”

  “That is the northern part.” 

  You hum, nodding. You look around a little before spotting a flowering tree with soft pink blossoms on it. With a smile, you point to it. 

  “Can you get one of those for me, Jackie?” You ask sweetly. 

  Jacquetta returns your smile and moves towards the tree. As soon as she gets halfway between you and the tree, you drop the flower in your hands and sprint away. 

  “My lady!” You hear everyone’s voices screaming for you behind you as you run away from them in the direction of the pond. 

  You switched bodies when you fell in water, so you’re determined to jump back into the same place. At best, it’ll return you back to your body and at worst, it just makes you look like you’re out of your mind. You pick up your dress skirts high and force your legs to carry you faster. 

  “My lady, you mustn't lift your skirt!” Somebody shouts from behind you. Well, you don’t give a damn for the conventions of this world!

  You can hear your entourage yelling and chasing after you. Your little legs move as quickly as they can as you rush through the gardens, getting smacked by some bushes and trees along the way. You glance back to see that Jacquetta and the others are a ways behind you, and you feel relieved until you turn your head back to the front and see some other servants have come to stop you. 

  “Get out of the way!” You yell before hopping into one of the denser parts of the garden and rushing through it. 

  Dirt has begun to cling to your dress and shoes. You wince every time a scratch appears on your face and exposed skin but you power through it as you flee from your pursuers. You jump over a little wall enclosing some flower bushes and see a balcony jutting out in front of you. You rush over to it and lean over it. Down below is your safe haven, your miracle portal – the pond. The railing is a bit high for you to jump over while you’re stationary. 

  You hear shouting coming from behind you, and you can see everyone rushing towards you. It’s now or never, you guess. You rush a little ways away from the ledge and bounce on your feet a bit, getting ready to sprint and leap over the railing. You waste no time as you charge full speed ahead towards the ledge. You’re on your way until you feel a sudden force on your stomach that knocks the wind out of you. 

  Your mouth opens to speak but you end up just choking on air instead. Your hands fumble for your stomach and you feel something sturdy wrapped around your waist. You jerk your head upwards and are met with a single purple eye. Something hitches in your throat. 

  This person has such a sharp look to him. His one eye peering down at you while the other is covered by an eyepatch, the lavender hue of one popping out against the long, platinum white hair that frames his face. Yet, you can clearly see the scar that runs straight down. He’s strong. You can tell just from the way he’s got his arm around you that he’s someone that could throw you over this ledge if you really convinced him to.

  “Hey, buddy–” He raises an eyebrow at your words.

  He feels intense in a way that you can’t describe. You’ve met many people in your life but this guy is unique. 

  “Pal,” you continue because you have no sense. “Can you please let go? I need to just take a little hop over there.”

  You try to pull away from him but he’s got a firm grip. The shouting is getting closer, and you quickly glance back to see that your pursuers might as well already have you.

  “You’re a good person, yeah?” You ask. He doesn’t even grace that with a response. You can’t tell if the way his lips twitch is in amusement or annoyance. “Let me go. It’s none of your business what I do anyway, right?”

  “Actually–” Shit, he has a deep voice. “It is my business, my lady.” 

  And with that, he proceeds to hand you over to Jacquetta and whoever else you’ve made look like a fool in this little chase of yours. 

  “H-Hey!” You yell as they gasp and nearly cry at the sight of you, dragging you away. “You’re a bast–”

  “Please see to it that she is brought to her chambers. I will come soon,” he says, cutting you off. 

  Jacquetta quickly offers a bow before forcefully ushering you away as you yell at his retreating form. 

***

  So there you were, sitting slumped in a chair in “your” chambers, having been so effortlessly stopped in your attempted escape through the gardens by a man with silver hair and an eyepatch. With dirt caked on your dress, flower petals scattered around your unruly hair, and gods know how many scratches on your exposed arms from your clumsy maneuvering through the greenery trying to escape. The man in question sits across from you, his finger tapping on the wood of his chair, waiting and looking at the fire. You don’t even give the flames a glance as you keep glaring at him. What a punk – is all you can think. 

  For stopping you from running away from the servants who were dead set on dragging you back into these chambers, for handing you off to them without even thinking about your pleas. How dare he? And all things considered, after being told you’re engaged to a prince of all people, you’d think he’d have more consideration of that fact too. Maybe he doesn’t know who “you” are. Yeah, that’s probably it. 

  Even if you hated the new life you’d woken up to, you could flex some of your status a bit, right? Just this once. 

  “You’ve really got a lot of nerve,” you say, and the man finally gives you the time of day. 

  Even the way his single eye stares at you pisses you off. He looks at you like you’ve just exhausted all his energy for the day, and it spurns you off to throw your weight around a bit more. 

  “I had somewhere to be –” Which was not here. “And you just handed me off like I was a sack of trash. Do you have any idea who I–”

  “I know who you are,” he cuts you off with a quick response. His voice has a certain coldness to it, but it doesn’t deter you. 

  “Oh, yeah? Then you must know I’m betrothed -” You emphasize the last word. “To a prince.” 

  You see the corner of his mouth twitch as if he found that funny. Like it was a joke to him. He cocks his head to the side slightly like he’s observing you. Alicent did that during the first initial visit to “you” after “you” woke up. 

  “It seems the Maesters were telling the truth, you are out of sorts,” he says before standing up and taking a small step closer to you. 

  Now, you were intimidated by him as he towers above you. You’re suddenly very aware of his stature – taller than you, much more muscular than you. The purple iris that peers down at you through his lashes is an eerily beautiful sight, even you must admit to it. Your fingers dig into the wooden arm chairs. You take a deep breath and your chest sticks out involuntarily. It’s a pathetic display of bravery (foolishness, more like it), and the man pays it no special attention. 

  “My lady–” You hate the way anyone calls you that. “I am your betrothed.”

  Silence settles between you two. Your eyes stare up at him, widened to their fullest. You take a slow, obnoxious, audible breath in and then–

  You proceed to laugh in his face. 

  You must have annoyed him enough to chase him away because after a few moments of watching you and tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair, he stalks away without another word. 

  “Sick eyepatch, though,” you say after him, managing to squeeze it out between your chuckles.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

M6 with MC who's passionate in culinary and cuisines, love to take their lover to food trips and cook for them a lot, even testing out their new recipes to M6

dont feel pressured to take this request, have a lovely day you lovely human being

(also i wanna share a little headcanon of mine; Lucio is big on cuisines, he probably grew up with eating limited variations of foods so when he became the count he was so excited to try out new kinds of food and developed a little passion for it)

The Arcana HCs: M6 with a foodie MC

~ as someone who grew up internationally and makes their own bread and cheese instead of buying it, this is a request that makes me grin. thanks for the smile, anon! - brainrot ~

Julian

We already know how comforting Mazelinka's homemade soup is for him (magic or otherwise)

We also know that he's terrible at remembering to eat regularly, or choose things that taste good

If he walks into the kitchen to see you, his greatest love, cooking a nutritious and delicious meal to share with him, he may propose on the spot. Or melt. Or both

That said, his palate isn't very well refined, so if you're looking for detailed culinary feedback you won't be getting much

However, he can be quite the poet. When it comes to praise, he'll be groaning out compliments between each delicious bite and raving about it until the next homemade meal

Delighted to go on food trips with you, he knows all kinds of questionable shortcuts

It will become apparent that he can't follow most of the conversation (palate cleanser? I don't even know her!) but he will try his best

Is very good at making friends with whoever you're interacting with. You get a lot of extra samples because of him

Randomly brings people home to eat your cooking because according to him it's so good it'll cure any and all problems

Asra

They're a pretty decent cook themselves, which is a lot of fun when you get to take turns introducing your favorite foods to each other

He's also the type to regularly try recreating dishes he's eaten on his travels without any reference or recipe

It never turns out right, but it always tastes good

They love trying new things and are your most eager taste-tester. No matter how intimidating the culinary process is, they are wholly fascinated and invested

Food trips are his favorite thing

They'll happily take you to all the places they've visited, dragging you to the hole-in-the-walls that only locals know about and avoiding the places that gave them food poisoning previously

When he's on a solo journey, he'll keep an eye out for any ingredients you've mentioned and bring them back for you

As well as any remotely food-related thing that tickled their fancy

Did you want a stone mill taking up space on your roof? Not necessarily, but you have one now, and he's really excited to try making flour (and then bread) with it at least once before you get rid of it

Nadia

Fully supportive of your culinary endeavors

She has a taste for fine things herself. If those fine things were made by her beloved MC? She's all for it

Tries not to show too much excitement when you express a love for exploring other cuisines, she misses Prakran food so badly and can never find it made right

Regularly takes you to eat dishes prepared by Vesuvia's finest chefs

When you mention a food trip she pounces on the opportunity to eat all of her favorite Prakran delicacies with you

She may or may not pay her favorite spiced swordfish cook to give you an afternoon of lessons on how it's made. Only after you've said you would like the opportunity, of course

She's not much of a cook herself (she's always had in-house chefs) but she has a very well developed palate. Her culinary feedback is immaculate

It's hard for her to make the kind of time necessary to go on regular food trips with you, but that doesn't stop her from ordering all sorts of treats

She'll wait until you're relaxing in the garden with her to pull out the most recent delivery so she can watch your eyes light up

Muriel

The opposite of a foodie

That is, until you get your hands on him

One of your first positive interactions is getting him to try Selasi's bread and savoring the flavor together

He still has to shake himself out of the "food is fuel that I can't expect consistent access to" mentality, but you being around really helps

Nothing makes the hut feel more like home than watching you painstakingly put a meal together, playing with ingredients and spices like they're fun and not something to be scarfed down

Happy to go on trips with you, not so happy about all the human interaction that comes with the food part

But he loves fueling your interest, so he will start researching all kinds of cuisines based around foraging

Cooking becomes so much fun like this - he'll show up with a pile of foraged ingredients that he can tell you all about

And then you can tell him about all the ways you'll turn them into a delicious meal

Discovering that he has food preferences is really fun, until he also discovers the foods he really doesn't like and you have to learn to cook without them

Portia

Oh, you two are unstoppable

She bakes. You cook. She cooks. You bake. And then you feast and feast and feast

She has her fair share of wanderlust, so food trips are going to be a mutual delight for you two. She makes the best itineraries

She's also got her fair share of dishes from Nevivon that she likes to make for and teach to you (though some recipes are passed-down secrets that you'll need to earn)

You generally alternate cooking duties, so each of you has a day to cook and a day to savor

She's also friends with the palace chefs, and can convince them to let you watch them cook and share some tips with you

Ambassador trips are so much fun. If you go with her, the two of you will sneak out between meetings to hit up the street food stalls

If you stay with the shop, she'll collect all the recipes for you and bring back so many ingredients and spices

You being already trained in magic makes it easy for you to pick up Mazelinka's wonderful soup recipe once she's finally ready to teach it to you. The first time you make it for Portia, she cries

Lucio

As earlier suggested, Lucio grew up eating only what his parents and later he could hunt. In the army, he only had whatever was provided

Like his love of luxurious and shiny things, he developed an interest in cuisine after being taken in by the old Count

It was also one of the main attractions of his crazy masquerades

There is a reason why the first thing he wanted after regaining a body was food. It brings him joy!

He was ready to go back to the simpler food of his younger years when he gave up being Count to start a new life with you. It had even become something he associated with his old vices

So when he sees the stuff you manage to create over a campfire, he falls in love with you all over again

Regularly plans new jobs around culinary hotspots so you can wander and sample new food together

Prioritizes lodging that gives you a comfortable cooking space

He's not a chef, but he's a decent swordsman. He's cautious around anything that isn't grilling but he'll happily chop ingredients for you