#as if it isn't painfully obvious by itself

[daytaker]

You know how in VN games

you have to make choices and almost always you find yourself with choices that are just stupid? And you want to smack the main character and tell them to knock it off?

Why is the Twisted Wonderland MC like that but like 10 times stupider than normal.

What are they even DOING.

They are so oblivious to literally everything happening around them I just

(SMACKS MY FACE INTO A WALL)

The entire Octavinelle chapter was like... a test in my tolerance of being forced to play a dumbass around a bunch of very intelligent characters (and some other dumbass characters but they're fine since they ain't me).

I actually just went up to Azul and signed a contract with no backup plan, nothing, just hoping that maybe I'd figure something out in three days? How could this game make me so stupid as to solve that problem by threatening to annoy Leona? Why did that work? I can only assume he's planning my murder, which will be richly deserved, to be honest.

I almost never take any agency but the times when I do, it's to be stupid. For shame.

[cacw]

i do still stand by this and it's kind of upsetting me they don't hate him but they really obviously dislike him and his place in the story

[smuttysabina]

Born To Be A Slut

(Male Reader x Shin Yuna x Hwang Yeji, 5k words) Tags: Romantic sex, Dating an Idol, Lovey dovey stuff, Adorable cuddling, Teasing, Lesbian sex, Some cuckolding, vaginal sex- hey what was that last part?, Oh, well if EVERYONE is cucking each other isn't that just a polyamorous relationship?, Yeah so group sex, Anal sex, Deepthroating, Cum eating, Threesome, Oral sex of all kinds, forceful sex (I mean, Yeji is involved, what did you expect?), Rampant sluttery, And smatterings of mutual understanding, Oh and fat sloppy creampies.

It was a particular agony to be a personal trainer for idols. The more mundane aspects of it certainly held painful tensions, sculpting the taut, supple flesh of gorgeous girls into ever more enticing shapes would be a temptation in and of itself. But the methodology of idol training requires a rather hands-on approach, which makes the sexual pressures nigh unbearable. Normally this stress would be easily resolved by the idol in question, in fact many "trainers" were on hand for precisely such an occasion; since the ladies themselves were hardly immune to the arousing effects as well. Unfortunately for the true professionals however, they were far too expensive to be used as fuck-meat and discarded. And so they would suffer from their pent up lusts, morosely watching as others were fucked senseless by the very luscious idols they had been training mere moments before. Of course, the more kindly or salacious girls would surreptitiously assist the poor trainers, briefly allowing them to drain their tensions into them before returning to a strictly professional relationship. Which was what was supposed to have happened to you, but sadly some idols simply enjoy breaking the rules...

You really shouldn't be doing this with Yuna. But it's hard to say no to her when this nubile vixen is staring up at you with such needy eyes. She had been teasing you for months, constantly glaring at you hungrily, wordlessly demanding your attention as well as your love. Yuna had put her body through its paces for you, relentlessly showing herself off during training, moving subtly so that your hands strayed where they should not. Which is not to say that she had not been quite verbal about her interest either, her sweetly innocent voice had been encouraging you to take liberties with her the entire time. Yuna's constant attentions had locked you in a sordid spiral, unable to think of anything but being here, yet unwilling to simply leave and end your misery. The easiest thing to do would be to give in, but that would create a whole host of problems, since you knew that you would be unable to resist giving into her demands after falling the first time. Lia had noticed your predicament, and a week ago had sympathetically led you into the bathroom and sucked you to completion; willingly swallowing your painfully bloated load that had festered in your balls for ages. But now...

Yuna presses against you, hot and sweaty from her exercise, her toned body lithe and ready for more intense... exertions. You awkwardly pry the young idol off of you, you're here to help her with her workout, not engage in unwholesome activities. Yuna submits to your entreaties with a sly smile, sighing dramatically as she returns to her stretching routine. A routine that seems to have gained some rather exotic positions since you last ran through them. Yuna presents her body to you from all imaginable angles; arching her back to show off her smooth abs and perky bodice, bowing down and thrusting her tight butt into the air, spreading her legs wide and leaning down to reveal her bulging camel-toe... All the while she watches you like a hunting cat, her poses growing ever less useful and ever more erotic as she slowly whittles down your will to resist. Yuna doesn't even bother averting her gaze from the obvious bulge in her pants. She knows you want her, so what are you waiting for? Give in.

Eager to shatter the final chains of restraint, Yuna flows upright and stalks towards you; hips swaying, chest thrust out with clear seductive intent. You stumble backwards into the wall, sliding down its mirrored surface, trying to find a way to escape, but Yuna will not be denied. She joins you on the floor, crawling the last few feet and between your legs until her face is inches away from yours. Her face is flushed with arousal, her eyes begging you wordlessly for everything you have. Kiss her, caress her, grope her, please her, fuck her, fill her, fill her with your seed, fill her until she is swollen with your love, love her, loveherloveherloveher- With a snarl you savagely kiss Yuna, your tongues wrestling greedily as you pull her body against yours. She moans in ecstasy, her legs wrapping around waist as she gyrates on you, her hands already groping at your crotch. Your hands clench around her petite ass before sliding lower to grip the fabric of her leggings. Fueled by lust, you rip them open at her crotch with brutal strength, exposing her already dripping pussy to the cold air. With mirrored enthusiasm Yuna painfully wrenches your cock out of your pants, before slamming herself onto your rigid manhood with a groan of pleasure. This virile slut had been teasing you for months, ever since you started working with her, and you pay her back for every excruciating second with interest. You jackhammer her tight cunt, pounding into her crotch with such speed that the wet slaps echo noisily throughout the empty room. Yuna blubbers with joy, taking every thrust with salacious enthusiasm, loudly begging you for your hot cum... Unable to resist her encouragements any longer, with a tortured groan you empty yourself into Yuna, making her squeal as she follows suit. Her pussy milks your cock greedily, squeezing out every last drop until your shaft has been fully drained.

Yuna lets out a content purr, her legs locked tight around your waist, her hands idly rubbing up and down your back. She stares deep into your eyes, her own wet with tears of joy, and kisses you possessively, you are hers now, got it? You belong only to Yuna...

Yuna howls as she squirms beneath her lover, her lithe body writhing as she takes every last inch of him, her greedy little cunt squeezing tight around his manhood. Her eyes roll back and she spasms as his seed erupts into her, her legs locking tight around his waist so that she receives every last drop of his love. Yuna snarls as he withdraws, but is quickly mollified as he is replaced by another fan whose cock is already dripping with excitement. This one takes her from behind as she slobbers on another member that appears like magic in front of her face. Yes, fill her up! Give her more...

"Oh! Be gentle," Yuna exclaims as you slowly push inside of her pussy, "I'm still so tight baby, so go slow with me..." She simpers as your cock fills her belly, nodding shyly in encouragement while pressing one hand against your chest, the epitome of an innocent lover. Once Yuna had caught you, her continuous seduction had mellowed, well comparatively so, she still teased you endlessly, just more in private now. And now whenever her temptatious stretches filled you with lust, you simply took her in whatever position she so happened to be in; it had gotten to the point that Yuna had joked that she should wear crotchless yoga pants, since you tore hers open so often. She hadn't, of course, she knew full well that nothing was more exciting than the anticipation that led up to the act itself, and kept her puffy lower lips shrouded to fire your imagination... Yuna moans sweetly as her legs bounce on your shoulders, you are so deep inside of her that a bulge forms in her belly from where your cock is buried in her, "Please, you're stretching me out, I'm not used to taking-"

"MORE! Give me more!" Yuna screeches as twin cocks piston her gushing cunt, her pussy slobbering fluids all over the pair of them as they plow her. The pink of her insides are clearly visible as her hole fails to grip them tightly enough, the slut too busy orgasming to even consider clenching down on their dicks. It's still not enough to fully satisfy her though, and soon another meaty cock is cramming itself into her already gaping cunt. Yuna wails with pleasure as her pussy is stretched out by three pounding dicks, gleefully scrabbling at the floor as her guts get brutally rearranged...

Your member noses curiously up Yuna's soaking slit before prodding gently against her anus, causing her to squeal in protest, "Wait! I want to save that for a special occasion! I'll need time to prep too you know!" She looks back at you and pouts, her ass still raised high in the air while her chest is pressed fully against the ground in a perfect arch. Yuna smiles affectionately as you lower your ambitions and push into the now-familiar warmth of her pussy, its wet folds welcoming you inside lovingly. You had been seeing Yuna for a couple months now, meeting with her in a disused practice room to provide a thin veneer of deniability; ostensibly she was growing stiff and required some extra assistance in working out the kinks. You certainly had been helping her stretch out, though the main area you focused on was her crotch and core. For her part, Yuna remained adorably endearing, lavishing you with attention whenever possible, even if it was mostly sensual in nature; her love language was undoubtedly sex. But still, you sensed she was holding back somewhat, contrary to the rumours about her, Yuna was delightfully wholesome and submissive once you got her clothes off; she was aggressive while teasing, but once your cock was inside of her she was like putty in your hands... You shudder with pleasure as your seed pours into Yuna as you hold her perky butt tight against you, causing her to gasp with delight, "I feel so warm inside..."

Semen spews out of Yuna's gaping asshole like a fountain as her guts empty themselves in a torrent of foul liquid after getting mercilessly pummeled by a gargantuan cock. The whore wails in distress as all the creamy love her fans had filled her with gushes out of her, as she desperately tries to squeeze shut her blown out asshole. Yuna's frantic bawling eventually draws Yeji's attention, who sighs in annoyance before assigning yet more meat to pump Yuna full again. Soon the slut is once more spasming in delight as her butt gets refilled once more, her filthy cunt drooling from the stimulation of having her ass violated by countless cocks...

Several weeks later, you and Yuna had secreted yourselves once more in the unused studio, going through actual stretches for once, as Yuna had strained her leg the other day while dancing. Though things had certainly started to hint at a more intimate sort of physical therapy, when the door suddenly slams open; and in saunters Yeji. Wearing naught but a towel, and crowned with the same, Itzy's leader appears fresh out of the shower, and more than a little amused to see you, "So this is where you've been hiding then," she smiles evilly, "don't think I haven't noticed you running off all the time, Yuna." Yuna sits upright from where she had been touching her toes and rolls her eyes in exasperation, "Well yeah, where else would I go to do some physical therapy in private?" Yeji sighs and stalks closer, as Yuna scoots between you and her protectively, glaring up defiantly at her senior, and Yeji meets her gaze with ease, "Yuna, tell me the truth, is this your new lover? It's been months since I found your last one, or have you finally grown up?" Yuna's pretty face twists petulantly, "No, he's just helping me do therapy, I've been a good girl, I promise!" Yuna's posture shifts from rebellious to submissive, affecting sadness at Yeji's lack of trust in her. It seemed all for sure, but even you felt a little moved by her performance, and it seemed Yeji did as well as her lips part slightly, "Oh, you promise?" her voice suddenly reduced to a husky whisper, the tension between the two felt like a familiar one, as Yeji stands directly in front of Yuna, so engrossed in her junior that she ignores you entirely; or you are merely beneath her notice, "So have you been a good girl Yuna?" she breathes. Yuna tilts her head forward and gives Yeji her best puppy-dog eyes, her face the very definition of purity, it was hard to refuse Yuna when she looked like that. Yeji twitches. Yuna lays it on like butter, "I promise I have not been a naughty girl, Yeji..." She flutters her eyelashes, smiling sweetly up at her leader, adorably shifting slightly from side to side as she maintains constant eye contact. Yeji's face flushes, as her lips draw back revealing clenched teeth, until with a snarl of pure lust she grabs Yeji's head and shoves it into her crotch.

"You lying slut," Yeji hisses as she forces Yuna's mouth against her cunt, "you filthy little whore, you've fallen in love again, haven't you?" Yuna lets out a whine of protest, even as she gorges upon Yeji's pussy, doing her best to try and pull away but unable to match her senior's strength. Yeji's towel falls to the ground from the violence of their sex, revealing her well-toned body and perky breasts; if she had any shame at being nude in front of a male coworker while forcing her junior to eat her out, she did not show it. Instead she groans brazenly as Yuna pleasures her, that nimble tongue and soft lips you knew so well now put to good use stimulating Yeji's hairy pussy; she crouches slightly as she pushes back against Yuna's head, hand gripping her hair tightly. And as much as she seems to struggle, Yuna still satisfies Yeji skillfully enough that soon she is shuddering as she approaches climax, "Oh fuck, eat it, eat it," Yeji moans loudly, even as Yuna squeaks in distress, which only seems to excite Yeji even further until she cannot hold on even longer, "Oh fuck, Yuna!" Yeji eyes roll back and she screams as her cunt squirts all over Yuna's mouth, forcing her to gulp down her fluids even as she struggles for breath, until Yeji stops quivering and regains her composure. Exhaling slowly, she releases her grip upon Yuna and allows her to collapse onto the ground like a piece of trash, where she coughs pitifully. Finally, Yeji acknowledges your presence, glancing at you with a sneer that conveys all too well her relish in cuckolding you, "Now then, strip."

You hesitate, knowing full well that company policy protected you from the idols' sexual demands, but unsure where your protracted tryst with Yuna left you on the scale of things. Were you still a professional trainer, or were you just an intern now, to be used and abused at will? Yeji cocks her head, "I said strip, or else I'll do it for you, meat." Yuna squawks in protest at this, but Yeji just laughs mockingly, "What? I thought he wasn't your lover, so why do you care so much?" While Yuna scrambles her brain for a response, Yeji returns her attention to you and menacingly raises an eyebrow, indicating you should get on with it. She eyes your nude form with the mild disinterest of a lady whose body count was in the thousands, before shrugging slightly and lazily stalking forwards. Her slow advance halts though when Yuna scrambles in front of her, arms outstretched, still bravely defiant, "You can't have him, he is mine!" Yuna snarls fiercely, you are unable to see Yuna's expression, but it must have been serious as Yeji blinks in surprise, "No, he is fuck-meat, he exists to be drained and discarded." "No," Yuna spits, "I love him, and he is mine!" Yeji groans in irritation, "How many times... Yuna darling, if you really loved him, would you have fucked literally hundreds of fans while he was yours?" You knew obviously, but you still feel a pit open in your stomach, before Yuna replies, "Those don't count! Those were just dicks, he is different! He is special!" she turns her head and gives you a reassuring smile before returning to staring down her leader; and the knots in your belly disappear, she did love you! Yeji rolls her eyes, and glance past Yuna to give you an exasperated look, before sighing wearily, "If he really loved you Yuna, would he be hard for me right now?" Yuna sniffs haughtily, contemptuously not even bothering to check to see if it was true (it was), Yeji continue as if by rote, "So if I were to fuck him right now, he would not stay hard at all, and would not enjoy himself?" Yuna nods confidently, "Of course not! But you would be able to force him to cum anyways!" Yeji smiles wanly, "See? If he can't stop himself from breeding whatever hole is wrapped around his cock, what makes yours so special? For all you know he's been plowing Chaery and Lia as well." "What, no!" Yuna stammers, "He's been giving all of his love to me! Plus he's a professional, so he's off limits!" "And what if I made him love me, would he just be fuck-meat then?" Yeji smiles slyly. Yuna laughs at that, "There is NO way you could do that, his love belongs only to me!" Yeji merely smirks, "Well let's find out then, shall we?" she looks at you, "On the ground meat, time to get fucked..."

You shiver slightly as you lay down, nervous about the ordeal to come, but Yuna gives you several kisses for support before pulling back and giving several more for your cock; as if claiming it for herself once more. Then Yeji arrives, "Oh good, you're getting it ready for me," as she grabs your cock and points it up, before slamming Yuna's head into it. Yuna's arms flail as she chokes on your meat, but Yeji simply leans forward, applying her body weight on her juniors head to keep her occupied. Giving you a faint smile, she murmurs in your ear, "Sorry, but this is going to be rough. Her lovers rarely last this long, so I'm going to have to make this... memorable," her smile becomes genuine for a moment, "enjoy this, because I will." Yeji pats your cheek before returning her attentions to Yuna, whose face is growing steadily redder by the moment as spit pools around the base of your shaft. She eases up enough for Yuna's head to jerk up, allowing her to gulp down what air she can with your cock still occupying her mouth, before Yeji forces her down again, "Didn't I say to get him ready for me? Fuck, you suck at this," she starts to piston her junior's head up and down your cock, uncaring of the massive mess she was making as Yuna slobbers and gasps desperately for air. You meanwhile are too busy groaning with pleasure to worry much about your lover, her wet tongue and throat driving your cock wild; you even start to thrust a little in time with Yeji's rhythm. At some indeterminable point Yeji grows tired of her sport, and hauls Yuna's drooling face off of your meat before depositing her nearby. She gives you a ravenous glare, "Time to fuck..."

With languid grace Yeji orients herself above your slippery member, holding position just low enough that her coarse folds kissed your tip. She gently sways her hips, running your cockhead through her moist, hairy slit, smirking as you shudder from the stimulation; she can tell how badly you want it. Yeji licks her lips as your hips begin to unconsciously hike upwards, your body desperate to breed her, no matter the implications, "You see Yuna," Yeji purrs to the prostrate form of her junior who was only now raising herself up onto her elbows, still hacking as she recovers from having her throat used like a fleshlight, "just a little teasing and now he is mindlessly desperate for me already. And this is why men are all worthless fuck-meat." Yuna whines despondently at this, but fixes you with a stare that wordlessly conveys her confidence in you; she nods in encouragement, she knows your love will not waver even if you are balls deep inside of Yeji. Speaking of which, Yeji finally decides to put you out of your misery, and with a feral groan slowly slides your length inside of herself until her folds kiss your crotch. She pauses her for a few moments, savoring the feeling of being filled, allowing you to feel the differences between hers and Yuna's insides; then with a crooked smile she rides you. Her pace is ferocious, almost feral, fucking you as if she were an animal in heat, her sopping cunt massaging your cock ceaselessly. Unlike the smooth tightness of Yuna, Yeji's cunt was practically drooling with fluids, roughly dragging against your shaft as she bounces atop you. After several minutes of this voracious sex, you can feel your balls already pulsating needily, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on for your beloved, you knew you were going to breed Yeji. Or not. Pausing on the precipice of your climax, Yeji waits until the moment has passed, before slowly starting again, hungrily she leans forward, her dark nipples rigid, and growls, "Say you love me." You refuse, and so she continues.

What feels like hours pass by, but it must have surely been far less, as Yeji continues to pry at your determination, urging you to give in. And oh how you want to, your balls throb in agony from being denied so many times, and your brain feels melted from being edged for so long by this cruel sexual goddess. All the while Yeji smugly provides a running commentary for Yuna, who is out of your view by this point, and no doubt worried sick about you. But even the thought of your dearest Yuna could only sustain you for so long, and like the experienced slut she was, Yeji could tell without you even needing to say anything. So when she runs her hands up your sweaty chest, and clasps your cheeks, she knows exactly how you will answer before she even asks, "Do you love me?" Despairing, you moan an affirmative, feeling absolutely wretched for betraying Yuna, but unable to resist your body's demands that you impregnate the woman atop you. Yeji smirks, her body similarly coated with sweat, her breasts heaving from her protracted exertions, her legs bulging with muscles, and lets out a little laugh, "No, you don't," Before finishing you off with a furious burst of riding that has your head spinning as your balls empty themselves into Yeji's fertile cunt. Who groans with delight as her pussy is filled, her narrow eyes widening slightly as the sheer quantity of semen pouring inside of her surprises even her. She slowly grinds on you as your cock finishes leaking its load into Yeji, "Fuck," she murmurs, "That was a lot, I'm almost impressed," she turns around and calls behind her, "Yuna dear, time to clean up! Oh stop masturbating and get over here already!"

You frown up at Yeji in confusion, masturbation, what was she talking about? Yeji grins mirthlessly down at you, "What, didn't you notice? The entire time you were doing your best to hold on for her, your supposed lover was busy finger-blasting herself silly like the perverted little cuck she is. That's right, she was enjoying your suffering, she was aroused by watching you getting taken by another girl. Pitiful, isn't it?" With that Yeji smoothly unmounts you, uncaring of the slick of semen leaking from her cunt down her glistening thighs; she was about to get cleaned off anyways. Then she drags the now completely naked Yuna towards you, who blushes shyly as she approaches, stammering awkwardly in embarrassment, "Honey! You're okay! You um, held on for so long! I'm so proud of you!" she gives you a sickly sweet smile, as if trying to distract you from the fact that her legs were absolutely drenched with fluids. The look of jealousy that flashes across her face is genuine though, as she smells the stench of another girl slathering your nethers. With a determined expression, she gets to work sucking and licking the evidence of your copulation off of you; cleaning you so enthusiastically that your member improbably starts to rise to the occasion once more. But Yuna's chore is not yet finished, after all, your delicious load belongs to her, so she takes her due.

Yeji groans as Yuna devours her sloppy cunt once more, the slut's lithe tongue scooping out its creamy contents before undulating it back down its length and into her throat. Yuna's ass is raised high in the air as she works, the tempting sweep of her hips put on full display, showing exactly why she was so often taken in this position. Your interest does not go unnoticed, even as her pussy is getting emptied, Yeji beckons you closer, leaning forward slightly so that she can spread her junior's cheeks, "Ready again? Good, now fuck her ass this time," Yuna lets out a surprised noise at this pronouncement, but Yeji uses a hand to keep her on task by holding her head in place, "Oh and don't worry about lube, she likes it rough. So, are you going to fuck her or not?" You hesitate, Yuna had said that she had wanted to save anal for a special occasion, but she had not helped you while Yeji was ravishing you, and instead had been aroused by your suffering... Your tip prods at her entrance, causing Yuna to quiver slightly until you grasp her wide hips to hold her in place as you force yourself into her asshole. You push inside of her vigorously, expecting to have to press through the cramped confines of her unused rear; instead, you slam yourself inside of Yuna's guts to the hilt. A muffled squeal emanates from Yeji's crotch, as Yuna's entire body jolts in surprise, and a gush of squirt splatters against your balls. The tight hole which you had been aching to fuck for so long, was loose from overuse, stretched out from countless cocks that had been plowing it while you had patiently waited. So you jackhammer Yuna's worthless asshole, now beyond caring about her discomfort as you relentless fuck her guts, causing Yeji to coo in delight, "See I told you she was a slut, make her pay for cucking you..." And oh how you do, you treat her asshole like a cheap fleshlight, uncaring of the pain you might be causing; though judging by the sporadic sprays of squirt that hit your thighs in balls, the whore was enjoying it. And you were too, though her anus was no longer the snug hole it used to be, her coils still had enough strength to massage your shaft as it slams past them. Your balls start to clench upwards once more, your thrusts deepen and grow in force, Yeji notes this and urges you on, "Do it, claim her fucking asshole, fill this bitch's guts with your cum," groaning loudly, you comply, spurting your seed deep inside of Yuna's innards while she spasms with ecstasy from having her ass bred.

Still shuddering, you pull out of Yuna's ass, and are unsurprised when it closes immediately after you leave, sealing your semen inside of her. Panting, she looks up at Yeji for approval, her face flushed with arousal, her face smeared with Yeji's cunt juices. Yeji pats her cheek affectionately, "Fuck, you were born to be a slut, Yuna," the girl in question giggles shyly, before glancing back at you apologetically, "I'm sorry dear, I guess it wasn't love after all, I'm just a slut after all..." Yuna continues to breath heavily, and whines, "I need mooore," she pouts, "does nobody love me enough to give some?" Yeji lets out a knowing sigh, "I'm sure some of the interns are absolutely bursting with love for you Yuna, why don't you go ask them?" Yuna brightens noticeably at this, and beaming happily scampers up onto her feet and races out of the room, not even bothering to spare you a parting glance. And thus ended your relationship, if it could be called that, with Yuna. Yeji gives you a sympathetic look as the pair of you sit on the wooden floor, both uncaring of the fact that you are seated in a puddle of sexual fluids. Yeji clears her throat, "We're going to have to let you go, but don't worry, we know a few other companies with openings so you shouldn't have any troubles finding work. IVE in particular seem to be needing good physical trainers, those lazy brats," she gives you a level stare, "But first, fuck-meat, I am going to use you until I am satisfied. After all," she smiles cruelly, "I don't have to worry about being down a professional trainer any more..." Her smug boasting is cut off however as you jump up and shove your cock into her face, forcing her to clean the stinking ass-juices off of your cock as her eyes narrow dangerously. Once you are erect once more, you push her back onto the ground, where she growls huskily, "Feisty, I think I'm going to enjoy this more than I expected," Yeji smoothly assumes the position, sticking her butt up into the air and giving you a meaningful glance,

"Well pick a hole already, and don't worry, I won't let you stop until I'm satisfied. Now show me how you fuck an actual woman, and not some mincing slut..."

[chaoticclownage]

"I didn't realize you think so low of me."

God like I usually HATE the miscommunication trope with a fiery passion because typically it's something painfully obvious that could've easily been avoided and is usually a pointless stressor to elongate the plot but the way it's done with Stolitz is so real like this isn't tiresome tropey miscommunication, it's real world miscommunication. It's a very real scenario that is as complicated as it plays itself to be and it's so well done actually. Like, the perspectives the characters have are completely different because they're individuals with problems and experiences that have formed different views on themselves and the world around them and it's caused this major rift in how they view things. Stolas is a bleeding heart who has always been an honest individual and he doesn't treat his royal status as something to lord over others and tries his hardest to be as free of it as he can despite his obligations, meanwhile Blitz is an imp who has had a rough life and views himself as lowly, as something not deserving of love, as someone that someone like Stolas with all his wealth and power wouldn't ever spare a glance at romantically. Blitz's view is so tainted by his own self-deprecating view of himself and his self-sabotaging nature that he drives Stolas away because he can't even entertain the idea that Stolas would ever genuinely love him.

All up until the moment Stolas has to throw his feelings in Blitz's face and be as vulnerable as he can and say it to him straight. Which is painful. Even for an honest person. What Stolas did is so incredibly difficult for anyone to do because of how raw of an action it is. That level of openness with someone you aren't sure is going to be accepting of it is like trusting someone with a gun pointed at your head not to shoot. This kind of miscommunication isn't just an easy fixup or something that could've been avoided, nor was it unessesary for the plot. It IS the plot. The divergence of their characters and how those two experiences and their flaws clash with one another is the driving narrative here. Stolas being brave enough to let go of the rope he'd given up everything to hold on to, because it was hurting him. Blitz realizing what he was losing and how he was wrong. And Blitz being seconds away from apologizing after he got hit with the reality check he needed only to end up seconds too late.

[invinciblerodent]

This is going to be very ranty and disjointed, probably borderline incomprehensible post, but with the "return" of Dragon Age Discourse (and really, did it ever go anywhere?) and me repeatedly seeing the complaints and dismissals of DA:I as a "chosen one"-type of a narrative, I just.... I keep finding myself thinking about the relationship of truth and lies within the game.

Throughout the course of DA:I, the idea of a malleable, flexible personal identity, and a painful confrontation with an uncomfortable truth replacing a soothing falsehood, follows pretty much every character throughout their respective arcs.

There are some more obvious ones, Solas, Blackwall, The Iron Bull, their identities and deceptions (of both those around them and themselves) are clearly front and center in the stories told about them, but this theme of deception (both of the self- and the outside world) is clearly present in the stories of the others as well.

Like, for example, ones that come immediately to mind are stories like that of Cullen, who presents an image of a composed and disciplined military man, a commander- all to hide the desperate and traumatized addict that he sees himself as.

Dorian grappled with the expectations of presenting the image of the perfect heir to his father's legacy, the prideful scion of his house, his entire life (he even introduces himself as the result of "careful breeding", like one might speak about a prized horse)- all while knowing that his family would rather see him lobotomized and obedient, than anything even just resembling his vibrant and passionate self.

Cassandra calls herself a Seeker of Truth, and takes pride in that identity- only to learn that in reality, she has been made a liar, a keeper of secrets, without her knowledge or consent, and it is up to her to either uproot the entire organization and painfully cut out the abscess it is to build it back from the ground up into something respectable, or let the information she had revealed sit, and continue to fester.

And this theme continues and reframes itself in, among others, things like Sera's own inner conflict between her elven heritage and her human upbringing, or in Cole being caught in this unconscionable space in-between human and spirit, between person and concept, etc.

The Inquisitor isn't exempt from this either.

I feel like this is where the core of the many misunderstandings of this plot come from, why so many people continue to believe that Inquisition is a "chosen one" or "divinely appointed" type of story, because I think many might just... not realize, that the protagonist's identity is also malleable, and what they are told in the setup/first act of the game is not necessarily the truth.

The tale of the Inquisitor is the exact opposite of that of a "chosen one" story: it's an examination and reflection of the trope, in that it is the story of an assumption that all wrongly believe to be the truth, and thrust upon you, even if you protest. The very point is that no matter who you choose to say that you are, you will be known as the Herald of a prophet you don't even necessarily believe in, and then that belief will be proven wrong, leaving you to cope with either a devastating disappointment if you believed it, or a bitter kind of vindication if you didn't.

There's a moment just after Here Lies the Abyss (when you learn of the lie you've been fed your entire journey in the game) that I don't often see mentioned, but I think it's one of the most emotionally impactful character moments, if you are playing an Andrastian Inquisitor who had actually believed themselves chosen (which I realize is a rather unpopular pick, lol): it's when Ser Ruth, a Grey Warden, realizes what she had done and is horrified by her own deeds, and turns herself in asking to be tried for the murder of another of her order. As far as she is concerned, she had spilled blood for power, and regardless of whether she was acting of her own volition at the time, whether she had agency in the moment, is irrelevant to her: she seeks no absolution, but willingly submits to any punishment you see fit.

And only if you play as an Inquisitor who, through prior dialogue choices, had established themselves as a devout Andrastian, can you offer her forgiveness, for a deed that was objectively not her fault- not really.

You can, in Andraste's name, forgive her- even though you, at that point, know that you have no real right to do so. That you're not Andraste's Herald, that Andraste may or may not even exist, and that you can't grant anyone "divine forgiveness", because you, yourself, don't have a drop of divinity within you. You know that you were no more than an unlucky idiot who stumbled their way into meddling with forces beyond their ken.

You know you're a fraud. You know. The game forces you to realize, as it slowly drip-drip-drips the memories knocked loose by the blast back into your head, that what all have been telling you that you are up to this point, is false. And yet, you can still choose to keep up the lie, and tell this woman who stands in front of you with blood on her hands and tears in her eyes, that you, with authority you don't have, grant her forgiveness for a crime that wasn't hers to commit.

Because it's the right thing to do. Because to lie to Ser Ruth is far kinder than anything else you could possibly do to her, short of refusing to make a decision altogether.

There are any number of criticisms of this game that I can accept (I may or may not agree depending on what it is, but I'm from the school of thought that any interpretation can be equally valid as long as there's text that supports it, and no text that contradicts it), but I will always continue to uphold that the Inquisitor is absolutely not- and never was a "chosen one".

They're just as small, and sad, and lost, as all the other protagonists- the only difference is that they didn't need to fight for their mantle, because instead of a symbol of honor, it acted as a straitjacket.

[uc1wa]

making out with jason in the backseat of his car mhmmmmmm

tags: fem reader, slight dumbification

it was exhausting, the bickering that hadn’t seemed to stop after leaving the gala you and jason had attended. you weren’t sure where it started, but it was painfully obvious that jason’s vigilante work was stressing him out, on top of bruce forcing him to go to gala’s every weekend.

gala season was exhausting in itself, but when working a job during the day, attending galas every weekend, and being a vigilante at night, jason was frustrated.

fifteen minutes from the gala and twenty minutes from yours and jason’s home, he had pulled his car into a commuter parking lot that was empty. flickering yellow lights partially illuminating the space, but the dark tinted windows didn’t allow much of it to make its way inside of the vehicle.

you’re turned in your seat, arched eyebrow while jason’s hands are holding the steering wheel with a grip that had the potential to snap it in half.

jason wasn’t saying anything as he took his hands off the steer, opening his car door and closing it with a harsh sound, making his way to the back end doors and taking a seat in his backseat, eyes looking at you knowingly.

"please don’t make me wait," his words come out like a warning, like if he has to ask again, he’s not going to touch your body for the next week.

your eyes watch his figure, the way he’s sat in the middle of the three seats that line the section of the car. his legs that are spread in a way that’s inviting you to take your seat where you belong. one arm is crossed over his chest while the other is resting on it, hand holding up his tilted head that has a bored expression on it, lips in a straight line and eyebrows holding no emotion.

you know better, so you do as he says, slipping into the back seat and sitting on his lap comfortably, the top of your head touching the car roof, but the slight discomfort is wavering as you're stared at with dark eyes.

"you know i’m tired baby. don’t you?" he asks, crossing his hands over his chest, careful to not touch the hips that he would usually claim as his. your head nods, eyes widened at the fact that your boyfriend isn’t all over you yet.

his eyebrow arches half a centimeter, moving back down to where it was not a second later. "then why do you keep testing me? can’t ever listen to me when i say be quiet, can you? just wanna keep running your mouth, and at a gala too? no fucking manners."

he's right, you know you need to stop blabbering on when jason tells you to be quiet. you know how to act at galas. hell, you've been to hundreds, it felt like. but... can you blame yourself for wanting attention? after all, you're getting it just like you'd planned.

you're quiet, looking at every line on your boyfriend's face, like studying the face you've grown to love will give you an answer on what to say next. but, jason knows what you're about to say; he knows the way you're about to apologize one-too-many times, all pathetic.

so, uncrossing his arms from his chest, a hand grabs your chin and pulls you forward, smooshing your lips together with his in nothing but harsh intent. a kiss that's short of sensual and filled with teeth and uncomfort—until it isn't. until jason's tongue is licking the inner of your cheeks and the roof of your mouth. until your lipgloss is smeared over his lips and it's hard to catch your breath and you can't help but to grind yourself down on his growing erection. as always, you'll get the attention you deserve, that jason swears he'll never give you, 'till he does.

note: am wishing everyone a good and great finals season. scheduling this 4 saturday so my blog isn’t dry asf hahaha. wooohoooo two more weeks!

[heich0e]

suguru's throat feels tight.

not in the nice way—like when someone pays you a compliment you aren't expecting, or you're given a thoughtful gift.

his airway is a vice; sticky and closing in on itself like a boobytrap in those terrible action movies that satoru always makes him watch, where the walls are slowly crushing inwards on the hero, leaving no obvious way to escape.

his face feels hot—too hot for the meagre amount of alcohol he's had to drink that evening. hot enough that he's sure his cheeks are flushed a vicious red. he looks down at his hands, still wrapped around the half-drained drink between them, and when he pulls one away from the circumference of the glass he sees the way his fingers tremble, moved by a force only he can feel.

he sets his cup down on whatever surface is within reach and looks for the nearest exit.

the bar is crowded, and every body that jostles him on his odyssey to the door makes him feel even more sick to his stomach—makes him acutely, and uncomfortably aware of just how many people are jammed into such a confined space. with every step he takes towards the fire exit (the one which at this point he just has to pray isn't connected to some kind of alarm) it seems to be growing further away, like his steps are a paradox he's trapped in.

finally, finally, his hands press down against the push bar of the door, and cold winter air hits his burning cheeks like a slap.

he's on his knees retching into the grimy snowbank that lines the back alley before the door has even fully swung closed.

"oh, wow,—"

suguru can barely hear you over the sound of his pulse in his ears. it was too noisy in the bar to make it out this clearly, lost in the thrum of the bass-heavy music and the spiral of his thoughts, but now it's unmistakable. it pounds in his head, under his tongue, trapped in the walls of his throat.

he lifts his head, his eyes bleary from the tears his exertion had sprung to them, and he sees a figure a few paces away from him with a cigarette lifted to their lips.

he blinks hard, willing the world to come back into focus. as it does (painfully slowly,) he can see you better. the first thing he can clearly make out is the oversized jacket you have wrapped around your frame (big enough that it can't possibly be your own.) his eyes flicker next to the bare legs that peek out from underneath it, and trail all the way up to the lines of your face as you watch him. but it's your eyes that make him falter for a moment: curious but strangely impassive at the same time.

"—rough night?" you ask, but you make no move to come any closer to him.

he's grateful for at least that small mercy, he can't help but think.

"sorry," he chokes out, spitting into the sludgy grey snowbank one last time just to try and get the terrible taste out of his mouth. he stands unsteadily, his hands braced against the brick wall of the bar to keep himself balanced. "i didn't even drink that much."

he's not sure why he feels the need to say it, or make any effort to save face when you've just seen him at what's surely one of the lowest points of his life. you're a stranger, after all. what does it matter, anyway?

you hum a bit, taking another drag from your cigarette. the sound is halfhearted, and it upsets him unjustly.

"i really didn't," he insists, wiping at his mouth with the back of his knuckles and turning to you properly. "i-i'm on these new meds and they've got me all fucked up."

your eyes widen a bit, and he watches the way the smoke slips out of your lips—painted a rich, ruby colour for the evening.

"no shit?" you ask him. "you shouldn't be out partying if you're sick, y'know. alcohol can really fuck up scripts."

"i'm not sick," he replies quickly. too quickly. too ardently to possibly be true. and the silence that follows is too heavy for such a cold, still night. he looks away, fixing his eyes on the road at the end of the alley.

"oh," you drag out the word, an understanding lilt in your tone. "those kinda meds."

suguru glances back to you.

"so," you take a step towards him, and it sets his teeth on edge. "what's your poison of choice then? paroxetine? fluvoxamine? good ol' fashioned escitalopram?"

suguru's head is still spinning from the liquor, but his pulse has died down a bit. now his mouth feels uncomfortably dry.

you keep going.

"are you taking it neat or did they give you a little chaser with it too for a bit more"—you make a little flourishing gesture with your hand—"oomph."

you're right in front of him now. close enough that the smell of your cigarette has finally reached him. suguru can't help but eye it covetously, longing for the pack in his own coat pocket, left somewhere in the bar. you follow his eyes and laugh a little, holding the half-smoked cigarette out to him. it has a lipstick mark on the filter, but he takes it anyway.

he sucks in a greedy, needy inhale.

the rush of nicotine hits him right away, comforting and familiar. his exhale feels almost rapturous.

he takes another little puff, then extends the cigarette back out to you.

"don't worry about it,"—you wave the gesture off—"you can keep that one on account of the whole... y'know..." your eyes flicker down to the snowbank where geto had just been retching.

oh, right.

"thanks," he mumbles appreciatively, wasting no time before he takes another drag.

the two of you stand side by side in the dingy alley while geto finishes off your cigarette. he crushes it under the heel of his boot, grinding it down into the cracked asphalt, once it's done.

"how'd you know?" he asks after a few more moments of silence. the cold is starting to get to him now—registering in a way that didn't when he first made it outside. the chill bites at his cheeks and his nose, stinging in its frigidity.

"know what?" you feign coyness, tilting your head a little to the side. he sees a flicker of something behind your eyes again that slips through the facade of composure—something mirthful, and maybe a little mean.

he swallows, and tastes tobacco on his tongue. "about the anti-depressants."

you laugh a bit to yourself, but the sound is strained like you're almost trying to bite it back. "don't take this the wrong way, but you just sort of look like the type."

he looks at you—really looks at you—then.

you're pretty.

he supposes he recognized that already, even if he didn't process it properly at the time. your lips look soft, your eyes draw him in, and in any other circumstance he thinks you might have been the type of girl he sidled up alongside in a bar just like the one he just fled and tried to start a conversation with.

but these aren't any other circumstances. you just watched him puke his guts up in a filthy alley and then guessed his SSRI prescription like the world's worst game show. and to make matters worse, his dick hasn't even been working right lately since he started these new pills.

as though life wasn't already cruel enough.

the fire exit flies open again, and all attention turns to it.

"there you are," shoko is standing in the doorway, half-in and half-out of the bar, cringing against the cool evening air. she frowns in suguru's direction. "we've been looking everywhere for you."

suguru watches as she ducks her head back through the doorway, but whatever she calls over her shoulder is lost to the music that's bleeding out into the alley from inside the bar. gojo appears behind her in an instant, his displeased expression brightening immediately upon seeing his friend. he pushes his sunglasses up atop his head, his white hair pinned back underneath them.

"suguru!" he cheers. "we lost you."

"i was just getting some air," suguru smiles blithely, in the way that he's perfected.

gojo shoulders his way out the door towards suguru, dragging him back towards the door with an arm slung around his neck. shoko's eyes flicker over to you.

"oh, hey," she says, nodding in greeting.

"shoko-senpai," you return her greeting politely.

"are you coming back in too?" she asks.

gojo and geto both pause in the doorway, turning to glance back at you.

"no, i'm heading home," you say with an easy smile, not unlike the expression geto had just shown. "you three have a nice night."

"get home safe," she calls after you, a lilt of curiosity in her tone. you lift a hand over your shoulder as you walk away, waggling your fingers in a lazy wave.

"who was that?" gojo asks as the door swings shut behind shoko. he leans in front of suguru so his voice can be heard over the loud music.

"she's a junior in my department at school," shoko explains, "don't you recognize her?"

gojo purses his lips as he contemplates it and then shakes his head definitively. it's not unusual for satoru not to recognize someone, especially a pre-med student instead of a physics student like himself, but suguru is a bit surprised that he can't recall meeting you previously.

satoru tugs suguru's arm back towards the thick of the crowd, and he braces himself for the oncoming barrage of stimulation. he freezes just before he takes his first step, whipping back around to the door.

"what's wrong?" satoru asks him, leaning over his shoulder. he's got his sunglasses on again, and now suguru can't through the lenses in the dim light of the bar, but he knows satoru well enough to picture the wide-eyed look of curiosity that must be behind them.

suguru's brow pinches in a bewildered furrow.

"was she wearing my coat?"

[maeve-is-annoying-about-books]

I think what I like about Dungeon Meshi is how close in vibe it is to Discworld.

Like, there's the obvious parody set up. A world where epic fantasy rules are real. Maybe more real than they should be, actually. This isn't really the special part about Sir Pratchett or Kui-sensei's work in and of itself, though, I think. A lot of people have those same parody precepts and start there. No, what I think that's special that they have in common is that both authors fully play out the implications of their jokes. As opposed to fully playing out the joke.

Let's take Dungeon Meshi's revival system. Revival spells are a staple in RPGs of all sorts, and it's only natural that this story has them too. They're expected, they vibe, it's only natural right? But that's just it, it's never left off as a reason why the characters can die in hilarious ways and come right back. It keeps getting explored deeper and deeper with each turn. "Revival magic exists" is only the first step.

Well, if revival magic exists does it cost money to perform? Is it difficult magic? Can anyone anywhere use it worldwide? Can you revive someone who died of old age? Where do you get the matter and stuff to bring someone back to life and do they remember how much it hurt? Does it hurt their fellow party members to see them die time after time? What if the party wipes completely, are they just done for?

Does having access to revival magic start to fuck with your sense of Life and Death? Falin got eaten by a dragon. The entire book is about undoing the most primal law of nature, eating another to live, while being painfully aware of how they have to follow that same law on their way into battle. And the thing about this adventure is... It really does think about all these implications, and goes through them very plainly. In the way that the implications of Santa Claus and Death Personified are handled in Discworld, I would say. There are one-off jokes in both, yes, but the main themes are never treated reductively. When either author brings something to the table, it comes with the full spread.

[l1ve-l4ugh-lov3craft]

HI, CAN I TELL YOU ABOUT THE AKKALA CITADEL?????

Yes? Wonderful. Come, friend, have a seat. I have...a lot to say lol

Eight years later and I am STILL not over how absolutely genius this fortress is, like are you kidding me????? Everything from location to design to its inside defenses is just *chef's kiss* PHENOMINAL, and so because I have no filter, I am going to barf all my thoughts I've had on it in the past many many years.

Before we begin, shoutout to the WONDERFUL video by Zeltik that touches on this a bit and gave me a wonderful basis for my brainrot in the first place. Definitely go and watch it it's fabulous NOW! Let's get into the madness shall we? First let's talk about the location cos OHHHH MY GOSH. This was, hands down, THE best place they could have possibly put a fortress of this magnitude in Hyrule and I am going to tell you why. First of all, allllllll along the northern and northwestern border of Hyrule, there's those massive canyons

Passing over that in a way that would be effective military-wise is kind of impossible, so it provides a natural defense from invaders from those directions.

If you were to come from the South, you would hit the Gerudo desert and not only have to face the might of the Gerudo military, but also cross this EXPANSIVE, scorching desert before you can even make it to Hyrule field, and by that time, the royal leader could have very easily sent an army to intercept anyone trying to attack, so that's right out.

Which leaves coming from the Faron region next which is okay??? I guess??? but that's a LOT of swamp and forest you have to cross through, AND you go right past the Great Plateau where any army would have been seen and intercepted eventually. This takes us closer to the eastern coast of Hyrule, and you would be hard pressed to try and travel through Necluda, cos just l o o k at all these mountains you'd have to cross:

Horrible. And you probably don't want to go through Zora's Domain cos that's yet another heavily fortified and well prepared city in and of itself (please ask me about this one too I beg of you I love talking about Zora's Domain)

Any military leader with a brain isn't going to go through Death Mountain for obvious reasons, so really, all that leaves is this tiiiiiinnnyyy vulnerable spot in Akkala

And where did they put the citadel??? Right at the heart of that vulnerable spot >:D Like a boss.

AND SO! if invaders came in from that coastline, they have three options: They can take the path through the Akkala Highlands, they can go through the Torin Wetlands and up to the pass it connects to, or they can take the trail up to the Sokkala Bridges. All of these are TERRIBLE OPTIONS Akkala Highlands path: If they come up this way at the start

this will work allll the way until they get about here:

once they get here though, you are now not only bottlenecking an entire army meant to invade a kingdom (so probably roughly 1,000-1,300 people), but you're also directly under the shadow of the Akkala Citadel. There are archers there to fire on you, and they had a canon post on that side to potentially fire either at the incoming soldiers or fire at the opposite canyon wall to rain debris and rocks on them.

TERRIBLE for the other army.

And even if some did manage to survive, it would be painfully easy for the infantry at Akkala Citadel to send foot soldiers down below to cut them off.

SO THERE GOES THAT OPTION (and admittedly, I think it's probably the worst of the three)

Next option is to go through the Torin Wetlands and up into that same pass by the Citadel

this is ALSO a bad idea because the Torin Wetlands are a DELIGHTFUL tactical advantage for Hyrule. Once you get to that pass, you have the same problems as option one, but now you first have to pass through this wide marshland to get there. This will immediately slow down your army, and if that wasn't bad enough it's also in clear freakin view of the citadel and so they would be able to send their entire militia of archers and potentially even cannoneers to fire on the advancing army and take a bunch of them out before they could even make it to that pass.

So a smart general may say the best option is to go around the long way.

now this eliminates the pass and also slowing down at the marsh, and you could even make it almost all the way to the citadel without hardly any losses probably BUT! The first hurdle is those bridges. Wonderful for Hyrule, terrible for the opposing army. The three Sokkala bridges are SMALL, even smaller than the pass an army would have to go through with the other two options. This military leader would basically have to send their soldiers single file unless they have a way to expand the bridges to make them wider (which, admittedly, could be possible with a bit of foresight, but for now for simplicity's sake let's just assume they didn't think that far ahead).

This brings in an EXTREMELY slowly advancing army right to the heart of the Akkala Citadel's battery.

There are three locations with canons we see in BOTW that cover pretty much the entire open area the opposing army would come in on. And when you look at the amount of space each post covered

There is not a SINGLE spot in that valley a cannoneer couldn't easily reach. And, of course they would continue to have archers to pick off individual soldiers as well.

And if SOMEHOW

BY SOME MIRACLE

enough soldiers make it through that hell to be enough of a problem, there are plenty more soldiers in the citadel to cut them off as they come up the hill AND IF THAT'S NOT ENOUGH! there was this:

by the time we get to botw, it has been destroyed, but that is ANOTHER smaller stronghold that was probably pretty well manned in and of itself.

AND WHAT'S MORE

There's even this long cliff road with very little room to operate, so it would be extremely easy for the citadel to send over some soldiers to post up there and cut off anyone who tried to make it past. And with so little room to operate, it would not go well.

Ain't NOTHING getting past the Akkala Citadel, guys.

And that isn't even touching on the fact that the whole thing is build of solid stone??? And carved into a mountain??? The entire reason it fell in the first place was because the Guardians had enough of fire power to destroy the citadel that they had never seen before (also they could climb walls but that's a side note). This implies that no one in Hyrule or the neighbouring kingdoms had even CLOSE to that level of destructive power, so to try and raze it to the ground would have been impossible.

AND!! it was the most heavily fortified fortress in Hyrule second to the castle itself, and to most likely their military personnel would have been equal too, if not slightly more than even Hyrule Castle. That's A LOT of people!! With most likely endless support and resources from the castle and villages nearby as well.

It was placed geniously, it had impenetrable defense, it had a potentially endless supply of resources and people to use said resources, it was just

argjfbdkjgbks You guys don't understand how much I THINK about this place aghhhhhhhhhh

[witchofthesouls]

Human eating something spicy: Good food

Cybertronian: You're actively burning and poisoning yourself. Stop eating that

Human: Mmm capsaicin

Cybertronian: I said stop eating that!

Chilis are too obvious and kind to them. Of course, the space aliens are highly concerned by spice challenges, especially with humans attempting to breed hotter, spicier peppers... as a fun hobby.

("Isn't capsaicin the active ingredient in pepper spray?" "Yes. But people enjoy eating spicy food.")

Cybertronians would be blown away by how much agriculture transformed human civilizations... as well as be boggled between humans' ability to endure extreme conditions, yet be so damn bodily fragile and inefficient.

Genetics have never looked so wild in the botanical community. Like yes, space alien, many vegetables are related. It's dependent on the area of concentration to painfully cultivate it for hundreds to thousands of years because some regions wanted something more leafy, while others focused on the pods or roots.

And yes, space alien, many cultivated foods had derived from poisonous origins. Animals (including humans) figured to circumvent it through evolutionary adaptations or utilizing methods to draw out the toxins.

Cybertronians can be impressed by how humans managed to figure that out in the countless preparation and cooking processes in different cuisines across various cultures... yet slap their helms because their funky, little squishy is having so many health issues because of the lack of Vitamin D or a Candida infection, so Cybertronians will unironically go "touch grass" with their assigned/favorite human.

(Cue confused Cybertronian noises when their human explains sunscreen and cancer.)

And fungi, like mushrooms, are a mindfuck within itself as a kingdom to both Cybertronians and humans.

This isn't delving into how other Earth organic species can't consume certain human foods due to toxicity, like dogs and chocolate.

[liaarxse]

tr boys when y/n has issues accepting that they actually do love her

Yesterday, today and tomorrow

Characters: Nahoya Kawata, Manjiro Sano, Kazutora Hanemiya

Warnings: Fluff, a bit of angst in Kazutoras part

A/n: Literally pulled out the biggest smile when I saw this request. Also, yes, Nahoya again. I just love writing for him. idk why (cuz he a crackhead)

P.s: Remember, it was said multiple times that Toman doesn't hurt women, sunshines. Don't think they'd break your precious hearts. They'd be just a bit hard to deal with <3

—NAHOYA KAWATA

Okay, we've all seen that one best/worst boyfriend chart our friend Ken Wakui made.

Personally, I threw a fit when I saw who were the worst.

Then I thought about Nahoya. He seemed a bit like a fuck boy, you get what I mean? Yeah, no.

Then I thought about it again

I examined the post a bit more after I found it in English and read what Takemichi said. If Mikey and Kazutora would be the top worst because they're reckless, Nahoya would obviously be even tamer

So personally, I believe Nahoya is in the top three just because he has a carefree type of living way. Like, he isn't scared of fighting, killing, and all. I mean, he probably IS scared to kill but doesn't show it.

How's he a red flag again? I don't believe them.

But for one, he'd never cheat on you. He'll be loyal as hell. Maybe if he wasn't in a relationship in one of the time skips where it showed the top members he'd fuck around with chicks (straight hair grown up Nahoya gives me fuckboy energy), but since the change and he's now working with his brother In their ramen shop? Get that thing out of your head.

Because for him to get in a relationship, he must dearly love and respect you.

Keep in mind that he also has to trust you since, in one way, if you're not to be trusted and/or are somewhat dangerous, he's putting his brother in danger as well.

But that's besides the point.

He loves you.

It's painfully obvious

He protects you, he trusts you, he spoils you in his own ways

He loves you

Maybe it's past relationship trauma that causes you to think it's all a facade

Which brings us to today's scenario

You're in Nahoya's room since his brother is out all day and you didn't bother to fix yours

You were looking around his room while he was testing the new straightener you got him since his broke

Examining the objects around you, your eyes land on a frame right above his toman uniform. It was of you two

You wondered why he would frame such a picture on the wall over his gang uniform. You mostly didn't like it because you hated the way you came out in the picture

Getting off his bed, you walked over to the opposite wall and stared at the picture for a good minute

Nahoya noticed that from the reflection on the mirror in front of him, but his smile just grew a tad bit more and returned to straightening his hair

You pursed your lips together in thought and reached to grab it

"Oi!" He exclaimed with a giggle. "Hands off."

You flinched when he suddenly spoke and turned to him with a raised brow

"What? Why?"

"Because," He turned around to face you. "I know you'll throw the pic away."

You weren't going to lie. If you stared at it for a bit more, you would've made the paper rip itself. You hated how you came out!

"But I look horrible!"

"I know." He laughed, but it quickly died down to a chuckle when he saw you glaring at him. "I'm kidding, babe. You look hella cute!"

You quickly turned around to hide the blush that appeared on your face. Crossing your arms, you were still staring at the picture

Being too caught in the act, you didn't realize when Nahoya finally finished straightening his hair and came up to you. He loosely wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, mockingly copying your slightly frustrated face

You noticed that and rolled your eyes with a soft groan, which earned you some snickering from him. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before nuzzling his own to yours

"Why did you frame this?"

"Because it's special."

"How is it special?" Your voice grew confused. It's just a picture, nothing much

"Reminds me of the main reason I never give up."

Your blood went cold. What?

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're my main priority, babe. You, your safety, your smile." He chuckled at how cheesy he sounded. "That's why I framed us right over my gang uniform. Every time I have to change for a brawl or even just a meeting, I'm reminded of the smile that will greet me in the end and will always be there."

That didn't sound like Nahoya. For a moment, you even thought if that wasn't just some doppelganger

Until he smacked your ass

Yeah that's him

He loves you, and without realizing it, he just made all your problems fade away

Looking at the picture now, maybe, just maybe, it isn't as bad as you thought it was.

+ Your little twin girls found the picture in some box while playing and made fun of how you both looked. It was never to be seen again. It was under your mattress

— KAZUTORA HANEMIYA

So. Second worst boyfriend on the list.

Let's be honest, if your love language is quality time this won't work

Not that he won't want to spend time with you, but Juvenile? Sorry baby, they stole him from you

Kazutora loves you so much. He'd kill for you, and he'll die for you. No questions asked. He once even tried to break out from Juvenile because he couldn't take being far away from you anymore.

You visit him every day for as long as you can, bringing him gifts, telling stories, saying how much you miss him

But sometimes you wondered, does he love you?

"Baby!" A happy Kazutora exclaimed when you finally entered the meeting room and waited for you with a happy smile to sit down, on the opposite side of him, thick glass keeping you both separate.

"Hey, baby." You chuckled, adjusting in your seat.

It wasn't a lie how excited he was every day to see you. Sometimes, like today, he'd make you small diy gifts and show them off to you, explaining every minor detail from the inspiration, materials, hidden message, time taken, everything

And you kept them all on a special separate shelf in your room

"So that's my gift for you today! Do you like it?"

"I love it, 'Tora."

It was a small origami rose, which was actually very well made, considering he had to use his imagination

You both talk for a few moments before the chattering died down. You knew what that meant and quickly wiped the already falling tears

You hated this

You hated how close yet how far he was from you

You just wanted to break the damn glass and embrace him, never letting go

And he damn well knows he wants it too

But he can't, and neither can you

He was recently taken in, 3 years ago

Which means he'll be out in 7 years

Which felt like a lifetime for both of you

His biggest fear was you'd find someone new and leave him

Which he wouldn't even be mad about, considering he just ruined both your lives

But you stay consistent, you visit every single day, and even if you don't manage to, you always send him gifts and make up for it when you see each other.

But people's patience runs out at some point, and that point is today

You never meant to say this

You never meant to question his love for you because you both knew it was there and growing every passing day

So why did you ask? Was it the loneliness you felt every time you stepped out of the room and he wasn't there by your side? Was it the thrust to just be able to hold his hand? Was it the pain you felt every night where, instead of saying goodnight to him, you turned to a frame with a photo of him and said it to it?

You didn't know. He didn't know

The only thing you remember after that was the sound of glass shattering, alarms going off, and Kazutora hugging onto you as if it was your last minute on Earth.

You just cling to him, never wanting to let go again

You felt the tears fall when he kissed you, feeling all his love attack you in that one moment before the guards arrived and took him away

Your little moment lasted around 10 seconds, probably even less, but it felt like eternity to both of you

Visits were banned for a week until they changed the glass into an even more thick and unbreakable one

You dashed to the building the second they opened visiting hours again

And to be fair, even if that cost him 4 more months in juvenile, it was worth it when you finally managed to continue with your lives after his sentence

+ Your younger son thought it was funny while your older daughter cried her eyes out. I think you have 3 kids instead of two.

— MANJIRO SANO

Ah, yes. Our favorite dark impulse.

Listen, Mikey has to have FULL trust in you to even think about dating you. We're talking about Draken type of trust, if possible even more.

If Mikey falls for you, he will hit like fucking bedrock

If you don't reciprocate his feelings, he'd be hurt, but if you do, you're stuck for life

Mikey loves hard, and it's been proven so many times

It's the same as Kazutora. He'd kill for you.

Don't make him prove it. Just don't. You know, he knows, and everybody knows Mikey will do anything for you

So why ever question it?

You loved Manjiro, and he loved you. It was way too obvious to the point Emma already planned your whole future together

You knew that, but you always had this 'what it' thought in the back of your head, messing with you and you hated it

It was a normal afternoon. You were out with Mikey, just roaming around the city, eating at restaurants where they don't have flags so you brought your home-made ones, and spending way too much money on things you don't need

It was fun and all, just spending time together until he got a message from Draken which quickly brought him to his senses

He didn't want to leave you, but he had, so with a quick kiss on the lips he was off

You waved him goodbye with a smile and called up Emma and the girl just magically teleported to you in 10 minutes

She just loves you too much

Probably fought with Mikey for your hand at some point

You were having a blast with her until you both finally settled down at a café and talked about, just, anything and everything

You decided to share your thought with Emma and she quickly jumped, reassuring you that Mikey loved you with all his hesrt

She started showing you messages he's sent her about how he felt, what to get you and all sorts of things

But our beautiful Emma had her own 'what if' thought and when Mikey got home she instantly jumped on him

It was like, 1am when you heard his bike's engine roaring from outside your window. You got up and were met with a smiling Mikey and no more sleep for tonight

"Wake up, sleepy head. We need to talk."

The moment you got down to him, you were already zooming through the streets of Tokyo, but not in a racer-fast manner, just enought so you aren't like slugs on the roads

"Emma told me that—"

"I'm sorry, Mikey... I didn't mean to—"

"Please let me finish."

He talked for like, a whole ass hour. About everything that includes you both.

He brought you to tears ngl

His words just hit so deep that the thought immediately disappeared

Maybe it was he words of affirmation he used, the quality time he spend riding all night with you to ease your worries, the gift he gave you when you watched the sunrise and the fact you woke up in your bed later on with a small letter from him and a chibi drawing of both of you at the corner that kept a smile on your face till the end of you days

And you damn well know you lived one long ass life with Manjiro

And I'm kinda surprised to be honest

Not because you could've died while he was in Toman or anything, but because your kid is 3 times worse than Mikey.

+ Your son found his old gang uniform and wore it to school. The next teacher-parent conference was one hell of a trip.

[cr4yolaas]

mezzo forte — homesick v.2

track 8: non-confrontational | masterlist | track 10: ebb and flow

hajime sits on the couch of his childhood home listlessly. it's the same couch that he watched doraemon on at ten in the evening, and it still bears the same popsicle stains from blistering hot summers spent with his childhood friends. just like before, his nanay stands in the kitchen washing rice and chopping veggies, while his lola sits with her legs beneath the cheap kotatsu they found at a garage sale the year they moved from the philippines to japan. it should feel like home. but a warm, sticky feeling (either from the hot air or from overwhelming guilt, he'll never know) makes him feel like an intruder in a house that should be his.

the rice cooker plays a cheery melody as it begins to warm up, and his mom takes it as a signal to rest beside him. her weight, albeit much less than his, dips into the cushion and forces him to lean towards her ever so slightly. as if on instinct, her hands, still slightly damp from washing the rice, reach up to massage his head, worn fingers threading threading through each strand of hair with intent (it’s a little uncomfortable, given his significant height difference). he doesn't have the heart to tell her that he's grown out of it — that the gentle rubbing of her fingertips atop his scalp isn't as relaxing for him as it used to be, and instead, it leaves him feeling antsy.

a filipino talk show murmurs quietly on the television, the hosts giggling about their carefree lives with a cheesy laughing sound effect to accompany their discussion. none of them seem to be really watching it. the ministrations on his head fail to cease, even as his mom starts speaking to him.

"why hasn't yn been visiting?" she questions, and while she doesn't outwardly express it, he can tell she misses her.

hajime shifts awkwardly in his seat. "she's upset at me, ma-"

"maryosep," she interjects with irritation laced in her tones and a slight tug on his hair. he winces at the pull, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees his lola halt her knitting to listen in. "how did that happen, hm? did you do something stupid?"

his mother always asks despite already knowing the answer. she would ask him if he threw out the extra veggies he didn't want to eat, even if she already saw him dumping the contents of his plate into the trash. she would ask if he was keeping his grades up, even if his teacher already informed her of his inability to stay focused in class through a hastily typed email. it's a habit that she can't seem to rid herself of, and it makes itself painfully obvious here.

hajime's admiration for her planted itself into every crevice of his being the day they moved in. both his lola and nanay knew, even if he never shared it with them. they watched it grow in waves — from youth, when he would give her the advantage in all the games they played together; to his teenage years, when he would stay up late to listen to her fumble at guitar chords on the floor of his bedroom; to adulthood, in which he acts as a moon rotating around its beloved planet. he doesn't have to explain the story, nor does he have to detail any part of the conflict; his behaviors and routines have been engraved into each inch of bone in their bodies — the result of raising a child as hectic as he.

"kase, you have to be honest. walang scared, haji." her hand tears away from his hair and rests itself on her lap. he can't find it in himself to look at her. "you will only make it worse if you can't be direct with her."

he looks at the floorboards, tracing the patterns with his eyes and hoping he'll find an answer between the wooden lines. low hums from the air conditioning echo through his brain, and he wants nothing more than to escape the heavy gaze of his mother and the pressurizing air that his grandma exudes with each still breath. he hates that they know. that his vulnerability is no longer capable of being masked from them. that, in the end, he knows his mom is right.

"do you think you can really love her?" his lola asks as if it's a casual question. slowly, she resumes her knitting, but by no means does her attention stray from him.

"yes," he breathes out, with a smidge of confidence that has unfamiliar origins. "i want to," he whispers.

"then be straightforward." his cheeks squish up between his mother's palms. this time, he can't avoid her or her stare. "tell her you really, truly feel. then you can do that."

his chest burns beneath their combined stares. all he can muster up is a small nod; his body feels like it’d shrivel up if he tried to do anything else. she runs rampant in his mind. he can’t escape it.

“mahal ko, ‘kay?” his mother whispers before pressing a loving kiss to his forehead. hajime wants to sob.

——

everything passes by in a daze. an innumerable mass of photographers and actors and directors distribute themselves amongst her studio — her safe haven. it feels sticky on her skin. but it’s business.

she isn’t quite sure why they all have to be present. frankly, she isn’t quite sure about anything that she’s doing — it isn’t often that she does this type of work. her hands twitch here and there while she click, click, clicks away at her mouse and keys, arranging something that she hopes is up to standard, and at the same time, the coalescence of bumbling and shuffling fills the room a smidge too full. it’s overwhelming. it’s horrifying. she wants to escape.

“…is there any way you can turn up the strings there? i think it’d be cool since we kinda have, like, a huge impactful scene here,” suggests one woman who stands at the side of her desk. she presumes it’s an actor, given by the neat up-do of her hair and the way she taps at her phone and the outfit she bears, which is far from suitable for this kind of meeting.

her suggestion sparks annoyance from the director, who stands behind the desk. “no, no, then it’s too overwhelming. i’m going for something nicer here, like a- what is it- a wash of color,” he rambles.

another protests from another corner of the room, and then another, and then another. she decides it’s better to sit and wait in patience. her palm, sweaty and marred, pulls away from its position and falls to her side. she’s tired of being pulled into the bickering and arguments. all she wants to do is compose and call it a day.

however, even that is difficult when she can’t save her mind from drifting to where it shouldn’t be.

two weeks without contact.

the concept of time suffocates her. tempo is essential to establishing control and energy in music, an idea that’s strongly familiar to her, but when it comes to true time in the real world, she can’t grasp it. however, now that it’s so blatantly in front of her, she can’t run away.

exaggerated complaints and wails and arguments waft about. it's too loud, much too loud, and all she can focus on to distract herself is the couch that she sat on weeks ago, smushed between her two anchors and eating homemade sinigang to soak away the stress. she wonders if the rift would be any less apparent if she hadn't let herself get carried away.

she wonders if they'd still want to sit on her couch, with her in the middle, hajime on her left, and tooru on her right, just as they always had.

a heavy knock disrupts the flow (or rather, the lack thereof) of the conversation. everyone is watching, staring, anxiously awaiting for someone to do something so they can get back on track. she waits for one, two, three seconds before finally getting up to open the door.

no one is there — save for a familiar tupperware container sitting on the ground filled with arroz caldo, his favorite.

her entire body aches, starting with her head, down to her chest, until it finally reaches her legs, which seem to give out beneath her. it's beyond unprofessional. she isn't quite sure if they'd still be willing to work with her after this blatant display of vulnerability. but those worries are pushed away into a far, far corner of her mind when she lifts up the plastic bag and it smells like home.

♪ this smau ended up being sm more angsty than i thought it would be. whoops !

♪ shoyo is so dependent on iwa </3 he misses his mean, beefy, intelligent roommate who is also his coworker

♪ japan usually broadcasts anime episodes on tv pretty late at night (10 pm to 4 am) and i imagine iwa was the type of kid to sneak out of his bedroom to watch doraemon and whatnot

♪ he tried to sneak yn and tooru in to watch with him at some point when they were 8 and it backfired so horribly </3 it's one of his favorite memories though

♪ in comparison to yn and tooru he genuinely believes that nothing has really changed between them (hence his inability to see through yn's songs). whether its genuine blindness or just him clinging onto what once was, it makes him the most disconnected from the group bc he doesn't realize how far apart they are now

♪ yn ate the arroz caldo in tears btw the staff had to excuse themselves LOL

♪ idk i'm so exhausted and while band camp is over i still have practice every other weekday ... i just want to write the chapters in my head </3

taglist: @zumicho @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @yuminako @chemiru @sunnyskiezzzz @httpsivy @itsdragonius @theycallmenanamisgirl @wyrcan @19calicos @hunnies4bunnies @mawenskiblue @diorzs @loverlunaire @mfcherry @solaqes @myromanempiree @brithedemonspawn @corvid007 @lilchubbyyy @hyenagoated

[animeyanderelover]

@lucyrose9820 asked: Nsfw Hc's for Chaeyul and Shigaraki?

I see both of them as sort of pathetic during sex so requesting for both of them was especially funny.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, overprotective behavior, clinginess, neediness, stalking, manipulation, abduction, Nsfw, masturbation, dry-humping, afab s/o

Nsfw Hc's

Tomura Shigaraki

✋This man hasn’t been able to touch someone in years due to his Quirk Decay that would disintegrate whatever he touches with all five of his fingers. Perhaps that is why Shigaraki is insanely clingy as soon as he abducts his darling. He’s touch-starved beyond words and even if you should be freaked out by his needy and creepy behavior, Tomura isn't going to listen to you. You don't understand, he needs skinship with you or else he feels like he's about to go on a killing spree. The absence of your warmth next to his makes his whole skin itchy and leads him to scratching himself bloody to the point where Kurogiri has to physically restrain him. Yet the biggest obstacle for Shigaraki remains his immature quirk which would kill you if he were to touch you with all five of his fingers. So it is either up to you to touch him or he has to come up with another way to enjoy your body.

✋It is painfully obvious that Shigaraki has little experience with sex and even if he would rather bite his tongue off than admitting that to you, it is shown whenever he tries to initiate a more intimate moment with you. His kisses are sloppy and clumsy, a clash of his lips and teeth against yours. If he can't use his hands with you, he's going to use the next best option, his mouth. Lips are brushing all over your body leaving open-mouthe kisses and saliva on your skin as he does his best to let you know what he wants. And unfortunately for you Shigaraki desires sex with you often. Years of touch starvation and any intimate interactions have left him highly sensitive around you and the way you touch him. He gets so terribly easy aroused, your careful fingers threading through the knots in his hair or caressing his dry skin softly is more than enough to make him hard.

✋Cuddle sessions he demands for precious and needed physical affection oftentimes escalates into him dry-humping against you. At one point you know the incoming signs as he gets off far too easily on the simplest touches of yours. When he buries his head between your chest, resting against your breasts and starts letting out low groans and whimpers as he starts gyrating his hips against your dressed body, you know what is going on. All you can do in such moments is encouraging him as good as you can because angering him never ends well with a brat like him. Praise him, coddle over him and help him to reach his climax by running your fingers over his entire body. Tomura never lasts long and you know that, a few minutes is all it takes before his whole body goes rigid and he lets out a muffled and choked moan, his head burying itself even further against your chest as he feels his trousers dampening with his release. It takes him a minute or two to calm down as he pants against your breasts, a slight blush on his cheeks.

✋He's surprisingly a bit nervous when both of you are for the first time naked in front of each other. Because whilst he loves seeing your body fully nude without any clothes and has probably forced you to undress just so that he can oogle at your body like the pathetic freak he is, he's more insecure about his own body. His skin is dry and crusty and there might even be some dried blood from a time where he scratched himself raw. In the eyes of an unforgiving society where everyone has to be perfect, he would be probably considered undesirable due to his skin condition. Tomura doesn't care about what others think of course but he does care about what you think so he's rigid and tense whenever he has to expose his body to your eyes. The first whole experience for him in general is somewhat nerve-wracking for him because he wants to satiate your needs too despite his own occasional bratty and selfish desires. And whilst he doesn't say it out loud, he relies on your advice as his eyes always return to you, searching for assurance and guidance.

✋He enjoys receiving blowjobs and handjobs as soon as he's experienced the electrifying sensation they awaken within him.. Whether he's inside your warm mouth, your teeth and swirling tongue teasing and tormenting him in the best way or your hands coax his body into the short but intense peak of pleasure as your nails scratch along his veins and his weeping head. Nothing tops being embraced by your hot and gummy walls though, squeezing him deliciously as he's left breathless whenever he thrusts inside of you. Shigaraki in general prefers positions where you face him because he's a tiny bit obsessed with your chest. It kills him that he can't just squeeze them unless he wants to disintegrate you so instead he cuddles his head against them or explores the soft flesh and your nipples with his lips, teeth and his tongue. He doesn't want to be loud because he's partially embarrassed about it but he really can't help himself from letting out groans and low moans as your body entices him into pleasure. He's the worst during the first few months where he just gets too easily roused to the point where you sometimes wake up at night to him dry-humping against your ass or thighs, if you still have your pajama pants on that is.

✋In a scenario where he has either fully learned to control Decay or you are able to survive his touch without turning to dust, he is using your breasts as his stress relief and squeezes them in between his hands excitedly, almost like a child playing with a favored toy. It doesn't even matter how big or small they are. Your ass is a second favorite when it comes to body parts he enjoys squeezing during sex. He is mostly the one topping you which doesn't have to mean by a long shot that he is the dominant part, although he would probably prefer thinking that. Truth be told though, he is a sucker for praise and affection as he demands everything from you he never received which leaves him pretty much as nothing but a submissive, needy and clingy partner for you. So if you're into it, convincing him to let you top him is so much more easier than he'd like to admit and you know that he loves and adores it. During post-sex cuddles he acts like a leech, doesn't want you to leave and forces you to lay in bed together with him, sometimes without even pulling out of you. So what if both of you are covered in sweat and all other bodily fluids both of you released? He doesn't mind. He even enjoys it.

Chae Yul

💜​He's a creep and just as freakish as Shigaraki, although maybe a tad bit more controlled about it. At least when you're around. Because if you aren't around, he is just being a disturbing pervert. Even long before he has forced himself into your life and guilt-trips you into a relationship with him, he has a small history of masturbating to the thought of you. Maybe whilst gazing at one of his many pictures he's taken of you without you ever being aware of it. A sickenly sweet smile on his face as he pants for air whilst stroking his leaking cock, hearts in his eyes as he lets out airy moans, clutching the photo tightly in his hands whilst still being careful to not crumple it as he cums in his hand and a long moan leaves his lips, his gaze not leaving once the picture. Considering that he's probably wired your place somehow too, this all reaches a new height when he edits the tapes in a way that it sounds like you're directly talking to him, praising him as he wraps his hand around his shaft and gets off to the sound of your voice.

💜​You unlock possibilities for him when you two move in, something Chae Yul is absolutely ecstatic about. He obviously has to wire the new place too to always know what is going on. He's a trained stalker at this point so he horts his precious collection of edited tapes and pictures somewhere you are unlikely to find them and from that day on he only adds new gems to his collection. Pictures he snaps of you when you're asleep or even when you're in the shower and he manages to sneak in and capture you in your complete glory. He sometimes begs you to say a certain phrase or call him a special name and whilst you question some of the stuff he begs you to say, you give in ultimately to his pleas. If only you'd know that he records all of it, edits it and gets to enjoy your voice saying sentences, calling his name or giving him a pet name you'd have never spoken during the time where you hadn't moved in with him yet.

💜Eventually even some of your clothes start disappearing only to appear later again, Chae Yul reassuring you that he did the laundry and that's why some of your clothes were gone. You don't want to know what he actually did with those stolen pieces of clothing. Getting his hold on something that smells heavily like you though will always help him climaxing faster. He adores your scent because it always gives him a feeling of stability and security and burying his nose into fabric that smells just like you additionally helps him imagining everything more vividly. He fantasizes quite a lot when he's masturbating and in some very unhinged moments he actually writes down his fantasies just to keep them for inspiration if he needs it again. He appears initially to not be very forceful but he definitely tries to sweet-talk you into letting him please and satisfy you.

💜Chae Yul is a pure pleaser once he manages to convince/ manipulate you into having actual sex with him.​ It's all about your pleasure because for him seeing you tossing your head around in ecstasy might just make him cum in his pants before he has done anything. Knowing that he can please you the best is an exhilarating knowledge that leaves him panting and grinding against the mattress of the bed, chasing his own height by watching you falling apart because of only him. He isn't ashamed nor shy to whimper and moan weakly whenever he feels himself unravelling as his orgasm crashes over him like a tidal wave, his movements growing more frantic and the bed creaking as he soils his underwear with his own semen. And you didn't have to give yourself to him, he just came by watching you reaching the fever-high peak of your pleasure. He doesn't seem to be mad though, a deep blush on his face as he gives you a creepily sweet smile.

💜Any position where he can't see your face is instantly disliked by him because how can he enjoy himself when he can't even see your sweet expressions as he plunges his digits into your wet hole or explores your most intimate parts with his tongue, his chin dripping with your release and his own saliva. I'd argue that he finds those parts far more enjoyable than actually using his dick to please you but whatever you want during sex, he will do just to please you. Similar to Shigaraki I don't see him as someone who can last very long before he's moaning, his tongue rolling out as he looks at you through the spasms of his body as he spurts his release inside of you. He refuses to cum on you as he doesn't want your body to be stained in anything that isn't your own body fluid.

💜Obviously your face is his favorite thing during sex, he adores all of the expressions you pull when he pushes you over your edge. If he had to choose two other parts of your body that aren't your face, he would choose your hands and your thighs. He loves being touched and caressed by you, he especially enjoys if you run your fingers through his hair. Your thighs are also up there because he enjoys how they squish him and push him closer to your wet pussy whenever his tongue is digging into you, urging him to keep doing. Perhaps he has a tiny bit of a masochist inside of him for loving the feeling of your warm thighs squeezing around his head whilst you feel his tongue squirming around inside of you, the motion of it driving you crazy. Your voice is something that'll never fail to work him up either and you could probably reduce him to a whimpering and soiled mess by just whispering stuff into his ear whilst brushing your lips against his sensitive neck. Cuddles after sex are a must for Chae Yul because he wants to bask in that euphoric bliss for a bit longer before he hops with you into the shower.

[writerfae]

A gift for Callan

This is both a gift for Callan's birthday and a story in which Callan gets a gift, thus the title. Fun, isn't it? I hope you enjoy!

Callan stood on one of the ballroom's balconies, hands clasped around the railing as he looked out into the night.

From here he had the perfect view over the palace garden. Bathed in moonlight, it was truly a sight to behold.

Someone else entered the balcony. That someone closed the door, blocking out the sounds of the festivities taking place inside the palace, then they came to stand right behind Callan.

He knew who it was even before a pair of warm arms wrapped around him.

"Beautiful," Henry whispered, his voice close to Callan's ear. It made him shiver despite the warmth of spring.

"Yes, the garden at night is really something."

His fiancé- husband, his mind corrected itself - chuckled. He kissed Callan's neck. "I wasn't talking about the garden."

A bright blush erupted on Callan's face at the words.

Henry never failed to coax this sort of reaction out of him and sometimes it seemed to Callan like he did it on purpose,  taking pleasure in Callan's flustered reactions.

His suspicion was confirmed when Henry kissed him again, this time right behind his ear, a grin clearly evident on his lips against Callan's skin.

The prince couldn't help but to smile, too. "Charmer," he accused Henry fondly.

"I'm just being honest."

Callan let go of the railing in order to lean more into his husband's - Callan very much liked that word - embrace, holding on to the arms encircling his waist.

"It was getting lonely in there without you," Henry broke the silence after a while.

"I'm sorry," Callan said. "But after Rhys' speech I needed some fresh air."

Of course his best friend, in true Rhys fashion, didn't miss the opportunity of lovingly embarrassing Callan in front of everyone by sharing stories about Callan’s "insufferable and painfully obvious pining".

Callan wanted to die of embarrassment right then and there.

Henry laughed quietly. "I found it quite interesting. I didn't know that you liked me that much when we were younger."

Callan glared at him, cheeks burning, but it only made Henry laugh even more.

He buried his head in the crook of Callan's neck. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He shook his head, his hair tickling the side of Callan's neck. "I probably wasn't much better, I just didn't have anyone to ramble about you to," he admitted.

Lifting his head, he kissed his husband's cheek apologetically.

Callan, who had already forgiven him (he couldn’t be mad with Henry for long even if he tried to, especially not for such a minor thing), smiled.

"What a shame, I really would've liked to hear what you thought of me back then."

Henry hummed. "I can tell you, if you really want to know. Later."

Callan turned his face to look at him, amused. "Why not now?"

"Because," Henry leaned in to place a quick kiss on Callan's mouth, before pulling away just as quickly. "Right now there's something I want to give to you. Close your eyes."

Callan smiled and did what he was told. The arms wrapped around him disappeared and he could hear the rustling of Henry searching for whatever it was he wanted to give Callan.

The prince wondered what it could possibly be. But he didn't need to wonder long, because Henry soon leaned back in and whispered close to his ear.

"You can open them now."

He didn't need to tell Callan twice. The young man opened his eyes. What he saw made him gasp.

It was a necklace, simple, but beautifully made. The plaited brown leather band already looked a bit worn out at the edges, but the leather was still shining.

The pendant was made out of apple tree wood with runes carved along the frame that surrounded a gemstone that almost seemed to glow in the reflection of the moonlight.

The gem had the exact same color as Henry's eyes. An Amber.

Callan recognized it immediately. He turned to look at Henry in awe. "Isn't this…?"

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Henry nodded, a smile on his face. "My mother's. A wedding gift to her from my... from Milan."

He moved to gently put the necklace on Callan. It fitted perfectly, like it was meant to be around his neck and his neck alone.

"And my wedding gift to you," Henry finished, voice soft with fondness. Callan touched the pendant around his neck in awe.

"Are you... are you certain? It's all you have of her."

He knew about the meaning of this necklace, one of the last remains Henry had of his mother. It was of immeasurable value for him.

And he decided to give it to Callan.

"I am." Even though he couldn’t see him, Callan could tell that Henry was smiling.

"This necklace was always a sign of love. So what better way could there be to honor my mother’s memory than to give it to the person I love more than anything? I want you to have it.

And I know she would've wanted it too. She always wished for me to be happy. And I am, with you."

Callan turned around immediately, tears gleaming in his eyes.

He put his arms around Henry's neck, who in turn wrapped his arms around Callan's waist again, and pulled him into a kiss, one of many yet to come that night.

"Thank you," he whispered as they pulled away, still holding each other close. "I love you."

Henry laughed quietly, kissing Callan's temple. "And I love you. Now do you want to go back inside? Or should we dissappear from here altogether?"

Callan laughed, raising his eyebrow at Henry. "You mean leaving our own party?"

Henry grinned. "Why not? It's our wedding, isn't it? So we can do whatever we want."

"And what do you want to do exactly?"

Henry's grin only grew. He leaned close to whisper something into Callan's ear and that something made the blush on Callan's face flare up all over again.

Henry only laughed, before taking Callan's hand in his and dragging him along into the moonlit garden.

...

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[antiromanticbaby]

Trapped - Yandere! Solomon

Yandere!Solomon x GN!reader

[✧] ー inspired by this post/chat. Includes hints to my own lores, comment if you were interested <3.

Summary: Solomon decided that shrinking you and keeping you in a world of make belief isn't that bad of an idea. Similar to: Pink Paradise - Asmodeus contains: possessive and overprotective Solomon. Mc/you are not present, just solomon rambles. You can listen to: le monde - richard carter? Not proof read

YOU were such a temptation.

And Solomon had to tame you before you tamed him. He wasn't going to allow the past repeat itself. To have you, his throne, ripped away from him? No, he wowould never allow it. He was fool onced, he wouldn't be fooled twice. Those crooked smile and bright eyes with sin filling them up with light. There used to be a time where those full of light eyes fooled him too, but those days had come to an end.

He was a sheep whom had survived these demons, and was a sheep, after surviving thede demons, truly a sheep? The answer is obvious.

Solomon, the well known sorcerer, wise and witty. He used to be young too, but now he is no more a fool. Back then he was set on exploring the world as the fool, and now he was the wise sorcerer. Yet you were still the fool, the sheep. And these demons wanted you, because you were a pure sheep who would never get the chance to understand these worlds due to your mortality. Oh what a chain mortality was, not allowing you to fully grasp your life. But he would do something for that, before these demons decided it was the end.

You were so painfully oblivious, always choosing them over him. He was sick of it. Solomon was sick of you choosing demons over him, the human, your human. You weren't there thousands and thousands of years ago, when demons roamed the human world freely, when he was still a pure child hidden in the basement. And those oh so pure eyes of his, observing everything from his place in the basement... he didn’t want to be petty, but could anyone blame him? After everything he saw and experienced? You only saw Devildom, and that was also when lord Diavolo is the de facto king. Where were you when His Majesty Baphomet ruled? His Highness Baal? And way before that?

You only saw the mask these demons, these wolves wore. You poor little lamb, he had to protect you all the time didn't he? He had to keep protecting you, or else you'd run back into the arms of those 'sweet' little demons of yours again and again. They would take and take and take, until you were no more. And only then will you run back to him. It was truly unfair, because you didn't even acknowledge it.

It's alright. He would protect you, he had to protect you.

Hence why you were here now. This Trarium suitted your taste perfectly, you'd love it. Sending a text to you about it as a joke was prefectly fine, because you wouldn't suspect that he would actually do it. Shrink you? You wouldn't believe it. He was always a man of jokes, this would be no different for you. But for him, it was like hearing 'yes' to wedding proposal. Now that he thought about it, he would shrink a ring and put it there too. You would have all the time in the world to explore and find that ring.

He smiled as he read over your texts, sending one real quick. He was waiting for you at home eagerly. First he would analyze your reaction to the Trarium, and then he will bring up his 'joke' again. It didn't matter what you said though, he had already prepared everything. Your death was ready to be faked, and your existence was already wiped from the mind of all your human friends and family. He hoped you would give him consent, because he would hate to force you. Still, if you didn't give him consent, he would do it.

This was for your own good.

Your destiny was his, you two were made for each other. You just had to realize it the hard way.

Oh how romantic it would be for the two of you to take loving walks in this world where he was the god again, where he could be the king again. And the demon brothers, the prince or his steward wouldn't be there to whisk you away.

[writingmysanity]

Commit to the Bit (2)

Pairing: Sanji x Fem!baker

Word count: 4445

TW: slight violence. Jeff is a jerk and Sanji kicks him out... literally. Peter is an angel.

AN: Sorry this took so long to get out! Holiday, Family, Kids field trips, unplanned.. everything. Of course it all happens at once lol. There *will* be a part 3. Thank you so much for all of the love on part one, it really brings me so much joy to know you guys love them as much as I do.

<<part one part three>>

========

Morning comes sooner than you wished it to, earning a soft groan as you roll yourself out of bed. The far too close cry of your neighbor's rooster, who you've found often decides to scream whenever it pleases, startles you as it stands outside of your window as it does every morning. Yelping, you slip from the side, landing painfully on your butt as your blankets fumble to the floor around you.

For a moment, there is silence as he peers in the window, eyes locked on you as you stare back, eyes heavy with sleep.

“Can I not have one morning of peace?” you growl out, narrowing your eyes. At this, the creature squawks at you before bounding off from the ledge. As if congratulating itself on a job well done, you can hear it babbling to itself all the way back to its coop. Huffing, you push yourself to your feet slowly, tossing your blankets back onto the bed before moving to get your day started. 

It isn't long before you are standing before the bakery, keys in your hand, limbs heavy with the sleep you wish you had gotten. The warm night does nothing to aid in waking your sleeping thoughts, your body moving purely on auto pilot. 

“Good morning,” you hum to the body waiting for you by the door as you approach. “You’re on time.” you can't say you aren't surprised. This is an ungodly hour to most on a good day, but you had stayed up entirely too late the night before, conspiring with the strawhats on how this will play out, and what the plan will be. 

He seems almost offended that you expected him to be late, but sighs. 

“I get up this early every day,” he grouches a bit, pressing the door open once you unlock it, motioning for you to go in first as he holds it open. You pause, offering him a small, sleepy smile. 

“Thank you.” your voice is barely above a whisper, but you know he can hear you. He nods with a small smile of his own. 

“You’re welcome,” he says quietly back as you both wander into the bakery. You automatically start into your morning chores – sweeping, placing the chairs down from the table tops, wiping down the countertops. Sanji falls into step around you, helping you settle the heavier things properly, even if you didn't need the help. He just waved off your protests on being able to do it yourself with a smile. 

“Just because you can do it by yourself, doesn't mean that you should.” he stated clearly after Angie had left for the morning, as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world. Without another word, he moves to wipe down the various panes of glass around the shop, muttering about dirty pirates leaving scuff marks. 

As the morning drags on, his quiet quips continue, each one earning a huff from you as you work to keep your laughter to yourself. Though, the shake of your shoulders gives you away each time. 

You don't catch the way his eyes light up at the motion until later. 

Sanji is, of course, wonderful in the kitchen. You had hoped as much after learning about his culinary roots. This, of course, caused a slight problem for you both as you had to utter a sentence you never thought you'd have to say as you eye the way Marines continue to hover outside your door.

“Ruin the pastry, Rudy,” you hiss quietly at him when a few patrons come barreling through the doors. Sanji looked how you felt – scandalized. It hurts your heart to think of the wasted dough, but you have already put entirely too much into this bit. The unfortunate truth being, you can't let his own talent ruin it. He is still standing at his post in the kitchen, dumb founded, when you are whisked away to fill more orders. 

“Hello!” you sing everytime. “Welcome in.” 

You can feel his eyes on you, though you ignore the sensation. On more than one occasion, he has meekly brought you a ruined platter, eyes large and upset. You know he is upset at having to ruin a dish, something he never thought he would aim to do in his wildest dreams. In fact, it seems he is currently living his worst nightmare. Yet, he sells it well, whispering apologies when he “thinks” the current patron isn't paying attention. 

“What did I do wrong on this one?” he sighs, knowing full well what went wrong. 

Sabotage. 

The customer before you is quick to assure him with a smile. “It takes time, young man,” she states clearly, her smile turning teasing as her eyes turn to you. “You should have witnessed the dishes this one was turning out when she first started.” flushing, you wave her off with a pout.

“We don't talk about my apprentice days,” you huff, looking down at the pastry. Sanji does his best to keep the amusement from his expression. “I'll meet you in the kitchen here in just a moment and we can figure it out together” you offer patiently. He just nods, ducking back into the kitchen with one final glance at you that you don't catch, but your customer does. 

“But of course,” she muses, eyes twinkling in the bright morning light. “He’d perhaps make fewer mistakes if he could keep his eyes on what he is doing.” you raise an eyebrow at her as you finish wrapping her pastries. 

“Hm?” she just snickers. 

“It’d take a blind man to miss how he looks at you dear,” she hums delightedly. “And dare I say, you could do so much worse.” her tone turns almost sour as Jeff walks through the door, earning an amused huff from you as you hand her the wrapped package. 

“Thank you, Marie. It is always a pleasure to see you,” you say softly as she places a hand over yours with a wink and a nudge towards the kitchen before she turns to glower at the tall man standing behind her attempting to earn your attention through his normal antics. The huffs and whines do little but irritate you as he continues to wait impatiently, scuffing his boots on the panels that Sanji had painstakingly cleaned that morning. 

Oh he was going to hate that.

Marie stalls as long as she can, a mischievous smile stretched across her face as she listens to Jeff’s attempts to gather your attention to him grow louder and more frequent. You continue to answer her questions, your own amusement sparkling in your eyes as you watch her enjoy herself in irritating the man. 

“Well,” she finally calls slightly louder than she had been talking, after killing another five or so minutes asking various questions about the cooking processes and local yields. “You have been so hospitable, dear.” she hums happily, listening to Jeff grunt behind her in irritation. Even he wouldn't be rude enough to cut the woman off, being one of the few local elders left on the island. “Thank you for indulging an old lady.” 

You smile brightly, nodding to her, laughing softly. 

“You are always welcome, Marie.” you state softly. “Any of your curiosities, I am always happy to indulge in.”

Jeff, surprisingly, waits until she is out of the door before approaching the counter. His face is contorted somewhere between elation and mild annoyance, his smile twisting slightly as he says nothing at first. 

When you don't move to grab anything, he huffs. 

“Are you not going to get my order?” you raise an eyebrow at his tone, rough and harsher than usual as his smile twists down slightly. 

“You haven't ordered anything yet,” you answer, voice tight. You're proud of yourself when you manage to keep the smile on your face. 

“I order the same thing every time,” he insists, the elation falling from his face as the annoyance twists at his brows.

“I figured you wanted to try something new after not even touching the tart I fed you yesterday.” you raise an eyebrow. He may irritate you, but you haven't ever done more than turn down his advances and do your job. Perhaps it is your own restlessness of the situation you have put yourself in, the exhaustion from your late night, or the fact that he has spent the better part of the last 10 minutes acting like a spoiled child, but you can't seem to find it in you to placate his feelings at the moment. You watch as his jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing for a moment in thought. 

That would be a fair assessment for any other person, he deems. But you should know better.

And to be fair, you do. But you can't find it in you to care. 

“My normal,” he grouches, setting the coins on the counter top this time. The piles leave his hand, only half of them stacking into the nice piles he normally leaves while the rest skitter across the glass top. “Please.” he adds almost as an afterthought as he turns to settle into his seat next to the window. 

Without much more thought, you move to fill his order – a cup of coffee and a strawberry tartlet. 

The movements are almost routine, fluid in a way that is born out of years of repeated motion and muscle memory. Like every other day, you can feel his eyes on you, tracing your every move. Swallowing your urge to wretch, like you do every time, you turn with a small smile, moving to his side, placing his order before him. 

“Here you go,” you state, immediately moving to turn and walk away. Instead, like many times before, his fingers wrap around your wrist, keeping you from leaving his side. 

“When are you going to stop playing hard to get?” his earlier irritation bleeds through, though much more pronounced. The sting of being ignored and your general lack of excitement to see him finally coming to a head in his mind. When you move to pull your hand from his hold, his fingers tighten painfully, earning a small yelp. The noise startles him enough that his grip loosens just enough for you to snatch it from his hold, cradling it to your chest. 

“That hurt,” you hiss, rubbing the tender muscles there. The noise, unfortunately, caught the attention of the blond in the kitchen because he is coming out of the doors, concerned words dying on his lips, as Jeff is starting in on his response. 

“It's your own fault,” he snarls, reaching for you again. “If you'd just stop with your games, I would have already had you in my bed.” This time, his hand is knocked away as Sanji wedges himself between the two of you. 

“That is no way to talk to a lady,” the taller man growls, the timbre reverberating in his chest as he simultaneously presses closer to Jeff and gently pushes you further behind him, the heat of his glare making you shudder. Jeff is halfway to his feet when he recognizes the man before him, though sanji doesn't seem to care about that fact at the moment. If looks could kill, Jeff would have been obliterated several times over, seared into the earth with nothing more than ash left to be whisked away by the wind accompanied by the memory of his existence.

“I refuse to take advice from a pirate,” he spits the word, tone dripping with poison. “This matter doesn't concern you.” 

“Not a pirate,” you grouse, trying in your own stupor to keep up the charade. 

“You made it my business when you hurt her,” Sanji’s voice is steady, the chill of his words seeming to lower the temperature of the building, making you shiver. Nose to nose, neither man seems to want to back down. And you are quite certain of who would win, given it became physical. 

“Rudy,” you rasp, tugging at his arm lightly. “He isn't worth it.” you can already feel the emotions bubbling up. The pain in your wrist is little more than a dull throb, but you find it doesn't bother you nearly as much as the thought of the man in front of you getting hurt, or worse, killed, because of the trust fund man-baby before him. 

He allows you to tug him back, his eyes never straying from Jeff’s as he steps back enough to allow the man passage towards the door. Jeff snorts a laugh, lips tugging up in a mocking smirk. 

“Listening to a woman,” he huffs, shaking his head. “How pathetic.”

“Not nearly as pathetic as being unable to take the word no the first time,” Sanji bites back, lips curling into a smile, though it reads much more as a warning. His snarl hardens the gesture far too much for it to be anything but a threat. “At least I don't need to lay hands on a woman to prove I'm a man.” 

Slowly, then all at once. 

You almost don't see the way Jeff’s arm raises, his fist making contact with Sanji’s chin, a snarl on his lips. Automatically, you swing between them, a hand coming to rest on each of their chests in a weak attempt to separate them. Sanji does nothing to push past you, but Jeff tries to lunge forward again. His weight agitates your injured wrist, a resounding yelp tearing through the otherwise silent space. Without warning, you are moved. Sanji’s arm wraps around your shoulders as he brings you securely into his side. 

Before Jeff is able to make a move again, Sanji growls, kicking his body away from you. 

“Get out,” even Jeff is able to read the warning in his words, the unspoken promise lying just underneath, as his body crashes to the floor. He skitters through the door, not bothering to look back. Sanji doesn't move for several moments after the glass stops shaking from the force of the way Jeff had slammed it in his haste. It Isn't until you move to pull away from him that he stops glaring at the door, his arm tightening slightly over your shoulders for a moment before he relaxes enough for you to take a step back. 

When you move to reach for his face, the angry mark already beginning to blister purple and blue, he takes your hand gently with a shake of his head. 

“I am fine.” he insists, gently tugging your injured wrist into his hand. He cringes when you whimper at his tug, immediately apologizing. His fingers are gentle as he inspects it. “It isn't broken.” he states quietly, thumb rubbing soothing circles just below the blooming bruises of your own. 

“That’s something, I suppose,” you sigh, bringing your wrist to your chest again, cradling it there. He nods with a frown, gently ushering you into the seat as he busies himself with going to find the first aid kit he saw in the kitchen earlier that morning. You had barely enough time to fully process that he was gone before he was back, kneeling before you. Flipping the lid open, he rummages around until he finds some wrap he deems sturdy enough. 

“May I?” 

You don't hesitate to rest your wrist in his hands, watching quietly as he wraps it slowly. He is careful to keep it from being too tight, but tight enough to give the support you need. It's silent for several moments before he speaks up again. 

“How long has he been bothering you?” sighing heavily, you lean back in the seat, twisting your arm to inspect his handy work. It's clean, precise, and obviously well practiced. You don't look at him as you trace over the bandages, barely able to even feel the pressure of your fingertips through the wrap. 

“Years,” you admit. “Though, this is the first time he has gotten so physical.” 

He is silent as you sit there, allowing the moment to swallow you whole. You had never broached the subject with anyone, not even your father. Deep down, you knew it wasn't just Jeff’s forward tendencies or childish ways that made you uncomfortable. Sure, they didn't help, but they weren't the reason for placating the man's feelings for all this time. 

There was always a threat, a quiet red flag waving in the distance in the back of your mind when you were alone with him. 

Sanji doesn't say anything, he doesn't push where he already knows the answer. Sighing, he offers you a smile, soft and kind – heavy with understanding. And you hate it. 

“Perhaps you can help me understand what I did wrong with that pastry now?” he offers, standing slowly, offering you the hand that isn't holding the first aid kit. He is offering you a distraction, a way out of the spiraling thoughts weighing on you. Sighing, you nod.

“Okay.”

================

The rest of the day is calm, if not slightly awkward. Customer after customer filing in, seeing both of your states and immediately trying to figure out what happened and who would do such a thing. 

Some routine customers, patrons who live on the island, many are pirates who Sanji is heavily debating on if he should feed them Jeff’s name to let them deal with him. You are beloved, more so than you seem to realize as you just file around with a smile.

“Who did it?” one pirate asks, gruff and glowering as his eyes narrow on your wrist. As if sensing the topic, your head whips around, eyes zeroing in on Sanji with a slight pinch to them – a quiet warning that neither man misses. The pirate snorts, taking the neatly wrapped package from Sanji sending the blond man a motion. 

Later. 

Because of your wrist, Sanji has taken to doing all of the wrapping. And the lifting. And the stirring. 

At one point, you find yourself sitting and pouting at the counter like a dejected child. Your regulars chuckle at your antics, watching and admiring how well Sanji seems to have picked up the slack, swirling around you like a one man band.

He's doing the cooking, cleaning, baking – with your careful instruction – and often tending to the customers while you sit and watch. You hate how flawlessly he takes over, turning the quiet, calm atmosphere into something much more lively and brilliant. A change that many seem more than happy to lean into. His energy is quite infectious, despite the deep love for your gentle, quiet, care. 

One 

He counts to himself as he spins from one table to the other, placing a plate before the patrons with a grin and flourish as he spins away. 

Two

He sends a smile and a non-committal wink to the lovely older woman before him, earning a girlish giggle from her. The attention makes her feel the need to smooth her hair back, to check to make sure her appearance is in order. He and her husband chuckle as he sends the man a nod – a silent gesture that he means no harm. The older man just grins. 

“Blushing, honey?” The comment deepens her flush, earning a whack and a jovial laugh from the three of them. 

Three 

He finds himself nearly spinning himself into the wall to keep from toppling on top of the over exuberant body that flings through your door. Laughter echoes around you from the various tables as Sanji sputters to a stop with a confused pinch of his brows, and Peter finally finds himself settled before you with a grin. Laughing along with them, you put your hands out to steady the small body. 

“Peter!” you laugh, allowing the boy to fall into your arms happily. “You’re early for lunch” you coo. He tries his best to look sheepish, though it falls short. You don't catch how Sanji softens at your exchange with the small boy, already on your feet to gather the things you had been working on all morning. 

It had been the one thing you had been absolutely insistent on that you be the one to work on. 

Peter stands there politely, his arms pinned firmly behind his back, though the stance does little to distract from the way his body seems to vibrate from its need for movement. Smiling to himself, Sanji watches him try so hard not to move – to be good. He was always rewarded when he was good. Shifting before the counter, Sanji starts to help pack the items you bring to the front, humming happily. 

Peter is silent as he watches you both work together, a fact that you nearly comment on until he opens his mouth. His eyes flit between sanji and yourself before he speaks, a frown on his face, as if he is concentrating too hard.

“Are you her husband?” The question startles you both, and earns sharp laughter from the older couples lingering at the tables. Both of you are gapping at him, trying to find your answers to such a simple question.

“No, He’s-” you begin.

“I’m not-” Sanji starts, both of you fumbling over the quick denials. Peter doesn't concern himself with your obviously flustered states, eyes zeroing in on your wrist and Sanji’s jaw. 

“Who hurt you?” he asks bluntly. “Do I need to put a wanted poster back up?” The comment earns a harsh snort from Sanji, who in reality would love to make sure a poster for the overly confident, and abusive, merchant. But you won't let him, for whatever reason. He watches you retrieve a tartlet that you had set aside earlier, choosing to ignore Peter’s insistent gaze and his very blunt line of questioning. 

“Here.” you grumble, shoving the sweet thing into his hands. 

Almost immediately, he seems to drop the line of questioning, eager to shove his reward in his mouth, strawberry filling being smeared against his cheek. Laughing softly, you reach up to swipe the mess from his cheek, wiping it on your apron. 

“Messy boy,” you hum sweetly, earning a blinding smile from Peter, and unbeknownst to you, Sanji. “Come now,” you state, clapping your hands to your thighs to gather his attention again when it drifts to the pirate standing beside the counter. “I am sure your mother is hungry, as well.” Peter just grins, nodding quickly. 

“She loves your food.” he agrees, lifting his hand to present some berry to you. The same berry he has been trying to bully into your hands everyday for the last year, judging by the familiar tears. Shaking your head, you curl his fingers back around the money, ruffling his hair with love. 

“No,” you state simply, handing him the bag. He pouts a bit, shoving it back in his pocket.

“Tomorrow,” he huffs. You laugh, ignoring the pointed looks from those around you. Repeat customers know better, their eyes downcast though they do nothing to hide their smiles. Newer groups do little to hide their curious gazes. 

“We will see, little one. Now, off you go.” he just nods, taking off out of the door, though more carefully as to keep from spilling any of the food. In silence, you watch him go, smiling as he disappears into his mother’s shop. 

“You feed them,” Sanji comments softly after a moment. Blinking, you shrug, turning to take the remainder of what couldnt fit in the pack back to the kitchen. Sanji glances around, ensuring that everyone is cared for. No one seems to want to rock the gentle bubble created. 

They loved your gentle loving care. 

Without thought, he follows you into the kitchen, your voice barely reaching his ears as you busy yourself with tidying up. 

“Sometimes,” you agree. He watches you, Peter’s last comment echoing in his mind. 

Tomorrow.

“Daily,” he corrects you, his tone gentle. You pause, nose twitching, eyes narrowing – immediately on the defensive. 

“Listen,” you grouch, turning to glare at him, your ire catching him off guard. His hands lift quickly, hoping to show you that he means no harm, but you continue ranting though your irritation seems to fade. “If you're going to lecture me about business practices, making money or anything else – save it.” you sigh. 

“I didn't intend to do any such thing,” he assures you slowly, moving to take the knife from your hand, setting it back in the sink. You turn to face him more, arms crossed as you lean back against the counter. He doesn't force himself any closer, in fact, he backs off some, resting his hips to the other counter across from you. 

“What is your point, then, Rudy?” he snorts, his smile easing some of the tension in your shoulders. 

“How long?” he asks after a moment. You pause. 

“A year,” you sigh. “Maybe longer, at this point. I'm not sure.” he just nods. You expect many things, many questions. Why? What's the point? Why not make more money? Sell it at a discount. Poor business strategy. 

You weren't expecting the softness in his eyes, nor the gentleness of his touch when his hands settle on your shoulders, a quiet intensity burning in his eyes as he bends to maintain eye contact as he speaks. 

“What you're doing for them,” he starts slowly, as if trying to find the right words to convey how he feels. He struggles to find the words he wants –  his large vocabulary, the flowery words he peppers into every conversation, the seemingly endless stream of compliments. They all seem too small, too insignificant for how he's feeling, so he settles on, “it matters.” The sincerity behind the words startles you. 

Swallowing the emotion building in your chest, you force a smile, hand moving to rest over his as your head thumps to rest against his chest. You find yourself unable to take staring into the depths of his eyes any longer. The emotions swimming there crashing like a storm at sea, washing over you with their intensity. 

“It doesn't feel like it's enough,” you whisper, words thick as you hold back your tears, clutching at his shirt, an anchor in your storm. His arms shift from your shoulders to wind around your waist, tugging you deeper into his warmth, his chin coming to rest on top of your head. 

“I assure you,” he murmurs, flashes of Zeff and that blasted rock flickering behind his eyelids, a distant memory fading to various shades of gray where it had once been so vibrant. The only thing still flickering in color is Zeff before him, like a scene from an old movie. “It's everything.” 

==========

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