You’re Asking Him If He Likes Your Lilac Cardigan Better Than Your Gingham Blouse And He’s Wondering

Fake pipe attacks by Japan 2019/2021

oh god his hands would be so rough

My piece for the MSBY: Game changer zine 💕

i’ve been doing my homework on how to break into a writing career and honestly. there’s a Lot that i didn’t know about thats critical to a writing career in this day and age, and on the one hand, its understandable because we’re experiencing a massive cultural shift, but on the other hand, writers who do not have formal training in school or don’t have the connections to learn more via social osmosis end up extremely out of loop and working at a disadvantage. 

offers to put lotion/baby oil/whatever on your legs for you after you shave because he just wants an excuse to feel you up:

iwaizumi, OIKAWA, yaku, fukunaga, ATSUMU, suna, aran, SAEKO, sugawara, futakuchi, KOMORI, tendou, semi, and KONOHA.

imagine being in the middle of Eremin, only Eren is initially the one who wants you. Armin feels a little affronted, because isn't he a good boy for daddy? Doesn't he bust it wide for Daddy every night, make Daddy feel good? Eren reassures him with hushed kisses and soft words that Armin is his baby boy and that he loves him, but Daddy's also falling in love with another girl and he really wants Armin to just give it a try. Just once. If baby boy doesn't love it, it's not on the table anymore and that'll be the end of that.

Armin who glowers at the sight of you, when Eren lets you in with a kiss and purr of "Hey, honey". You're staring at him with those big Bambi eyes, like you don't know what you're doing, but Armin knows in his heart that you're just a home-wreaking whore and hw'a only doing this just because Daddy wants it. It's not like his heart is beating harder at the way you and Eren are looking at each other, Eren's calloused hand rasping softly against your satiny skin. It's not like he's swallowing at the sight of you on Daddy's lap, mouths moulded together as the two of you pet and grind at each other sensually. It's not like he's hard at the sight of Eren's fingers down your underwear and the way your face twists up with mindless pleasure as Eren makes you come on his hand. It's not like he's panting and shaking with desire when Eren crooks a finger at him, and he crawls on all fours and eager licks your pussy juices off of Daddy's fingers with a low groan of satisfaction.

When you quietly plead for Daddy's dick and Eren beckons you over, Eren gives Armin an amused, taunting sort of look that has Armin's balls tightening and his belly burning with shame and he can only watch, livid as Eren works his cock into your glistening cunt. He tells himself that he's not jealous of the noises you're making, or the noises that Daddy's making, or the way your pussy squelches deliciously with every thrust.

Who eventually bullies himself between the two of you, shoving you away as he sits himself down on Eren's cock, hot and demanding. "No," he says at you, imperiously. "I'm Daddy's favorite pussy."

Your lower lip trembles and you look at Eren with a sort of fragile uncertainty that has Armin feeling only a little bit bad. Eren chuckles lightly, but grips Armin's hips harder than usual, silently communicating his displeasure.

"Baby boy doesn't know how to share yet, honey," he says, thrusting up punishingly into Armin, who moans loudly in surprise. "He wasn't very nice to you, was he?"

"No," you whisper, looking up timidly through your lashes as Eren manhandles Armin onto all fours, who moans happily with his eyes closed at Eren's attention. The tight squeeze of Eren's fist around Armin dick is enough to have Armin's heart racing, but his eyes fly open when the tip of his dick kisses something warm and wet and soft. He stares down at you, realizing that Eren's positioned Armin directly above you, and is currently teasing the head of Armin's cock against your entrance.

"What—" Armin gasps, choking when Eren tightens his grip and swipes the flared tip right over your swollen clit. You cry out, and the combined noise and sensation are enough to make Armin's dick pulse urgently. "Daddy, Daddy, I—"

"You were mean to Honey," Eren says calmly, almost dispassionately, hand working sinister and irresistible on Armin's cock. "You didn't like watching Daddy fuck her?"

Armin wants to wail. "No! I'm Daddy's favorite! Daddy love my pussy best!"

"I love your pussy," Eren whispers in his ear, teeth catching on Armin's lobe, squeezing Armin's ass for good measure. "But you don't get to be mean to Honey like that. Not when she's been such a good girl. Make it up to her. Fuck her pussy like you want me to fuck your's. If you make her cum, Daddy will make you cum, too."

You and Armin can only stare at each other, wide-eyed and shocked, until Eren gives a crust thrust of his hips into Armin and forces Armin's cock in you. Armin immediately buries his face in your shoulder and screams with pleasure, and you wrap your arms around him, whining piteously.

"Daddy's not gonna repeat himself," Eren pants, squeezing the base of his cock at the sight of you two under him.

Armin scoops your thighs over his shoulders and immediately starts pounding at your pussy, dick pulsing and sweat beading at his brow. You're so slippery-silky wet, your muscles swallowing his cock up until he's ball-deep and your slick is dripping down his scrotum and down his legs. "Oh my god, I didn't—I didn't realize—" he babbles, half-garbled, as you're moaning so sweet in his ear.

"I can love your pussy and her pussy," Eren pants as he humps up against Armin's ass. "Both are so good, baby boy. See? Baby girl's pussy so tight, you're gonna put a whole kindergarten up in her. C'mon, put your back into it, make it good for her. Don't you wanna make it good for our baby girl?"

"Yes," Armin sobs, thrusting into you with a vengeance at Eren's words. His hips slap wet and sloppy against you, his entire abdomen with with your arousal, as you whine and buck up against him, straining to widen your legs and let him fuck even deeper. "Yes, yes, yes! Yes! Make baby girl feel good, make her cum!"

He presses his damp forehead to your's, kissing your mouth desperately. "Gonna make you cum, honey, gonna make it so good for you," he pants, rolling his his torturously slow and hissing at the way your face twists with pleasure and you start to whimper and squirm.

"Too much, too much—"

"Stop running from this dick," Armin growls, yanking you back underneath him, shoving your face into the bed and humping you from the back, as his other hand slithers down beneath your body and pats frantically at your clit. "Gimme this pussy, little brat, c'mon, be good girl, honey."

He fucks you until you scream and thrash and wet the bed, drunkenly rasping in your ear for you to squirt one more time, just one more time.

Eren yanks hims back, grabs Armin's pussy-slicked cock. "Good boy," he growls into Armin's cheek. "Good boy, making our honey feel good. You get to cum now."

But much to Eren's surprise, Armin wriggles out of his grip. "No," Armin grins, a little manic, as he hunches over where you're whining and sobbing, maneuvering you back onto your back, sinking back into the wet pout of your pussy, and offering his ass to Eren at the same time. You're nearly hysterical, already squirting weakly at just the thick stretch of Armin's cock and the press of his pubic bone against your clit.

"Use me to fuck baby girl, Daddy," Armin says, hungry and down-right evil.

And who is Daddy to refuse, after he started this whole mess?

i- i need to go touch g-g-grass

men in suits are my weakness

After Shibuya, he thinks to himself. After Shibuya, he’ll call it. No more fighting, no more soldiering. He’ll call up Mei Mei, ask her about property interest rates in Malaysia, surprise you with something lovely that you can both make a home from. He’ll bring home mangosteen and passionfruit, and you’ll bike to the beach and read on the sand, until you tug him onto his feet and make him dance with you in the water, just like how the tide tugs the earth wherever it pleases, and how the earth is utterly, irresistibly drawn in.

After Shibuya, he thinks, his chest warm and full with dreams of you in a cozy little cottage by the sea, laughing in sunshine, and always, always happy. After this nonsense is settled.

Women have many belongings. It used to vex Nanami. But it doesn’t anymore.

The first thing to migrate to his home, was your face lotion. He has a face lotion, a perfectly serviceable one, but you insisted on bringing your own. Your routine was important to you, you had told him, and Nanami understood. Routines, rules, structure – these are all things he has always respected, found meaning in. And so, in his bathroom, his drugstore razor, toothbrush, and facewash sat together, lined up like toy soldiers, right next to a luxurious indigo jar of face cream.

The rest of your routine follows shortly: the lilac bottle of mist that smells like aloe, the golden serum that smells like summertime, and the periwinkle tube of your green tea face wash. Your bergamot and sandalwood soap linger on his pillow, and when he can’t smell you on his sheets anymore, longing sits heavy and sticky in his throat.

Your clothes are next. Amidst his practical navy, gray, and blacks, appear pops of warm lilac, royal blue, and torched orange. He doesn’t mind it in the least – it would be entirely unreasonable for him to demand that you stop bringing such colorful clothes in his home, especially when he never really wants you to leave.

When the two of you finally just bite the bullet and put your name on the lease, Nanami imagines that his life will certainly become more colorful. But he doesn’t have the first idea of how many more things will be in his house.

All his life, Nanami has lived quietly, abstemiously. He is a jujutsu sorcerer – while his non-sorcerer peers were learning trigonometry, he was learning how to kill curses and how to die as a soldier dies: with resolve and bravery, to the bitterest end. His life has been fat trimmed from steak, practical solid color towels, plastic storage bins with plenty of clearing near the edge, never packed to capacity. A man who walks on the very edge of life and death doesn’t require more than the necessities. The very few things he indulges in are sensible: good whiskey, grade A rice, custom leather shoes (no broguing) built to take a beating.

You bring in your life to his, and it is completely different. You’re striped linens, fresh flowers, scented candles on every corner. Baby blue drinking glasses shaped like beer cans, artisanal ceramicware made by friends locally. Your life is marked by comfort, simple pleasure, and (dare he say it) the sweetest, most innocent frivolity. He supposes it’s really what he loves most about you, honestly. He’s always tended drawn closer to brighter, bolder personalities: earnest and warm, like Haibara and Itadori, not bombastic and irreverent, like Gojo or Tsukumo. You belong in the same shades of sunlight as Haibara and Itadori, but…tender. Like the dream-like throw of warm, rose tipped dawn that thaws the chill of his lonely apartment.

Now, in the mornings, he doesn’t wake to the desolate silence of a man alone. He wakes to the sound of your fluffy slippers in the kitchen, the smell of dark roast coffee, the sight of your toiletries sitting side by side in the bathroom, cozy and couple-like.

Somewhere between your checker print tea kettle, and the warmth of your body on the sheets, Nanami falls so in love with you that he looks back on his life and wonders how he ever lived, starved of the sun that is you, for so long.

a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted

their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"

"Every writer"?

come on

promotional illustrations celebrating the release of the new official haikyuu!! illustration book + a bonus christmas-themed sketch from furudate-sensei