#therefore i am back on my bullshit

[bidamonalbarn]

still on my "everything has changed is about olivia benson the cat" bullshit

@cailitwhatyouwant I am absolutely losing it at this point but why did this convince me even more

[captainsparklefingers]

It feels really weird doing this xD but I guess talking about asking for help/feedback/generally venting about stuff (minor or otherwise) is always gonna feel weird? Is that what I'm doing right now? I have no idea. But anyway, writing it all out will hopefully help get it off my chest and I can try to move on to practical things. Mregh.

So I'm working on a series of oneshots about the first year of Kingsley's life (it was initially gonna be just the first six months before M9 Reunited but then I had some ideas that would only make sense after that, so here we are), and I've managed to get exactly one of them done so far. Which is good! I've got a second one in the works and a list of ideas for the others, buuuut I've managed to get myself stuck in the middle of the second one. Turns out it's hard to write Caduceus and Kingsley interactions when you have nothing to base them on XD and I guess that means I need a beta/somebody to bounce ideas off of. My regular beta (who is a wonderful person and one of my closest friends and who I love very much) is busy with real life stuff like work, so I don't want to bother them, and the people I want to ask to take a look at stuff and get ideas from are busy with their own fics and projects, and I don't want to bother them either. So here we are. I have anxiety up the wazzoo for a lot of things, including this, so it feels weird just putting a Tumblr post out there asking for help with something as silly as a fanfic...

And I'm always sort of afraid of writing Kingsley 'wrong', if that makes sense. Like, I know he's not Lucien or Molly, he's himself and there are echos of them in him, but with my whole belief that the memories of the previous purples are still there (just locked up until he's ready and comfortable enough as Kingsley to take them back and not get overwhelmed by them) and they sometimes leak out (the problem traveling with your past lives family is there's plenty of triggers there for stuff to slip through the cracks without context), and I worry that that makes it seem like I'm trying to turn him into Molly when I swear that's not what I'm thinking at all. So there's THAT layer to the anxiety as well.

So here I am with one one shot done, one about halfway done that I need a bit of a push with, and a list of ideas that I haven't started in on yet because I haven't gotten the second one done, and a lot of nerves about never getting anything done. Like, I'm not even gonna tag this because this is mostly just me trying to work out my anxiety about stuff (but uh if anyone is interested in helping or looking at some Kingsley stuff lemme know I guess), and I hope it helps. I've been having a lot of anxiety and nervousness about a lot of crap lately, and compared to other stuff, this is just such a minor bullshit thing to get wound up about.

God, anxiety SUCKS, y'all. It's the stupidest most irrational thing. Like 'ooh you wanted to do this as a fun lil side project to keep the creative juices going during downtime at work NOPE YOU'RE OBSESSED AND NERVOUS NOW ENJOY FEELING WEIRD WHENEVER YOU'RE AT YOUR LAPTOP FOR UNRELATED REASONS'.

[eclipsecrowned]

going into a character's tag finding people thinking they're being allies when really they're being aphobes. weeps.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[deadsetobsessions]

“I ate paint once,” Danny nonchalantly threw out in the middle of game night.

The entire table stopped. Heads whipped towards Danny.

“Yeah, me too. Cardamom yellow was my favorite. Ugly as hell but the chemicals just tasted right.” Tim replied, using the distraction to nab some of Bruce’s money. Monopoly money, that is. Everyone’s heads snapped towards Tim, only Cass and Danny (who was part of the scheme) caught him cheating.

“Really? I think mine was those spray can blue cosmos paint. But that might have been more my thing for space than the actual taste.”

“WHY WERE YOU EATING PAINT?!” Dick asked, looking like he wanted to lunge over the table and shake Danny until he puked out paint. Bruce looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Tim?” Jason snickered.

“In my defense,” Danny grinned. “I was left unsupervised. Also, Steph, you owe me $24 in rent.”

“Ugh! I’m almost out of money! Can’t you loan me some, Alfred?”

“I am sorry, Miss Stephanie, you are not qualified for another loan. In fact, one of your properties is about to be confiscated as per the collateral agreement.”

“Noooo!” Stephanie made dramatic dying noises.

“What was your excuse, Timothy?” Damian asked, eyes glued to the board and determined to win the game.

“Hey, I was probably less supervised than Danny was.”

“Yeah,” Danny perked up. “My parents brought us down to their lab all of the time. Taught us a lot of stuff.”

“Really? Like what?” Duke asked, casually slapping away Tim’s sneaky hands.

“Oh, like what a rocket launcher sounded like up close! And how to build a laser gun! Oh! And what human organs looked like when they’re fresh!” Danny chirped, collecting his money from a stunned Stephanie’s hands. He looked up.

“Oh, don’t worry! I at least learned what not to do when it comes to lab safety. And we wore hazmat suits to protect ourselves from the radiation.” Danny smiled in a ditzy fashion as the table fell silent in a horrified manner. Cass tapped his arm amusedly, but allowed his bullshit to stand. After all, it’s not like he lied.

“Radiation?” Duck’s voice raised a couple of octaves. Oh yeah, Danny’s going to laugh about that pitch for a long while.

“Organs?!” Jason’s hands closed around the plastic house he was holding rather forcefully.

“Do you even know what basic lab safety practices are, Danny?” Damian demanded, finally looking up with brows furrowed. He rolled the dice and grabbed a mystery card. He gets $100 from Alfred.

“How old were you??” Duke asked.

“Like… 8, when they first brought me in?”

“Eight.” Bruce rumbled, slipping into a more Batman like persona. When Danny sent him a confused look, Bruce straightened back into his Bruce persona. “Wow, they must have trusted you a lot!”

“Sure?”

“What were their names again?” Stephanie asked sweetly, Cass nodding at him.

“Jack and Maddie Fenton.” Not that they’ll find them here, considering his parents are dead and in another universe.

“Cool, cool, cool!” Stephanie blinked, beaming as her hands formed lethal fists underneath the table.

Danny blinked and tilted his head in an unassuming way, pretending like he had no idea what Stephanie was thinking of. He sneakily handed over $600 to Cass in order to complete his monopoly on his side of the board.

Danny stood up and spread his hands out, one hand clutching his new found victory.

"Well, lady and gents, you've all been floundering against the inevitable tide of capitalism. I am here, as a reminder that you can never win against the hopelessness that will be your financial ruin! I, Danny Fenton, have obtained a quarter of the board and therefore have won against even your best efforts!" He cackled, holding up his fan of properties triumphantly. He shot a mischievous grin at Cass, who held up a solemn thumbs up in support for his monetary takeover.

"... Danny, are you... planning on a career in villainy?" Bruce asked, after a brief and total wave of shocked silence. Damian looked like he was having a conniption at having been bested, unknowingly. Yeah, Danny was disarming like that.

"Yeah, that was concerning." Tim piped up, nabbing a ten from a shell-shocked Damian.

"Hey! The Riddler gives surprisingly good monologues! And he's really loud, so it's hard not to pick up on things. Duke, your turn." Danny sat back down, pouting. The villainy comment was a little too close to his fears.

"Damn it." Duke, who had rolled, landed smack middle of Danny's territory. He handed over a sheaf of bills to a grinning Danny.

"Wait a minute! You have cheated!" Damian bolted upwards from his seat, finally done running through the purchases he remembered Danny making. "You acquired that property not within the games' rules!"

"Okay, first of all, the rule book is a suggestion, like lab safety rules," Danny saw the others open their mouths to protest, but he quickly shut it down. "Second, there's totally no rules about selling and buying places from a private owner so suck on it. And thirdly? Cass sold it to me, so you all can take it up with her."

"Diabolical!" Damian muttered indignantly.

"... Dammit." Dick sighed, falling back into the chair and balancing on its two legs. He couldn't say anything, considering his current of bankruptcy.

"Danny. Danny, I'll buy a property from you." Jason said, eyeing one of Danny's other properties near his own cluster.

"What do you have that would interest me?" Danny asked, falling back into his Vlad-like imitation.

"Ew, don't do that," Steph reached over to jab him in the arm.

"Yeah, Jason, what do you have?" Duke said, the lovely subtle instigator that he is.

"Red Hood's signature."

The others blue-screen, gaping at the actual audacity Jason had to offer up something that would take him no effort. Danny, prepared with a poker face that came with lying straight to Jazz's ever perceptive eyes about whether he nabbed the last of her ice cream or not, was prepared.

"Red Hood? The condom guy working out of the... um. Upper East Side?" Danny asked, pretending to hesitate. He knows where Jason operated. That doesn't mean he couldn't simply pretend otherwise. For science, of course.

...

...

...

The table howled with laughter, Jason's indignant spluttering unable to say anything against Danny's wide eyed look of innocence. Cass leaned against the table, chuckles falling out of her mouth and eyes crinkled in mirth. Dick had fallen out of his chair, helplessly wheezing on the floor. Duke is hiding his face in his hands, mirroring Bruce's pose as they both shake from silent laughter. Damian is smirking, wicked and sharp as he smugly stared at Jason. Stephanie and Tim are leaning against each other, repeating "the CONDOM GUY" in alternating and increasingly louder voices. Alfred had a smile on his face and a tight grip on the bills in front of him that betrayed his amusement.

"He's a crime lord!" Jason exclaimed, indignant.

"Uh, okay. Well, I mean, why would I want a crime lord's signature? I don't want to be on his radar. Or echolocation or whatever. He's... a Bat, right? That's what you guys call that group, yeah?"

"How do you know the Rogues better than the vigilantes?!" Jason glared at his unhelpful family. Those assholes better prepare for a load of rubber bullets the next time they're on patrol near Crime Alley.

"Hey, it's not my fault the vigilantes here are unsociable. Maybe if they monologued more, I'd know who they are."

"Wouldn't- wouldn't that make them more villain like?" Tim asked, stuttering from his laughter.

"I dunno?" Danny replied, enjoying his the family's unabashed joy. "I mean, they're pretty legit and they help people already so I guess they don't need to be sociable... but still I swear I haven't heard anything about Batman other than that he grunts and is mean towards criminals."

Is mean towards criminals, Duke mouthed at a recovering Dick who was in the process of heaving himself back up. It sent him careening back down to the floor with restrained giggles. Cass tapped Danny, reminding him to eat some food.

"Tt. Of course not. They're efficient at their jobs and have no need to be seen as welcoming to criminals." Damian puffed up.

"Yeah, but they've gotta feel safe, right?" Danny shrugged as he plucked a cookie from the cookie platter. "The... one with the sword, what was it?"

"Robin." Damian supplied, eyes narrowed and trained on him.

"Yeah, the baby bird. The kids think his swords are cool so they trust him. But like, the others? The flippy blue one? Not so much."

"Wait," Dick said from the floor. "They don't trust Nightwing?"

"Nah, they trust him to protect them, but he has a history of bringing the kids to the police, you know?"

"What's wrong with that?"

Danny shrugged. "ACAB. But also because everybody knows that half the guys in the GCPD and CPS are child traffickers."

"Wait, what?" Jason and Tim straightened.

Bruce piped in, the emotional whiplash of amusement to concern to amusement to concern visibly making itself known on the man's baffled face. "I thought Batman and Commissioner Gordon took care of that?"

"Sure, the obvious ones." Danny hesitated. Well, he's pretty sure they think he's a meta so... "There's... a meta trafficking ring that they're a part of. That's. That's kind of what I was running from."

Danny looked up pleadingly. Cass placed a hand on his arm in comfort, not knowing that he was fibbing about running from them.

Danny was on the streets helping his own Alley metas to run from them.

Danny is as feral as she was, and that meant he could hide just as much as she could read off of him. Cass was the best and he felt kind of bad about lying to her, successfully or not.

"Uh. Some people said you know Batman, Bruce. I know- uh, that might not be the case but if you do, could you ask him to look into it?" Danny made his eyes tear up. "And maybe he wouldn't care about me much, I mean, I know he doesn't really like metas but if he helps out, I could totally like, leave the city once the kids are safe, promise."

Ooh, Danny put a little too much sincerity into that. He could practically hear the hearts breaking in the game room as everyone glared at Bruce.

"You won't have to leave."

"... Promise?" And Danny's voice was a little too desperate, too hopeful, because Bruce's eyes tugged down in sadness.

"Promise." He rumbled, all Bruce Wayne and all Batman. Danny's core warmed. Danny also saw the rest of the family's faces darken in pure agreement. And partial wrath.

"Yeah! We'll kick Batman's ass if he even thought about kicking you out!" Stephanie proclaimed.

"He's far more proficient in combat than you are, Brown." Damian immediately leapt to Batman's defense and that was that.

Well, later, as Danny was "sleeping" and Phantom was hovering in the cave, invisible and intangible, he got confirmation that his Alley meta kids were going to be safe, soon.

After all, the entire Batclan was suiting up and baying for blood, with Oracle's all encompassing presence behind them, fingers reaching for their enemies' weak points.

[johnbleepingzoidberg]

sometimes i torture myself by intentionally reading thru stupidly rude/unnecessary comments on random instagram posts. why do i do this to myself

[lydiimae]

Infatuation

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

MDI!! 18+

Part 2 <3

Warnings: Heavy drinking, mentions of opium use, mentions of prostitution, rough sex, fingering, oral sex, semi-public sex, squirting, marking, thigh riding, vaginal sex, dom benedict and sub reader, brief spanking, possessive benedict, LOTS of dirty talk

A.N: hi again, i'm back on my bullshit <3 first of all, thank you so very much for the love on my first Benny fic AND my first fic ever. liiiiike seriously, that was so sweet <3 T-T. anyway, this fic is another Benny fic- a smutty one at that. it is vaguely based off of the infamous party where Ben has his threesome, however, i changed it up quite a bit so take it at face value hehe. i am planning on making an Anthony one next, probably some more filth so I can practice getting my wording to a place i am proud of. also, i think i will maybe make this into a series??? so do let me know if you like it so i can get an idea >.< enjoy, ily, and THANK YOU AGAIN <3 ^-^

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were never one to go to parties, especially the ones your dear friend Genevieve Delacroix invited you to. She had a knack for finding the most raunchy, wanton, artists who would throw parties full of courtesans, sex, opium, alcohol... the whole of it.

Being a maid for such a wealthy and well-known family, the Featherington's to be exact, meant you knew the secret lives that many lords and ladies lead outside of the stuffy confines of the ballrooms.

You were lucky to be the lady's maid of the sweetest Featherington, Penelope, and therefore you were even luckier to hear about the Bridgerton family. From what she told you, they were all kind and polite, just like anyone else. She had also hinted, quite shyly, to the men of the family being gorgeous. The third born being her favorite.

You had seen glimpses of pearly white teeth, dark blue tailcoats, and their chestnut brown hair but were never lucky enough to see a full image of any of them but Eloise and her sister, Daphne.

When Genevieve insisted on you tagging along with her and a friend from a higher-up place, you begrudgingly accepted. It was lucky that the young debutante you worked for insisted on having something important to do, so you snuck out and walked through the streets of London to the modiest's shop.

Genevieve dressed you in a tight but, incredibly beautiful, dark blue corset and a pair of black pants, to which you raised an eyebrow. "I look as if I am soliciting, not as if I am curious about this party you have been nagging me to go to." You comment, looking in the mirror.

"What if you solicit, hm? Where is the harm in spending a night with a lord or even another servant?" She returns, tightening up the laces on the corset before stepping back and looking over her work. "Besides, look at yourself. You have a body that would make any one of those silly debutantes jealous, why not show it?" She grins.

You sigh and turn to her, a small cheeky smile on your face as a result of her teasing. "You owe me for this, Viv." You tease and she laughs, putting on her cloak as she hands you your own. "There she is. The Y/N I know. We will have fun, I swear it." She says. Once your cloak is tugged over your shoulders, the both of you make your way out of the shop and towards the house where the party is being held.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Benedict never snuck out, not before he got invited to Lord Granville's house. The man was nice enough about him completely insulting his art to his face, nice enough to recognize an artistic eye and even the hint of talent that Benedict possessed through merely speaking about art. He thought the gathering was going to be one where he would meet artists and practice his craft. He was wrong.

Of course, he was experienced in the world of sex, drugs, and drinking. He attended the gentleman's club with his brothers after almost every ball he attended, much like every other lord in the ton. He has shared his number of passion-filled nights with nameless women, some of which he cannot remember. The only remenice being the ache of a hangover, and the taste of expensive whiskey still lingering on his tongue.

He would have never thought that the artist had such a scene hiding behind such an unassuming townhouse.

He followed the artist in and was met with quite the scene. The room was hazy with the smoke of expensive cigars, the candlelight casting a low gold hue on the entire house. He followed the artist deeper and was met with courtesans soliciting men at every turn, to which he grinned.

Even further and he was led into a room where women were posed naked, in quite compromising positions, for eager artists who were trying to master the anatomy of a naked woman. Or so that is what Granville claimed.

He grins crookedly at the sight. "Quite the room, is it not?" Lord Granville piques up from behind him. He turns to face the man and nods. "Quite. Might I stay here? I have found myself needing practice of anatomy as of late and this is the perfect place to do so." He says, a playful glint in his eye.

Granville, of course, picks up on it and nods. "Of course, Lord Bridgerton. Do enjoy yourself." He returns with a knowing smile and a wink before exiting the room. Benedict sits at one of the free easles, one of the other men lighting a cigar and offering it to him. He accepts, and puffs on it as he begins to work.

He could get used to this.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Genevieve leads you through the party, grabbing two glasses of what looks like scotch off of a passing servant's tray. She settles for meeting her friend, who you quickly learn is the wife of said artist who is throwing the party, on the stairs.

After a while of chatting you learn that the young woman's name is Lucy and her husband is Henry Granville, an artist whose work you always found interesting. You also are clued into the fact that their marriage is one of convenience, rather than love, as Lord Granville has no romantic nor sexual interest towards the opposite sex. You find no issue in what the young couple has, after all, you have seen much worse when it comes to marriages in the ton.

"Viv, might I go explore, or am I to only solicit?" You tease as you push off the wall. She laughs and shakes her head. "I am not your keeper, Y/N. Go and do as you wish, just be careful." She says, a hint of genuine protectiveness seeping through her tone of voice. "I promise. I will find my way back to your shop if anything goes awry." You assure before walking down the steps with a quick wave to both of the women.

You duck into a small room with a door that leads to a balcony after grabbing another glass of scotch from a passing servant. However fun it is coming to these things with Viv, you find them quite overwhelming. You are more attuned to the quietness of your servant's quarters, spending countless hours curled up with a good book that your young mistress so generously gifts you from time to time.

You walk out on the balcony, leaning heavily on the metal railing as you look up at the stars. The scotch, and the fact that you get much drunker much quicker than most, is making a delightfully warm feeling bloom in your chest. You take a deep breath of the fresh air to calm your senses before ducking back into the party.

You make it all of two steps before colliding into a broad chest, which sends your alcohol down the front of your torso.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He was in that hazy, alcohol-filled room, long enough to get just drunk enough to where he was clumsy. He catches the woman he so foolishly clambered into on his way out of the room he was painting in by the waist, which sends her drink out of her hand and down her front.

"My God, I am so incredibly sorry my lady." He rushes, gazing down at the mess he made. His eyes widen at the sight that lies in front of him.

She's a young woman, young enough that she can not be past the age of two and twenty, in a very revealing corset top and black pants. Her hair is tucked up elegantly, yet a few unruly waves have fallen as a result of the night's activities. Her cheeks are pink, probably from the embarrassment or perhaps even the anger, of getting drenched in scotch.

The liquid drips down her neck, and he follows a drop from her neck to where it travels right between her breasts. The tops are peaking out from being hugged so tight. They are full, so very full. He wonders what it would feel like to run his tongue over the smooth skin, what it would feel like to roll her nipple between his teeth and suck.

He shakes himself out of it and meets her eyes once more before he gets any more aroused than he already is.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You recognize him immediately as a Bridgerton, though you have no idea which one. He has a silly crooked smile on his face that you cannot seem to draw your eyes from, he also sports the undoubtedly Bridgerton chestnut brown hair.

He has longer hair than the one Penelope speaks of, but only just. Your eyes roam from his face to his chest, where he is wearing only a loose undershirt, his waistcoat long forgotten in drunken activities you're sure. His suspenders hang loose on his shoulders, just barely hanging onto his black trousers.

"You're a Bridgerton." It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, the effects of three glasses of scotch. He grins wider, chuckling a bit. The noise makes your entire body heat up. "I am. Benedict Bridgerton in fact." He says, his eyes never straying from yours.

"And you are?" He ponders after a moment of silence from you. You jump at the question, having been too distracted by the look of his lips to even notice he was speaking. You clear your throat and adjust your posture. "Y/N L/N." You answer shyly.

"Well, Y/N L/N, can I take you to a room and clean up the mess I made of your top, or is that entirely too forward for a gentleman to ask within mere moments of meeting?" He grins, the alcohol he consumed only ebbing on his already large confidence when it comes to women. You only nod shyly, afraid that if you speak you will make a stuttering fool of yourself.

He offers an arm, which you take happily, and begins to lead you through the party.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He pulls you into a room and, almost immediately, his hands encompass your waist. "You... are the most stunning woman I have ever had the pleasure of looking at." He murmurs, sending your heart soaring. You rest your hand on his chest, newly emboldened by the liquid courage you have been sipping on the entire night, returning his cheeky smile. "Is it too forward for a lady to say the same within mere moments of meeting?" You return.

He lets out a chuckle when you parrot his past words and he leans down. "A witty woman as well as a beautiful one, what else do you have up your sleeve Miss L/N?" He purrs, running a flattened hand up your back until it meets your hair. He tugs it down from its pins, sending it tumbling over your shoulders.

"Perhaps, if you are lucky Mister Bridgerton, I shall show you." You whisper, leaning in so your lips are but a hair's width away from his. Something dangerous and incredibly intoxicating passes over his features as he lets out a noise, a growl, that causes your core to dampen.

"You are a very forward woman, Y/N. I find it quite... infatuating to say the very least." He whispers before capturing your lips. You close your eyes and tangle one of your hands in his thick hair, the other finding his collar and giving it a slight tug.

He groans into your mouth, his hands enveloping your bum cheeks and pulling you even closer. He wants to feel the rise and fall of your breasts as he makes you pant. And by god does he.

You moan into his mouth as his hands squeeze the soft skin of your ass through your trousers, which gives him the perfect chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes smoky, like cigars and whiskey. It makes your clit throb painfully.

As if reading your mind, and body, he spreads your legs with his knee and slides his leg between them. His thigh presses against your closed cunt and you gasp, breaking the kiss to throw your head back. He smirks and holds you right where you are by moving his hands to your hips.

"So sensitive." He whispers and groans as you begin to move your hips back and forth against his thigh, chasing the feeling it gives you. "Fuck, you are just full of surprises aren't you darling? I did not even have to tell you what to do, you just did it," He praises, his eyes locked on the place where your clothed core meets his leg.

"Riding my thigh like a bitch in heat. I might have to keep you." He gusts over your shoulder as he begins to kiss the exposed skin there. Oh God, how you would love that. To be able to fuck him whenever you saw fit, yes please Mister Bridgerton. "Please." Is all you manage to strangle out as you begin to grind down on him harder.

He bites down on your shoulder, leaving a bright red mark there, which he smirks at before he slowly guides you to the dark red chaise that lies in the corner of the room. He lays you back, slowly unlacing your corset with his slender fingers. He throws it across the room when it is off, his mouth immediately taking in one of your hardened nipples.

You cry out when he sucks, watching him look up at you with a shit-eating grin that makes your cunt even more soaked than it already is. He sucks and bites your bud before turning his attention to the other, giving it just as much attention. "The least I can do is clean up the mess I made." He whispers over your nipple, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure straight down to your core. Cocky bastard, you think to yourself as you grip his hair.

You are a whimpering, moaning mess by the time his face returns over yours. He presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips before sitting up and stripping himself of his suspenders and his shirt before returning his attention to you. He takes off your shoes and then unbuttons your trousers, slowly sliding them down your legs.

He groans lewdly at the sight. Genevieve had insisted quite heavily when she was dressing you up that you forgo panties. She said it made trousers more comfortable, less tight, so of course you agreed. You decide tonight, that if wearing no underwear will illicit that pretty noise from his lips, you will never wear them again.

"God you are soaked. Drenched from riding my thigh and a quick suck to your nipples." He whispers as he kisses the insides of your thighs. You whine and buck your hips up toward his face, which results in him quickly grabbing your hips with one of his hands and pressing you down into the cushion so you are unable to buck and writhe. "Perhaps I was right in my assessment of you, Miss Y/N. You really are just a bitch in heat. So desperate to be full of my cock, painted with my seed." He murmurs before licking a stripe up your slit.

You cry out and grip his hair with both hands, needing something to ground yourself as his tongue swirls around your clit. He lets out a growl at the taste of your dripping cunt, so sweet and yet so tart. Utter perfection. The noise you make in return has him wishing he could drink from your body for the rest of his days, die with you sat atop his face. Riding his mouth to oblivion.

He moves his hand down to his trousers, fumbling with the buttons to free his aching cock. He slides two fingers into your body without warning and you keen, your eyes rolling back as he collects your juices. He pulls his fingers out just as quick as they went in, and spreads your wetness on his length, stroking himself hard as he drinks from you.

"Ben... oh fuck.... so close." You babble as his tongue presses inside your hole, drawing the most heavenly noises from your body. He pulls away just as you start to see stars and you grasp at his hands, tears forming in your eyes from your denied release. "Please... Please..." You sob, desperate for the feeling to come back.

He chuckles deeply, hooking your knees over his shoulders. "I've got you, love." He assures, kissing away your tears before pulling back with a cocky grin that sends your heart fluttering. "You look like a masterpiece, crying for my cock. All flushed and swollen." He murmurs. You do not know if he is talking about you or your pussy, but you never wish for him to stop.

"Please, my lord. Please, please... I need you. I need..." You babble, completely free of any thought other than his pretty dick plunging inside of you. He curses and bends down, claiming your lips with his before thrusting into you without warning. He bottoms out, and both of you moan, the kiss becoming a mess of tongue and tooth alike.

He begins at a brutal pace, slamming into you so hard that the chaise creeks against the hardwood floor. You scream at the heavenly feeling of pain and pleasure, the sound muffled over his lips. Sweat splashes from his collarbone to yours as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, the sickly sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses.

He grunts and breaks the kiss, holding one of your legs by the calf, his other hand cupping your jaw. Your mouth falls open as soon as his lips are gone, a loud moan coming from somewhere deep within slipping out before you can try and stop it. He grunts and sticks his thumb past your lips, afraid that someone will hear from outside the thin walls.

You happily oblige and close your lips around his digit, swirling your tongue around him to the rhythm of his thrusts. He moans at the sight of you sucking on his thumb like it's a cock, as his cock slams into your pretty pussy. "Fuck. I am keeping you. You are mine," He accentuates the word with a slap to your ass cheek, causing you to cry out over his finger and clench down on his cock. "Forever. No one else will ever-fuck.-be able to fill this sweet hole of yours. It is all mine. You are all mine." He grunts as his thrusts become sloppy.

He yanks his thumb from your mouth and attacks your swollen, throbbing, clit. He rubs it hard and fast, to match the rhythm of his thrusts and you cry out. He quickly intuits that you are as close to climax as he is and bends down, covering your lips with his own so that you can scream freely.

You do as he expected, letting out a long scream into his mouth as stars rush over your vision and your body burns hot. Your juices soak both his pant-covered leg and the velvety fabric of the chaise below. The feeling of your fluttering cunt tightening even further sends him over and he releases deep inside you before he goes limp over your body.

He pushes himself up after a moment, relishing in the sight below him. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and bruised. You have a bite mark on your shoulder, your hair surrounding your head like a messy halo. Perfection. A ruined, beautiful, masterpiece made solely by him.

He brushes the hair out of your face and presses a sweet kiss to your brow. "Might I be privy to those many secrets you were so keen on hiding, Miss L/N?" He teases softly, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and beginning to clean the mess of mixed juices on your thighs.

You giggle. "The next time we meet, I promise to tell at least one." You return, your heart fluttering at the way he so delicately slides your trousers back over your legs after cleaning you up. He grins as he buttons them up, his hands encompassing your waist to pull you up to a sitting position.

You use the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, and it is his turn to laugh. "Next time, then. I will wait with held breath until then, I assure you." He whispers, helping you into your corset. "But for now, I owe you a lovely night, hm?" He murmurs as he pulls the laces of your corset tight. You sigh and nod. "I would like that very much." You whisper back, resting your head on his shoulder.

He smiles cheekily, "Is it entirely too forward for a gentleman to say he would like to do this every night from now on, mere hours after meeting?" He whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

No, Mister Bridgerton, it is not.

[mazojo]

I don’t think I’ve been this frustrated with a series for a long time like I am right now with the marked heart

[bungalowbear]

Wolves of Tokyo: Savage Good Boy

Pairing: alpha!Fushiguro Toji x omega!f!reader

Summary: Pressured to choose a husband, you make a rebellious choice after a stranger comes to your rescue.

Warnings: abo dynamics, misogynistic themes, some violence, creepy alphas, love hotel, smut (fingering, p in v, knotting), biting, mutual bonding, mdni

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: Here goes my first nosedive into abo. This is going to be a whole series with different jjk men and their readers. First up is Hana! But even though I’ve given her a name it’s more to make writing/reading easier the further along we get. I try to be as inclusive as I can therefore there are no physical descriptions, so anyone can read and hopefully picture themselves. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist / Playlist

There are many wolf clans in the city of Tokyo. But the Gojo, Kamo, and Zen’in families stand above all others. Power, wealth, and status are the pillars that have supported them for generations.

Your family is less prominent, just one rung below, though sought after for its long history of birthing powerful and gifted offspring. A blessing, your father says, the heavens bestowed upon your clan. But you’ve only ever regarded it as a curse.

Not only do you have the unfortunate luck of being born a woman, but also an omega. You’re even more unfortunate to have been born to your father, the head of your clan and the one forcing you into an arranged marriage.

“Do you know how many omegas would kill to be in your position?” he asks, voice tinged with frustration.

“Probably, like, a ton.”

You’re upside down on the sofa, legs hanging over the back and face looking out through the floor to ceiling windows of the living room. Your father’s penthouse offers an enviable view of the city. Among the patchwork constellations of lit windows of office buildings, you marvel at Tokyo Tower, turned upside down from your position, shining in all her glory.

“And yet you treat this with such contempt?”

Your father’s voice interrupts your city gazing. You hear his heavy footsteps echo against the hardwood floors as he comes to block your view. You refuse to raise your eyes to him, already familiar with the image of his crossed arms and rigid posture when he scolds you.

“Forgive me, father,” the words roll off your tongue dry and indifferent, “for not being so eager to sell myself off like some prized cattle.”

“You can’t keep pushing this meeting off,” he argues. “The other clans are getting restless. Soon they won’t be asking, but demanding.”

You roll your eyes and sit up so your feet are planted on the floor and your head is upright again. This time you turn your gaze up at your father, not cowering under his stern expression.

“You realize we don’t care about any of this, right? Satoru and I have been friends since we were children, and we both agree this is so archaic. Choso spends more time at that animal shelter than at home.” Your hands clutch the edges of the seat. A sour taste settles on your tongue. “And I’d claw my own eyes out before marrying Naoya. He’s the only one you’ve all successfully indoctrinated into this misogynistic bullshit.”

Pushing off the couch, you stride past your father and plant yourself beside the window. You pull your legs against your chest and rest your head on your knees. Your father’s footsteps come closer. His hand reaches toward your head and gives you a gentle pet, but you shake him off and scoot further away.

“What am I going to do with you?”

You can hear fondness creeping in his voice, but you won’t allow it to sway you.

“How about not forcing me to marry someone I don’t want to,” you quip.

Your father sighs.

“Our clan has kept itself alive and thriving for generations through marriage pacts. If we—”

“Maybe we don’t have to anymore,” you interrupt, looking at him with imploring eyes. “It’s a new time, father. Things are different now.”

“Not for us.”

He looks at you like you’re a child again. A sad smile that suggests you don’t understand anything about the way the world works. But you do know, and it’s not a world you want to live in anymore.

You and Satoru talk about the changes you want to make within the top clans. And you’re committed, you want to see it happen, but sometimes it seems impossible. At times you feel so small and so lonely. As a male alpha, Satoru doesn’t fully understand your fears, just like you don’t his. And you know he gets insecure like you do. The only difference is that he has someone to confide in, to support him unconditionally. You don’t. Which is why it’s so important for your husband to be someone of the same mind as you. Not someone who will keep you trapped underneath his thumb.

“If mother was here she’d be on my side.”

You huff, burying your head in your arms. You feel the warmth of your father next to you as he comes closer again. This time when he puts his arm around you, you don’t move away.

“If your mother was here she’d want you to make a smart decision.” He speaks with a sorrow you can’t fully comprehend. You lost a mother, but he lost a wife. A mate. “She’d want you to be protected and provided for. Each of the clans is offering that.”

“Wouldn’t she also want me to be happy?”

He chuckles. “You’re just like her.”

You lift your head. He stares at you with glassy eyes.

“Beautiful and wise,” he says. A loving smile curves his lips. “And stubborn.”

Your father’s expression turns somber. You already know what he sees in your face, in every feature that composes your physical identity. You see it every time you step in front of a mirror. A near identical copy of your mother. A living, breathing reminder that she once walked the earth, long enough to give you her likeness.

“I miss her,” you say, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

“So do I.”

You make sure your father is asleep before leaving the apartment. You close the door carefully behind you and take the elevator to the lobby. It’s nearly midnight, the usual time you step out, and your neighborhood is as you anticipate, quiet.

The walk to the train station is quick. You tap your fare card on the reader and head underground to catch the last local train to Shinjuku. You’ll most likely have to take a cab home, but you’ll figure that out later. Conversations with your father always leave you mentally drained and the only thing you can focus on right now is getting your hands on some yaki udon.

Once you arrive at your station, you exit up the stairs and onto the street. The diner isn’t far so you keep your head down and let your feet lead you along the familiar route.

It’s a bit crowded for a Thursday but you don’t mind. You can blend in better. Disappear among the mixed scents of the other designations that crowd the sidewalk. You mostly catch the sweetness of omegas in the air. They travel in groups and you assume they don’t have mates of their own. It’s rare for an alpha to allow their mate to be out this late. Thankfully, you don’t have that problem. Not yet, at least.

You’re not sure how long you can keep stalling your father. You understand he pressures you only because he’s pressured by the other clans, but you don’t understand why he doesn’t just stand up to them and refuse. You don’t know what he’s so afraid of. He’s already been through the worst time of his life.

The death of your mother was the lowest point not only for you and your father, but also the entire clan. Only with her absence were you able to realize the influential woman she was and what she meant to the other branches of the family. Their support through your grief and your father’s brief depression, their unwavering loyalty and devotion, their presence the purest form of unconditional love, was the foundation your mother built that gave the clan a foot to keep standing on.

You and your father had endured your mother’s death with the clan by your side. When the mourning period ended you promised yourself you would be a leader worthy of your family name in return for their support. You’d be as resilient as your father, and as influential as your mother.

But the only way you can achieve that is through the right opportunity. Clearly your father won’t be the one to make one happen for you, so you have to find it yourself.

A voice calling out stops you in your tracks. As your mind clears itself of your previous thoughts your ears listen for the voice again. You look over your shoulder at the opening of a dark alley and wait. After a few seconds you hear the same cry for help.

You backtrack a few steps and peer into the alley. Cautiously, you enter and follow the whimpering sounds and scared scent of an omega. There are several overhead light posts lining the walls, and it’s beneath one of those lights you see a woman cowering beneath two burly men with her hand pressed against her red cheek. She peers between the two with tears in her eyes and finds your gaze, relief pouring out of her as if you’re an angel come to her rescue.

“Hey!”

You shout, too fast for you to think about the consequences. But it gets their attention and gives the omega the opening needed to get away. One of the men tries to grab her but she quickly evades him and sprints away toward the other end of the alley.

“Big mistake, girl.”

They turn to you and you realize too late that they’re both alphas. Angry and irritated alphas. And you’re alone with them.

You try to make your own escape, but a harsh grip on your arm pulls you back. You’re shoved against the wall and the space is too narrow to put any distance between you and the increasingly overwhelming spicy tang of their combined scents that fill your nostrils.

“What do we have here?” The one that holds you in place has shaggy brown hair. He inhales deeply, closing his eyes with a salacious grin. “Another little omega to play with?”

In the brief moment his eyes are shut, you shift your feet so that your right foot is slightly behind your left. Using all the force you can muster, you thrust the palm of your right hand up and into his nose. He steps back with a shout, hands flying to his face as blood trickles out between his fingers. The other man steps around his friend and roughly pins your shoulders to the wall.

“A feisty one, eh?” His bald head shines beneath the light post as he leans in close. He takes a good whiff of you. “Doesn’t matter. I can smell how scared you really are. A little sour mixed in with all that sweetness. Just how I like it.”

His nose inches toward the sensitive gland on your neck and your body revolts. You’ve acted mostly on instinct so far, but you’re intentionally defiant as you gather a pool of saliva in your mouth and spit it all out onto his face.

“What the—” He jerks back, wiping away your attack with the back of his hand. An angry growl crawls out of his throat as he raises a hand to strike you. “You little bitch.”

You shut your eyes, waiting for the sting of his palm to sharply make contact with your cheek.

But it never comes.

Your eyes open and your brow furrows at the hand hovering in mid air above your face. When your gaze lowers you realize it’s because another hand has it locked in place.

You didn’t hear him, couldn’t even sense him approach, but this new person is no doubt another alpha. Your lips part in awe at the size of him. He’s massive, towering over you and the others. His broad frame is intimidating and his arms and chest are barely contained beneath the fibers of his plain black t-shirt.

The bald alpha tries to pull away but the grip he’s in is too strong. In a flash, your savior turns him around with a yank of his arm and sends a powerful kick to his backside. The smaller man goes flying forward onto his hands and knees. His friend with the still bleeding nose helps him up from the ground, and they both turn back to the giant of a man now standing between you and them.

“What the hell, man?” the bald one complains. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Now it does.”

The deep timbre of your savior’s voice makes your knees shake. It suits his powerful presence and makes you thankful he’s on your side.

All three alphas seem to be locked in a staring contest. But while the two become visibly nervous the longer it goes on, their opponent’s cool expression doesn’t waver. He folds his arms and his muscles strain against the short sleeves of his shirt. The two others seem to come to a decision and start backing away. They spare you a quick glance, and your savior a scowl, before they turn and escape down the alley.

You watch from behind the alpha’s frame until the two round the corner and are finally out of sight. Letting out a sigh of relief, you step away from the wall. But it’s short lived when the remaining alpha turns his sharp gaze on you.

“Be more careful next time you decide to play hero, yeah?”

His shirt looks too small for him, and you wonder if it’s on purpose to show off his insanely fit body. You notice a hole in the left knee of his sweatpants that sit low on his hips and the white socks dusted brown with dirt slid into a pair of black slides. Your gaze snaps up to his face and zeroes in on the scar at the corner of his lip, then to the black strands of hair that fall in his face, shading a pair of emerald green eyes. You decide that despite his semi-homeless presentation he’s actually very attractive.

“Thanks,” you say. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

He looks down his nose at you, appraising you like you just did him. You wonder what he sees. You wonder if the smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth is meant to unnerve you, entice you, or maybe both. And you wonder why, since you run on instinct so much, do you go against your designation’s expectations and make so much trouble for your father.

“You hungry?”

He tilts his head. “What?”

“I was heading to a diner,” you say. “Let me buy you something. It’s the least I can do.”

His eyes narrow for a second as he contemplates your offer. Though you already know what his answer will be.

“Sure.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Whatever.”

You smirk and motion for him to follow you. The noise from the street is a welcome reprieve from the dark and quiet alley, but being back on the sidewalk means navigating through the crowds again. You’re so used to walking alone, swiftly weaving through bodies, that you almost forget your new companion. You look over your shoulder to make sure you haven’t left him behind and your brows rise at the empty space behind you.

He is only about five or six steps behind, but his broad build and being several heads taller than nearly everyone on the street makes them steer clear and create a path for him to walk unimpeded. Your eyes meet and he grins. The way his scar stretches and his eyes narrow make him look dangerous, and like he’s certainly aware of his presence.

You hum, curious about who this man is, and turn your head forward to continue walking. Several blocks later and a right turn onto a narrow street, the diner finally comes into view. Kanji characters glow in red neon above the entrance.

“It doesn’t look like much,” you say when you’re standing in front of the dark wood sliding door. “But they’ve got the best curry you’ll ever eat.”

He doesn’t say anything as you slide the door open and wave him in first. You weren’t close enough before to notice, but when he ducks his head and passes in front of you into the diner you catch his scent. Cypress with an underlying hint of spicy cinnamon fills your senses and you have to shake your head to keep from focusing on it too long.

You enter after him and slide the door closed. He looks over the menu options on the ticket machine to the left of the door while you peer past him to the long counter. The sound of running water in the kitchen stops and a familiar face appears from behind the corner. When Momo’s brother sees you he says your name.

“Welcome.” He smiles at you warmly. Then his eyes cut to the large man beside you, who doesn’t take his focus off the food options, and tilts his head in silent inquiry. But you shake your head and he understands that now isn’t the time for questions. “Sit anywhere you’d like. Momo will—”

He pauses, looking around the diner with a frown for his sister. It’s a narrow room with a counter that spans almost the entire length of the space with room on each end to exit through the doors. The right wall is lined with tables that seat two and leaves a small aisle in between for passage along the length of the diner. The back door leads to the restroom, which is a separate room in the alley with easy street access, and where you’re certain his sister is.

You chuckle, knowing when Momo reappears she’ll be in for a scolding. Turning your attention to the machine, you feed it several notes and select your udon and toppings.

“Get as much as you want,” you say.

Your companion doesn’t hesitate to start pressing buttons, choosing a bowl of ramen and the large portion of curry. After he selects an order of gyoza and tempura the money slot blinks green and you slide in more notes. He looks at you with raised brows, probably not believing your initial offer, before he makes his final selections of yakitori and two beers. You add another yakitori and a beer for yourself before accepting your change and fishing out the tickets from the dispenser.

“Let’s take a seat.” You turn to the alpha beside you. “I’m sure—”

Suddenly the back door slides open and all eyes are on the flustered omega as she enters the diner. She straightens the apron around her waist before swiftly closing the door, but not fast enough that you don’t catch the blur of white hair dash behind her. When she looks up you can see the smudge of gloss around the corners of her mouth and you have to hold back your giggles.

Her mouth splits into a wide grin when she spots you and hurries around the counter toward you. With a tilt of your head in his direction, the alpha follows your lead down the aisle and toward a table along the wall.

“Hey, Momo,” you greet your friend. You lift your hand and use your knuckle to clear away the stray gloss on her skin. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she answers, shyly averting her eyes. Her hands smooth down the front of her apron. “Really good.”

You raise your brows in amusement, lips parting to tease her, but Momo takes the tickets from you and tears them in half before scurrying off to the kitchen. You watch her go with a fond shake of your head.

“She’s cute.”

Your attention shifts to the alpha now seated at the table. He grins while making the observation. His gaze lingers on the entrance of the kitchen, where the low murmurs of Momo’s scolding reach your ears.

You take the seat across from him.

“Thank you,” you say, “for, uh, helping me back there.”

“You always pick fights with alphas?”

You think about your father and the clan heads, always aware of the power they hold. You’d learned about it all from Satoru growing up, your only confidant in this repeating generational cycle, and yet you refuse to give in. All your life you knew what awaited you and you took every chance to delay it. Ever since your mother’s death you wanted something more for yourself. You wanted a different future.

“Yeah.” You smile to yourself. “I guess I do.”

“Pretty stupid for an unmated omega.”

He scoffs. You roll your eyes.

“We’re not helpless, you know.”

“You got in a good hit, so maybe not helpless.” He chuckles, tilting his head down to narrow his eyes playfully. “Still a weak little thing though.”

“I literally made him bleed.”

The smirk he gives you makes him look less intimidating.

“You’re not like other omegas,” he says.

It’s not a question. Ever since you met him you’ve felt his calculating gaze on you. Not heavy or intense, but just there. A silent presence that maintains its patience, watching and studying and waiting for the right time to take action.

“Here you are.” Momo appears with your beers, placing them on the table with a steady hand. She looks from you to your companion. “Who’s your new friend?”

“I ran into some trouble,” you vaguely explain. “He was kind enough to get me out of it.”

She frowns. “Trouble?”

You wave off her concern. “It was barely anything.”

Momo turns to him, bowing her head in gratitude.

“Thank you for taking care of my friend. I’ll bring some dessert, on the house.”

“Momo, I can—”

You start to decline her offer, but the deep, rich voice of the man across from you cuts you off.

“I appreciate that, sweetheart.”

Momo perks up before flitting away with a promise of ice cream. You watch the alpha as he eyes Momo’s backside. You clear your throat.

“She’s spoken for. And your competition won’t fold as easily as those creeps in the alley.”

“Just lookin’,” he says, reaching for his first beer.

You take your own beer in your hands, bringing it up to your lips for a sip. You eye him over the rim, take in everything about him. His hair, his face, the bored expression he near constantly wears. The more you see, the more familiar he looks.

“So…what’s your name?” you ask.

“Why do you wanna know?” he counters.

“Isn’t it normal for me to want to know the name of my knight in shining armor?”

He laughs before taking a large gulp of his beer, slamming it down onto the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He tilts his head to look at you through half lidded eyes. You’re sure he’s trying to be seductive, and you have no doubt he can be, but after countless alphas from various clans trying to attract your attention you’ve built up a sort of immunity to pretty words and manipulative men.

He pouts when you show no sign of wavering.

“Doesn’t matter,” he huffs.

“I think it does,” you insist.

Like with the alphas in the alley, you’re caught in a staring contest with the man before you. But after a minute of you matching his impassive expression he smacks his teeth. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“What’s it to you anyway?”

You shrug. “You look like someone I know.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “You’ve got the same eyes.”

He hums.

“And the same hair,” you add.

He raises his brows. His green eyes light up in mock interest.

“Even got the same frown.”

“Wow,” he leans forward, propping an elbow on the table and resting his chin in his large palm, “the same frown.”

“He’s like a carbon copy of you. Almost like you could be father and son.”

At this, he straightens up. His expression hardens and he eyes the diner warily, as if he’s been unknowingly lured into some nefarious den.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I asked you first.”

You wait for his answer, patient as you take another sip of beer. He clenches his jaw.

“Toji,” he finally answers.

“Family name?”

He hesitates. It seems any answer he has prepared for you won’t allow him to remain anonymous. But he could also give you a fake name, though something tells you he won’t.

“Fushiguro.”

He whispers the name, one you’re familiar with. You nod your head.

Before Fushiguro, he was Zen’in. Everyone knows the story of the alpha who deserted his clan after years of being ignored and put down by his family. An alpha who couldn’t shift into his wolf form was considered a blemish on the Zen’in name. But what Toji lacked as a shapeshifter he made up for in his human form. Physically stronger, faster, sharper than nearly any man or wolf, he made a name for himself as a hunter. You don’t know how you feel about him hunting other wolves, but from the stories you heard he was quite impressive.

“Okay,” Toji says, “so what’s your name?”

You tell him your full name, then add, “But my friends call me Hana.”

He scoffs. “So we’re friends?”

“We can be.”

“Why do your friends call you Hana?” he asks instead.

“Because they think they’re funny, dubbing me the blooming flower of my family.”

He chuckles, scratching at his chin. “So what’s the daughter of a clan leader doing sneaking around at night?”

“Needed to clear my head.” You trace a line down the side of your glass, breaking through the condensation. “I’m expected to choose a husband soon.”

“Right.” Toji nods. “Your family has the golden womb.”

You scrunch your nose at his wording. That’s all you are to any of them. A pawn. An object. You could just run away, you think. You’d ask Satoru to lend you some money until you get settled somewhere far away, then you’d live your life free of clan traditions. On your own terms.

But you know it’s nothing but a fantasy. Even if you ran they’d send someone to track you down and bring you back. Someone like Toji…

You lift your gaze to the alpha, and slowly an idea begins to form in your mind. You recall a thought you had: find your own opportunity.

“What do you think about marriage?”

“The first time wasn’t so bad.” Toji shrugs. “Second time was more for convenience.”

“You know,” you pause, gauging his expression, “they say third time’s the charm.”

His brows pinch together. He’s obviously puzzled.

You smile. “What do you say?”

“Marriage? To you?” He points a thumb over his shoulder. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head back there?”

“Think about it. If we get married your family will have to bring you back into the fold. You’ll be bankrolled by them again and I’ll get to rub it in all the clan leaders’ faces that I found away around their ancient tradition.”

“What makes you think I want their money?” Toji frowns. “Or would even go back if they asked?”

“Well, word around the packs is that you’re a bit of a gambler, so whatever money you acquire on your own is yours to do with as you please,” you say, waving your hand dismissively. “And if you don’t want to go back to your family then you can live with me. I’ll take care of your food, housing, and other essentials.”

“And be, what? Your sugar baby?”

“Essentially.” You chuckle to yourself. “Also, I’m sure they’ll want a stake in decisions about our children. That’s going to be so much fun.”

“Eh?” Toji scowls. “Now we’re talking about children?”

“Obviously we’ll have to have at least one,” you say. Avoiding children is hard in your position, but becoming a mother is not entirely out of the question. Having a mother like yours, a part of you had always been eager for your turn. “And I’m curious to see how they’ll turn out. I’ve heard stories about you. With your strengths and my “golden womb” perhaps our child will turn out to be very powerful. God, I can just picture the looks on the faces of those old men.”

Toji smirks. “You’re a spiteful one aren’t you?”

“Since I’m an only child, my father will pass on his business to whoever I marry.” You’re talking to yourself now, your future laying itself out before your eyes. “And after he does you’ll tell him you aren’t interested in running the company, then you’ll announce that you’re turning it over to me. I know everything about that place. I’ll keep growing the company, make sure the clan continues to prosper, and start making changes from the inside. Of course you’ll be free to do your own thing.”

You pause, really looking at Toji now and see a glint in his eyes as he stares back at you. You can tell he’s considering your offer.

“What about divorce?” he asks.

“You’ll have to sign a prenup, so there’s really no benefit for you if we get divorced. My father will also make sure that I have full custody of any children we have. You’ll essentially be right back where you are now. Just older.”

He’s silent as he rests his cheek in his palm.

“I’ll make sure you won’t want for anything.” You express the same sentiment your father did to you. How strange, you think, an omega offering protection and security to an alpha. “And if you want to see Megumi, I can ask—”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.” Toji pointedly avoids your gaze. “But we don’t have to involve the kid.”

Your heart clenches. You wonder if he’ll be this indifferent to your own children.

“Okay.” You extend your hand across the table. “It’s a deal.”

Toji’s hand is warm around yours as he takes it and gives it a firm shake. Momo comes back to your table with your small feast. You thank her and she’s off again. Toji already has chopsticks in hand, but before he can take the first bite you speak up.

“For my father to accept this betrothal we’ll have to show him we’re serious. That there’s no going back.”

Toji looks at you with ramen hanging in front of his open mouth. “How do we do that?”

You smirk.

“With a little bonding time.”

After your meal, you pay for a cab to take you and Toji to Love Hotel Hill in Shibuya. You’re dropped of at the entrance of the hotel, but before going inside you take hold of Toji’s elbow and turn him to face you.

“This is your last chance to back out,” you tell him. “If you walk through those doors with me there’s no going back.”

Toji’s head pushes back slightly. His brow furrows and he looks almost…offended. His lips part and he looks like he’s about to speak, but then his brows rise. His eyes scan your face and you wonder what he sees.

Does he see how hopeful you are? Does he realize that you’re both desperate for the same chance to change your lives?

“Don’t worry, omega.” He smirks, taking your hand that’s still touching his elbow. His thumb brushes over the inside of your wrist. A tingle zips through your arm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Relief washes through you and you smile. You don’t think much of it as you wrap your arm through his, pulling you close to him as you walk through the automatic glass doors of the hotel.

The lobby is empty except for the reception desk where you know an attendant sits behind the opaque window. The rest of the space is finely decorated with warm overhead lighting, lush green plants, and a long leather couch placed against the far wall.

Your shoes tap softly against the tile as you and Toji step up to the board on the right wall lit up with pictures of available rooms to choose from. There are a few themed options, but you and Toji decide on a standard room for the night. So you choose a room on the top floor along with the “stay” option then go to the reception desk to pay. After you exchange notes for the key card a soft feminine voice bids you a pleasant stay.

After thanking the attendant you and Toji move to the elevator. He pushes the call button and you stand, your arm still around his, and wait. When the bell dings to signal the elevator’s arrival you prepare to step forward, but when the doors open a couple is already inside. The man removes his hands from the woman’s hips. He clears his throat and she giggles. You avert your eyes as you and Toji step aside for them to exit. When you’re inside and the elevator doors are closing you can hear the sounds of their infatuated exchange as they walk through the lobby and back out into the world.

You and Toji ride to the top floor in silence. The key card weighs heavy in your hand and you can’t help the racing of your heart as the numbers above the doors keep climbing. When the doors open you and Toji move at the same time to step into the hallway and toward your room.

Not only are you on the top floor but also in the north east corner. Although the walk to your room seems a mile long, it gives you the sense of greater privacy feeling so far away. There are no sounds from the other doors you pass that you can detect. Knowing Toji’s heightened senses, you wonder if he hears anything. You peek over at him but his face sits in the same flat expression.

When you arrive, you swipe the key card above the handle and enter the room. There’s a small area at the entrance where you both take off your socks and shoes. Toji is barefoot in less than a minute while you’re still bent at the waist working your shoes off.

Once you’re done and are upright again you stride further into the room. It’s not unlike any other pricey hotel you’ve stayed at with its marble counters and hardwood floors. The only difference would be that there’s only one window with the curtains pulled shut for privacy. You do, however, like the large circular bed in the middle of the room.

It’s on a raised section of the floor, and instead of hardwood the bed is surrounded by soft carpet. It’s sunken into the platform and dressed in white bedding. A round light fixture hovers directly above, like a spotlight on the main event.

It excites you. So you follow the feeling and waste no time getting everything prepared just the way you like it.

“Feel free to grab anything from the bar,” you say over your shoulder.

You hear the mini fridge open and close then the hiss of a bottle opening. You feel Toji’s eyes on you, watching as you flit around the room and grab towels from the bathroom along with extra blankets from the closet by the door. You toss them onto the bed and arrange them to your liking before jumping on top and rolling around your makeshift nest.

“What are you doing?” he asks, coming to stand at the edge of the bed. He takes a sip of his bottled beer.

“I want to make sure it smells like us before we get started.” You roll around a bit more. Spread your arms and legs out like you’re making a snow angel. “Come here.”

When he doesn’t move you crawl on your hands and knees and take hold of his arm. You try pulling him down to you but he doesn’t budge. Not a single inch. You try again, but are only met with Toji’s laughter.

“Told you already,” the smile he gives you is nothing short of mocking, “you’re a weak little thing.”

Your lips press together tightly, not appreciating the way he taunts you. So when your hand lets go of his arm and your fingers glide over to tease at the hem of his sweatpants you grin triumphantly when he jerks away.

“Oi!”

You giggle at the scowl Toji throws your way. He downs the rest of his beer and tosses the bottle onto the floor carelessly and it rolls away onto the hardwood. Your eyes follow him as he purposefully walks in an arc to get to the other side of the bed before plopping down onto it, landing on his back with a huff.

“You have to roll around so your scent gets everywhere,” you say.

“M’not a child.” He crosses his arms under his head, shutting his eyes. “Not gonna roll.”

“Fine.”

You surprise him for a second time by swiftly darting across the mattress and straddling his hips. His green eyes fly open and he looks at you like you’re absolutely insane. But you pay him no mind as you grab the edges of the blanket beneath him and fold each end over his front. You hold them closed tightly and sway him a little back and forth. You’re impressed with yourself that you can even manage that with how huge he is.

“Having fun?” Toji deadpans.

“A little,” you admit.

Next, you grab a towel from behind you and place it over his head, rubbing hair with it like you would if you were drying it after a shower. Toji says something but it’s unintelligible beneath the towel.

You pull it away from his face. “What was that?”

“Said it smells nice.”

“Really?” You give it a whiff. “What’s it smell like?”

“Like a plum. Tart with just the right amount of sweetness,” he says. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Smells like you.”

“You’re not going soft on me now are—”

You gasp when Toji’s hand shoots out to take hold of your arm. He presses his nose to your wrist, inhaling deeply. The intimate action makes your lower belly erupt with butterflies.

As if sensing your reaction, Toji sits up. His face hovers just an inch away from you and he holds onto your hips to keep you from scooting backward. Your noses touch, lips just barely brushing. Lust swims in the pools of his green irises and you see your own eagerness reflected in them. You spend several long heated seconds exchanging warm breaths before you lean in, closing the gap and pressing your lips to his.

It starts out slowly, both of you acquainting yourselves with the taste and feel of each other, before it picks up. You’re not sure which one of you initiated it, but when the kiss turns needier and hungrier neither of you protest. You moan when his tongue passes through your lips, the wet muscle hunting for more of your taste.

The heat between you starts to rise and your mind tells you that you’re both wearing too many clothes. Your hands scramble to the hem of Toji’s shirt and start tugging until he raises his arms and you pull it over his head. Your lips are disconnected for a moment, but find each other again when his torso is bare.

Your hands wander the expanse of his sculpted chest, fingers pressing into firm muscle hidden beneath hot smooth flesh. Your touch ventures further down to his stomach where you explore every dip and crevice of abdominal muscle etched to perfection. You pull a gasp from the alpha beneath you when your fingers ghost over where the thin trail of hair on his lower stomach disappears into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Toji growls into your mouth before taking the bottom of your shirt and jerking it upward, impatient in his movements. You lift your arms and he rips it the rest of the way off you, leaving only your bra to cover your chest. The shirt is discarded before Toji attaches his mouth to yours again, but he doesn’t stay there. Hot lips start making their way lower, leaving a wet trail down your throat until his teeth are nipping and teasing at the gland on your neck. You gasp at the sensation and feel the vibrations of Toji’s laughter against your collarbone.

“Asshole,” you say, breathlessly.

He smiles against your skin, not bothering to argue, as his hands settle on your waist and give a firm squeeze. “Stand up.”

It’s not an alpha command, but you move as if it is. Your feet sink into the mattress and you hold onto Toji’s shoulders for balance. He undoes the button and pulls down your zipper, and in one motion he has your bottom half completely bare in front of him. His face presses into your hip as he helps you get each foot free.

Now you stand only in your bra, watching as he tugs down his sweatpants to reveal himself to you. He’s half hard but you can already tell he’s definitely the largest you’ve ever had. While he works his pants off you reach behind and undo your bra, letting it fall off your arms before you toss it onto the floor to land with the rest of your clothes.

Toji’s touch is on you again. Warm, calloused hands brush up and down your thighs before hooking at the back of your knees. He pulls you down so you’re once again straddling him. He kisses you, briefly but with more fervor, before he leans his head down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth.

You bring a hand to the back of his head, fingers threading through the strands as you keep him close. A whimper escapes you as the tip of his tongue expertly traces circles around your sensitive nub. Your lower body clenches when he moves to your other breast, lips firmly attaching themselves and giving a light tug.

Your free hand reaches down between your bodies to take hold of Toji’s cock. His base is nestled among a patch of dark curls, and the more your hand works up and down his length the more of him you feel. Mentally, and maybe physically, you’re drooling at his girth. And the thick vein running on the underside of his shaft makes you eager to have him inside you already, so you pump him earnestly until he’s fully erect. You keep at it until suddenly he swats your hand away.

“Toji? What—”

Your words catch in your throat when his hand suddenly dives in between your legs. Toji’s fingers run through your folds, humming in satisfaction with how soaking wet you already are. He only gives a single teasing prod at your entrance before he plunges two thick fingers inside you.

Gasping, your hands clutch onto his biceps. You pant as his long fingers reach deeper than you ever could on your own. He sets a fast pace from the start, making you choke on your own moans as he finger fucks you without mercy. His fingers curl to find that special spot inside you that has you sinking your nails into his skin. And when his palm presses down on your clit your heart literally skips a beat. Every precise movement of his fingers has the coil tightening in your belly, has you teetering on the edge.

“I’m almost—” You let out a whimper. “I’m close.”

“Yeah, you are.” Toji pushes his nose against your cheek, tongue licking at the curve of your jaw. “Can feel how tight you’re squeezing my fingers.”

You’re almost there. Just a little bit more and then you’ll—

The tension, the heat. It’s gone. The end you were so close to capturing is suddenly ripped away. You stare at the pair of fingers that should be inside you, but instead are shiny and glistening before your eyes.

“Toji.” You whine as your bottom lip juts out into a pout. “Why’d you do that? I was—”

But your protests are silenced when Toji shushes you. He lowers his slick covered hand and you watch as he strokes himself. You swallow as he delves back through your folds for more lubricant. Your hips twitch at the contact and your pussy clenches hungrily around nothing as it waits for Toji to finish preparing himself.

“Don’t worry, omega.” Toji’s voice is barely above a whisper. A soft promise just for you. “I’ll give you what you want.”

You raise your hips as Toji lines himself up with your entrance, pressing his tip against you before slowly entering. Your breathing comes in short spurts as you try to adjust to his size. Each inch burns but it soon gives way to pleasure when he bottoms out.

You’re both panting when you’re fully seated on top of him. Toji leans back on his hands, green eyes staring up at you.

“Take it,” he says. “Take what you need.”

You lean forward, holding his face in your palms, and kiss him. When you lift your hips, you whine into his mouth and bring yourself back down. You plant your hands on his shoulders and set your pace. You pull back as you bounce on his cock, feeling the familiar tightness once again.

“That’s it. Keep going.” One of Toji’s hands comes to rest at the base of your neck, a subtle guide to your actions that barely registers in the back of your currently one track driven mind. “Doing so good, omega.”

He’s called you that several times tonight, but you can’t help clench around him when he says it now. Full of pride and encouragement. A primal instinct in you is reacting to this man, this alpha, and you like it.

Suddenly, Toji pushes forward and pulls you to his chest, one arm around your waist while his other hand takes hold of your chin and points it upward. His mouth hovers over your exposed flesh, over the sensitive gland on the side of your neck. He doesn’t need you to tell him when, you can feel the way you’re coming together.

You slam down onto him once, twice, and then you cry out as the tight coil within finally snaps at the same time Toji sinks his teeth into you. Sharp canines pierce your mating gland, sending a shiver down your spine.

Blood trickles out of the wound and Toji laps away at the trail of crimson, leaving none behind. You wrap your arms around him. You want him closer, as close as you can be.

You feel dazed, like the world has shifted on its axis. Your head drops as a fog clouds your mind, struggling to conjure up any other thought besides Toji. But all you feel is the hot aftershocks of pleasure coursing through you as the familiar scent of cypress and cinnamon surrounds you.

The world shifts again and this time you land on something soft. You blink your eyes open, realizing you’re on your back now. Toji hovers above you. His broad shoulders take over your field of vision so all you see is him. His black hair hangs in sweaty strands down the sides of his face. Those emerald green of his eyes are locked onto you. It makes your heart flutter.

“Alpha.”

Toji’s expression softens when you call to him. Plead for him. He lowers his head to nose at the mark he’s just made. You flinch, still sensitive.

“Did so good for me, omega.” His praise makes you keen. You arch your back to touch your chest to his. “Now it’s my turn.”

He’s still hard inside you, not having found his release yet. He wraps your legs around his waist and starts moving. Like earlier, he doesn’t wait to set a quick pace. His hips pound into you as he chases his own pleasure.

Whimpers escape you as he bullies your sensitive pussy. He braces his forearms on either side of your head, caging you in. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his back, keeping him trapped inside your locked limbs.

“I’m gonna…fuck,” Toji hisses in your ear. “Wanna cum inside you.”

“It’s okay.” You hold onto him tighter. “M’on birth control.”

After your admission his thrusts turn erratic. You feel the swelling at the base of his cock grow larger and larger. He’s hot and heavy inside you. All around you. He’s overwhelming but you don’t want him to stop.

“Almost there,” Toji grunts.

“Please, Alpha.”

Toji moans, both from your plea and the way you tighten yourself around his cock. Your body wants him. Can’t get enough. You’re his and now it’s time to make him yours.

One last powerful thrust sends Toji over the edge. His knot swells inside of you, sealing you both together, as his hot seed paints your walls. He sighs, heavy and satisfied as he continues to gently rock into you.

The haze of your mind is beginning to clear. Your body slowly becomes heavier even as small shocks of pleasure continue to jolt through your system. You raise a trembling hand to the back of Toji’s head. Taking a fistful of his hair, you sharply yank his head to the side and bite down hard enough to pierce the gland on his neck.

Toji grunts. His body stiffens as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. You smooth a hand down his back as you lick away any remaining blood, and his body gradually relaxes until he’s pressing his full weight on top of you.

You huff, trying to shift to get a better chance at not suffocating. But when you pull away a little too quickly, you both hiss when there’s a harsh tug at where your connected.

“Sorry,” you apologize. Your hands are quick to soothe, helping Toji adjust his body so you’re both comfortable. “How do you feel?”

Toji still has his face hidden in your neck. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

Although the bonding isn’t as potent as it would be during your heat it doesn’t lessen the connection you’ve created with this man. You both cling to each other as you struggle to take it all in, anxious about how this decision is already changing you.

Instincts you’ve ignored until now are already clawing their way out of the deep pits of your subconscious. The urge to soothe, to nurture, to submit is nearly overpowering. It will completely consume you if you let it.

Toji’s large hand is splayed out across your rib cage, thumb caressing the curve of your breast. His mind races while his heart beats wildly as he clings to you. His actions aren’t lining up with who he’s been up to this point. He’s never been the type to attach himself to anyone or anything. Thankfully, you feel his building resolve to chip away at the unwanted bits of his new appetite as a bonded alpha.

You sigh, relieved you made the right choice, as you card your fingers through Toji’s hair until his breathing evens out and he’s fast asleep.

But you stay wide awake well into the early morning. How could you surrender to sleep with all your life’s new possibilities waiting for you to conceive of them?

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @bungalowbear-archive and turn on notifications.

Dividers by @rookthornesartistry.

[ms-demeanor]

Going off that post about nutrition and science, I'd love to hear what you think of the 5:2 diet/The Fast 800 and its creator, Dr. Michael Mosley. For context: in order to get an NHS-funded breast reduction (it's a gender thing, but also just a general quality-of-life thing), I need to be a certain BMI, so I've been referred to a weight management clinic. The lady I've been seeing initially just put me on a low-carb diet (130g or less of carbs per day, with an aside from her about how bullshit Keto and BMI limits for treatment are), but now she's said that, if I wanted to speed up the weight loss, I should include the 5:2 diet: 5 days in a week where I eat "normally", and 2 fast days in which I restrict myself to 800kcals. I did a little looking into it myself, and found that 5:2 - which I HAD heard about before - is now being sold as part of "The Fast 800", with Dr. Mosley being the creator of it. I was shocked by that, because I was already a fan of Dr. Mosley's work (he has a podcast called "Just One Thing" that I really liked, and thought contained reasonable-sounding advice), and yet having a diet plan that he's clearly making money off of does immediately make me feel suspicious. I've borrowed his "The Fast 800" book from the library, both to find out more about the diet I've been put on and to see if it's at all backed by evidence, and he does cite a bunch of scientific studies which seem to back up his ideas, but I don't know how valid they are, and I don't just want to accept them at face-value (especially since he's a "we got fat completely wrong in the 80s, therefore we should eat a Mediterranean diet!" types). Obviously I'll go with what my weight management lady suggests, since she's obviously more qualified to talk about it than I am, but I am curious to know what you think, and whether I'm right to be distrustful of all of this.

I am, generally speaking, against any diet for rapid weight loss. They're not sustainable so people gain the weight back (often with more weight getting added on).

There have also recently been findings that suggest that BMI cutoffs for top surgery are detrimental to patients as patients in higher BMI categories are more likely to have minor complications like UTIs or to be readmitted, but are not likely to have major complications or be at risk of significant harm from having top surgery. I don't know if anybody will listen if you bring up that study, and I know that GCS is fraught in many places for many reasons.

I'm also just.

I'm so mad. I'm so fucking mad! I'm so mad about this!

One of my best friends is a guy who was pressured into a pattern of disordered eating and unhealthy exercise in order to qualify for top surgery; since then he has not been able to eat in a healthy way and has struggled with alternating between exercising to the point of harm and other destructive behaviors that make him unhappy and unsafe. And he didn't need that. He didn't need any of that! He needed a very safe surgery that had perhaps a slightly higher risk of minor complications at his size and instead he got top surgery and an eating disorder! I hate it! I'm so fucking mad about it!

Also as near as I can tell Michael Mosley qualified as a psychiatrist in the 90s, spent very little time working as a psychiatrist, and then became a media personality. From what is visible on his website and every biography I've found for him he apparently doesn't have any background in nutrition beyond whatever is standard for someone in medical school (which is NOT MUCH).

Hey I just looked at his website and this is straight-up fucked up.

Anybody recommending an 800 calorie a day diet for 2-12 weeks in a context that is not heavily medically supervised can fucking choke. That is *ridiculously* dangerous and the website says that this can improve insulin resistance but there are a shitload of studies about people on crash diets like this *developing* insulin resistance (oh hey like my friend who became prediabetic after his rapid significant weight loss).

Also in regard to the studies he cites on the website, the "two years later patients are still going strong in their diabetes improvements" it's really important to put shit like that in context

at 5 years 13% of the original intervention group were in remission from their type two diabetes; the average weight loss experienced by the intervention group as a whole was 6.1kg compared to 4.6kg in the control group. That's 1.5kg lower for the people who went through a twelve week medically supervised very low calorie diet compared. That's an average difference of 3.3 pounds between "starvation diet" and "no diet" for the Americans in the audience.

Yours is the second comment I've seen that has been leery of the Mediterranean diet, btw, and the Mediterranean diet is fine. It's very achievable and not super gimmicky and is based on very reasonable reassessments of fat, not the hardcore "you are fine to eat 100g of fat a day" kind of attitude that you get from the keto crew. There isn't really one Mediterranean diet and it certainly isn't low carb (which the bits from Mosely's website seem to indicate it is).

So, no, honestly I don't think much of Mosely and I'm very sorry you're in this situation, that sucks and I hate that they're refusing you treatment until you undergo an exceptionally difficult and potentially harmful weight loss excursion.

I know you're probably stuck with that and it's bullshit and I think it fucking sucks and unfortunately the medical advice you're likely to get is "eat in a significantly disordered manner at least until it is time for surgery" and it blows. That just fucking sucks.

If you're looking for rapid weight loss that you don't plan to sustain (and you shouldn't plan to sustain it, it won't stay off) you may want to look into body building forums for how they discuss cuts. It's still disordered eating and it's still not healthy, but at least they're effective and can tell you what supplements will keep you from becoming malnourished while you prepare for surgery. This is a terrible idea. I don't actually want to give this advice to anyone but bodybuilders are the exact kind of people who know how far and how fast they can push weight loss while having an awareness that it isn't really good for them and it won't stay off.

I cannot overstate enough how much I hate the thought that people are being encouraged to rapidly starve themselves in order to prepare to recover from surgery. I am so sorry and I'm so mad and

[spacelazarwolf]

I feel like I’ve had to unfollow all the leftist blogs that aren’t Jewish in order to avoid being drowned in Israel bad = hamas good takes. Maybe just taking an internet break in general. This sucks. My family is hiding in bomb shelters but apparently they deserve it for being Israeli civilians.

rules of engagement: israel is still an off limits topic for this blog. i am allowing good faith asks about it for the next day or so, but me posting things or responding to asks is not an invitation to interrogate me or blame me for the government of a country i don’t have citizenship in. i should be able to process my feelings on my own blog without people using that as an excuse for antisemitism. if you immediately jump in to call me a zionist or screenshot my posts as “proof” i’m a zionist despite me making numerous posts saying i’m not, it’s an immediate block. get a hobby.

yeah it’s going to be a rerun of 2021. i’ve already seen much of the same rhetoric, the same people who never post about i/p suddenly flooding their blog with misinformation and reactionary bullshit, the same holocaust and nazi comparisons, the same palestinian activists having to take time out of their activism to teach western gentiles the basics of not being antisemitic in their advocacy for palestinians, the same complete and utter disregard for jewish life and history. i just saw someone make the argument that because military service is compulsory for all israelis that “no israeli is innocent” and therefore any israeli deaths are justified. from someone i used to respect.

but i think one of the things that always concerns me the most about the way gentiles talk about i/p is the way they talk about indigenaity. inevitably, when the topic of jewish indigenaity comes up, or someone does the stupid “go back to poland” thing, people always excuse it because “you haven’t lived there for 2000 years, it’s not yours anymore” (not true, there’s been a continuous jewish presence there for thousands of years) and it honestly blows my mind to see leftists and progressives talk like that because they don’t seem to understand the ramifications of arguments like that. because putting a timeline on indigenaity, and also asserting that only one group can be indigenous to a place, is so wildly dangerous. but all sense of logic and decency seem to go out the window when western gentiles see the word “israel” so i’m not surprised.

[allisonlol]

How about Dazai Fyodor and Nikolai finding their s/o's sex toys 😳😳

a/n: y'all keep hitting me with these smut reqs and i fall for it everytime! also started college back up again today and ugh

warnings: nsfw, sex toys lol, kinda explicit

(Dazai, Fyodor, Nikolai) Finding Their S/O's Sex Toys

Dazai

so, you and dazai had started dating quite recently and you hadn't felt comfortable yet showing him your...collection

and tbh i don't blame you cuz like how do you even go about telling someone that?? just whip open the drawer and be like "behold"??

so for the time being you decided to keep it a secret, hiding the toys in the bottom drawer of your dresser

but at the same time, dazai was slowly moving himself into your apartment?? doing that thing where they start leaving some of their stuff there until they are gradually fully moved in LOL he ain't slick

^while at work he'd texted you, asking if he could borrow the bottom two drawers of your dresser for his clothes

honestly you weren't thinking too clearly atm and had just replied with a quick "sure!"

no more than five minutes later you see dazai has sent you a photo, and when you open it your heart DROPS

it was a picture of the open drawer with your sex toys and he'd only captioned it with "what's all this, hmm?"

PLS ur too scared to message him back and you spend the rest of your shift shaking until you return home

^once there, this mf is waiting for you

deadass has all the sex toys lined up on the bed. makes you take off ur clothes right away so he can use them all on you <3

probably blindfolds you and makes you try to guess which toy he's using too

Fyodor

tbh you just never showed him your sex toys cuz you were scared of what he would do to you for having them lol

i mean, fyodor loves to dish out punishments, am i right?? called crime and punishment for a reason

knowing him, he would be disappointed by the fact you were getting off on something other than himself

but nonetheless, that's why you decided to keep it a secret. although...nothing is truly a secret when it comes to fyodor

don't ask me how, but he knew you had them since the start. never commented on it until one day when he'd pretended to "accidentally" find them right in front of you

^on this night, you were sitting in bed on your phone when fyodor got up and just?? started opening random drawers on your dresser??

he's getting closer and closer to the one you keep your toys in and you feel yourself getting increasingly nervous

ur all like "tf are you looking for" and he's just like "i can't seem to find my favorite shirt..." mf you are already wearing it??

fyodor eventually reaches the secret drawer and YANKS that shit open before turning to you with a knowing smirk

you fly out of bed and try to close the drawer, but he grabs your wrist and backs you onto the bed

pls your face is bright red and you are pleading with him to not be upset

he says some "why would i be upset, my dear? now i get to watch you put on a show and use them all for me" <33

yea...you're not getting out easily. fyodor sits at the end of the bed while watching you use each toy on yourself until you are shaking and crying from overstimulation

Nikolai

so you had been planning to tell nikolai about your little (not so little) collection but hadn't gotten around to it yet

plus he was just so good in bed that you didn't even have a use for the toys anymore... (ᵔ◡ᵔ)

therefore you'd actually forgotten about them for a bit

on this night, you'd decided to clean up your apartment, and was finishing up with your bedroom

nikolai had come over after work right when you were cleaning out the last drawers of your nightstand

you try to get him to help you but instead he's doing some bullshit and poking thru your stuff ofc

you yank open the last drawer of the nightstand and your heart drops when it reveals all the sex toys you'd forgotten about?? smh

you quickly slam the drawer shut which catches nikolai's attention, and it's like he teleports next to you cuz suddenly his arm is around your waist and he's all like "what are you hiding in there, hmm?"

you can't stop the way ur face turns red and that's when he knows something is up

^reaches past you and yanks the drawer open while you're trying to unsuccessfully push him away

nikolai loses it and starts laughing like "THIS is what you were trying to hide??"

he's very open to the idea of sex toys so he instantly gets all excited; meanwhile you're standing in the background like (⦿ᴗ⦿) while he EXAMINES each one

ends up tying your legs open on the bed and spends hours testing them all out on you until ur crying <33

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @irethepotato @serenareiss @ashthemadwriter

[nicxl333]

MEINE LIEBE, MEINE SCHÖNHEIT, MEINE LIEBE— MICHAEL KAISER X READER

warnings: suggestive content, fluff, implied sex

cross posted on wattpad

i actually don’t know why it’s taken me this long to write about kaiser, i fucking love this man *moans*

love was a concept kaiser could not understand nor wished to get involved with. he believed love clashed with his ideals to escape from noel noa's shadow therefore dissociating from the norm that he is second best where noa is concerned. in other words;

love would only hold him back.

well, at least that's what he thought before you came along.

—

it all started when he was out shopping with ness, picking out over expensive items he did not necessarily need but bought anyways to feed into his swelling ego as well as affirming within himself that if 'he can he will'.

he had chanced upon a clothing shop with a shirt that caught his eye, wanting to look at it briefly at a closer angle. while the shirt wasn't over appealing to him, he had no reason to not buy it, considering how rich he is. he started filtering through, selecting the right size, giving it to ness to hold and heading towards the counter. just as they was approaching the queue, he lightly clashed into something in front of him, looking down with increasing displeasure at whoever weren't looking at where the fuck they were going, seeing an extremely beautiful woman rubbing her shoulder. he didn't speak at first, allowing his anger to simmer. he didn't need to anyways, not when ness was present and apparently feeling more offended than kaiser himself who was actually hit.

"oi, watch where you're going you idiot. you just hit the Michael Kaiser!"

what they didn't anticipate however was you having the ability to stand up for yourself.

you took an airpod out of your ear, giving the most aggravated side eye both football players had ever seen.

"first off, i would watch who the fuck you're talking to. i don't care if his name is michael or fucking joey, i will not be disrespected by a pair of strangers when i clearly bumped into you by accident. you didn't even give me time to breathe, let alone apologise, which i won't be doing now for the record."

although stunned, kaiser was somewhat intrigued at your reaction. although he likes annoying people and baiting reactions, this was truly one of the few times he had actually been knocked down a peg in retaliation. he wanted to know more about you.

"damn. feisty."

"i'll show you fucking feisty if you want."

ness stood there, solemnly humbled and out of commission to spout any other bullshit from his mouth, while kaiser was stunned into temporal silence.

"whatever, leave me alone you freaks."

you turned to walk up to the cashier desk, letting the sales assistant scan your clothes items. they gave you the price and you reached into your purse to take your card. a hand beat you to it however, a beep resounding from the card machine. you looked up to see a tattooed hand retracing back to the owner's side, holding a black card. he looked to you with a sly grin.

"what, am i supposed to be impressed?" you quizzed with a raised brow.

well damn.

it was clear to kaiser that you were different from other women, who were always easily impressed by money.

"just an apology for how my friend acted towards you, meine liebe."

you ignored him and took the now bagged clothes from the sales assistant, muttering a word of thanks while turning back to the duo, opening your wallet.

"i don't wanna owe you anything, so how much was it? i didn't see the price."

"aht, aht, that's between me and my bank account now. although if you truly must repay me, how about dinner tonight?"

ness' eyes nearly popped out of his head with seething jealousy that kaiser was diverting his attention elsewhere. he wouldn't say that to him though, he valued his life and would prefer to not be embarrassingly degraded in public again.

you gave a calculated stare at kaiser in slight shock, not expecting the once hostile environment to transition towards one of romance.

you pinched the bridge of your nose, slowly inhaling before opening your eyes.

"if it'll get you to leave me alone then fine."

you held your hand out for his phone, which he placed in your palm, quickly typing in your number and saving a name. you promptly returned it back to him, to which he looked at the details.

hot girl from store

he looked back up, only seeing where you previously stood, now vacated. he smirked to himself in amusement.

• six months later •

it's safe to say in the time he had gotten to know you, he swiftly became enamoured. although you protested countless of times, he would make sure to take you to upscale restaurants, don you with high end clothing. jewels, diamonds, shoes, dresses, you name it, he bought it. you only had to be remotely interested in the item you were looking at to find it at your doorstep the next day. and don't get you started on the way he loved you during the night. he always made sure you were satisfied before he was.

it's safe to say you had him wrapped around your finger. don't think that's it's a bad thing, but what really had kaiser keening for you was the interest you had for him as a person, not for who he was. you were probably the only person who treated him as a human being and not just a notorious football player. you allowed him to be himself around you. and he valued you immensely for that.

in the six months you had been dating each of you treated the other equally as well. although you requested for the relationship to stay secret for the meantime, he never gave you less of his love. it got to the stage where he couldn't imagine doing anything without you.

it just so happened that one night while watching a movie on his couch he couldn't hold himself back anymore.

you head was laid on his lap, stroking his thigh while he stroked your hip. your face was illuminated by the soft glow emanating from the tv and you just looked so damn beautiful.

he didn't intend for it to happen, but he couldn't stop the words from slipping out.

"i love you."

your head rose slightly, making sure you weren't tweaking and he actually professed his love to you.

his face was alarmingly red and he was looking anywhere but you in the moment, having grown shy. you sat up from his lap opting to sit on him instead, wrapping your legs and arms around him, placing your head in the crook of his neck and giving a light peck, moving to whisper in his ear.

"i love you too handsome."

he turned his head catching your lips in a heated passionate kiss, quickly incorporating his tongue into the mix, tasting the salt from the chips you were eating during the movie. it quickly escalated, your hands threading into his blonde and blue locks, gripping them and pulling slightly, to which he moaned into your mouth.

he reached his limit, and so did you . he lifted your body and lay you down on the couch, taking off his shirt and caging you in with his arms.

"i'm about to show you how much i love you meine schönheit."

[tightjeansjavi]

tea party

A/N: after writing chamomile last night and talking with @morallyinept, I realized that I needed to then write Dieter inviting you over to his place for a tea party date! 🥺 p.s. as a fellow midwesterner, we talk about the weather a lot and therefore I decided to poke some fun at us 🤣 and thank you to @itsokbbygrl for betaing 💗

~word count: 2.8k~

Summary: after meeting Dieter Bravo on the Raya app, he invites you over to his house for a tea party date

Pairing | dieter bravo x f!reader

Warnings: general, fluff, language, mentions of ouid, first date jitters and anxiety, overall soft vibes, reader has no physical descriptions, given the nature of my account, everything I write is +18 minors dni!

“Hey, have you ever heard of Dieter Bravo?” You asked your friend over coffee one morning at the BeachWood cafe in the Hollywood Hills.

“Oh! He’s that actor from Cliff Beasts! The last one was a total train wreck. I heard he’s trying to reinvent himself these days.” She took a sip of her latte, leaning back against the chair.

“Oh? Well, he swiped right on Raya. Do you think I should swipe back? He seems kinda…” you paused, tapping your finger against your chin, “prissy?”

She laughed and shook her head with a small smile. “I heard he’s a total diva, but I think he’s rather handsome in an unconventional, scruffy, almost endearing way?”

You pulled your phone out of your purse and opened up the Raya app, tapping a couple times till you pulled up Dieters profile.

Dieter is awaiting your response.

“I like the heart patches in his beard.” You said with a soft giggle and swiped right on his profile.

You and Dieter have matched!

-

You have one new message from Dieter Bravo

Hey! 😚 How do you feel about tea, and tea parties?

Well, at least he’s not starting off with an unsolicited dick pic!

Hey! Nice to meet you, Dieter. I love tea! I’ve actually never been to a proper tea party however :/

Dieter Bravo is typing…

Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, how rude of me to not introduce myself! Sorry, I’m not very experienced with this whole online dating bullshit. Anyway, you’ve never been to a proper tea party?! My dear, you’re missing out! 😝

It’s okay! Honestly, who cares for the formalities anyway? They remind me of small talk, and if there’s one thing that I loathe most in this world, it’s insignificant small talk. 🙄 anyway, I am sorry to say that I have yet to attend a tea party!

Dieter Bravo is typing…

Fucking thank you! Do you know how many times I’ve had to talk about the fucking weather?? It’s California! It’s always hot, and yes, we have smog. Do you want to attend a tea party with me?

Apparently the weather is the only thing that midwesterns talk about! Can you believe that? Although it might just be a rumor, I’ve heard it enough times to believe it. Anyway, I’d love to attend a tea party with you ☺️

He grins down at his phone, pinching his plush lower lip between his left thumb and forefinger. He feels giddy, like a kid in a candy shop. The last time he went on Raya he had the driest conversation with a new and upcoming influencer. What the dick do, Bravo? ;)

What happened to saying hello first?? 🙄

So…that didn’t turn you on? I thought you fucked everything and anything with two legs, lol.

Not today I don’t.

He deleted the app shortly after that and vowed to never download it again. Well, like most of his ‘promises’, that didn’t last very long. And then he stumbled upon your profile, and he thought you were precious; like dewdrops on blades of grass, or the inside of a geode. He knows he’s a bit weird, but your smile is pretty, and he would love to see it in person.

Great! I’ll send you my address and then we can pick a day that works for you! How’s that sound? :)

His house?

Oh, the tea party is at your house? What if you’re a serial killer? Aren’t there like NDA’s that I would have to sign?

He chuffs a laughs at this.

Well, what if you’re a serial killer? Can never be too careful these days! NDA’s? For a tea party? honey, you’re adorable, and should probably lay off on watching reality TV 😉

Shit! You got me there LOL. Already going and foiling my plans?! How dare you! Who said anything about me watching reality TV? ;) I just genuinely assumed that everything needs an NDA.

Jinkies! We got ‘em, scoob! 😆 good question on the whole NDA thing, sweetheart. I guess technically you should sign one, but fuck it! Let’s be rule breakers. Whad’ya think about that?

Oh, he’s charming. A little dorky, but sweet.

I say yes to us being rulebreakers! So, what is the attire for this said tea party? I want to make sure I show up fully prepared and dressed for the event! :)

Dieter Bravo is typing…

Oh, attire? Hmm. I say that you should wear whatever you feel prettiest in, and I’ll do the same! Also, I meant to tell you this earlier in our initial conversation, but you’re gorgeous. xx.

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you read over his message a few times till it’s positively ingrained in your brain like a tattoo.

Perfect! And you aren’t too bad yourself, Dieter ;)

He hearts your message before disappearing for a total of 30 minutes due to his agent calling him back regarding a role that he had recently auditioned for.

Hey! Sorry for my radio silence, gumdrop (I can’t just pick one nickname for you, I apologize!) I had to take a call. Anyway, here’s my address and number because this stupid fucking app won’t let me send you this gif that I think you’ll like!

Yes, Dieter Bravo is certainly very charming.

-

Dieter is an erratic texter and he tends to jump around from conversation to conversation. You don’t seem to mind however, because thus far, there hasn’t been a single dull moment in your conversation. You find yourself stupidly smiling at your phone two days before you’re set to finally meet for this tea party. He sent you a selfie while he was out to lunch wearing his signature black rimmed sunglasses. You could tell from the picture alone that he was trying to take a candid shot of himself without making it too obvious.

What a fucking goober.

Hey! Are we still on for Friday? :)

Absolutely! I can’t wait!

When Friday rolls around finally, that’s when the first date jitters come knocking at your door. Dieter told you to wear something that you feel the prettiest in, so you went with a mid length floral dress that had a sweetheart neckline for just the appropriate dip of cleavage. The dress was flirty and fun, and it was that exact energy that you wanted to embody.

Before driving over to Dieter’s you stopped at Trader Joe’s to purchase a bouquet of fresh tulips and a box of lemon frosted cookies.

All morning Dieter had been scrambling in his house to set up for the tea party date. He was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to first dates, and this was no exception. Maybe, however, he should have held off on smoking a bowl. Oh well, too late now.

The weather broadcast did not call for an overcast sky till late in the afternoon, and yet, it was fucking cloudy!

Of course it was.

He moved the tea party set up to his sunroom instead, and by the time he had finally finished setting everything to his standards, you had sent him a text saying you were on the way.

Time to smoke another bowl before I literally shit a fucking brick on the goddamn floor!

Dieter’s home is tucked away in the Hollywood Hills, and when you pulled up to his front gate, you were expecting him to live inside some massive mansion like his neighbors, but Dieter’s home was the opposite. It was actually quite charming from what you could see.

He buzzed you in moments later while he frantically checked his appearance in the hall mirror.

Maybe I should have shaved? God, no. I look awful with no beard. He thinks.

He leans in close to the mirror, his nose nearly bumping into it as he nitpicked his features with a huff.

Maybe I should have gotten a haircut. He cards his fingers through his soft curls before finally deciding that he looks decent.

The first thing you notice about Dieter Bravo is his attire. Well, lack thereof. Compared to your pretty floral dress, Dieter was wearing nothing but a pair of gray boxer briefs, a tawny, sherpa robe, black crocs with socks and the same sunglasses he was wearing the other day.

“Well, don’t you look lovely!” He chirps enthusiastically and remembers to take his hands out of his pockets and wipes his sweaty palms along the outside of his robe. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, gumdrop!”

If it were any other man…you probably would have hightailed it back to your car and blocked his number. But Dieter wasn’t like most men that you had talked to. He was a bit of a misfit, but so were you. And that’s the main reason why you weren’t turned away by his attire.

“Hey! You should have told me that the dress code was casual, Dieter!” You jokingly said with a light laugh. “Had I known, I would have shown up in my lounge wear too! Oh, and these are for you. I hope you like tulips!” You nearly thrust the bouquet of tulips and box of lemon cookies into his awaiting hands.

“Flowers? For me? D'aww. You shouldn’t have! Honey, I told ya to wear what you feel prettiest in!” He stifled a chuckle, “and I feel my prettiest in my favorite robe and crocs.”

“Of course they’re for you! I couldn’t just show up here empty handed, Dieter.” You couldn’t help but giggle along with him. “Well, I like your crocs. I think they suit you nicely.”

He blushes under your compliment before taking a whiff from the bouquet, closing his eyes momentarily as he inhales the tulips sweet scent. “Thank you, gumdrop. I love your dress. Looks like it was made just for ya!” He sets the flowers and box of cookies on the nearest surface. “Shall we get this tea party started, my dear?” He rubs his palms along his robe once more.

It’s comforting knowing that he’s just as nervous as you are just based on his gestures.

He offers you his elbow then like the true trash panda gentleman than he is. You wrap your hand around his bicep, holding it gently as he leads you further into his home.

“Originally I had a plan to set everything up outside, but of course the weatherman was fucking wrong, again! So, I hope you’re alright with it being in the sunroom?” He looks over at you expectantly.

“Oh, yeah. The overcast wasn’t expected, but I’m alright with it being set up in the sunroom.” You reassure him with a gentle smile.

“Great!” He clears his throat, “So, I have just about any flavor of tea that your pretty head could imagine. Is there a favorite that you have?” He was this close to engaging in small talk with you, but then he remembered just how much you loathed it.

“You’re an avid tea collector then? Is this a recent hobby or something that you’ve been doing for awhile? And if I had to pick just one flavor, I’d go with vanilla rooibos.”

“A recent hobby. I uh—well,” he stammers, “I’m trying to reinvent myself and develop some healthier habits. I read that drinking certain herbal teas has a lot of health benefits, and then I recently got into thrifting and found the most adorable porcelain tea set!”

You catch the little twinkle in his eyes when he tells you about his porcelain tea set, and it’s adorable. You’re not used to men being so open about their personal hobbies and the things that make them happy. Dieter is truly like a breath of fresh air.

“Hey, I’m all for self-improvement no matter how big or small. Drinking tea does have a lot of health benefits, but I also find it’s just really relaxing, y’know? I love thrifting! You never know what treasures you’re going to find.”

He grins, shaking his head to the side as he bites down on the inside of his cheek. He forgets how nice it is to just have a real conversation with someone.

Maybe I shouldn’t have smoked a bowl before this. Does she know how high I am right now? I hope not.

“Oh, yes, it’s very relaxing.” He nods in agreement and you find yourself standing outside of two French style doors leading into the sunroom. “If my schedule allowed for it, I would go thrifting more.”

With your hand still clasped around his bicep, he pushes open the doors with his freehand and you’re met with the quantiest little setup in the middle of the room. A table in the middle, covered in a light pink tablecloth with two chairs on either side.

In the center of the table is the porcelain teapot Dieter was gushing over moments ago, and two matching porcelain cups. He even set up a little vase of flowers and a candle as well to really set the mood.

“I have a confession to make.” He suddenly says as he pulls out the chair for you.

“Oh? What might that be?”

“This is my first time hosting a tea party.” He lets out a sigh. “So I apologize in advance if it’s not what you’re expecting. I mean, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to agree to this in the first place. I’m a bit—well, eccentric? I’ve just grown tired of the usual crowd I’ve hung out with, and I wanna—I wanna make some real connections.” He confesses.

“Well, that makes you and I both newbies then, huh? Dieter, I think we’re all a bit eccentric in our own ways. Honestly, I was just shocked that you didn’t send me an unsolicited dick pic right off the bat because for some fucking reason guys seem to think that’s what women, well, anyone for that matter want to see?”

“Wait, is that what people really do on those apps is send unsolicited dick pics? Fuck. Look, I’m a bit of a whore myself, but I always ask first before sending a dick pic.”

Ah, yes. Dieter Bravo is making sure that chivalry is alive and well, folks!

“Unfortunately that is what people do and then I am forced to go about my day knowing what some random man’s cock looks like! No one wants that visual in their head when they’re at work or out grocery shopping.”

Maybe one day she’ll wanna see my—

He pushes your chair into the table gently and takes the seat across from you, and while pulling his chair in, he bumps the table with his knees, cursing under his breath when the vase of flowers nearly topples over. You’re quick to re-steady it and he whispers a quiet, “thank you.”

Dieter is an enthusiastic storyteller and you're fascinated by his ability to talk so animatedly and with so much passion. Your assumptions lead you to believe that it’s only because he’s an actor, but there’s more to the story. You see a little boy who had big dreams growing up. A boy who was dorky, awkward, and reserved till he got up on stage and his true personality came out. He was a one of a kind enigma. The type of character that you would have to read over a dozen times in order to truly understand who he was.

And when you detected his stuttering and that familiar nervous twitch in his eye, you reached your hand across the expanse of the table and found his hand, entwining your fingers together in a soothing gesture.

Your eyes met and he finally released the breath that he had been holding.

Hope I’m not blowing this entire thing down the shitter already.

“Shall we—umm, have some tea now? Before it gets too cold?” He suggests.

“That would be lovely, Dieter.”

He squeezes your hand gently before reluctantly releasing it from his grasp so that he can hold the teapot steady in his palms.

“You remind me of a frog.” You said out of the blue as he began to carefully pour the tea into the porcelain cup.

“..A what?” He sounds confused and a little surprised.

“Like a tree frog. They’re cute, and well, a little weird, like you.” You tease.

“You think I'm weird?" He chuckles.

"Yeah, but in a really good way."

Neither of you noticed that the tea was dangerously close to spilling over the side of the cup.

"Oh. Well uh…that’s good! I like being weird, and freaky. And creepy. Well, not creepy like a stalker, but creepy like—"

"Dieter?"

"Hmm?"

"The tea!" You exclaim and he finally looks down to see that the cup has completely overflowed with tea dripping down the sides and all over the porcelain saucer.

“Oh, good fucking golly!” He huffs while you sit there in a fit of soft giggles. This may be the quirkiest first date you’ve ever been on, but you wouldn’t change a thing. And for the first time in a long time, you’re excited at the prospect of spending more time with this eccentric man.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 💗

I no longer have a taglist so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications

[gravehags]

something so precious

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: reader being sad and lonely, comfort from darling Copia, terzo being a scheming little matchmaker, mention of RATS OHWHOOOOAHHHH

Words: 1,461

Summary: When Terzo asks you to eat dinner with the rest of the abbey, how bad can it get?

a/n: I hc Copia as being an extremely lonely person, particularly when he's a Cardinal, so naturally he would be the best person to receive comfort from when you're feeling isolated and alone.

~~~

“Terzo?” you ask, leaning back in your squeaky leather chair. “Why do none of the siblings speak to me?”

Papa Emeritus III, currently sitting on your desk twirling a pen between his fingers as he hides from whatever duties Imperator has requested of him on this day, stops his movement and looks at you askance.

“Well obviously, bella,” he starts in that smooth voice you’ve come to recognize as the signature tune he uses when he wants to convince someone of something, usually involving accompanying him to bed, “it is your immense beauty. Your stunning intellect. Your–”

You lean forward in your chair abruptly with a tired expression on your face.

“Cut the bullshit, please,” you say, snatching the pen out of his grasp, “I’ve been here almost a month and not a single person other than you, the other papas, Cardinal Copia, and Sister Imperator has approached me. Are my vibes that bad? Is it because I’m not a member of the church?”

“Eh…” he begins hesitantly, “the best guess I have is because you’re basically upper clergy, dolcezza. Most siblings don’t casually associate with anyone higher in rank unless it’s for…” his painted lips quirk into a lascivious grin, “...other reasons.”

You frown. “Upper clergy? How exactly am I upper clergy? I’m literally just an employee?”

“Well,” he says, hopping off the edge of your desk and slipping into the chair opposite you, “a cardinal once held the position you do. Performed the same duties you are performing. Therefore in a way, your status is equal to that of a cardinal. Capisci?”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat deflated. Terzo immediately picks up on your tone and hops out of his seat to stand by your side and take your hands.

“Come to the dining hall tonight, eh? I know you’re content to eat alone in your rooms but it will be good for you, I promise.”

You’ve been avoiding the dining hall like the plague since you got here, preferring to eat your sad bowls of cereal on your couch every night. Maybe it would do you good to have an actual square meal. You nod at him and he beams, squeezing your hands.

“Bene! I’m sure you will find your place at the abbey soon, mia ragazza.”

He pats a gloved hand on your cheek and bounds out of your office to go cause mischief elsewhere. You sigh deeply and prop your elbows on your desk.

“It will be fine,” you murmur to yourself before turning back to the work you had abandoned when Terzo came in, “you will be fine.”

—

This, you decided, was the worst fucking idea.

When you first walked into the vast dining hall you were taken aback by its beauty. Paneled walls lined the room and a dramatic arched wooden ceiling soared above you. After you finished gazing at your surroundings, you were hit with the fact that half the room was staring at you.

Oh fuck, you think, skittering over to the food line in an effort to blend in better. You gratefully take your bowl of hearty vegetable stew and sizeable hunk of crusty bread and turn around to face the room. Siblings eye you, whispering amongst themselves and suddenly you’re struck with the worst pit of anxiety in your stomach. The room is filled with a number of tables in varying sizes and as you scan the room, your heart sinks when you realize there are no empty tables. Shuffling with your food into the center of the room you’re about to panic and give up entirely when you turn to a four-person table in a corner with one occupant.

Cardinal Copia.

He’s hunched over his bowl, delicately spooning stew into his mouth when he spots you hustling towards him. Dropping his spoon, his mismatched eyes go wide as you approach the table, jaw falling open slightly.

“Can I, um,” you begin in a hushed voice, “can I sit with you?”

A beat passes and you’re starting to wonder if he heard you when he rockets out of his seat, straightening his black cassock. Before you can say anything he’s drawing a chair out for you, gesturing for you to sit.

“Please, signorina!” he says in a hushed, almost reverent tone as you take a seat. “Your company is eh, most welcome.” Copia returns to his own seat and gives you a nervous little smile that makes you smile in return. Graciously, he upturns your glass and fills it with water from the carafe sitting next to him on the table.

“Thank you,” you say, mirroring his hushed tone. “Thank you so much. This place…this place is like high school all over again,” you say in a rush as you finally spoon some much needed quality food into your mouth.

“Is it?” he asks, “I ah…wouldn’t know.”

You cock your head and your brows draw together.

“How so?” you say, leaning forward to take another spoonful of the delicious stew.

“I completed all my schooling within the church,” he says, pushing a carrot around his bowl.

“Oh! Were you raised in the church then?” you ask, truly intrigued.

“Sì…in Roma. I’ve been groomed for this position,” he sighs heavily, “my whole life.”

You had no idea the depth and breadth of the church’s reach throughout the world. Truly it both baffled and fascinated you. Not knowing quite what to say to his revelation, you both continue eating in silence.

“How are you…how are you liking it here?” he asks with a hint of concern.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t imagine a prettier place to live and work.”

“That’s not what I meant, signorina.” His eyes, particularly the white one that almost glows, burn into yours.

“I…” your voice chokes up a little so you clear your throat, “I don’t have a lot of people to talk to. No one will speak to me, you know? I left all my friends behind and I’m so isolated now and–” you cut yourself off, feeling the tears welling in your eyes. He looks startled by your confession, and reaches a gloved hand across the table to take yours. When he looks at you with more softness than you have seen from anyone in a very long time, you let out an embarrassing sob.

“I know,” he whispers, thumb stroking your knuckles. “Believe me, signorina. I know.”

You wipe your tears with the cloth napkin at the table almost viciously, feeling humiliated that you’ve let Copia of all people see you like this. You hold him in such high esteem and you cringe at what he must think of you now.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, removing your hand from his. “I…Christ this is so mortifying.”

“Not mortifying at all, signorina. I asked you a question and you answered with your heart. I…want to be someone you come to when you are feeling like this, sì?”

You nod, smiling at him gratefully as you watch him pick up his hunk of bread. He’s so…so wonderful and empathetic and charming and lovely and…and he’s currently picking apart his bread into tiny chunks and placing them within his napkin.

“Um,” you begin inelegantly, unsure of how to proceed, “what are you doing?”

“Hmm?” he looks up at you and his cheeks redden when he realizes you’ve been watching him. “Oh I…eh…”

You nod conspiratorially. “Midnight snack, huh?”

His painted lips twist into a smile and he chuckles, causing you to smile again.

“Not for me…for my bambini.”

“Peculiar babies who eat table scraps, no?”

“Eh…they’re…they’re rats.”

He’s positively glowing with embarrassment but your smile gets even wider.

“Oh!” you cry, clapping your hands together, “tell me about them! Can I meet them?”

He swallows several times before cracking a nervous half-smile.

“Sì, of course! They are such sweet little things…”

He’s got such a fond look in his eye, but you’re not sure if it’s regarding his rats or you. The thought makes you flush and look down at your lap.

“I’m glad Terzo told me to come to dinner tonight,” Copia says in a small voice, smiling at you. Your eyes widen at the revelation but you say nothing, simply mirroring his grin.

“He’s Papa for a reason,” you state simply. “Are you done eating? I’m dying to hear more about these babies of yours.”

Hours later, the two of you are the last people to leave the dining hall after being ushered out by irritated siblings. When you part, it’s with the promise that you will one day soon visit Copia’s rodent children. You bid your soft goodbye, hand lingering on his bicep when you thank him for his time and you begin the walk to your quarters.

Maybe the abbey isn’t so bad after all.

[seyaryminamoto]

Fic-to-Art #38: Ozai carries Azula to the physicians' wing

This has been done for A WHILE now, but I didn't post it because the past days have been chaotic and not just on a personal level. For one thing, I really wasn't eager to drop this when people were losing their shit massively over the liveaction and its recontextualization of Azula and Ozai's dynamics, I didn't look forward to releasing this just to be told that whatever I've done in my story is somehow wrong, sooooooooo... that held me back, for a few days.

Then? The AI-Tumblr deal started to be talked about and I may or may not have freaked out about that too. Sooo... this is the first glazed and nightshaded piece of my creation, as consequence. The original, clean and proper version is available in my Patreon. Is this me being a dick to Tumblr-only people? Unfortunately, it very much isn't, I'm not trying to say that if you want the best iterations of my art, you should pay me for it... this is squarely, entirely, at staff/the CEO's feet. Obviously, there's the insecure side of me that goes "what makes you think they'd steal YOUR art when there are so many better artists out there!" but ultimately? AI is about taking everything en masse. It isn't a matter of developing a criteria about who makes the better art... it's just taking EVERYTHING and trying to repurpose it in whatever twisted way it needs to. Therefore? I think my choice is more of a matter of caution than anything else. Once AI bullshit dies out (and I really hope it does), we may just return to the same level of quality across all my accounts. For now, it is what it is.

ANYWAY! Point is this artwork is very much what my Patrons happened to vote for this month, a very shocking scene where Ozai reacted in the least foreseen way to Azula being attacked. Azula's confusion/terror comes from a place of not knowing what to do and being powerless to stop her father even if she doesn't feel comfortable with his help... but for once, Ozai isn't making a dreadful choice that will only devastate his daughter. He's actually worried about her health... and feeling genuine guilt over what landed her in the situation where she was in danger in the first place. Yes. I like me my complex Ozai who finally learned actions have consequences. He bores me to death otherwise :') if anyone STILL doesn't know that this whole situation is Gladiator-specific, then I shall clarify fully: this is artwork based on my fic. It's about a story that has been developing these characters for ALMOST ELEVEN YEARS now. It has nothing to do with whatever's going on in canon or in the liveaction, the scene in question was written almost two years ago and the artwork proposed and voted for several days before the liveaction aired. Ergo: there is no connection between this and that. Nor am I saying through this piece that Ozai is a good father. He is not. He can still be an interesting character to work with on a narrative level anyway :')

Alright. With that out of the way, hope you guys like this piece! The big one I haven't posted is ALSO finished, also glazed and nightshaded, but I think I might just end up posting it on the 26th if I don't have time to do anything big for our eleventh anniversary... yep, I'm so busy I don't even have a huge project in mind this time. Also? I have a lot to write and I'm finally happily writing it, and I would like to continue doing that...

Anyway! If you would like to be part of the creative process behind this piece, as well as see it in its proper, OG, less color-bleeding clunky version? A $1 Patreon pledge gives you the chance to join in suggesting prompts, voting for them and reading Gladiator snippets 6 days before a new chapter is released!