#bittersweet aftertaste

[canisalbus]

One day I hope to have the fondness for my ocs that you do. Yeah, sure, their tale is tragic and ends sadly, but that doesn't stop you from giving them tender moments, or from making aus where they live happily. You care so much for Vasco and Machete, and it's so endearing to see all the soft art of them

Aw geez ;-;

Thank you! They are my darlings, of course I care about them terribly. And even of I can appreciate and see the value and impact of a good tragedy, I also yearn to see my dogs happy and safe, even more so as time goes on.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

(so many of my favourites actually don't fit in the poll options ffs 😭)

[ardate]

Ten years ago I didn't share my ex's obsession with Summoning but, listening to them again, I think I'm starting to understand

[flameheroesjourney]

((Honestly the ending of mha just proved once and for all that literary comprehension is dead.))

[msfcatlover]

I love when I read something so emotionally raw & intense that it makes me feel physically ill.

[salveden]

HONEY! THE MINIONS CAN EXPLODE?! — team 11, iron round

MIDORI’S SMILE WAVERED at the sudden pulsing between her eyes.  she did not stumble, though the ground moved beneath her feet.  her eyes closed, her grip on the heavy staff tightened, then loosened; when she attempted another grip, her fingers closed around air.  midori opened her eyes and choked back a gasp.  whether of amazement or fear, she could not spend time identifying the feeling when there were massive hunks of metal in front of her.  like... massive massive!  and there were multiple of them—   four, to be exact.  but the one in the back, behind some flickering veil that seemed cast around it, looked like the baddest guy there.

fists clenched, midori swallowed and whispered,   “   holy sweet cakes, what is that?   ”   then, surprise colored her face in a faint flush.  midori looked down at her hands, finally aware of the lack of weight from the staff.  instead, there was a shield clipped tight by a band around her forearm.  that was... all, really.  despite the oddness of it all, midori couldn’t argue since she adored how the ochain shield flashed a glow of light within its gems every time she shook it!

ochain shield! heals midori for 1hp!   (   midori hp = 10 / 10   )

a groan of metal sounded in front of them and midori turned towards her team, smiling bright and hopeful,   “   i’ll go first!  watch my back, friends.   ”   she was sure that, even if something went wrong, her teammates would be there to cover her mistake.  so, determined and bright-eyed, midori turned back towards the beasts of metal and raised her hands.  the weight of the shield made it a slight struggle but it was nothing that she couldn’t handle—   nothing would compare to the travel case she carried daily!

midori! rolls d20 = 7! ‘seraphim’ critically hits, 4 damage!   (   radio scout: bulwark a hp = 6 / 10   )

the incantation fell from her lips in an easy roll of enunciation.  at the call, light burst from midori’s hands and enveloped in an explosion around the closest scout beast.  if she looked close enough, peered through the brightness of the spell, then she would guess that there had been a flicker of feathers from the blast.  angel wings, midori thought, then ignored it at the sound of the scout’s metal whirring and churning.

black ice node! rolls d3 = 1! ‘radio scout: bulwark a has been deactivated!

suddenly, there was silence.  midori blinked wildly; once at the beast, twice at her hands, before whirling around to face her team.  her fists flickered with a faint glow but she paid little mind to them as she shook her hands excitedly.   “   did you guys see that!?  i think it stopped working.   ”   a glance was thrown back to the other two scouts.   “   we might have to do the same to those two, right?   ”

@wolfskintribedaughter , @pheraean , @stalarmonios , @einjelique

[celestialvexation-arch]

TMC just starting becoming boring and repetitive I just discovered Laceys args and another one where it has a vid on how to take care of a certain creature that looks like a hermet crab I think it's called the crawl? But yeah those are 10x better

i have no idea what lacey's args are or the vid you're talking about but good on you for finding something different! :D

[writingwithfolklore]

Describing Foods - A Masterlist

                As a broke university student, I love reading about food. It’s almost like eating a real meal myself <3.

I get a little angry when characters are eating a meal and I barely get to experience it with them. In that, I mean I don’t just want to know what it is, but what it’s like to eat that food—how it tastes, smells, sounds, and feels. Is a perfect croissant still a perfect croissant without the crack of the exterior, the airiness of the pastry inside, the smell of yeast?

                Probably not. When writing about a dish, the smell, texture, technique, taste, and how it looks are all important to painting the experience, so here’s some words to use when describing a meal:

Taste:

Acidic: Sharp tasting. Often used to describe tart or sour foods as well.

Aftertaste: A different taste that remains in the mouth after eating something

Bitter: Tart, sharp, and sometimes harsh flavour.

Bittersweet: Less harsh than bitterness. Tartness + sweetness.

Bland: Has no significant flavor or texture

Briny: Just means salty. Often describes pickled foods.

Citrusy: Bright flavour like… well citrus fruits—oranges, lemons, limes, etc.

Cooling: Mimics that cooling feel—like mint.

Earthy: Reminiscent of soil. Can be used to describe wines, root vegetables, and mushrooms.

Fiery: Another word for spicy.

Fresh: Light and crisp—describes produce or herbs.

Fruity: Sweet and reminiscent of fruit.

Full-bodied: Rich and ‘feels heavy’ in your mouth. Can describe wines or soups.

Herbal: Bright, fresh, sometimes earthy from the presence of herbs

Honeyed: Sweet or candied taste like honey.

Nutty: Taste similar to the flavors of nuts. Often used to describe certain cheeses.

Rich: Full, heavy flavour. Often dishes that contain cream taste rich.

Robust: Rich + Earthy. Used for lots of wines or aged liquor.

Savory: Describes meaty, earthy dishes and soups.

Sharp: Harsh, bitter, or tart taste. Used to describe acidic foods.

Smoky: Reminiscent of the smell of smoke.

Sour: Biting, tangy, tart flavor.

Spicy: Burning taste.

Sweet: Sugary.

Tangy: Tart, biting taste—feels tingly

Tart: Sharp, bitter, or sour flavour. Used to describe acidic foods.

Woody: Earthy, sometimes nutty taste. Describes some coffees or cheeses.

Yeasty: Earthy taste reminiscent of yeast. Describes beer and bread.

Zesty: Fresh, vivid, or invigorating flavour.

Sound/Texture:

Sound has a lot to do with texture, so I've combined them for this section!

Airy: Light, pillowy texture (think inside of croissant)

Brittle: Hard but easy to break

Bubbly: Usually during heating, when bubbles rise to the surface—low sound.

Buttery: Smooth, creamy texture (think certain pasta sauces)

Chewy: Food that needs to be chewed thoroughly. Can be light and bouncy (chewy bread) or heavy (steak) and sticky (candy)

Creamy: A smooth and rich texture, comes from dairy.

Crispy: Light texture with slight crunch.

Crumbly: Food with loose structure that falls apart into crumbs.

Crunchy: Firm, crisp texture with a sharp, loud noise.

Crusty (behave): Food with a hard outer layer and soft interior (many loaves and breads)

Delicate: Light and fine, feels like it can come apart easily.

Doughy: Soft and heavy, usually pale colouring.

Fizzy: Usually liquids—a hissing sound, feels like ‘static’

Flaky: Light, characterized by layers that come apart during eating.

Fluffy: light and airy.

Frothy/Foamy: Airy bubbles, usually in a drink like a latte.

Gamey: Usually refers to meats when they’re very “meaty”

Gooey: Viscous, sometimes sticky texture from moisture in a dense/solid food.

Hearty: Firm, robust texture.

Juicy: Tender and succulent texture from liquid in a solid food (steak)

Molten: Hot, gooey

Oily: Slick, heavy, lingers on the tongue.

Silky: Fine, smooth texture that feels sleek.

Smooth: Texture free of grit, lumps, or edges.

Snap: A quick, sharp, crackling sound when broken.

Squelch: A soft sucking sound when pressure is applied. Somewhat gross.

Sticky: Gluiness in the mouth.

Succulent: Tender and juicy

Tender: Soft and easy to break down

Velvety: Smooth and rich

Smell:

Acrid: Strong, bitter, unpleasant

Comforting: pleasant, probably calls back to a nice memory

Damp: Wet smelling—probably a bit earthy

Delicate: subtle, faint, not overpowering

Earthy: reminiscent of soil

Fetid: Caused by decay—unpleasant

Fishy: reminiscent of fish

Floral/flowery: Reminiscent of flowers

Fragrant: Sweet or pleasing

Fresh: Cool, crisp, refreshing—produce, probably not cooked

Funky: Something’s gone off

Heady: Strong smell, pungent, rich

Musty: Not fresh

Perfumed: Pleasant, reminiscent of something (can be perfumed with citrus, say)

Piquant: stinging, pungent—tickles the nose

Powerful: strong

Rancid: Definitely gone off, decomposing

Ripe: Strong, usually unpleasant smell

Savory: spicy, salty, no elements of sweetness

Sour: has gone off

Spicy: Sharp, tingles the nose

Tangy: Strong and bitter but in a good way

Tart: Sharp

Woody: earthy smell, reminiscent of wood

Sight:

Usually texture gives us a really good picture of what a food looks like, so here’s some non-texture sight additions:

Blistered: Bumpy exterior.

Caramelized: Usually golden brown

Cloudy: Splotched. Almost see through if not for a slight white or grey mist.

Colourful: Bright and vibrant

Glassy: Resembling glass

Glossy: Smooth, shiny

Marbled: Two colours intertwined

Opaque: Not transparent. Can’t see through.

Ripe: Colourful (can be to a fault). Nearing the end of its edible state.

Scaly: Covered in scales, fish.

Shiny: Appears wet or glossy

Sparkling: Glimmers under the light

Stuffed: An ingredient placed inside a larger part with no additional space.

Translucent: Allows light through

Vibrant: Striking, bright

Food Prep:

How the food is prepared gives it these other attributes. If your character is familiar with cooking (or is the cook themselves!) they may describe food this way.

Baked: Cooked in an oven. Results in browned or crispy outer layer.

Blackened: When food is dipped in butter and coated with spices then cooked in a hot pan—spices darken, making it appear ‘blackened’

Blanched: Food scalded in boiling water and moved to cold water so it stops cooking. Texture comes out soft.

Braised: Food that is briefly fried in fat and then stewed in a pot. Results in seared, crispy exterior with a tender interior.

Breaded: Coated with breadcrumbs/batter then baked or fried so it turns crispy

Broiled: Food cooked with intense radiant heat in an oven or on the grill. Results in a darkened appearance and crispy texture.

Caramelized: Food slow-cooked until it’s browned, nutty, and has a bit of sweetness.

Charred: Grilled, roasted, or broiled and gains a blackened exterior and smoky flavor.

Fermented: Food that’s sat with bacteria, yeast, or another microorganism and has produced acids, alcohols, or gases. Results in a biting, pungent flavor. (Kimchi is fermented)

Fried: Food cooked by submerging in hot oil. Creates crispy, crunchy texture and golden colour.

Glazed: Food with a coating brushed onto its surface. Appears glossy with a thin, flavorful, and crisp outer layer.

Infused: Food steeped in liquid with another ingredient so it carries the essence of that ingredient. Used with herbs usually.

Marinated: Usually meat soaked in liquid containing flavourful herbs, spices, vinegar, or oil.

Poached: Food cooked in near boiling water. Results in tender, moist texture.

Roasted: Food cooked with dry heat in an oven or over the fire. Results in browned exterior and crisp coating.

Sautéed: Food cooked quickly in small amount of fat.

Seared: Food cooked in small amount of fat until caramelized. Finished by roasting or grilling. Results in crisp exterior and tender interior.

Smoked: Food exposed to smoke from smoldering wood for a long time. Results in that distinctive smoky flavor.

Whipped: Food beaten to incorporate air. Light and fluffy.

What did I miss?

[jellinuy]

ꪆ୧

there were few things gojo loved about life. a handful of simple joys that made his — frankly, tiring — existence as the world’s strongest sorcerer just a pinch better.

one of them was your face. a vague first, and he knows that, but that doesn’t change his answer.

“satoru, look. look how many there are!”

look at you, fascinated with something as simple as jellyfish, your eyes illuminated by the blue luminescence of the bubbling tank, your palms pressed to the glass as if you’d never even heard of a sea creature before. he’d never given a second thought to things like that, but he’d buy you the entire aquarium to keep that smile on your face.

“mhmm,” he murmurs, "real pretty.” not once had he taken his eyes off you. even with six of them, he could never get tired of the way your cheeks stretch and your lips show off your teeth.

the second thing was the way you looked at him.

or maybe, he'd told himself countless times, times late at night when his thoughts raced with you, times when he felt his heart ache and pull against his ribs, begging his lips to spill words that his brain told him to keep in, maybe you look at the whole world like that. he wouldn’t be surprised if you did. the way your eyes gleamed when you stared at something you loved — satoru gojo never thought he could be jealous of an inanimate object until he met you.

the third thing was the fact that you didn’t know how he felt. it was a bittersweet, slightly addicting feeling, like candy with a sour coating and a sugary aftertaste. he’d thought out how to tell you: that was why you were at the aquarium right now, though he’d disguised the very obvious date as another hangout when he’d first texted you.

“i didn’t know there were so many different kinds,” you continued to ramble, your hands still pressed to the tank. then you turned to him with that look. that look of wonder. like a child — and gojo hated children, but when you looked at him like that…

“do you think we’re jellyfish in some other life?” such a stupid, random question, and yet his heart pounds, and he prays you can’t hear it. white lashes flutter under his sunglasses, all six eyes focused on the shape of your lips as they push out sweet words. the strongest sorcerer, prodigy of the gojo clan, reduced to something of an elementary school kid with a life-sized crush.

“…yeah,” he mutters, clearing his throat awkwardly when his voice nearly cracks. “yeah, probably.”

the rest of that day was spent in a comfortable bubble, just you and gojo, wandering around staring at fish. it was simple, and he’d not have it any other way. for a few hours, he could forget about it all, take in your face and feel his tiredness die out like a bad dream.

...satoru gojo swore the gods must have hated him.

he couldn’t even lift the tarp. it was white, practically red now that unimaginable amounts of blood had soaked it through. your eyes were closed now, courtesy of him — because you deserved to rest in peace, and because he couldn’t bear to see the fear preserved in them as you lay there on the table. as a reminder that he wasn't there to save you.

'killed in action'. three fucking words, and his world was turned on its head.

if had he known the aquarium was the last place you two would've been happy together, gojo would've given anything to make that day last just a few minutes longer, so he could spill his guts, pour his heart out, told you that you could be jellyfish in your next lives like he should have.

but in the end, you died without ever knowing he loved you.

[carnivorousbelvedere]

My Bury Your Gays review

I’ve been meaning to post this one for awhile.

Bury Your Gays was incredible. Even within the first few pages, I felt seen in a way no other book has made me feel seen. It’s a love letter to every queer person who ever tried to create anything.

I have always felt inspiration like a force, an entity, and Bury Your Gays makes you remember what that kick of inspiration hits like with a bittersweet aftertaste.

As a queer person living in Los Angeles who does a bit of creating now and then, this book felt like a love letter to me. It flawlessly captures the feeling of living in this city, of the vastness that feels like it could swallow you whole and the tiresome, endless vanity. But it also captures those beautiful times in between all that, the small moments of connection, of finding and supporting the little spots of light out there like yourself.

In terms of queer horror, it was so damn cathartic.

It’s a story about Los Angeles, about creation and inspiration, but also about meeting your queer trauma face to face and making peace with it. It’s about realizing the past has no control over you anymore, about accepting these events that made you and letting go.

It spoke to me very deeply. I laughed, I cried, I grinned from beginning to end. Thank you @drchucktingle for giving us this masterpiece.

[seneon]

EYES DON'T LIE ──── prince! touya × fem warrior! reader.

about. the crown prince can't tear his gaze away from the warrior girl. set in edo period, rural japan! au. written from age to age. a bittersweet romance. touya is written as touya ( before dabi existed ) includes his stimming in some parts, minor mentions alcohol and blood, death. wc of 5300+

notes. silly tsundere prince who has a thing for his strong independent warrior UEGJ I'M IN LOVE. if you didn't know i love rural japan stuff. perhaps courtesan!reader next??

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, there was a birthday celebration held for the crown prince tōya of the todoroki royal family. his turquoise gaze briefly rushed past the crowd in boredom, looking forward to the end of the day already. even as a young prince, he never found anything in the royal events intriguing.

his birthday was no different. as a child of eight years, he already felt like he knew the darkest secrets of the world, the ones that were locked away to the underworld for the reapers of hell to deal with.

prince tōya sat with his family, seated between his sister and brother, both younger than him. as his eyes roamed around, they came to a halt the moment they landed on eyes that sternly looked around. tōya ceased his chewing for a second, staring at the owner whom those stern gaze belonged to.

“fuyumi, natsu, can little girls become warriors?” the curious prince asked, tilting his head to the side, his gaze never leaving the little figure that stood by taller ones.

fuyumi followed her elder brother's gaze. she has just spoken to the girl that stood beside honourable warriors and soldiers. the princess could feel a smile surfacing at the sight of little eight year old you, mimicking your father and his comrades to serve as guards of the party.

“that is y/n! kuromiya y/n, she's the daughter of the general.”

“daughter of the general?” tōya repeated, his tone twisting into curiousity. he resumed his chewing before swallowing. “i didn't know general kuromiya had a daughter…”

the younger prince popped a bite of a monkfish, chewing it to taste the flavour before beaming with satisfaction. the fish was fresh and amazing. firm texture, a refined sweetness with a clean aftertaste.

“she follows her father around a lot, brother. you might get to see her more often.”

just as the crown prince pondered on his brother's words, you looked around, eyes and senses all together alert for any danger that might strike. then, your gaze traveled to the young crown prince, freezing upon his gaze which was locked on yours.

in your eight year old mind, it is rude to stare at people of nobility and royalty. so you quickly looked down at your feet, afraid that perhaps the crown prince might tell of your discourtesy to the king and queen. if that is the case, your eyes will certainly be gouged out the fingers of an executioner.

you shivered at that thought, feeling your father's arms resting on your shoulders as you looked up at the huge man.

“anxious, little warrior?” asked your father as he bent down to your eye level.

you shook your head, fingers grazing at the corner of your eye sockets. “my eyes are going to be plucked out, father. i stared at the crown prince for too long..”

your words made the general raise a brow before he chuckled, a roaring laughter emitting from the back of his throat as you simply stood there in confusion. the man tells you that you shouldn't worry about staring at the prince for way too long, because he noticed that the young todoroki also has his gaze on you the moment he sat down to eat.

you calmed down a little. just a little, though.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐍, you excel in kyūjutsu, the art of archery. supposedly, you are a natural in the field of long-range attacks, never a loyal servant to the close-ranged such as a blade.

crown prince tōya did not like the fact that there is a soul who dared to take his place as the most supreme in a field. he would occasionally grumble, roll his turquoise eyes, and repeatedly tap his feet on the ground whenever you overtake his arrows in a much more professional way.

he silently cursed you for having a father that is idealistically superb in the field of archery, since your father specializes in serving the king as his eye during battle. tōya simply couldn't stand the fact that a mere girl is better at something he should be good at.

so one day, the young prince approached you as you were firing your shots in the archery academy. you never falter even as he stood behind you, his gaze burning into your back as you ever so calmly shoot arrows repeatedly. one by one, each arrow that overlapped the other, completely tearing the previous one out.

“you're not very girly are you? shooting arrows like how a soldier is supposed to do that,” the prince said, eventually breaking your momentum with his childish and immature words. your arrow did not overlap the previous one. instead, it went a bit over the bullseye, eyes immediately shooting glares at the prince who watched you with furrowed eyebrows.

“that is rude, don't you think, your highness?” you lowered your bow, face twisting into a frown.

tōya shrugged. “nope. i mean, you're the only girl in the archery academy! yet the only one who's genuinely good at shooting a bunch of… stupid arrows...”

his words are uttered with frustration, let loose like a curse through gritted teeth. you noticed that his cheeks are a bit flushed, as if they have been covered in blush that was extracted from red ochre.

“your highness, i believe you caught a cold. your cheeks are red,” you pointed at the prince as he flushed even redder, his feet moving to stomp away.

“i-i’m not sick!”

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, the crown prince hunted his first live animal to present it to his parents as a trophy and a remembrance piece of his first hunt. of course, the todoroki family is proud, even little prince shōto who gave his brother the littlest of claps.

on the other hand, you stood by your father, watching the royal family's interaction. your eyes might be on the sweet family, but your mind wanders right to the cuts and bruises that tōya received when he hunted for the animal.

your fingers twitched slightly, resisting any urge to pull away the prince from his family just to force him into treating his wounds. the prince is smart. he hides his newly-received marks with layer upon layers of cloth, allowing it to seem like a gear when in reality, it stains his skin dirty.

but you knew. you were with the prince when you hunted with him, assisting your father.

“father, i know it's a crime. but do you mind stealing the prince away?”

so that same day at night, when the military army discusses their plans about the next battle, you're in the room of your friend-enemy, telling him to stop moving around and sit still as you tend to his wounds.

poor tōya, his wounds left unattended for the whole day and only treated at night. you knew the crown prince is stubborn enough to not pay a visit to the family doctor just to get himself treated, so you'd rather get medical knowledge just to treat a stubborn prince.

he's such a hard wall to break too, always putting up a façade that he's so strong and independent wherein he really is just a child who seeks to be the best and to live up to the expectations of the country as its prince.

the colour turquoise is practically imprinted in the skin of your fingers and hands now, having the prince to stare at you working your hands so skillfully to patch him up without trying to tickle a burn or torn skin.

with such silence, the boy moved his gaze upwards, now staring at your face which was so focused on patching him up. tōya searches for a reason in your focused eyes, attempting to find a reason as to why you would stick around to help him with such stupidity.

tōya couldn't help but feel heat rising up to his cheeks, even if his lips are still and his gaze is still locked onto your face. he takes in your feature, your beautiful features that has him in an unbreakable trance.

he wonders just why in the world would you want to be a warrior that will eventually stain your precious face with splatters of the enemy's blood instead of the snowflakes that would paint your cheeks a rosy hue.

“your highness… prince tōya,” you called out, waving your hands in front of his face before he snapped out of his daydreaming, fluttering his eyes a little.

“you were staring, your highness.”

not again. he's been caught doing that so many times it is almost easy to catch him staring. specifically, his gaze is on you, always you. as tōya grows older, he gets smarter than the age he was before. he's quick to act now.

“i’m not. i’m looking at the candle behind you,” the crown prince lied as if he's telling the truth. it flows down his tongue so smoothly, like the waters in the lake that dances forward.

he will never admit the fact that he was just daydreaming and wondering about you into the unknown. no, never. the prince will never embarrass himself with a mere girl that is just a tad bit better than him in archery.

he moves his hands and arms, slightly wincing at the sore.

“you should rest, your highness. i shall take my leave now,” you bowed at the prince, standing up before leaving him alone, not even staying to listen to whatever regards he might have kept in stock for you when his mind travelled to the back of his mind.

crown prince tōya laid down, holding his hands up in the air as his mind once again replayed the images of you treating his wounds. it played in his mind over and over again as if the memories were an old stop motion film.

“what a bother,” he murmured under his breath before covering his turquoise eyes with the back of his hands, covering an initial blush that started building up along the heat of the candle before he blew it off to have his rest.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, you are presented to the crown prince as his retainer upon joining the military ranks. however, the prince isn't delighted in the least at the idea of having a girl as his personal follower.

he tells the king, the general, and you— that he is capable of protecting himself and has no need for a retainer, let alone someone of the opposite gender. tōya isn't keen on bringing a girl to the battlefield where she has to protect him. it makes him feel absolutely pathetic.

despite despising the entire ordeal of you being his personal servant, his mind changed a little when you got on your knees to vow and promise your life to the prince.

“your highness, i ask that you use me. i am your eye, the one who will look after your back or your front in battles. i swore to lay my life down for you, crown prince tōya.”

tōya wanted to protest, to tell you in your face that you are not supposed to be the one doing that. he wants to tell you to stand up immediately and ask that you leave. but he knows all too well that in his weaknesses, there's strength.

you are his strength. you are the one that will cover for his one weakness and complete him. crown prince tōya does not want to protest anymore. he is too tired to let any word slip out from the tip of his tongue anyway. so he only lets out one simple sigh.

that one sigh that told the warmth of your heart that the prince is all the more appreciating your dedication to serve him until death.

he will be sure to use you well as his eye.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, the eavesdropping ears of the young boy pondered upon the conversation between the general and the lieutenant general. they speak about the coming of age for the general's daughter.

her birthday is coming up very soon. and at the sixteenth birthday of a girl marks her age of legality. her youth and beauty is at its finest. to be dressed in silk, expensive makeup and be wedded to a man is the standard life of a woman.

“my wife and i will celebrate her birthday, do not fret,” said general kuromiya to his lieutenant. “we have not celebrated her birthday in a few years because of how busy the military gets. but, we've cleared some time for our girl's special day.”

tōya hears the lieutenant chuckle then speaking. “if your daughter isn't the crown prince’s retainer, are you going to arrange your daughter into marriage with a noble?”

upon hearing those words, tōya furrowed his eyebrows. it is as if those words were the sharpest of blades ever forged which had just impaled the skull of the todoroki.

his mind is a mixture of curiousity and anger. curiousity for the wanderer mind, and anger for the mind that remained. he could not pick one emotion to feel.

how could the lieutenant speak of such things to the general about his daughter?

and even so, the thought of you being arranged into a marriage with a noble tickles the back of his mind where his pent-up frustration and anger is kept in the dark. he might not be fond of the idea of you becoming his retainer a year ago, but he isn't exactly fond of the idea of you being a normal girl and being wedded to one of those wretched nobles.

if there's anything he did get from eavesdropping, that is that your sixteen birthday is in a week. and he spent a whole week thinking about it.

during missions, visiting a neighbouring village, meeting the citizens and villagers to offer services, hunting, training. whatever that was on the prince’s agenda. he could not get your birthday out of his mind.

when the general's small team along with you and the prince walked through a rather busy city, tōya finally set his mind on a specific subject for your birthday.

he watched in silence beside you as the both of you ventured into a shop that sold all clothing essentials. some of your gears are ruined from the previous hunt, and this is a great opportunity to purchase some items to fix your gears.

your eyes flickered at each corner of the store in search of your desired items. but occasionally, they come to a halt at a few jewelries that were on display. the beautiful blinking ones that beautiful women wear in their hair.

tōya sees you staring at pretty hairpins, and his gaze switches to your hair, wrapped in a topknot that he has never seen falling before. the prince doesn't even know if you even knew how to place a hairpin in your hair. well whatever, he now knows what he's going to give you for your birthday as a great and loving prince to his beloved retainer.

on the night of your birthday, a nicely wrapped rectangle box appeared on your windowsill as you were cleaning your arrows. crippling curiousity overflowed from you as you opened it, eyes widening in surprise at the content inside the box.

there it is, a hairpin which colour perfectly matches the hue of your eye. it was custom made, you can tell, since such a colour isn't so easy to be made into a hairpiece.

regardless of the surprise, you cannot fathom your imagination on who could've given you such a beautiful thing. you opened a supposedly jewelry box and looked at yourself in the tiny mirror before beginning to let your hair down, brush it, and tie it like the girls on the streets with pretty hair and pretty kimono. at last, you set the hairpin in your hair, fingers caressing the metal piece.

such a sight to behold . . . it made tōya’s heart flutter at the sight of you with your hair down, the hairpin beautiful set in your hair. he isn't going to fall for this absurdity though, considering how he just sneaked in the manor of the kuromiya family and swiftly placed your gift on your windowsill.

he clicked his tongue in annoyance. annoyance in himself for committing such a ridiculous thing and all for such a foolish reason.

all for his eyes to watch as the corner of your lips curved into a sickeningly warm smile which twisted at his lower abdomen and in return, granted him a moment to admire you with a lovesick gaze.

you looked extremely beautiful with the hairpin.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍, at one of the days where you are off duty from serving the prince, you attend a party with your father instead— as his daughter. the daughter and the heiress of the kuromiya family.

not seen as a military officer or a servant of justice, you are present as the daughter of the honoured general and a woman of the kuromiya house.

dressed in the finest silk of the kimono found in that age with a dolled up face and beautifully brushed hair.

tōya of the todoroki family isn't a prince at that moment. he is a normal guest at that party. this is not his party, he only arrived because he was invited by the general.

but gosh, from heaven and back and for the love of the twinkling stars in the universe, he could not tear his gaze off of you. he has never in his entire life seen you so proper, so ladylike and poised.

it was like a whole new different person to him. the only thing that remained the same is the hairpin that was sticking out from your little bun, the extra pieces dangling to and back.

his heart flutters at the sight of you covering your mouth in utmost manner as you smiled and laughed at the other guests. you've greeted the man you've served, that's for sure. but he isn't the only one you have to entertain for the night. and somehow, he doesn't mind being like that, treated like any other normal guests and not being pestered by other souls.

familiar turquoise eyes keep making their way to yours, never plucking them off of you as you conversed through the night. he couldn't help it, he couldn't look away from such beauty. it was too overwhelming for the prince to handle.

it twists at his cold heart that tonight— you wouldn't speak to him that much, or even walk by his side. his insides did a little pout at the realisation at that very simple fact that you have no time for him.

however, the moment his gaze lingered onto her, his feet moved on its own to approach you, intrusively grabbing your hands to hold onto them, never letting go before his gaze bores into the soul of a samurai.

“this is my wife.”

and tōya makes sure the samurai's mind has that information burnt into him, albeit his grasp on your hands were let loose almost immediately after the man who was harassing you left.

there was an uncomfortable silence before you said a soft “thank you,” something you'd never ever say to the prince, to the man you serve. the prince walks a bit ahead of you, his back facing you like how it is always supposed to be. “whatever…”

you assumed he's going to walk away and leave you alone to entertain the other guests, but you invited the crown prince to ditch this aggravatingly bone-crushing party. so now, you two are alone by the lake, far away from people. the moon takes favour in the both of you, illuminating an equal amount of beauty.

yet somehow for this special night, you managed to shine and glow more than the prince himself.

“you look beautiful.”

your cheeks flushed. “uh, thank you..”

and there was silence again. this time, a comfortable silence with a reasonable distance between you and the prince by the lake and the moon reflecting onto the surfaces of the lake.

one more gaze, and tōya sees you smiling up at the moon. his heart aches and clenches inside of him, doing whatever tricks it could— including a race that would not last a horse.

todoroki tōya's eyes never lie. once they determine something is beautiful, it stays beautiful for an eternity.

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘, the scent of strong alcohol hit your nose the moment you entered the prince’s lounge room. drunken men are laid all over, obviously wasted. the prince drinks, coming to a halt the moment he notices you standing at the entrance of the room, watching his every move.

“hello, dear retainer..” he grumbled under his breath as you went over to him to pluck the cup out from his fingers, draping his arm over your shoulders and balancing him up on his feet.

“you are drunk, my prince.”

“ah ah archer, you know.. my guys don't have retainers who're good at archery..”

“is that so?”

the prince hummed in response as he held your shoulder and wobbled in his steps. “you’re the best one in the entire country, y/n.”

“it's an honour. but you mustn't speak. your words are oddly disturbing to me,” you said, receiving a chuckle from the drunken prince.

it is true, the prince never touched on the topic of your archery skills. he is still angry at the fact that you excel at archery better than he is. even if it has been an entire decade of indirect competition. you will always surpass him with efficiency.

“i hate the way you always steal my attention, you damned retainer.”

your eyebrows furrowed at his words, glancing at him momentarily before sliding the door to his room open.

“my apologies,” you said softly with a tiny smile, leading him to his haven where he slumbers. “i didn't mean to do that.”

with that, you set him down his bed, plucking whatever piece of him that felt uncomfortable as his turquoise eyes burned into your soul, watching your every move.

the prince is silent, gaze following the way your fingers would graze the collar of his kimono or untie his obi to loosen it. his stomach felt like it was twisting at your touch, butterflies swarming around like fools at the pit of it.

he snapped out of his trance the moment you were going to stand up as he quickly grabbed hold onto your wrist.

“do not leave me…” he uttered, words so slurred from the alcohol that he consumed, grip tightening when he felt you lightly tugging your wrist away. “i said, do not leave me.”

“your highne—” your senses tingled as your back hit the soft futon on the ground.

both hands at either side of your face, the prince looks down at you through his half lidded turquoise eyes. you searched for a reason behind this action in those ethereally dangerous eyes of his. and there was only a hint of a dark desire.

“you make me sick to the bones.”

you held your breath, the prince letting out a heavy sigh as you felt his fingers gently grazing your cheeks, moving along the lines of your jaw. his touch fueled you on the inside, you have to admit to yourself. cold fingers with such a tender touch. it makes you yearn for him to continue his actions.

“who knows you would look so… beautiful, under me?”

as if warmth hasn't made their debut to your cheeks, he words gifted your cheeks a field of red roses. you were about to part your lips before his sweet traces along your jawline ceased, his weight falling onto you.

and then there was it. nothing else. just a drunken prince who fell into slumber after leaving his retainer in a flushed mess. you cursed under your breath and moved him off of you, tucking him into bed before brushing his hair as white as snow away from his face.

“you are murdering my mind and heart, your highness… it's been like that for so many years too..”

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄, the prince puffed and panted at the cruel training given to him by his retainer upon orders of the king. you are to hone his skills to perfection in the fields of kenjutsu.

prince tōya does not know why he has to go through this rigorous training with someone who specialises with a bow and an arrow instead of a sword, but his tongue slips out curses of regret the moment he clashes his blade with yours after a whole decade.

he clearly underestimated you, never imagining the fact that your swordsmanship skills have been polished way over perfection until it appeared to the prince that you are ultimately the perfect warrior. and it itched his brains along with the tugging at his heart.

the both of you were well aware of an upcoming war that will possibly bring nations to an end. neither your father nor tōya's father has the time to spend on their respective children to train them, so it was only ideal that they trained each other.

“your highness .. we must continue to swing our blades…” you tell the prince, gripping the sword hilt with both hands.

“oh come on, you should shoot arrows, not play with swords in the first place,” tōya rolled his eyes and dropped his sword to the ground, taking a seat. “can't continue anymore.”

once again, your stamina outranks the royal prince. what a shame, you stood longer than he did before you followed him and seated yourself on the ground, falling backwards to hit the ground.

“i’m still not fit for swords, it seems…” you murmured as the prince is now seated beside your lying form, glancing down at you. “then stick to being the archer, my backbone. let me charge ahead. you will follow me behind.”

you looked at his eyes before switching to the clear blue sky. his eyes matched the colour of the sky perfectly, it made you tugged a smile at the corner of the lip along with his words that sunk into your mind.

“i will always follow you behind, prince tōya.”

the prince rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his palm, a tiny blush coating his cheeks rose. “you better not stray too far..”

“i won't. i’ll be right behind you,” you chuckled as the voice of the royal princess fuyumi called out, inviting you and the crown prince to have some tea with her.

the prince stands up to brush his hakama. then as you sat up. before you could push yourself off the ground, he held his hands out. you looked at his hands for a quick moment before accepting it and he pulled you up gently.

“imagine if this is the last time we'll ever leisurely spend time with each other… you know... before the war and stuff.”

“that is not a very nice thing to say,” you frowned at tōya's words as he chuckled. “i’m just kidding… it will not be. trust me.”

𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄, heaven forbid the prince to keep his words and promises to you.

oh dear, how could this happen? why is there an arrow stabbed right through your shoulders? why are you still clenching the reins when blood drips down your shoulders and stains your clothes wine red? why are you still marching forward to follow the prince right behind as you have told him you would?

the prince’s army came to a halt when he stopped his horse and went to catch your falling body into his arms, your blood seeping into the fabric of his clothes almost immediately.

you hear the prince call out to you over and over like it was a chant, a desperate chant that does not go through your ear. your mind is too hazy to even be focusing on the view in front of you.

you shut your eyes to relieve some of that blur and when you do, it's the prince's turquoise eyes that cover your field of vision. it has always been his eyes that pulls you back to reality, it pulls you from straying away too far. his eyes are that one thing that you always seek from the very start.

“shit, y/n, no no no no no….”

you hear him say, oddly clear that your mind isn't as hazy as it was before, thanking his eyes that pierced through your haziness to make way so you could see his face.

“why would you do that!?”

you knew he was referring to the moment where at the most unexpected moment, an arrow shoots the prince's way and you went to his side to serve as his shield.

you did it because you want to protect him. you did it because you have made a promise to be his eye. you did it because you didn't want him to be hurt.

you did it because you love and care for him.

“how dare you get hurt, y/n!”

it makes you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to hold an amount of pain, both on the outside and on the inside. you must not falter, you mustn't show weakness in front of the prince as his retainer and most loyal servant.

“i apologise, my prince,” you forced yourself to sit up, coughing up a smile that breaks tōya's heart.

“we have to get the arrow out now, quickly, and efficiently,” the prince calmly said in a stern voice, unsure of how to really react to this. the inside of his mind a whole raging calamity.

from this point onwards, the sleeves of his hakama is now completely stained from holding you in his arms. it drips down his arms like blood-soaked honey. his fingers are constantly moving around to squeeze your arm, his usual habit of stressful stimming clearly portrayed as his mind wanders everywhere in visible conflict.

“your highness, you can't! none of us are authorised medics! and she will bleed more if you take the arrow out!” one of tōya's soldiers exclaimed as you held the prince's hands to calm his stimming down.

“please, prince tōya. it's futile, the war is still ongoing. you must go back out there to fight.”

“without my archer? without my retainer? without my backbone!? how am i even supposed to stand without you!?” he cries out as you shut your eyes to contain the tears that are beginning to gather at the corner of your eyes.

“someone please. please just get it out of her...”

“i’ll be fine. please... your presence is needed out there,” you whispered.

“i don't want to go out there without you. not when there's still so much for us to do.”

you felt his fingers resting on your dirtied cheeks, caressing your face with such shakiness that your cheek is now dripping with the tears of the prince. one drop at a time, he wipes his tears on your cheeks with his thumb, this sickeningly despairing smile portrayed on his face.

it makes you want to clench your heart in nothing but for the sake of easing your pain. even if it hurts and pulls at your soul, you held his hands and leaned into his touch, holding his fingers tightly.

“i’m sorry.”

there's not even a moment where his eyes leave you, darting all around while trying to find a way to put you out of your pain. it twists and turns on the inside, fueling his debuting rage.

tōya rests his forehead against yours, his snow white hair falling onto your face as he gazes into your eyes, trying to find a way to find solace in your own gaze.

“i don't want to leave you alone.”

“but tōya," you dropped the formality. "my eyes feel heavy. i’m going to rest for a bit.”

turquoise eyes widened at your words before his hands held you tighter and embraced you into a hug so warm that you smiled your way out of his life.

TAGS ★ @saewako @hyoismbbg @bbluefllame @sweetheartsaku @raeson @little-red-insomniac @jujuonthatbeat444 @booksooks @merakijellyfish @redgie-69 @randomrosie01 @ephmeraloblivion @brbwritingfanfic @irenexj @falsesu @heyimseli @miscellaneous-silly-goose @3xiles @qxuanii

© SENEON 2024 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[velvetvelocity]

bittersweet aftertaste

tldr: in which you finally apologize after an argument.

characters: furina, alrecchino, freminet, navia, chiori, nilou, layla.

FURINA . . .

She paused for a moment, her face lighting up for a split second as she realized the words you had just said before her expression stilling not long after. Furina admittedly had been looking forward to hearing from you after the argument that had sparked this whole thing, but she had to have more dignity than that! She wasn't waiting impatiently for some mere words...that was about the last thing Furina would ever do!

Although despite her outward rejection it didn't take too long until she had wrapped her arms around your waist, her head buried deep into your chest.

"Promise me you won't ignore me for so long? I don't want this to happen ever again..."

Furina stated in an almost desperate tone, she didn't want to be ignored by you ever again.

ARLECCHINO . . .

"...so you finally decided to apologize, did you?" Arlecchino's voice was quite calm despite the given circumstances, despite the initial irritation she had felt at the situation, as well as your seemingly childish actions she would always accept you.

No matter how stubborn you could be at times, Arlecchino knew that after awhile you would eventually let go of such feelings and apologize. Granted, if it went past a certain period she would find no problem in pulling you from your childish state of action.

FREMINET . . .

Freminet barely took in your apology as he felt his throat tighten, hesitantly opting to hugging you tightly as his own way of accepting your apology. He really wasn't upset at all by that point, and even if you weren't going to apologize he would be willing to forgive you. Freminet just wanted it for to go back to the way things once were before this disagreement.

NAVIA . . .

Navia as the head of the Spina di Rosula was used to helping others with their problems. So she likely had found herself as a mediator for arguments between lovers, and so she was willing to be patient and wait for you to apologize.

As she heard the words she had been waiting to hear for so long, Navia couldn't help but relax slightly, her face morphing into a small smile as she spoke in response.

"It's quite alright, my dear."

CHIORI . . .

Even with Chiori's more blunt and straightforward approach she wouldn't be willing to hold a grudge, it truthfully wasn't worth it. As she listened to your apology she didn't say anything for a few moments, simply letting you say what you needed to. Granted she couldn't help but be a bit annoyed at your actions, although she knew eventually you would come to your senses and apologize.

"...it's fine."

Chiori sighed lightly, while her words were brief and blunt, she really didn't have much else to say, after all, what else was there to say?

NILOU . . .

Nilou didn't have much to say, if anything it seemingly hadn't had much of her effect on her at all. She still strolled the bustling streets with her same smile, greeting everyone she met happily.

Even as Nilou listened to your apology she simply gave a small nod, speaking softly in response.

"...I didn't quite mean what I had said either."

LAYLA . . .

The argument had left her feeling even more tired than usual, and it put her even further behind with her deadlines. But Layla would never force an apology out of you.

As she finally listened to you apologize, an exhausted smile crossed her face, giving a slow nod as she spoke softly.

"I'm sorry as well..."

[nubsdolls]

cautiiioooon!!,, slighty touchin, hobies real sweet, some gentle teasing, reader gets high with hobie, jus some fluff slash smutt, i also do not smoke so i apologize if any of the smoking parts arent true!!! but other than that enjooy!!

your back's pressed up against hobies chest, nicely placed atop his lap, in one of his, definitely way to big in size, band tees and some boxer briefs, the warm skin of your thighs rubbing against him, one of his hands resting on your hip.

he listens as you ramble on about your day and how miguels an absolute dick as he takes a long drag of his blunt before tilting his head up to blow out the cloud of smoke, not to blow it into your pretty little head.

you kind of pause, youve seen him smoke before, but you had never tried it, straying away from the substance, for no reason in particular, you didnt have anything against it, but just watching him made you a little curious.

you shuffled around in his lap a little before he firmly held onto your hips, holding you down.

"luv?, whatcha doin?" hes not sure if your aware that your grinding on him just the slightest. "hey um, bie'.. do you think i could try smoking with you?" you mutter, kind of embarrassed, of never having had smoked before.

so a few minutes later, you were seated across from each other, hobie explaining what to do, and what not.

"you dont wanna keep it in too long, yeah? but dont exhale immediately." he explained, his hands gesturing and practically talking along with him, sliding the blunt into your hand.

bringing it up to your mouth, you take a sharp drag, before exhaling, coughing from the effect, it was sweet yet a little bitter, it had a strange aftertaste to it.

he chuckled, rubbing your back and patting it gently, "you did good f' ya first dove."

leaning back a little for stability, his hands propping his up as he watched you.

"it has a weird taste, its not bad but like its kinda bittersweet." explaining, smaller coughs escaping you, your eyes stung a little. hesitantly, you took another drag, a little deeper, but softer. waiting a moment before exhaling, to your surprise, not coughing.

your eyes lit up, turning to him, hands slightly raised. he sat up, eyes glistening in admiration, seeing you excited over something so small made his heart beat a little faster.

"i forgot to tell you, this is probably gonna hit tha' hardest since its ya first.. id suggest only 2 to 5 hits.." tilting his head to look over at the blunt in your hand, then back at you.

"nah i can handle it."

yet a few minutes later, it had hit. and it hit hard.

"how d'ya feel?" he mumbled, you guys were back on your bed and his hands were on your waist, playing around with the band of your boxers. "has i' kicked in yet?"

"mhhh, i dunno, like im floating, and.. im here.." only small sounds escaped from you from here on out, inaudible babbling and giggling as you practically sank into his touch.

he genuinely laughs out loud from the state your in. "christ, ya absolutely baked luv." he mumbled through giggles, his long slender fingers making it onto the skin above the boxers, simply tracing little shapes onto your skin.

impulsively, out of nowhere, you flip over and make it so your facing him, he lifts his hand up confused, but not stopping you, your hands around his neck before you just collapse onto him.

"ya' need me so bad love? coulda jus' said so." he mumbled, his voice teasing, he moved one of his hands to your hip while the other gently ran up and down your spine.

you just spoke nonsense into his collarbone, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, almost nipping at it.

maybe you hadnt noticed it but hobie noticed the way you started gently straddling yourself on him, he could feel the ache between your thighs, the sheer fabric of your boxers not dismissing any subtle feeling. the high combined with the grinding sensation made it so so much better, the waves almost melting your brain.

"baby.." he whines, almost pitiful, his girl's trying to get off by just pushing her hips against him. he plants the sweetest kisses to her neck, his teeth gently biting down but not breaking skin. his hands inching farther up your shirt, hands cradled around your tits.

he could feel his tip leaking with precum, she was just too precious like this, your eyes tearing up from the neediness or from the high, maybe both. you left out a frustrated whine, and who was he to deny his girl?

a few minutes of just straight, slow, sloppy, panting thrusts, filling your needy cunt all the way up, his hands on your waist, guiding you back onto his dick, your face up against the couch and holding onto the pillows to ground yourself.

while hes fucking you hes also slowly taking drags of a blunt. blowing the smoke onto your lower back as he picks up the pace, earning pornstar—worthy moans out of you. "bie—" you shuddered, so incoherent and tears almost spilling from how much pleasure you were taking in.

"cmon baby.. use ya words, yeah?" he grips onto your waist a little more, his nails digging into your skin, the warm blunt in his hand as he gently pulls out before slamming back into you, the sound of your juices and skin slapping almost a rhythm.

and when he finally cums into you its almost an out-of-body experience, like your floating, back arching so far you thought you were gonna snap. finally, he pulls out, your evident orgasms rushing down your thighs. he flips you over, gently placing kisses on your heated face.

hi guys!!! im sosososos sorry ive been gone, whole lotta school work nd i just got back from nyc.. also im not vry creative so pls send requests:( (im goin crazy)

[ellstronaut]

I’M ONLY A FOOL FOR YOU

thinking about Ellie singing this while having a messy situationship with you

it’s a constant battle of hot and cold, a dangerous dance between love and lust. some days she can’t even stand the sight of you, pretty but messy all the while—yet other times she can’t get enough—

how is it that you’re both confident and insecure, cold yet warm? a walking paradox wrapped up in the sweetest deception — you drive her to the brink of insanity, pushing her emotions to the extreme, leaving her in turmoil, desperately grappling for balance amidst the whirlwind of your presence

she hates how she can’t get you out of her head —hates how you linger like a bittersweet aftertaste. tries to be strong, tells herself it’s just physical, just pleasure, but the truth is you’ve woven yourself into her thoughts

because every time she walks away, every goddamn time, she’s sucked helplessly into your gravitational pull. it’s infuriating and exhilarating as it is addicting. but she craves it, hates it, and hates herself even more for it

hooked on your touch, the way you take care of her even if it’s to a fault. every time you kiss her, she loses all sense of restraint. every time you press your body against hers, closer and closer, skin tingling where your fingers wander

lower and lower—it’s a reckless freefall, a storm of sensations

you’re so casual about it

“so fuckin’ pretty el”

“s-sorry”

“dont be”

so unapologetic, and she’s caught off guard how effortlessly the words slip out your tongue, a mixture of pride, desire—

“you’re such a dick,” she’d mumble, a hint of annoyance. contrasting greatly with the way her body responds to you. the slight crack in her voice, a shiver of vulnerability that belies her flustered state, heart pulsing at your praise—secretly wanting to hear you say it again, because honestly? beneath her tough exterior she craves validation only you can give.

“good girl”

it makes her weak—every. single. time; the deep, smooth drawl of your voice, so firm so authoritative, so drunk

or when you gently stroke her hair — every time your fingers thread between her messy auburn locks, the shiver that shoots down her spine. every stroke, every curl—slow and tender, she can feel it, and for a moment you’re taking care of something delicate—

precious

it drives her batshit crazy. the power you hold over her, that in a matter of seconds you can reduce her to a shuddering mess, half flustered, the other half just incredibly, foolishly turned on

“don’t,” she’d warn

a weak protest, you both know it, she’d see the way the corners of your mouth turn into an impish grin, smug bastard you are—ugh.

“don’t what, baby?” you’d ask, voice low, sultry, a tad bit dangerous

“stop,” she’d try again, voice lacking conviction. you can tell she’s torn between resisting and giving in, between her ego and this pathetic desire for you to continue

“why should i?” you’d say, a teasing tone. one hand settled just above the band of her shorts, the other reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face, your touch feather-light yet oh-so-intimate

breath catching. body arching, you’re so crazy observant, gingerly stroking the faint scar on her upper lip, kissing her there would be cruel, to suckle, leave a mark, this territorial need to brand her—

the thought crosses your mind,

to claim her, make her yours in that primal way. it’s an impulse, a possessiveness you can’t fully explain. she’s so beautiful, so perfect — and yet there’s something about knowing that someone else might’ve left a mark on her, some other fool who had the pleasure of kissing her, caressing her pretty pretty skin

stirs something within you

you don’t like it

ignites this animalistic feeling. a need to protect, to erase any evidence of anyone else’s hands on her body, replace it with your own touch, your own taste, your own name on her pretty pretty lips.

“look at me” you instruct, chin angled up to meet your gaze. a feral edge to your voice, a hunger that can’t be ignored. fingers wedged between her thighs, inching closer and closer towards that sweet spot. her body tensing, shaky little gasps, the tension between you almost palpable—

this idea of being the only one who gets to see her like this, vulnerable and needy and aching— it’s the only thing keeping you from losing your damn mind right—this insatiable desire to make her writhe and whimper, to make her feel things—consumes you to the brim,

it takes all of your restraint not to sink your teeth into her skin

she wants to tell you off, tell you to keep your hands to yourself for once, but the words get stuck in her throat.

so your hands move over her like you’re mapping every dip every curve. that you’ve memorised every inch, they’re gentle but firm, teasing yet tantalizing—a relentless assault on her senses

because making her cum

isn’t a chore, unravelling her in the most intimate way is your favourite game. every move on your part calculated, designed to drive her over the edge, to toy with her. no, you revel in it. it’s a challenge, an art you’ve mastered. you know exactly how to touch her, where to press and kiss, to slow down, when to speed up. it’s a slow, delicious game and she’s

so, so helpless

and so so reactive

the sound of her moans and gasps, the way your name quivers from her lips; a desperate plea.

but even then, the fights still leave her chest hollow, aching, and the silence that follows? the cold shoulder you give her? leave her reeling and desperate for comfort, any semblance of closure you know damn well you’re not willing to give her

hurts

a bone-deep ache that settles in her chest, just another reminder of how complicated things are between you—how complicated you are

it’s the way you shut her out, sweet one minute, like ice the next. she’s tired of it, tired of your flaky ass moods, the way you shut her out when you’re mad.

consistency, a normal relationship, is that too much to ask? but you just can’t seem to give her that can you?

no matter how badly she craves your attention—how good it feels being this close, there’s always repercussions. always stupid shit to argue over then apologise profusely weeks later. you blame it on your zodiac, or some stupid-self-diagnosed-shit-like-avoidant-attachment-style

she knows you’re deflecting, its easier to blame your actions on stupid shit like the stars than your own mistakes and shortcomings. and yet, she can’t help but want you. it would be oh-so easy to walk away, find someone who can offer her stability

normalcy

which only makes the pain all too real. it’s maddening, the way you make her feel. how can someone be so infuriatingly wonderful? cruel, loving, passionate

yet she can’t even bring herself to face the truth

cause fuck being vulnerable

that shit hurts

caring too much fuckin hurts

@bonnibelblanca

[salveden]

MA’AM, IS THIS YOUR CHILD - & deirdre

MIDORI FOUND HER DAYS AGO, resting peaceful near a pleasant creek, hands busy with the art of touching flower stems and soft petals.  she’s from the black eagles house, that much midori knows.  she’s seen her when passing each other in the hallways, never close enough to bump shoulders but surely enough to acknowledge each other’s presence.  she’s felt her gaze linger for moments after, too.  it isn’t the stare of a stranger, nor is it the curious stare of a peer; it’s oddly familial.  or rather, it’s trying to be.

so when midori finds her, again, by the same stream in the forest’s nurtured meadow, she watches her.  her plan for the day is thrown to the back of her mind as she watches the lady hum and tend to the same batches of flowers she had cared for the previous few days.

staring is rude, she remembers, so midori tries a new approach; a more formal and appropriate one.  she steps onto the meadow’s path, follows the sound of humming, and smiles at the lady.   “   hi there, ma’am!   ”   midori unhooks one strap of her travel case and lets it hang from one side, jutted out for the lady to see as she gestures to it.   “   i don’t mean to interrupt your quiet time but i was wondering if you wanted to have tea with me.  i have a few snacks we can enjoy as well.   ”

at the lady’s notice in her, midori realizes just how pretty she is.  like a princess, maybe.  unless she already is a princess, then that’s a fault on midori’s behalf for not regarding her as such.  nervous but not insecure, midori shuffles on her feet slightly.   “   i’m midoriko, by the way.  though, you can call me midori.  we’ve seen each other in the monastery before but i don’t think we’ve ever spoken so...   ”   her sentence trails off and she pauses for a moment before pointing to the top of the lady’s head.   “   uh, are you a princess?  only asking cause you’re really pretty.  like, princess pretty.   ”

your turn ! say ‘aah’ , @nagaficat !!

[erajoie07]

Such a tease : Jack Reacher (2022) x fem reader

Warning: teasing, cunnilingus / “You’re fucking gorgeous like that, spread out like a good girl who just wants to be eaten.”

YN walks in to the kitchen listening to Reacher stir his coffee-dark, bittersweet, that leaves an aftertaste not worth taking another sip. Facing his back, she marches towards him and grazes her fingers across it, “Good morning, Reacher.” She greets in a good mood. He turns to face her seeing her in his jacket and long sleeping pants.

“Hello sweetheart, where’d you get my jacket now?”

YN looks at him, “Found it in my laundry basket. What’s in my basket is mine now.”

Reacher tilts his head to the side unwillingly accepting her answer, “Nice logic. If I put my underwear in your basket, is it yours?” he returns stumping her.

“Very funny but no. However, one time I misplaced my underwear in your basket when I dropped and meant to take it. The next thing I know it’s gone, and I wonder where it went?” YN ponders jokingly.

“Could be anywhere.” Reacher makes way to the kitchen island besides the tall window overlooking a garden.

YN grabs a glass from the cupboard and makes her hot cholate to make up for the cold weather.

“Where are the others?” YN asks upon sitting next to him

“Went for a morning run in the park. They’ll probably be somewhere else afterwards.”

YN probes, “why didn’t you go with them?”

“They did ask that last night but you’d still be sleeping until 6. And I didn’t want to leave you all alone here.” Reacher surprisingly places a flying strand behind her ear. YN flicks her eyes at him. He makes his way to her stamping his lips on her glossy ones then pushing himself deeper to take her breath away. He pulls away and he can see something in her eyes, “You wanna take this to the bedroom?”

Reacher spreads her legs apart and seed her pretty pussy need and slick. YN props on her elbows before she spreads the slick in circles. She taps her clit releasing squelching and wet. Reacher kneels by the foot of the bed. Despite his knees on the floor, he still towers over her. He pulls her close to him earning himself a squeal. Reacher peppers light touches of his lips on her thighs missing the apex clenching with desire.

“Reacher please,” she begs

“You’ll get it soon, sweetheart. We have a few minutes before they come back.”

Reacher drags his lips on her stomach pressing tender kisses. The more he does them, the needier YN becomes and she grabs his hair albeit his haircut and directs him to her pussy. He only chuckles in return taunting her neediness. “You’re fucking gorgeous like that, spread out like a good girl who just wants to be eaten.” He comments

YN groans and Reacher grins with an evil smile on his face.

Reacher drags his nose from her slit to her clit and inserts his tongue inside her gaping hole. YN tilts her head back as he flicks his tongue upwards until he reaches her clit and wraps his lips around the button. She arches her back and begins to writhe in bed closing her thighs. He drags his fingers inside her while swiping her little nub. YN drags her heels on his back. Reacher pins his eyes on hers as he eats her out and YN becomes embarrassed tilting her head back and grabbing the sheets.

“I’m close, Reacher,” she comments feeling the build-up inside her as Reacher swipes her clit while dragging his fingers inside her. She momentarily closes her eyes before she cums on him. Reacher drags his tongue on her stimulated cunt.

Fucked out and satisfied, they hear a knock on the door.