#tomo: -sweating-

[fishofthewoods]

while i'm imperialposting. imperial dragon lore that makes me want to tear my hair out. web weave

[testing-tranquility]

Trass.

hi :)

[hartxstarr]

ive said it before, but i’ll say it again!! i encourage and welcome live action takes on anime/manga, but i just wish it was primarily focused on the romance/slice of life genres!

the choice to focus on the action-centered series makes sense because they are more popular, but the vocal fanbase tends to be a bit weird when it comes to change :’)

[bjlipss]

— until the quiet finds you;

༉‧₊˚. synopsis: you’re 24, a single mom just trying to survive off of temporary jobs—until a chance elevator ride with gojo satoru, the too-charming ceo of gojo industries, shifts everything. what starts as coffee and kindness slowly turns into something real. but when you’ve spent the last 2 years in survival mode, learning to trust might be the hardest thing of all.

contents: ceo!gojo x single mom!reader, slow burn-ish, slice of life maybe? fluff, some angst, trust issues ig, very exhausted reader, eventual smut, office setting, i will add warnings as the story goes on! current word count: 4,4k. header art: @_3aem on X.

miyan’s notes: hopefully i don’t abandon this lmao. enjoy!

chapter 1 -> chapter 2

you’re running late.

you’re always running late now.

your sneakers slap against the glossy marble of the building’s lobby as you rush across it, breath already hitching in your chest. tomo is tucked tight against you in his wrap, warm and wiggling, his little fists occasionally jabbing you like tiny, accusing reminders of how little sleep either of you got last night. your diaper bag swings wildly from your shoulder, half-unzipped and threatening to spill its chaotic contents—an ominous mix of crushed formula packets, mismatched socks, and a pacifier you’re pretty sure tomo has already rejected three times today.

your purse is dangling off the other arm. your keys are stabbing into your hip. your cardigan—thrown on to appear “presentable” for the office—is wrinkled and milk-stained and clinging to your back with sweat from the subway. and somewhere, probably at the bottom of the bag or on the floor of your apartment, you’re convinced you left your last shred of dignity.

but you made it.

you slow to a stop in front of the elevator, panting slightly, hand slapping the up button with more force than necessary. tomo lets out a soft grumble and rubs his face against your chest, mouth wobbling, clearly on the verge of his next baby meltdown. his face is flushed and tired, the soft tips of his ears warm against your collarbone.

you start bouncing him gently, whispering soft hushes against the top of his fuzzy little head.

“i know, baby. we’re almost there. just hang on for mama, yeah?”

the elevator dings.

you lurch forward—too fast—and nearly trip over your own shoelaces. with a sharp inhale, you catch yourself, shifting your balance quickly to keep tomo snug against your chest. the doors slide open—

and someone’s already inside.

a man.

he’s tall, annoyingly so. and striking in that way that makes you feel like you’ve just walked into the pages of a fashion magazine by accident. he’s leaning casually against the mirrored wall of the elevator, hands in his pockets, ankles crossed, like it’s a photoshoot and not, you know, a monday.

he wears a tailored navy suit that fits him too perfectly to be anything but custom-made. snowy white hair tousled like he just rolled out of bed but still somehow looks intentional. and sunglasses—sleek, black, and very much unnecessary indoors.

you freeze.

so does he.

he tilts his head just slightly in your direction. his gaze—hidden behind those stupidly dramatic sunglasses—somehow lands on you anyway. heavy. curious.

“you getting in?” he asks, voice low, amused, just a little drawling. “or just enjoying the view?”

your face burns instantly.

you tighten your hold on tomo, huff a breath through your nose, and step in quickly, brushing past him. your shoulder grazes his arm, the fabric of his suit smooth and crisp.

“sorry,” you mutter, trying not to wince at your own awkwardness. “wasn’t expecting… anyone.”

“same,” he says easily, like this is just any other conversation, like you’re not currently vibrating with embarrassment and sweat. his eyes flick down toward the bundle at your chest. “he yours?”

you nod once, instinctively bracing yourself. you’ve heard that tone before. the subtle, patronizing pity. the judgment hidden in polite smiles. young mom, flustered, clearly overwhelmed—how irresponsible, how sad, how predictable.

but instead, he just grins.

“cute kid.”

you blink.

“…thanks.”

the elevator hums upward, the air thick with that slightly awkward silence that feels too loud in a small space. tomo shifts again, starting to squirm in his wrap, and you feel it before it happens—the growing tension in his little body, the hiccuping inhale, the inevitable explosion.

he wails.

a loud, guttural cry that echoes like a siren off the metal walls. god, this is embarrassing. not even ten minutes into this fancy building and you’re already the disheveled stereotype.

you freeze for a moment, mortified. your hands fly to the wrap, bouncing him in frantic, practiced motions, patting his back and whispering frantically.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurt, heat rushing to your face. “he’s usually—well, no, he’s always like this, but i swear i’m trying.” you don’t even know why that comes out of your mouth.

you expect the man to recoil. to sigh. to edge away like most people do when a baby starts crying in an enclosed space. but he doesn’t.

“bad day?” the man asks. he doesn’t look annoyed. in fact, he looks… interested. amused. his sunglasses have slipped down his nose a bit, revealing startlingly bright blue eyes that seem to flicker with something soft when they glance at your baby.

“bad month,” you answer, too tired to lie. “sorry about the noise.”

“what’s his name?” he asks, gesturing lightly toward the red-faced bundle in your arms.

“tomo,” you say, eyes narrowing slightly. “why?”

“just wondering,” he shrugs. “he’s got a good set of lungs. he’ll go far.”

your lips twitch, despite everything. he crouches smoothly, leaning in a little without getting too close. his voice drops to something quieter, gentler—almost conspiratorial.

“hey there, little guy,” he says. “you mad about mondays too?”

tomo pauses.

just for a beat.

then blinks at the stranger, confused but curious, his tiny brow furrowed.

the crying falters. the elevator hums upward, floor after floor, and tomo starts to settle again, comforted by the motion or maybe by the stranger’s low, calm voice.

your mouth falls open. “how did you do that?”

the man straightens with a smug smile, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. “babies love me.”

you squint at him. “that’s deeply unfair.”

he laughs. the sound is warm. unpretentious. and somehow, it actually makes your chest ache a little.

“maybe,” he says. “or maybe i’m just naturally charming.”

you try to glare, but it falters halfway through. “and you are…?”

“gojo,” he says. “satoru. top floor.”

your stomach dips slightly.

gojo satoru.

as in gojo industries.

as in the man whose name is literally printed in gold on the glass doors you just kicked open with your foot five minutes ago while juggling your screaming baby.

and here you are—sweaty, milk-stained, five minutes late—making a mess in his elevator.

“oh,” you say faintly, cheeks heating. “i didn’t realize.”

“you’re not supposed to,” he says with a shrug. “half the time i sneak down here to avoid meetings. easier when no one recognizes you.”

you glance at him, incredulous, but the words come out easier than you expect. “you’re wearing sunglasses inside.”

“exactly,” he grins. “a perfect disguise.”

you snort despite yourself. it slips out, ungraceful and exhausted, but real. tomo is calm now—suspiciously so—gurgling like nothing ever happened.

gojo glances at him, then back at you.

“you new here?” he asks, and there’s something in his tone that doesn’t feel like small talk.

“just temping,” you say after a moment. “reception on floor fifteen. friend called in a favor so i could pick up a couple shifts.”

“hm. what’s your name?” you tell him, abruptly cut off by the tiny boy in your arms.

tomo fusses again—an impatient little whimper pressed against your collarbone. you don’t even have to think about it; your body moves before your brain does, bouncing him gently, one hand rubbing slow circles across his back. it’s second nature now, stitched into your muscles, something you do without looking, without pausing, like breathing.

you glance at the floor display.

still six floors to go.

“he’s not usually this cranky,” you murmur, voice low, mostly to yourself. “it’s just been a long week… or something like that.”

your laugh is dry, tired. too tired to mask the exhaustion that seeps through your whole body.

gojo shifts slightly beside you. not away, but closer—like he’s listening.

“you don’t have to apologize,” he says after a beat. his tone is different now—less teasing, more grounded. “i’ve sat through board meetings louder than that. at least he doesn’t have a pie chart about quarterly losses.”

you snort again, surprised by the joke. “tempting. if he could weaponize his scream during financial reviews, i might actually get a promotion.”

he huffs a laugh, and for a second, the elevator feels a little less like a steel trap and more like something gentler. the kind of quiet you don’t have to fill with apologies.

you glance sideways at him. his jaw is sharp and clean, framed by that ridiculous white hair that somehow works for him. but it’s not the sharpness that holds your attention—it’s the way his expression softens when he looks at tomo. like he’s not just tolerating the noise or waiting out the ride. he’s here, present, calm.

you look down at your son, still fussing quietly, rubbing his little fists against his eyes like the world’s too much. you get it. you really do.

“still,” you say softly, your voice catching a bit. “i know people don’t really want to deal with this. with me.”

gojo turns toward you slightly. “what do you mean?”

you gesture vaguely, a quick sweep of your hand that could mean anything—your baby, your messy hair, your oversized bag, your creased clothes and tired eyes. “this,” you say. “all of it. the crying, the—the walking chaos. i get looks, you know? like i don’t belong here or… anywhere.”

he watches you for a long moment. not pitying or patronizing. just… watching. like he’s taking you in for real. his gaze is uncomfortably perceptive and you have to brace yourself to not shift away from the discomfort you feel.

“i believe it,” he says, watching tomo, who yawns dramatically. “you’re doing good, though.”

you blink at him.

“what?”

“you heard me,” he says, not even missing a beat. “juggling work and a baby? showing up even when it’s clear you’ve barely slept? that’s impressive.”

your throat tightens. you weren’t expecting that. people don’t usually say those words to you. they offer advice, concern, sometimes even backhanded praise—but never that. there’s weight of honesty behind his words. your fingers twitch where they rest on tomo’s back.

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. just the sharp burn of unshed tears pressing behind your eyes, the tired part of you that so badly wants to believe him.

the elevator dings. your floor.

you straighten up instinctively, readjusting tomo in his wrap and trying not to look like your heart just tripped over itself. you tighten the strap of the diaper bag on your shoulder, all too aware of how frayed it looks next to the man in the suit beside you.

“thanks,” you say, clearing your throat.

gojo shrugs a little, watching you with something unreadable in his expression.

“you ever get a break,” he says, just as the doors start to slide open, “come by the top floor. coffee’s decent. and i’ve got a stash of sugar cookies i may or may not be hiding from my assistant.”

you pause, half-in, half-out of the elevator. “you’re bribing me with snacks?”

“depends,” he says with a grin. “is it working?”

your eyebrow lifts, skeptical but amused. “do temps even have access to the executive floor?”

he flashes a lopsided smile, too charming for his own good. “technically? no. but if anyone asks, tell them it’s an emergency strategy meeting. highly confidential.”

“with tomo?”

“of course. who else?” he leans against the back wall again, relaxed as ever. “kid’s clearly got vision.”

“he can’t even hold his head up half the time.”

“neither can half my execs,” he says without missing a beat.

you laugh—genuinely, this time. it slips out before you can stop it. quiet, surprised. the kind of sound you didn’t realize you hadn’t made in days.

you glance down at your baby—who is now drooling contentedly, totally unbothered—and then back at gojo, whose smile hasn’t faded.

“i’ll keep the cookies warm,” he calls.

“…i’ll think about it.”

the doors begin to close. he lifts two fingers in a lazy farewell.

“i’ll be waiting.”

you shake your head, stepping out into the hall, heart still doing something ridiculous in your chest.

──────────────────────

by the time noon rolls around, you’re just about ready to cry.

the phones at reception haven’t stopped ringing. every call blurs into the next: wrong numbers, impatient clients, one woman who spent seven full minutes telling you about her boss’s astrological incompatibility with her cat. your friend’s login doesn’t work, and IT is ignoring your tickets, so the front desk system keeps locking you out every ten minutes. each time, you have to retype your credentials while tomo lets out a bloodcurdling shriek because you dared to stop rocking him.

an intern—not older than nineteen, probably still thinking this job is going to lead to something important—asked you to order “gluten-free air-fried kelp chips” for a VIP client meeting. you don’t even know what that means. you don’t care. you said yes anyway.

tomo—bless his tiny, growing teeth—is going through a phase that involves shrieking every time he’s not being held. no bouncer. no stroller. not even the wrap works unless you’re moving. constant movement. always.

you’ve been rocking him in the wrap while pretending to sound professional, typing with one hand, shushing with the other. your body aches, your back is sore, and you’re down to the last functional nerve in your entire soul. you’ve barely touched your coffee—it’s cold now, bitter. acidic. just like your mood.

you glance at the clock. 12:07.

you’re not sure if the ticking in your head is from sleep deprivation or your own heartbeat echoing gojo’s ridiculous parting words from this morning:

i’ll be waiting.

you scoff under your breath, rubbing your temples. he was probably just being nice. people like him are always just being nice. they toss charm around like it’s nothing because it doesn’t cost them anything. billionaires don’t actually invite single moms to drink coffee on the top floor of their buildings. they especially don’t follow through.

but then—

ding.

you glance up from your monitor, startled, as the elevator doors slide open with a polished whisper of motion.

and out walks gojo satoru.

again.

same tailored suit. same disarmingly white hair. same sunglasses. except now he’s carrying two takeout cups of coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the scent of warm pastry hits your nose instantly—buttery, flaky, real. not vending machine lies.

he looks like he does own the world. or maybe just the building. (which he does). his presence is loud, even though he’s not saying anything yet. and he walks like nothing in this world could possibly surprise or rattle him.

your breath hitches. tomo coos softly in his wrap, sleepy and content for once. traitor.

“you again,” you say, blinking at him.

“me again,” he replies, grinning like he planned this moment in a mirror. “was in the neighborhood.”

“this is your building.”

“and yet,” he says smoothly, “i still had to walk all the way from my office to this desk. grueling journey. i deserve a medal.”

you snort, half-exhausted, half-amused—but before you can protest and remind him of the elevator he walked out of, he sets the coffee down gently on the reception desk, followed by the paper bag. you glance at the label on the cup—your name written in messy handwriting with a little smiley face underneath. it’s hot. still steaming. the kind of cup you used to treat yourself to back when you had the luxury of treating yourself.

“thought you might be hungry,” he says, casually. “figured cold vending machine crackers weren’t gonna cut it.”

your stomach growls audibly. you want to disappear. you shoot a look at him like it’s his fault for having working ears.

“you didn’t have to—”

“i know,” he cuts in, removing his sunglasses with one hand and slipping them into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. his eyes are absurdly blue. open. curious. warm in a way that feels dangerous. “but i wanted to.”

you hesitate.

no one just wants to. not for you. not unless there’s something else beneath it—some favor, some guilt, some expectation. you’ve learned that the hard way.

“is this… charity?” you ask, a little sharper than you mean to.

gojo doesn’t flinch. doesn’t shift. just tilts his head slightly, as if he’s considering you from a new angle. the distrust in your tone might have been even more palpable than back in the morning.

“nah. if this were charity, i’d bring a camera crew and write it off as a tax deduction.” he smiles, tilting his head. “this is coffee. for a tired mom. who’s doing her best. and still looks like she could kick someone’s ass if she needed to.”

your lips twitch. damn it.

“that’s a weird compliment.” no, it’s one of the nicest things someone ever said to you. and the bastard didn’t even make it sound obnoxious.

“it’s an honest one.”

tomo stirs again, making a soft gurgling sound—somewhere between a sigh and a protest—and gojo leans in. not obnoxiously, not like a man trying to impress you. he just leans forward a little to peek over the edge of the desk, like he’s talking to a tiny prince instead of a drooling infant.

“still the cutest ceo in the building,” he murmurs to your son. “don’t tell my board.”

tomo kicks slightly and—god help you—smiles. a real one. soft, gummy, sunbeam-bright. you quickly memorize it and try not to think of the reason behind it.

you exhale a laugh before you can stop yourself. it bubbles out, tired but real, pulling your shoulders down from your ears for the first time in hours. it’s been a long time since someone made you laugh in a way that didn’t feel forced.

gojo straightens, leaning on the desk with a grin. he’s watching you now—not just looking, but seeing. like he’s memorizing the way your expression changes when you let your guard down. it should be unnerving. instead, it’s… grounding.

“so. what’s the deal? you always this hard to impress?”

you raise a brow.

“you always show up unannounced like a caffeine-bearing fairy godmother?”

“only when the receptionist is this pretty.”

you roll your eyes.

“that’s a terrible line.”

“and yet it got a smile.” he looks far too pleased with himself.

you sip the coffee slowly, grateful for the heat, the caffeine, and the brief illusion that you’re not hanging on by a thread. it’s good. rich. something with hazelnut notes. he remembered your name. got you a nice cup of coffee and pastries softer than anything you’ve tasted in a while.

for a few quiet seconds, it’s just the two of you, the soft hum of the lobby, the gentle breath of your baby against your chest—and no chaos. no judgment. no expectations.

and then, because you need to say it, because you have to:

“i’m not looking for anything, you know,” you say, cautiously, mid-sip and contemplating whether you should have said it before drinking the coffee. “in case that’s what this is.”

there’s a beat. he doesn’t look surprised. doesn’t lean away, either.

“good,” he says, voice softer now. “because i’m not offering anything. not really.”

you blink at him.

what does that mean?

“i just… wanted to see you again,” he adds. “maybe get to know the person who made me smile before noon for the first time in weeks.”

you don’t say anything at first.

but you don’t tell him to leave, either.

──────────────────────

by the time your shift ends, you’re running on fumes.

your back is killing you. tomo is finally asleep, tucked tight against your chest, his tiny hand curled in the fabric of your cardigan. you smell like formula and dry-cleaned carpet. your brain feels like scrambled eggs. and yet—despite all that—there’s still a little something warm sitting in your chest.

gojo didn’t stay long after dropping off the coffee and pastries, but he lingered just long enough to make you laugh again. enough to watch tomo like he wasn’t just humoring you. enough to make the day feel slightly less like drowning. like maybe you were treading water, not sinking.

you turn off the desk monitor, lock the cabinet, and double-check the lobby is cleared out. it’s that quiet part of early evening where the lights buzz a little too loud and everything feels still, like the city is catching its breath.

your legs ache. your bag is too heavy. your stomach is a cavern of missed meals and vending machine regrets. you just want to get home, collapse into bed, and pray tomo gives you three uninterrupted hours of sleep.

you don’t expect anyone to be waiting for you.

but there he is.

leaning against the marble wall by the elevators like he has all the time in the world. sleeves rolled up to his forearms, tie loosened, suit jacket folded neatly over his arm. no sunglasses this time. no jokes. just that unreadable expression—somewhere between calm and something else. something softer.

he straightens when he sees you.

“figured you’d clock out right on the dot,” he says, voice easy. “very punctual. i respect that.”

you blink, momentarily thrown. “i’ve got a baby who turns into a siren after six. punctuality is survival.”

he chuckles, stepping toward the elevator and pressing the button. “fair enough.”

the doors slide open with a soft ding. you hesitate. something is coming.

he gestures inside, face neutral. “come up with me for a sec?”

you tilt your head. “you always invite exhausted single moms up to your office at the end of the day?”

“only the cool ones,” he says casually, already stepping in, as if he knows you’ll follow.

you pause for a heartbeat longer, glance down at tomo—still asleep, curled tight in the wrap like he’s dreaming something peaceful—and then step in after him.

what could it hurt?

the ride up is smooth. quiet. the kind of quiet that feels intentional, not awkward. the kind of elevator that doesn’t creak or hum, just glides upward like a thought. you rock on your heels out of habit, one hand resting over tomo’s back. gojo doesn’t speak. doesn’t push. he just watches the numbers tick upward.

his office is… not what you expected.

open and clean, minimalist without being cold. warm-toned wood floors. a low leather couch. wide, tall windows that stretch from wall to wall, casting golden light across the space like something out of a movie. the skyline glows outside, bathed in the soft orange of a spring sunset.

you blink, overwhelmed for a second by how surreal it all feels.

gojo sets his jacket down on the back of a chair and gestures for you to sit on the couch. he moves like this is normal. like this isn’t strange. like inviting the front desk temp into his office after hours is just another tuesday.

“i wanted to ask you something,” he says, walking to a sleek side cabinet. he pulls out two cold bottles of water, offers you one with a nudge of his chin.

you take it, relishing in the coolness of the bottle. “if it’s about gluten-free kelp chips, i swear to god…”

he grins, settling into the armchair across from you. “no kelp. promise.”

you sit on the edge of the couch, adjusting tomo carefully. he stirs for a moment but stays asleep, face tucked to your chest, one chubby cheek pressed against your skin.

gojo leans forward, elbows on his knees, bottle turning slowly in his hands.

“i looked you up,” he says.

your spine stiffens. “…you what?”

“i googled you,” he says, with a one-shouldered shrug. “nothing weird. just… curious.”

you look around again, cautious in case you missed something, every muscle going tense. “you said you weren’t offering anything.”

“i wasn’t. then. but i couldn’t stop thinking about you after that elevator ride. and after today, i… just wanted to know more. you said you weren’t looking for anything, but i was. and i wanted to know who we had answering phones at reception.”

you wait. brace yourself. for the pity. for the soft, disappointed eyes and the “you’re doing your best” speech.

but that’s not what comes.

“you’re extremely overqualified for temp work,” he says instead, voice calm. thoughtful. “your resume’s stacked. your GPA’s ridiculous. you’ve got a double major. experience managing multi-departmental projects. fluent in two languages. there’s a whole chapter on nonprofit grant-writing that made me feel like i was reading an academic journal.”

you blink. hard. you haven’t even updated that stuff.

“how did you even find that stuff?”

“i own the company,” he says with a shrug. “i asked the right people. and i read the cover letter you submitted two years ago. it was… impressive, to say the least.”

you stare at him. the thudding in your chest isn’t panic. not really. but it is something close to fear. because you’ve heard nice things before. you’ve been told you were capable. once. before life happened. before the plan changed.

“i’m offering you a full-time position,” he says, watching you carefully for the changes in your expressions and body language. “not reception. operations. it’s a junior role, but it’s salaried. benefits. flexible hours.”

you open your mouth, but he holds up a hand.

“you don’t have to say yes. but i’m asking. officially.”

you shake your head. “you don’t have to do that. you don’t have to feel bad for me.”

“this isn’t pity,” he says firmly, eyes locked on yours. “this is simple recruitment. you’re smart. you’re capable. you’ve been underestimated and underpaid, and i’m not going to pretend i’m doing you a favor. you’d be doing us one. we need people like you.”

you swallow hard. your throat feels tight. everything feels unreal, but reality’s weight hardens on your shoulders once again as you take a shaky breath.

“i can’t,” you say. quietly. “i can’t afford a sitter. i can’t leave tomo alone. daycare costs more than i make in a week, and even if i could, i don’t trust anyone to—”

“then don’t.”

you blink. “what?”

“bring him,” gojo says, simply. “we have the space. i’ll make it part of your contract. we’ll cover on-site childcare. or remote work. whatever you need. you shouldn’t have to choose between your kid and your career.”

you’re stunned silent. this morning you were juggling phone calls and teething screams, dreaming of vending machine crackers. now he’s handing you… what? a door? a way out?

you hesitate, the weight of everything—the fear, the exhaustion, the aching hope—tight in your chest.

“i don’t know,” you admit. “it’s a lot.”

because that’s the thing no one says. that’s the thing they don’t mean even when they do say it.

the sincerity of his words make you want to accept immediately because you can see it in his face, the way he tries not to push you into choosing something even though it is better. this isn’t about guilt. it’s not about charity. it’s just… belief.

you look down at tomo—soft, warm, safe against your chest. his tiny fingers still curled in the knit of your sweater.

“why?” you whisper. “why are you doing this?”

he leans back slightly, eyes steady.

“because i can,” he says. “and because someone should.”

your eyes sting before you can stop them. you blink quickly, focus on a spot on the wall. you won’t cry. not here. not in front of him.

he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small business card. he scribbles something on the back before holding it out.

“you don’t have to decide now,” he says. “but if you think about it—and you want to say yes—text me.”

you flip the card over. his name is printed in silver foil on one side. on the other, in bold, messy handwriting: his personal number, and the words “only if you say yes.”

you nod once, unable to speak.

he doesn’t push. just stands, smooth and quiet, walking you back to the elevator like nothing about this moment is extraordinary. says “see you, tomo” and winks at you right before the doors close with an uncertain hiss.

but when you step outside, into the soft, dusky air, you know better.

you know something shifted.

and as you press the card into your coat pocket and start the long walk to the bus stop, tomo still dozing gently on your chest—

you feel something strange.

not safety. not yet.

but something like the possibility of it.

[ruinix]

Quinn with the 'when I say sit on my face, i don't mean hover.'

Lovely anon, do you know how downbad I am? No? Well, I am. Also, are you in my Instagram algorithm??? That phrase kept showing up even if I say ‘not interested’ (I am but you know, I’m trying not to be the whore that I am). Anyway, it’s maybe a bit cringe…I swear I tried...Sorry in advance…😭🧎🏻‍♀️

Perfectly Divine

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Implied Unprotected Sex (use protection, silly), Oral (fem receiving), Face-sitting, Cum eating… 👀

Count: 1106 words | Masterlist

You’re not listening to him. Why are you not listening? Is what he said so hard to understand? Quinn is seriously stunned—utterly flabbergasted—when you try to get out of the bed.

“Quinn, get off me!” You grumble, trying to slip out of his hold, but Quinn is still stronger than you. “This is holding me against my will! Kidnapping! Hostage taking!”

Quinn bursts out laughing. Fuck, you’re so silly sometimes. It’s never a dull moment with you, even when you are suddenly on a different wavelength. No, not even, especially. Quinn holds you closer, hand resting over your middle, pulling you closer against his chest.

Soon, your laughter follows—a beautiful mix of giggles and chuckles. Your sound makes him warm all over. When you crane your head so your lips graze his cheek, your hand  entwining with his, the other holding his jaw, Quinn almost forgets why he was holding you in the first place. You trickster.

“You’re distracting me,” he growls softly in your ear. Your little squeak makes him chuckle as he nips at your nape, your shoulders, your jaw. “You can’t get out of this.”

“Quinn,” you whine, “we just had sex. I’m sensitive! Plus I’ve already sat on your face earlier.”

“Sat,” he scoffs. “Sure.”

“Is that attitude?” You twist around so quickly, beautiful eyes narrowing, lips pouting, hair still very much disheveled from your earlier rounds, your nail scratching over his chest. “Don’t scoff at me, Quintin.”

Quintin. His first name. Fuck, it sounds so good.

Quinn sighs, pulling you closer, hooking your thigh over his hip. “Sorry.”

You both groan when his cock graze your pussy lips. Quinn’s member rousing. Yours quivering, leaking with your arousal and his cum. Oh, right. He filled you up so good, didn’t he? Quinn presses against your pussy, feels your entrance pulse, sees your hooded eyes.

“Again? I’m tired,” you whine, protesting but it’s you who reaches his cock to press it against your hole. “I’m so full, Q.”

Are you? You’ve already wasted a lot of his cum. Already so spent for the day. Quinn knows that. He fucking knows that. Despite wanting to pound into you, to fuck you until the next morning—and the through the whole day—he needs to hold back.

That’s why he fucking needs you to sit on his face. Right now.

“Then why is your pussy begging for more?” Quinn asks, eyes hooded, watching every shuddering breaths that escapes your lips. “But I know. You’re busy tomo—”

“Quinn, shut up.” You grab his cheeks and kiss him so sloppily. “I’m so sore, Quinny,” you whine when his tip teases your entrance.

You keep protesting, but it’s you who pushes your hips, chasing after his dick, seeking more and more.

“Sit on my face, my love.” Quinn whispers. His words echo in his ears. Does it with yours? Does his voice rattle your soul as much as yours with his?

“But…” You still hesitate.

You’re rarely hesitant. But when you are, you are. Like he will be turned off by you. Like he will care about your filled up pussy. Like he will suddenly be disgusted with you when he could very much lick the ground you walk on, kiss the pebbles of sweat on your body. Oh, he got you. Silly girl. Just breathe and you already have him hard and begging for a fuck.

“Trust me,” Quinn pleads, pressing his forehead against yours. His nose touches yours. He can see the little fear in your eyes, the doubt, before it dissipates into lust. “There we go.”

He gives you a small peck on your blushing cheek. “And, my Love, when I say sit on my face, I don’t mean hover.”

The wanton moan that escapes your lips is Quinn’s last straw. He could just fuck you. It would be too easy. Just one thrust and he’ll be inside your pussy. Just one kiss and he’ll have you begging for it—sore or not. But he doesn’t. Not when you finally agree.

Quinn helps you over him. His hands glide and grip your skin. He can feel your shivers and trembles as you kneel over his face, legs beautifully parted for him to see your flushed pussy, too used and fucked.

“Quinn,” you whimper, hands planting on the headboard.

He mutters your name like a prayer and when you lower your pussy to his face, he knows his Goddess—you—answered.

He gives your clit a small kiss, tongue flatting over your trembling slit. The way you squeal and say it made his heart flutter faster and faster in his chest. You taste divine. His cum combines with yours. Salty, musky, and somehow sweet.

This is what he fucking wants. He needed—still needs—this for so long. To be able to savor what he has done to you. To know how perfect your pussy would be with his fucking cum that he has never dared to taste before.

Fuck.

Oh, his love of his life. So perfect, so delectable, so fucking divine.

He's so happy that you’re not hovering. So happy that you finally listened. So happy that you’re grinding your pussy against his lips, using his nose to your clit, letting him hear every moan, groan, and whimper that escapes you. So happy to feel your weight on him.

He grips your thighs securing to him as he slips his tongue in your pussy, tasting more of you and him.

More.

Quinn thinks he should have done this earlier. Should have filled you with more cum and not let you argue and waste a single droplet. Should have feasted on you, stained and dirtied by him. Fuck. He needs more.

For every gulp and lick, your pussy tightens around his tongue, squeezing out his cum and your addicting arousal. Quinn can feel your thighs quiver, your pathetic attempt to escape him.

Oh, you can’t.

He won’t have it.

 He needs you to come. He needs to feel you rob him of air as he does when he wrapped his fingers round your neck as he fucked into you.

He needs this.

Fuck. He’s so hard.

Maybe he can convince you for another round—rounds—of him buried deep in your pussy. Maybe he can persuade you not to attend the appointments you got tomorrow. Maybe he can just fuck you, clean you with his tongue, then fuck you again. Again. And fucking again.

Because this is not enough.

God, he’s so selfish. So fucking selfish.

He needs more and more of everything you can give him. His life is yours. Forever.

[greatwyrmgold]

So there's something I noticed about the character designs of Lilisa Suzunomiya and Otoha Kurogane. I'm not sure how obvious this is to other people, but I can't stop thinking about it.

Lilisa's hair looks like it's a variation on what TV Tropes calls "Ojou Ringlets," commonly called some variation of "drill hair". Take a look:

Pictured: Mami Tomoe of Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Isuzu Emi of Tenjho Tenge, Erika Shindou of Gonna Be the Twin-Tail!!. Found through TV Tropes Image Links.

It's not always this long or bulky (a lot of the examples on TV Tropes were just a few curled strands), but being long and bulky exaggerates its association with wealth and class: It's impractical. Getting otherwise-straight hair to curl in big ringlets like that takes time and effort, both for initial curling and to keep it clean and neat. It's exclusive to women who can afford to spend lots of time on their hair and know it won't get ruined by bad weather or a work accident or sweat.

As a tangent, ringlets aren't exactly a native Japanese hairstyle. Their historical roots lead not to Kyoto or even somewhere in mainland Asia, but to Rome. (This will be on the test.) But it's still a popular signifier of wealth and class in Japanese media, because it looks cool.

Anyways. Lilisa's hair.

Lilisa's hair is less dense than many examples, but it's twisted enough to evoke ojou ringlets. And it's big, too big to be called ringlets. Lilisa can't walk through a door without both rings smacking against the wall.

It's almost like Lilisa is trying to show that she belongs in the upper class by adopting an over-the-top version of an upper-class hairstyle, even more ostentatious and impractical than the other ojous at school. Which, y'know, is what she's doing.

Contrast these ringlets with Otoha's hime cut.

The hime cut is another haircut associated with elegant upper-class ladies in Japanese media. I'm sure it takes effort to maintain, but it's less ostentatious than most ojou ringlets (especially oversized ones like Lilisa's). It's classy, but subtle. Effortlessly noble, for a young lady whose place in society has never been questioned.

Also: Unlike ringlets, the hime cut is traditionally Japanese, strongly associated with royal courts from the Heian Period to the Meiji Revolution. An appropriate character design choice for someone born into the modern Japanese aristocracy.

Lilisa and Otoha's hairstyles both communicate their status as Proper Ladies to the world around them, but they do so in contrasting ways, fitting their contrasting relationships to the social class they share.

[octuscle]

Exchange Student: Brooklyn (NY)

Chuck was a simple country boy. He had graduated top of his class in agricultural mechanics—of course, he had. Giving your best was just the way things were. That’s what his parents had expected of him. And now, that’s what he expected of himself. He was giving his best. And now he had to give his best at the New York City College of Technology. Because he had a scholarship there.

His hometown had 684 people. More people lived on the block where his dorm was. Shit. He wasn’t built for the big city. Not at all.

His dorm room looked like the room of a guy who had never had to clean up after himself. Back home, his mom did the laundry. His mom cleaned. His mom picked up after him. And when she didn’t, his sister did. It wasn’t about patriarchy or anything (not that Chuck even knew that word)—that’s just how things were. Men didn’t clean, just like men took cold showers without body wash.

Chuck picked up a tank top from the floor and sniffed it. He’d worn it to the gym yesterday. Probably not for the first time. Good enough for today’s lectures.

By Friday, even his gym buddies had started complaining about how bad his clothes smelled. That meant there was no way around it—he had to do laundry. Somewhere between his dorm and Washington Hall Park, where he sometimes played ball with some guys, there was a laundromat on Myrtle Avenue that looked decent enough. Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone.

So, he threw on the least smelly basketball jersey he could find, grabbed his gym bag stuffed with dirty laundry, and headed out. He stopped in front of the laundromat, took a deep breath. He was nervous. Rightfully so. The place was packed. Dozens of washers and dryers spinning. He had no idea what to do. And apparently, it showed.

“First time?” A guy asked him. Slim, buzz cut, tattoos, colorful outfit. Chuck knew guys like him. Art school types from across the street. Normally, Chuck would at best spit at their feet. But now? He needed help. And this guy seemed willing to give it.

“Dude, you’re a lifesaver, bro!” Chuck said, giving the guy a fist bump. The guy returned it, amused, and told him his machine would be done soon—Chuck could take it after.

Martin, as he introduced himself, walked Chuck through everything—how to separate his mess of gray-beige towels, bedsheets, socks, jockstraps, tank tops, tees, shorts, and jeans, where to get detergent, how to use the dryer afterward, and so on. Chuck’s head was spinning.

“Relax, big guy, it’s all on the wall,” Martin said, pointing to a board covered in instructions.

Damn. Maybe it would’ve been easier to just drive home and have his mom do it.

Once his machine was running, he thanked Martin, who was neatly folding his own laundry fresh from the dryer. Chuck had to get out of here. He needed to sweat, to prove he was a bro—not some laundry-doing wimp. According to Martin, he had 90 minutes.

When he got back, sweaty from shooting hoops, his washer was already beeping like crazy. He stuffed everything into a big dryer and let out a sigh of relief when the drum started spinning. Drying only took 25 minutes—just enough time to grab something quick to eat at the Chinese spot next door.

Back in his dorm, Chuck realized laundry wasn’t over yet. He had to make his bed, shove his clothes into his locker… Damn, getting the duvet cover on was torture. Definitely women’s work. Even the pillowcase was fighting back. Maybe because Martin’s tie-dye shirt was stuck inside. Not that Chuck noticed.

He didn’t care how the bed looked. He was wiped. He crashed onto the fresh sheets and was out almost instantly. And Martin’s shirt did its thing.

That night, Chuck dreamed in wild colors. If you could paint his dreams, they’d look like some psychedelic trip. He saw places he’d never been—Paris, Berlin, San Francisco—everything spinning in a massive vortex.

He woke up drenched in sweat. Half-asleep, he reached for his sketchbook. He had to capture this. He had to paint it tomorrow—big, bold, powerful. He stumbled into the bathroom, chugged a glass of water, and caught his reflection in the mirror.

Shit. He looked awful. He needed more sleep.

If you wanted to piss him off, you called him “Chuck.” There was nothing Charles hated more than hillbillies butchering the beautiful name Charles. He was Charles—pronounced the French way, please. Yeah, maybe that was a bit ridiculous for a guy born and raised in Chicago, but ever since his semester abroad in Paris, he stuck with it.

According to his professors, Charles was an insanely talented young man. He had proved his artistic skill on his own body—most of his tattoos were his own work. A bunch of his classmates were walking around with his ink, too. That alone had made him a bit of a legend at Pratt Institute. But what really stirred things up was his latest series of large-scale, vibrant paintings—whirlpools of color with subtle critiques of toxic masculinity, as he put it.

Not that Charles had much of that in him. Unless you saw him playing basketball in the little park around the corner. There, he took no prisoners.

[pinkydevil16]

hii hope you’re having a good day or night! was wondering if you could do tomoe x fem or gn reader with anxiety? maybe she’s a land god like nanami and he’s her familiar :0

you got it!

"What are you doing?" Tomoe shouted as he slammed open the door to Y/n's room, his ears twitching in anger as he huffed. Y/n couldn't stop shaking as she held her head in her hands, her shoes thrown across the room as she counted her breathing. In and out, three seconds on, six seconds out, feeling the wood beneath her feet. How each of her toes felt against the surface of the ground, how her hair felt between her fingers. She tried to concentrate as much as she could, her mind racing and heart beating so fast she could feel it in her head. "Y/n?" Tomoe's voice was softer as he looked at her confused, he could hear her heart beating and see the sweat collecting all over her body. His tail twitched in concern as she shook her head, voice soft and shakey.

"I need a minute to myself Tomoe." Y/n dug her nails into her skull as if she could scratch the anxiety out of her brain, Tomoe scowling as he watched her closely. "Please Tomoe. I need you to leave." Y/n looked up at Tomoe with watery eyes, he could see the stress across her face and she looked like she was a second away from falling onto the ground and not getting back up. Stepping closer he crouched beside her, her eyes full of worry as he slowly took her hand and placed his fingers on her pulse. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows as she watched him, her body still shaking and now her leg began to bounce with more anxiety. She didn't know why Tomoe being so silent made her more anxious, she felt calmer with him touching her and yet she felt more anxious that he was going to call her silly.

"Your heart is beating too fast, i will help you slow it down." Y/n's eyes widened as she suddenly found herself laid down on the futon, her head resting in Tomoe's lap and his tail curled around her chest. She felt her body stop shaking as she tried to comprehend what happened but didn't have time before she felt Tomoe's fingers rake through her hair.

"Close your eyes." Y/n instantly followed his orders as she began playing with her hands, his claws lightly scrapping her head in a soothing way as she felt his tail tickle her arms. She tried to concentrate on her breathing but her mind wouldn't stop, she could feel herself spiralling again, hands now picking at her nails before Tomoe's other hand pulled one of them free.

"I was thinking of cooking Soba this evening, what do you think?" Y/n shrugged as she felt his hands begin to braid her hair, the hand Tomoe had pulled away now laid next to her but she didn't move it.

"How was school?" Y/n shrugged again as she gulped, her breathing beginning to quicken as she thought about the horrible day, Tomoe noticing as he ran his fingers through the base of her head to relax her.

"Onigiri found a butterfly today and tried to catch it for you, he said you would love the patterns." Y/n smiled slightly as she listened to Tomoe, his eyes concentrating on her chest as her breathing began to slow once more.

"We should go to the market on saturday, they have lovely fruit and veg that you would enjoy. I could teach you how to make that soup you love." Y/n nodded as she felt her body slump against Tomoe's lap, her mind calming down and switching off. Tomoe continued talking softly until he watched her chest steadily rise and fall, lifting her off his lap and placing her on her pillow as she slept soundly.

Now to find what had hurt his Mistress.

[lexsssu]

Moon (Kaedehara Kazuha)

TAGS: Kazuha/Dragoness!reader, breeding, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

Kazuha is all too used to seeing odd things from his perch atop Beidou’s ship. Sailing across the sea for months at a time had accustomed him to the strange happenings that occurred when one could only see and smell saltwater for weeks.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” 

His neck practically snapped towards the direction of the unfamiliar voice, ruby orbs widening and jaw dropping as he beheld an ivory-haired young woman seemingly floating in the air. She was sitting on thin air as if she had a chair beneath her, but the samurai knew that if he held his hand out his fingers would touch nothing.

Whoever or whatever she was, the golden hue of her eyes twinkled as the soft beams of moonlight gave her body an ethereal glow that solidified Kazuha’s theory that if not a figment of his overactive imagination, she was definitely some sort of spirit unbound by the shackles of mortality.

Because how could a mere human ever look as beautiful as she did? Merely a glimpse of her pure visage stole his breath away as all the flowery and poetic words he could use to describe her seemed stuck in his throat.

“Yes. Beautiful…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please, allow me just this once and I shall never ask anything of you ever again. You can return to whichever realm you’ve come from, but please...just this once and I’ll be satisfied for the rest of my life…”

The wandering samurai’s whole body was flushed from head to toe, rational mind fogged thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol he’d downed earlier after finding himself in a somber mood. He’d allowed himself to be goaded by his fellow crewmates for once, drinking until he could barely even walk straight as the ale numbed his senses.

But no amount of drink can ever numb the feelings that had inevitably planted itself in his heart like a small seed, blooming into a flower as night after night passed where he’d spend the majority of his evenings in your company. It didn’t help that as otherworldly as you looked, you were as down to earth as any ordinary person.

Perhaps that’s what hooked him in the first place. 

The soft smiles you’d send him would send his heart aflutter, the melodious giggles had him captivated, and everything else you did set his blood ablaze with feelings he never thought he’d experience as a man who prided himself in being as airy as the wind he wielded.

“You’re so warm...so...so soft…!” Kazuha gritted his teeth as sweat dripped down his temple, hips unrelenting in their thrusts as he was consumed by his undeniable desire. He had you on your knees, face down ass up as he pummeled the entire length of his cock into your warm and tight hole. His red eyes glowed with fire, so unlike the calm winds, as moans and whimpers were coaxed from your pretty lips that he'd had the pleasure of tasting just earlier. 

While he was no green boy, his brother-in-arms Tomo having repeatedly dragged him to the red light districts of the places they'd wandered to, he wasn't as easily swayed by carnal desires as the other man. Usually, he just waited at the oden carts located near such establishments, conversing with their owners and or other patrons as he waited for his inebriated and satiated friend to finish.

But this? Kazuha had never felt such an intense need to stuff his cock inside a willing cunt and paint it white with his virile seed, but then again you weren't just any willing cunt, were you? The platinum-blonde is enamored with you, a corporeal spirit, to the point that you made him throw away all his calm out the door.

That is why he fucks into you so furiously, plowing you with the single-minded mission to pour all his desires inside of you. Since you're a spirit and he's a human there's no way that his seed will take, right? Despite reassuring himself, a small and dark part of Kazuha fed him images of you glowing with a maternal shine as your belly swelled with life.

Such an image has the samurai speeding up his movements, hips sputtering all too soon before shoving the entire length of his cock inside your warm and moist insides as jets of hot and gooey cum filled you to the brim.

He is always a careful man, because he knows that he can't give a good life to any woman who wants to wed him and bear his child with his current situation. However, he supposes that it's alright to finish inside you, because this is most likely the last time he'd see you and as a spirit there was no way your body would actually accept his inferior seed...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, look who the cat dragged in. Took you long enough to visit, Kazu-chin~"

"...Tomo?"

"In the flesh! ...Or maybe not since my soul is still definitely mine, but it's the body that's new since the old Shogun fried me back then. Hahaha!"

"But...but how?"

"It's all thanks to our new archon! You should've seen it. I've been hanging out here ever since I died, but no one can see or hear me except for her of course! She kinda just appeared all of a sudden and me being the gentleman that I am, I watched out for her and you wouldn't believe how shocked I was when she could apparently see and hear me!"

The former fugitive could only gape as he stared at his old friend with wide eyes, acting as animated as he was before challenging the raiden shogun. Tomo however, wore new attire now that was especially befitting of a samurai that served a worthy lord. Unsurprising as he was now apparently part of the new shogun's honor guard.

"Anyways, I told her all about what's been happening here and you know what she did after I finished the whole story? She marched straight towards the shogun and ANNIHILATED her. It looked like something straight out of the Archon War with how ruthless she was! Oh, but she didn't hurt anyone else after that. Heck, she even returned everyone's visions and gave me a new body that she just conjured from nothing. So here I am now, back and even badder than before!" 

The new captain grinned as he flexed his 'new' body, posing embarrassingly until Kazuha gave him a deadpan stare at his antics. A group of handmaidens passed by, giggling as they gave Tomo sly looks which the man returned with his own flirtatious wink.

"...You've essentially died and risen from death, but you're still an incorrigible flirt as always"

"It's not my fault that the ladies just can't get enough of this—"

"Tomo? I was looking everywhere for you—"

And just like that first night beneath the light of the moon, the young man practically snapped his neck at the speed at which he turned to behold the owner of the voice that haunted him even in his dreams.

There you stood, as beautiful and ethereal as the last time he managed to hold you. Except...there seemed to be some roundness around your midsection, almost as if you were actually preg—

"KAZUHA!!!"

Like a predator that caught sight of its prey and assured in the inevitability of its kill, you pounced and he could do nothing except catch you in his arms. He took care not to embrace you too tightly however, conscious of your apparent condition as his fried brain tried to take in all the revelations that had been dropped on him in less than an hour.

You purr and chirp as you rub your cheek against your mate's neck, scenting him and staking your claim upon the male as he stood still as stone from the information overload.

Meanwhile, Tomo was equally shocked and amused at the turn of events.

"...Huh, so you're the bastard that knocked up our new archon… Guess this means I'll be a very proud godfather and uncle very soon!"

The former scion of the noble Kaedehara samurai household turned wanderer, branded a fugitive, escaped as a sailor, was now the consort of an archon and a soon-to-be father.

...He knew he should have never befriended Tomo in the first place.

[bogbees]

also. good news. omega!iruka fic is at 1k, started it shortly before i started asking ab full dress. i expect 2k by the time i pass away in the morning

here's a teaser, bc im really excited ab it, alai it's literally just the opening for it ✨✌️☺️

“Hm. That's not good,” Hiruzen says.

Iruka looks up from the shogi board and wonders what he means by that. He hears a quiet, rumbling growl and turns to find Hound standing next to him, body trembling, as if desperate to restrain himself. Breathing loud, much louder than Iruka thought ANBU capable of.

Iruka tilts his head in wonder, staring up at him curiously, not understanding Hound’s sudden strange behaviour. The ANBU agent always stands several feet away, obscuring himself with the shadows, barely noticeable, if at all. He suspects this is what Sandaime was talking about, especially when Hound's red eye focuses on him, the tomoes of his sharingan spinning wildly. His arm raises slowly, reaching towards Iruka, shaking as if he's trying to stop it, but it's beyond his control.

He wonders if it's an alpha thing. Not like he really understands much about second genders, he's still yet to present himself. Sandaime smiles and says it'd be sometime soon with a laugh at his excitement, and tells him usually it happens around birthdays and his thirteenth is in a couple of weeks. He's a bit anxious, and seeing Hound behave like this only makes him worry a bit more. Makes him a bit afraid. He feels a shiver race through his body.

He catches the scent of autumn, furrows his brows, it's the middle of spring, and feels his skin begin to burn, sweat beading on his neck as he stares up at Hound's mask, peering through the slits to see his mismatched eyes staring back at him intently. He blinks, the smell shifts to something that reminds him of the forests and feels like… it's trying to tell him not to worry, be calm, be calm, be calm.

“That’s not good at all,” Sandaime mutters, rising to stand, his robes billowing as he quickly comes to stand beside Hound. His movements are too quick for Iruka's eyes to catch, but he hears a quiet smack and all too suddenly Hound collapses into a heap by the hokage’s feet.

The smell intensifies, it occurs to Iruka that it's Hound's scent, and he can pick out the individual hints of smoke chilled by an autumn night, leaves rotting away, freshly dug up soil, and it's, interesting, weird, it's something he wants to bury his nose in and inhale it deep into his very being.

Hiruzen sighs, looking at him with a peculiar look of disappointment tugging at his features, fear immediately runs through Iruka's mind, coursing through his veins as terror prickles tears in his eyes, he's never wanted to upset the hokage like this— “I was hoping this wouldn't come to be,” the man mutters.

Iruka wakes up with a start. Eyes wide, his breathing erratic, he blinks, trying to calm down. Just a dream. Just a made up figment of his imagination. Just a recurring dream he's had for the last eight years of his life. It's nothing new, why does he still freak out over it. It's not real. It's not a memory like his normal recurring nightmare is.

[moonyasnow]

Stumbled upon a writing exercize I did a while ago and decided fuck it I might as well post it!

First thing my OCs do stranded on a deserted island

I'm choosing to interpret it as they were in a plane that crashed and they somehow survived (been watching Billiam's LOST videos), but they're the only survivor— also assumes they aren't injured

Tomoe

The gravity of the situation starts to sink in for her immediately. But she won't panic; she knows all that will do is drain her energy faster, and she knows energy is something she'll need a lot of if she's to survive and make it off this island. Once she makes sure she truly is the only survivor…she'll start to clean out a small space in the surviving part of the plane to use as a place to sleep. She starts to look through the other passangers' bags, searching for supplies like bottled water, food, first-aid-kits, lighters to use to make fire, etc. She wishes she could bury everyone who didn't make it…but she knows that if she makes it off this island, the bodies could all be retrieved and sent back to their families for proper burials. After making an inventory check of the supplies she has and eating and drinking something, she settles down to rest for the night, her mind spinning with plans for what she needs to do the next day.

Irina

She tries looking for other passengers. After waking up on the beach of the island, the first thing she notices is how quiet it is. The plane had a lot of noise, from other passengers, the engines. But it's completely quiet here. And it scares her. So she gets up and starts to call out: 'hello?'. She keeps walking, eventually finding the remnants of the plane. When she looks inside, and realizes everyone is dead…she has a panic attack. She's really stuck there, all alone. After calming down, she'd start to raid the other passenger's luggage for any items of food. She hates herself for it, and starts crying as she does it, but she doesn't want to die. She finds a stuffed animal, and hugs it close to her as she cries herself to sleep on her first night there.

Spike

… Ok what the fuck does he do now? it's hot and he's sweating and he needs water but all the water around him has way too much salt in it for him to drink. How the fuck did he even survive? And what does he do now?! He knows his brain ain't exactly good for much; he's always done better as some smarter guy's lackey, so he's not used to havin' to come up with plans of his own. He's pretty strong, and not above rootin' through the things the other passangers brought, so he manages to get some supplies together like food, and some stuff he can use as a makeshift weapon. He packs a bag and just decides to start trekking through the jungle just past the beach. There's gotta be some other life here, yeah? And if there ain't…well, he doesn't wanna think about that yet.

Junia

She'd start to just wander aimlessly, half exploring, half just to have something to do. She's still in shock. She finds a part of the plane on the shore, still intact. But as she thinks of approaching it, something cold clenches in her gut, telling her to not go any closer. While she might not be able to put it into words, some instinctual part of her knows all she'll find in there are the dead. But she pushes the notion away entirely, refusing to acknowledge it. So she walks away, and tries to think of where she'll sleep, if the plane is off limits… Oh yes! She remembers hearing in a story once that you could make a bed out of leaves! So she'll begin to gather leaves. Remembering other bits of information she's picked up here and there from who knows where, she sharpens a pointed stick to use to spearfish, and makes a little ring of stones for a campfire. She should probably find a way to actually start a fire. Again, the plane is off limits, so she finds two big rocks and starts bashing them together. The seriousness of the situation hasn't quite sunk in for her.

Lisle

He doesn't wanna die, he doesn't wanna die, he doesn't wanna die he doesn't wanna die hedoesn'twannadie-- HIS SKILLS ARE IN PR AND PR ONLY HE IS SO NOT PREPARED FOR ANY PART OF THIS! He makes his way to the cockpit, desperate to find whoever is responsible for this situation and make them make it better! When he finds the pilot and copilot slumped over in their seats, debris sticking out of both their bodies, he doesn't care if they're injured, he's going to try to wake them up! Make them do something to remedy this situation! But he keeps shaking them and shaking them but they just won't wake up. He tries to use the radio… And then just huddles down on the ground crying when it doesn't start up. He checks every single phone he can find! But there's no service. So then he just hoards all the food he can find in one big pile and prepares to wait for someone to come save him. …Because they are coming, right?

Veronica

@babyghoul138 psss pss pss come get your fire lady

She is throwing a fucking tantrum. Time and time again, life just keeps fucking hitting her in the face, doesn't it? She's used to things going to shit by now, but what the fuck is this?! If the world wanted her dead it could've at least killed her on impact! But noooo it wants to fucking torture her to death, sadistic bastard. She'd be swinging around a stick she found, screaming her lungs out and hitting anything she finds sticking up out of the sand. How can life be so unfair to her? What'd she ever do to it, huh?! After calming down, she'll start to gather materials for some kind of a boat. She's not fucking staying there. She'll get off this island motivated purely by spite, or die trying!

Victor

He's not that freaked out. All he'll need to do is find the cockpit of the plane and use the radio to send out an emergency distress signal, and he'll be picked up eventually. And he does indeed find it! But the radio doesn't work. Ah. He's…honestly not too sure about where to proceed from here. He's used to being able to make the best of things with the materials he has on hand. But he has no materials. And the stakes have never been quite this high before. Oh, for others, certainly! But not for himself. He was always the one in control. So now he feels quite…lost.

Artemisia

An intensely sheltered albino rich girl who has never even touched sand before, alone on a deserted island? Her first thought is of whether she might survive a single day. And the first action she takes is to ascertain if she can find any part of the plane nearby that might have remained intact, in the hopes it might grant her a reprieve, however brief, from the sun. Perhaps she could find a bag with some sunscreen? Many people often bring sunscreen with them on vacation, or so she has read. She is not accustomed to having to plan past just what she would like to do for the day, though… Yet no matter how much she wishes she could, and wishes she could wake up at home in her bed or still on the plane to the blissful realization all of it was a dream, she cannot stay sitting idle in her newfound solar refuge. At least, not if she would like to survive. But…she will grant herself a moment's respite.

[tonowarisbitch]

You and Lo'ak are best friends, but you have the biggest crush on his brother, and little did you know he feels the same.

Everybody is aged up !

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️ I tried my hardest to write smut 😂

I have wanted to write for a long time so I'm just really letting it all out 😂 I know it's very very ! Long but I just have so many ideas I gotta get em out !

This is my first smut or writing even please give me tips on How to improve

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

- You arrive to the training area, ready to begin.

- Your eyes lock with Lo'aks, and you give him a big toothy grin as you jog up to him.

~Lo'ak~ "Hey Y/N, Ready for today?"

~Y/N~ "Always, I just don't like being sore after training."

- He gives you a knowing smirk and says.

~Lo'ak~ "No... But you DO like watching Neteyam get all sweat- OUCH!"

- You punch him in his shoulder, the few guys around you begin to chuckle, and then the whole group grows silent, looking behind you. You think they are looking at you for hitting Lo'ak.

- A purplish tone creeps upon your cobalt cheeks. You hear someone approaching from your side, You look to see who it is It's the olo'eyktan and his eldest son.

- With this instant new feeling of embarrassment, you try to hide your blush , but Lo'ak chuckles at the purplish stain on your face and tips of your ears.

- Neteyam sees you hiding your face but doesn't break even a smirk at you. He seems to always look so serious.

- Jake notices your face and gives you a warm smile. Everybody in your clan can see the feelings you hold for his eldest son.

~Jake~ "Alright,I know we've been threw most of the basics ... So today, we will be working on our hand to hand combat... You will go into groups of four. Me and Neteyam will watch and give you directions and tips."

- You smile mischievously at Lo'ak.

~Y/N~ "Finally... I have a reason to beat your skxawng ass."

- You and Lo'ak have grouped up with two other men. You begin to work with Fy'lan.

-You can't focus on training because all you can think about is how you're not very good at this. You are better with a bow.

- you feel a sharp pain in your leg and fall to the ground with a thud and a groan.

~Fy'lan~ "Are you okay, sevin?"

- He grins at you with a small smile as he looks over your figure on the ground. He extends his strong arm to help you stand.

- You take his hand, and he pulls you up. This makes you blush a little, mostly because you're upset he just knocked you over with such ease.

- Then you hear the voice that makes your knees feel like they're going to give out from under you, the voice that makes your heart beat just a little faster.

~Neteyaym~ "Y/N, I think you need more guidance with your stance... Well, maybe everything else, too."

- He lets out a small chuckle as the flush of mixed emotions of being embarrassed and aroused spread across your face.

-Neteyam looks at Fy'lan a scowl upon his face and gives him a look as if to say, "Don't hurt her again." A look that goes unnoticed by you, but Fy'lan gets the message loud and clear. He would not cross the future olo'eyktan.

- Neteyam walks away with a serious look on his face. You can't help but stare at his back muscles and strong legs as he walks towards his father, who is speaking to another group.

~ Fy'lan~ " Lo'ak, let's switch partners... please."

- Lo'ak laughs but agrees. He begins to train with you. But you can't help but tell he's going easy on you. You feel a pair of eyes on you two, Neteyam watches from afar. To you, it looks like he's watching his brother, but it's not just that.

-Neteyam watches you train from afar he likes to watch the sweat glisten on your beautiful blue skin. He thinks about gently grasping your strong thighs as he holds you closely, but his father wakes him from his daydreams.

~Jake~ "Neteyam, son, pay attention." He chuckles to himself and pats Neteyams shoulder

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

- Some time passes, and soon training is done.

~Jake~ "Alright, everybody! Have a good evening, don't forget tomorrow is a rest day."

- Your muscles and bones ache some minor scratches and bruises on your body, nothing too serious, but they still hurt. You're ready to go to the river to wash away the dirt on your body and sooth your pain.

- You get ready to say goodbye to Lo'ak when you feel a strong, calloused but gentle hand land on your shoulder sending a shiver down your spine.

~Neteyam~ "Y/N, I want to show you some techniques, but... you look tired, we can continue tomorrow if you'd like. But for now, go ahead and wash up... then go to Mo'at for your bruises and scrapes."

~Y/N~ " Okay... thank you."

- Lo'ak gives you a constricting hug, causing you to let out a small breath, Neteyam gives him a glare and walks away.

~Lo'ak~ " Will you sit with me at dinner tonight?"

~Y/N~ " Of course you skxawng."

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

- You walk away to your favorite part of the river nearby. As you approach the edge of the river, you begin to undo your tweng and your top.

-You feel like you're being watched. You look around but don't see anybody, so you step into the water to wash the dirt from your sore body. But the feeling of being watched doesn't go away.

- Little did you know Neteyam watched you from a tree. As he had done a hundred times before, after training. He loved to watch you, mostly he watched to make sure you were protected from predators.

- As you undressed, Neteyam felt his tweng tighten, and he quietly groans. He loves the way your cobalt skin glistens in the sun when wet. He palms himself before undoing the knot of his tweng and begins to stroke his length.

- But today is different. You usually take your time, Neteyam doesn't have time to relieve his aching member.

- You quickly clean yourself but keep your back to the woods and put your clothes back on then leave to go to Mo'at for your aching bones, scrapes, and bruises.

- Neteyam waits for you to leave. When you have left, he climbs down the tree, and he now has to sit near you at dinner. Agitated and unsatisfied.

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

~Y/N~ "Iryao Mo'at!"

- She smiles and waves to you.

~Mo'at~ " Always a pleasure Y/N."

- A little less sore from the creams Mo'at rubbed on your aching body and cuts you walk to the big fire where the whole clan gathers to eat.

- You see Lo'ak and walk over to sit almost directly on top of him. Your legs touch, and you give him a side hug.

- His mother gives you a smile and laughs.

~Neytiri~ " You two are inseparable!"

~Jake~ "They always have been."

-He gives a small grin.

-Tuk sits next to you and gives you a nudge and smirk.

- Kiri is eating but nods at you.

- You look at Neteyam, who seems more grumpy than usual and give him a small smile. He just continues to eat. You wonder if you've done something to upset him.

- Lo'ak hands you a plate of food. You begin to eat but tense up a bit, noticing Neteyam, who seems to be staring into you. You try to ignore the knot in your stomach that grows.

- Lo'ak notices you becoming uncomfortable in the short silence so he decides to start a conversation.

~Lo'ak~ " Hey, dad! Did you see me beat up the mighty hunter today?"

- His father chuckles a bit.

~Jake~ " Yes, she seemed to be going easy on you."

- Lo'ak nudges you playfully. But he grazes one of your purple bruises, and you wince in pain.

- Neteyam becoming agitated says sternly threw clenched teeth.

~Neteyam~ "Knock it off skxawng."

- The family grows silent, the air filled with tension. Quickly, you all move on, finishing your food.

~Y/N~ "Thanks everyone goodnight."

- Everybody says their goodbyes. Neteyam nods at you.

- You leave to go home. As soon as your head hits your mat, you fall into a deep, well-deserved slumber.

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

- When you wake, you feel the warm rays of sun burning into your eyes.

- You're thankful it's a day off as you begin to move, and your body screams of pains. You stand and find a utumauti you begin to eat it, you feel the feeling of being watched again you begin to turn around slowly and see a large figure in the entrance to your hut.

~Y/N~ "AH! FUC-SHIT, Oh my Eywa you scared the shit out of me!"

- You place a hand on your chest and let your body relax as you realize it's only Neteyam.

~Neteyam ~ " Sorry... We were suppose to work on your combat skills today." He chuckles to himself.

~Y/N~ " Yeah, but I didn't think you ment the ass crack of dawn." You laugh at him.

~Neteyam~ " I can come back later if you don't want to go now." He says a little disappointed, hoping you don't notice.

~Y/N~ " No, now is good. Might as well start with my adrenaline pumping. " You giggle.

- He leads you into a small empty clearing deep into the forest, where he begins to teach you and give you tips on how to improve.

- In the clearing of the forest, the sun shines down onto Neteyams face, and all you can think about is how narlor, his golden eyes are.

- Your eyes wander his body and you catch yourself not paying attention to what he is saying, hoping it wasn't too important.

- You refocus on what he is saying, it was a lot easier for you to learn when it was just you two.

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

-Hours have passed, the sun now in the middle of the sky. You're exaughsted, but neteyam has barely even broken a sweat dodging and blocking your every swing. He seems to lose focus just a bit starring into your eyes.

- Finally, you land a punch. You got him right under his eye and at the middle of his nose.

~Y/N~ " OH! I'm so sorry, Karyu ! Are you okay ?"

- a trickle of blood begins to fall from his nose.

~Neteyam~ " Finally! Now let's take a break."

- He smiles a big grin and chuckles.

~Neteyam~ " Mighty warrior."

- The blood flows and begins to pool on his cupids bow. You reach your hand out instinctively, wiping it away. Staring into his eyes and you feel your breath hitch in your throat.

~Neteyam~ " Y/N... I need to say something to you."

- You breath slowly and unevenly.

~Y/N~ "Yes, what is on your mind?"

~Neteyam~ " I have wanted you since we both have become of age, I have yearned for you. I crave you... when I am with you, my nose fills with your sweet sent, and my heart fills with love. My body goes numb, and my mind is flooded with only you.

- You sit in silence, your cheeks begin to burn. Your mind becomes a jumbled mess. This is what you have waited for, but you seem to be stuck in place, and you can't move.

~Neteyam~ " I'm sorry I shoulda just kept it to mysel-"

- You stop him before he can get up your hand resting on his cheek, and you whisper.

~Y/N~ " That is all I ever wanted to hear from you."

~Neteyam~ "Y/N, Im going to kiss you."

- He puts his hand on your cheek and leans in your lips crash together. When he pulls away from you for a breath, he smiles at you.

- Neteyam between heavy lust filled breaths says.

~Neteyam~ "Y/N... if I do anything you don't like, I will stop."

- You nod your head and he picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist and you begin to leave sweet kisses on his shoulder then his neck and his jaw he walks you over to a fallen tree and sits you atop it.

- He kisses down your body when he reaches your thighs he starts to nip and suck at them he looks up at you with needy eyes as if to ask you if you're okay, so you nod.

- He begins to pull the string of your tweng. Once undone, he spreads your legs and drops your tweng to the ground, and he kneels to look at your throbbing hole it pulses with need.

- His eyes light up as he slowly rubs your thighs and kneeds them between his hands.

- He gives your thighs gentle kisses as he makes his way to your entrance and he begins to suck on your clit softly.

- He looks up at you with eager eyes and a devilish smile as he sucks and licks your clit and slowly starts to play with your needy hole.

- Neteyam hums into your entrance, sending vibrations up your spine. You began to feel the knot in your stomach grow and your hands entangle in his braids, and you yank on his hair.

- He starts curling his finger into you, hitting your sweet spot. Your body begins to shake, and vision begins to blur.

~Y/N~ " NETEYAMMM OHHH"

- Your body releases the knot in your belly, and neteyam lets you ride your high out on his face.

- You stare down at him threw lidded eyes.

~Neteyam~ "Good job, Paskalin."

- He wipes his chin and face of your juices and licks his lips and fingers clean.

- You lean down to kiss him. But he begins to stand and places his hands on your hips. He whispers hungrily into your ear.

~Neteyam~ " I'm not finished yet dear."

- He picks you up and places you right on the ground. You turn your head up and see him staring down at you, the same devilish smile.

- He's palming his tweng it seems painful it looks as if his cock gets any harder it will explode from the fabric.

~Neteyam ~" Sevin... open your pretty mouth, please."

-He unties his tweng and his cock slaps his stomach. Pre cum dribbling from his pink tip and he slaps it on your lips.

- You open your mouth, and he gently slides in your warm mouth, and he can only let out little gasps and moans his eyes close, and his head rolls back in pleasure.

-He pumps in and out of your warm mouth a couple of times, then he slides it into your throat, and you gasp and gag. He chuckles and slides his cock out of your mouth and pumps it a few times in his hands then grabs you by your waist.

- Picking you up and placing you on the log on your stomach. Leaving kisses on your back as he places you down gently.

- He bites his lip as he sees how wet you are for him. He slaps your wet, sweet entrance with his throbing cock.

- He places one hand on your hip and uses the other to guide his cock to your entrance.

~Neteyam~ "Hmmmm so wet for me Paskalin, good girl."

- You turn your head to stare him in his eyes. He slowly pushes his rock hard cock into you. You stretch to his width.

- You let out a small hiss and he stops to let you adjust to his girth.

~Neteyam ~ "You're doing such a good job."

- You hum in pleasure.

- He pushes further into your warm wet pussy slowly as to not hurt you and he rubs your hips with his hands.

~Neteyam~ " Streching so good for me Paskalin. You're such a good girl."

- He bottoms out, and you begin to rock a bit. He understands what you're telling him. He begins to do small, short strokes.

- Slowly picking up speed and depth. You begin to moan loudly, and your fingers dig into the log for support as he becomes more aggressive. The same feeling in your stomach grows and grows until you just can't take it anymore, and you come undone thankful for the log because if it was not there, you would have fallen to the ground.

- Your walls tighten, and you've just become a blabbering screaming mess.

- Neteyam feels like he's about to cum with your walls so tight around him. He flips his head back and grunts.

~Neteyam~ " OH my fucking Eywaaa, so so so goood."

- He leans forward and bites your shoulder leaving a mark to tell others you are spoken for.

- He falls on top of you after he fills your womb with his hot, sticky seed. He is still inside of you, and he breathes hot, heavy, uneven breaths on your back leaving kisses on your neck and sholders.

- Slowly he pulls his cock out and he steps back to see what a sticky mess you are. His seed dripping down your thighs and your legs shake.

- He kisses the back of your head as he begins to lift you off the log and lays you on the ground, and he lays with you as he holds you close to his chest.

~Neteyam~ "Y/N you did such a wonderful job."

- You can't even feel your legs let alone think of words to say so you just hum into his chest and fall asleep.

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

- You wake to the sun in your eyes and Neteyam holding you tightly. You place a kiss on his face and shake him a bit to wake him up.

- He smiles at you, and then fear comes to his face as he realises its the next day.

- He jumps to his feet and throws your tweng and top at you as he ties his tweng to himself.

~Neteyam~ " I had things to do today, I am so sorry but later on after dinner will you see me again?"

- You sit up in shock and just nod at him. You still can barely believe you just fucked the guy you've had a crush on for years let alone cuddled him naked in the woods all night long.

- You think to yourself "What the fuck am I gonna tell Lo'ak?" He's obviously gonna see the love bites.

- You wait till he runs off to do whatever he had planned to get dressed and go back to the village and begin your own day.

- Everyone you walk past are staring at you, and you just try to hide the bite mark.

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

- The day goes by fast, and now it's time for dinner. You are walking up to the sully family and see Neteyam laughing and smiling with his family.

- You shout.

~Y/N~ "Lo'ak!"

- Neteyam gives you a small smile and you giggle.

- He turns to you and waves you over. You sit between him and Neteyam.

- Lo'ak bumps your shoulder and hands you a plate. You begin to eat but feel like someone is starting at you.

~Lo'ak~ " Y/N... what's that on your shoulder."

- You choke on your food, and Neteyam pats your back and gives you a smirk.

~Y/N~ " Um.. nothing leave me alone skxawng."

- Netyiri and Jake give knowing looks at each other and just smile.

- The whole time you're eating, Neteyam seems to be happier and less grumpy. He's like he's a different person.

- You get up to say goodbye and thank you to the sully family, but Neteyam stands with you.

~Neteyam~"I will walk you home."

- Lo'ak looks at his brother with wide eyes as if realizing what has happened.

~Lo'ak~ " No, no fuckin way bro. REALLY? You couldn't find someone else you had to choose my best friend??"

-☆-☆-to be continued-☆-☆-

[asktheoger]

(askthewhiterocket) Wandering near the beach with her Meowstic on her shoulder, Kyo spotted Aya in the process of making her sandcastle and drew her brows together in confusion. She looked around frantically for a moment before drawing closer and bending down near Aya. "Excuse me, little one, but... where are your parents? Are you here by yourself?"

“My dads always say I should be carful and I can’t go down into the villages, but I’ve met so many people and they’ve all been so nice! And there was this fun festival that wasn’t even in a village on the island- so, I went by myself!” Aya explains with pride. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, they won’t even notice I’m gone!”

Meanwhile, back in the mountains….

“KENJI!!”

“I checked Aya’s playhouse!! She’s not there!”

“Wh-what about the rest of the house??? Your workshop?? The garden???” Tomo asks. The Monkedori curled his hands into fists, trying to keep them from shaking.

“Y-yes, and she’s not there!” Kenji sputtered, sweat beading on his forehead and slipping down his cheeks. “I-I’ll go double check- I-“

“I’ll fly around,” Miu spoke up, tone stern. “I’ll ask Ichigo and check all the other places she likes. Don’t worry, she- or whoever is behind this- can’t have gone too far.”

- - -

Featuring Kyo and her Meowstic from @askthewhiterocket!

[zoitza-pizza]

Omg, we're back again 🎶... sorry

Ok, Ch4, here we go!

By the time Usagi had arrived at the village, Leonardo only had a few hours left. His horse collapsed with exhaustion, not wanting to waste a second he brought a bowl of water to the horses lips. He turned and sprinted for the palace, where the shogun was where lord nor Yuki was, where Tomoe Ame was, all caring for a sick and injured Leonardo. Leonardo who fought alongside Tamoe Ame when he didn't even know her, when she had even attacked him. He had risked his life to protect Lord nor Yuki and save them all from Lord hebi.

By the time he had reached the palace, the guards almost drew their weapons in surprise until they realized who was running towards them. They had stepped aside for him to pass. Sprinting Usagi let out a quick thanks in response. He couldn't stop now. Bursting into the shoguns personal pavilion, he almost yelled,

"I HAVE AN ANTIDOTE!"

With that, he marched with a sense of purpose towards where the sickly turtle lay. Trying to not think about how pale his skin was or how the scales were glistening with sweat. He held his dear friend up and slowly poured the elixir down his throat. He kept pouring it into his throat until he heard a gulp. He lifted the bottle to see his friend open his eyes for the first time since being poisoned by that discussing villain. His own eyes started to water against his will.

"Leonardo, you're alive." Usagi let out his realization breathlessly with a crack in his voice to match. Leonardo could only smile a weak and small smile, something Usagi was not used to seeing. He wondered what he was doing wrong, until he looked at the bottle realization hit him. He hadn't given him the whole bottle. He then turned to Leonardo and said, "My apologies, Leonardo san, but you need to drink the rest."

At that, Leonardo grimaced Usagi could only imagine the taste if Leonardo couldn't bear it. He still held his friend in a firm grip as he slowly poured again. This time, Leonardo drank the whole bottle. After he was done, he set him back down to rest, and then the healers hands found their way to Leonardos head. It was at that moment that he had found everyone's eyes on him. He was then picked up by Genoske, who no doubt was going on about a reward. He didn't care enough to listen as Tamoe Ame gently pulled him from Genoske's grasp and pulled him aside the worrisome look on her face told him all he needed to know.

"He escaped, didn't he." Usagis ear twitching in annoyance. The defeated look on her face was enough of a response. She looked away for a moment to think of her response. She seemed conflicted in telling him it was odd to see her like this. "He used Leonardos illness and the neko clan ninja as a distraction. He had tunnels underground leading all sorts of directions. And by the time we found it, it had already been an hour. I'm sorry, Usagi, but we will do everything we can to find him and bring him to justice."

Usagis thoughts were swimming around in his head only when he fully comprehended what she had said. Did he speak? A week, "thank you," was all he could manage. She understood he needed space and was ok in giving it to him. As he made his way down the hallway, he made a vow not just to himself but to Leonardo as well. The next time he and hebi met, he would kill him.

Ok, so that's all right now, I'm glad these bfs are rejoining. And I just had my shots so my arm is sore.

Mkay byeeee

[ink-dusted-dreams]

The original Japanese manga of Rurouni Kenshin reveals a significant distinction in Kenshin and Tomoe's relationship, a detail overlooked in the English translation

As mentioned in several of my previous posts, I believe that translating from Japanese to English often results in the loss of nuances specific to Japanese. The timeline of Kenshin falling in love with Tomoe is not as evident when reading the Manga in English, but it becomes quite apparent in Japanese. Therefore, in this post, I will explore some aspects lost in translation.

It's important to note that the challenge in understanding Kenshin and Tomoe's feelings arises from their reserved characters, contrasting with more expressive characters like Kaoru, Megumi, Sano, Yahiko, Misao, etc. Kenshin and Tomoe, being extremely reserved, disclose very little about themselves. Tomoe, in particular, is even more reserved than Kenshin, who, despite his reserved nature, is more expressive about his feelings, at least to Tomoe.

The scene I aim to decipher today is the one where Kenshin states that Tomoe is the only person he would never kill, even if she had a katana against him.

Towards the end of the scene, both characters blush. While it does seem special when Kenshin makes that statement, essentially expressing that she is special to him by being the only one he would never kill, the weight of this sentiment is significantly different when read in Japanese.

In the preceding scene, we catch one of the exceptionally rare glimpses into Tomoe's emotions. In her internal monologue, she reflects on Katsura's words regarding the beliefs of Ishin Shishi. Her monologue goes like this,

…新時代のためあえて狂うことも厭わない正義…

Translation: Justice where one dares to go mad for the sake of a new era

その狂の正義の先鋒

Translation: The vanguard of that justice of madness

でも…こうして寝顔だけ見てると…

Translation: But.. when I look at his sleeping face like this...

まだまだ…元服前の少年なのに…

Translation: He is still... just a young boy who has not had his Genpuku yet...

Tomoe's internal monologue reveals that, up to this moment, she perceives Kenshin not as a man but as a child.

In the aforementioned scene, he experiences a complete breakdown - unable to stand up, breathing heavily, and sweating profusely, yet he tells Tomoe to leave. He says,

市井の人は斬らないと大口叩いたところで今の俺はこの有り様…

Translation: Even though I talked big saying I don't kill ordinary citizens... look at me now...

もう出て行ってくれでないと俺はいずれ本当に君を…

Translation: Please leave already

If you don't, someday I'll really... you...

However, his panic is not stemming from the fact that he mistakenly drew his sword on someone. Instead, it arises from the deep feelings he harbors for her, a point made evident in the manga. The manga subtly conveys his emotions through the use of Yobisute (呼び捨て), a significant gesture. For those familiar with Japanese anime, it's known that addressing someone often involves adding suffixes such as -san, -kun, -chan, and so on.

Kenshin consistently employs honorifics when conversing with women. Even in his childhood, he referred to the girls he traveled with using -san. When initially speaking to Tomoe, he addressed her as "Tomoe-san" and utilized "Anata" as a pronoun, a clear indicator of respect. This choice becomes even more apparent as Tomoe is older than him. However, in this particular scene, he opts for "君" (kimi), a pronoun not paired with the -san suffix. He completely drops honorifics.

This is a significant development because many Japanese readers recognize Kaoru's importance to Kenshin when he omits the honorific and calls her "Kaoru" once. In romance mangas, the moment when characters drop honorifics is considered very special.

In the live-action adaptation, Kenshin continues to use "Anata" at this point, switching to "Kimi" only after they are married. In the manga, Kenshin's way of addressing her suggests a sense of possessiveness, even when she remains emotionally distant.

In the scene described above, Tomoe places her shawl on Kenshin, and his heavy breathing ceases. She tells him,

もうしばらくここに居させて頂きます

Translation: I'll be here for a while longer

今のあなたには狂気を押さえる鞘が必要ですから…

Translation: You need a sheath to suppress your madness right now...

If you observe, she isn't seeking his permission. She's simply stating that she will be with him for an indefinite period. She isn't explicitly expressing a desire; she's making a declaration. She can only do this with someone who, after telling her to go out, she knows didn't mean it and will allow her to be with him. So, I suppose she has a strong awareness of his feelings (which is quite evident, given the Yobisute).

In the above scene, he confesses that she holds a special place in his heart, expressing it verbally. Kenshin avoids direct eye contact, showing a slight blush. Tomoe also blushes slightly, marking the moment when she ceases to see him merely as a boy and begins to perceive him as a man. He says,

ずっと前の問いの答えー…

Translation: The answer to the question from a long time...

君が刀を手にしたら斬るか否か…

Translation: Whether I'd kill you or not if you picked up a Katana...

答えは「斬らない」

Translation: The answer is "Won't kill"

おれは斬らない

Translation: I won't kill

どんなコトがあろうと君だけは絶対に斬ったりしない…

Translation: No matter what happens, you are the only one, I'll never kill...

君だけは…

Translation: Only you...

絶対に…

Translation: Never...

When reading the English translations, the entire Yobisute is not discussed because both "Anata" and "Kimi" are translated as "You." However, in Japanese culture, this is a significant matter, indicating the distance between two individuals. The impact would not have been as profound if Tomoe were much younger than Kenshin. However, precisely because Tomoe is older than Kenshin, when he drops the honorifics, his feelings become completely evident.

[howhow326]

ML X BNHA au Part 2!

Part 1 here

Chloe Bourgeois/ Queen Bee

Quirk: Subjection (Chloe's fingernails secrete an organic venom that can paralyze people. People that have Chloe's venom in their system will also obey any verbal commands she gives them. The venom lasts for about one hour.)

On the surface, Chloe Bourgeois is the egotistical daughter of the Mayor of Paris, a menace to the students of her local highschool, and the closet thing Adrien Agreste has to a friend. Beneath the surface, Chloe craves the love of a mother who abandoned her years ago, and takes out her pain on everyone else. Now, when Adrien leaves Paris to study at U.A. in Japan, it is only natural that Chloe follows after him. It is only natural that Chloe Bourgeois will become will become the number one hero, Queen Bee! Maybe then, with hundreds of civilains screaming her name will Chloe finnaly feel wanted...

Chloe's best "friends" : Adrien, Sabrina, Bakugo (but like, as a weird rival thing cuz they act the same)

Nino Lahiffe/ Carapace

Quirk: Bubble (Nino sweats a type of bubble liquid that he can use to create people sized bubbles that can be used as prisons are shields.)

Nino Lahiffe is just a normal boy with a normal life from Paris France. No really, he is completely normal. He wanted to be a DJ before changing it to filmaking, before changing that to being a Pro hero. Initially, Nino chose to U.A. as his hero school to get as far away as possible from Chloe, only to end up in the same class as her again! But this time, he's also in the same class as the world famous model son of a supervillain, a star exchange student from China that got into U.A. based on recomendations, and another exchange student from the Carribbean that Nino is like 75% sure is secretly a famous vigilante??? At least they are nice?!

Nino's best friends: Adrien, Denki, Eijiro, Rikido

Luka Couffaine/ Truth

Quirk: Inner Music (Luka's eardrum can detect the emotions of other people as melodies and harmonies of music.)

Luka Couffaine is the son of the American superstar & Pro Hero, Jagged Stone. While Luka was born in France, he spent most of his life traveling the world with his father after he won custody over him from his mother. Really, the only reason Luka started attending U.A. was because he heard his estranged sister was going their as well. After he's finished with school, Luka plans to become a musician just like his father, and a support hero on the side. But for right now, Luka is looking foreward to making new friends, and talking to those students that keep muttering to themselves.

Luka's best friends: Izuku (he's friend shaped), Juleka, Koji

Max Kanté/ Gamer

Quirk: Robostus (By looking at a Machine, Max can control it remotely. He can so this to multiple machines at once and can even change their software and code if the machine is a computer. His power shuts off if he looks away.)

Max Kanté is, accoding to several tests reaching back to when he was 10 years old, the smartest person in Mali and perhaps even all of West Africa. His intelligence was first demonstrated when he was recorded as creating the worlds first self thinking and feeling A.I., Markov. In schools all around the world wanted him to attend, and he finished most of them before he even turned 15. Now, Max is attending U.A. to finish his study in Hero support items and to gain a hero license. And also, to make some friends the same age as himself...

Max's best friends: Kim, Momo

Kagami Tsurugi/ Ryuko

Quirk: Dragon's Rule (Kagami's horns on her head that allow her to control the forces of lightning, wind, and moisture. Kagami's powers are tied to her emotions, so her mother forces her to keep a tight lid in so she dosen't lose control)

Kagami Tsurugi is the heir to one of the most famous super hero families in Japan, the Tsurugi company. Since birth, Kagami's mother Tomoe has been tirelessly training her to be the next number 1 Pro Hero of Japan and to surpass Allmight... because Tomoe herself last her eyes during a battle with a villain and was forced to retire from hero work. Although Kagami wants to become a pro hero, deep down she feels her mother puts too much pressure on her to be perfect, not allowing her to have many friends and spending all of her time training. Now that Kagami is attending U.A., she gets to meet her biggest rivals in life face to face, but she hopes they could be friends.

Kagami's best friends: Shoto, Iida