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meiieiri · 4 months

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𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 [gojo satoru]

HC: GOJO JUST CAN’T SEEM TO GET HIS SERVANT GIRL OUT OF HIS HEAD.

WARNINGS: fluff! sickening blegh blegh fluff. maybe some undertones of misogyny but that’s only because i lowkey have a thing for naoya zenin please don’t judge me, please don’t. and i know, i know, i’m sorry for the late updates, but i’m working on the new chapter of WE as fast as i can, hahaha. just feeling so demotivated lately so i decided to write something new for a bit.

╰┈➤ gojo satoru who falls harder and harder for you everyday as you dutifully help him with his kimono, prepare his bath, and plan out his meals. one day, i’ll marry her, satoru vows silently as he watches you brew his hōjicha just the way he likes it.

╰┈➤ gojo satoru who waits for you at every blind corridor in the gojo estate, hoping to steal a kiss from you while you’re working. “satoru—!” what was he thinking, pulling you into a searing kiss while you carried a laundry basket full of his clothes? he finds it cute how you instinctively melted in the feeling of his luscious lips, clumsily dropping the laundry basket on the hardwood floor. “is my little servant distracted? tsk, tsk. we can’t have that, can we?” he grins against your lips but before he could lean in for another kiss, he takes a step back. “get back to work, (y/n)-chan~” he waves to you as he struts down the hall.

╰┈➤ gojo satoru is a bold man when it comes to sashaying around his clan’s vast banquet hall, purposefully keeping you within ten feet of him as he speaks to the other clan heads, indirectly showing you off in the new yukata he got for you. though his only concern about the yukata is how troublesome it’ll be to take it off of you and he really doesn’t want to rip another piece from your wardrobe. as you pour him another cup of sake, he wonders if he should’ve just bought you a lingerie set instead.

╰┈➤ gojo satoru has gotten used to his mother nagging him about getting married soon. his family has been growing impatient since the day he turned twenty-six for satoru to find an upstanding lady from another one of the big three clans of jujutsu. he’s seen countless women, been forced to kiss the backs of their hands, and he’d pull through outstandingly - charming one bridal candidate after another who��ve no idea that the entire time, satoru is thinking of the little lady he keeps back home in the gojo estate.

╰┈➤ gojo satoru who takes your hand one day and says: “follow me.” he leads you into the tea room, and finally reveals what the two of you have in front of his elders as he slips an engagement ring, a family heirloom, onto your finger unbothered that the elders whispered among themselves about how shameful it would be for the greatest sorcerer of this generation were to get married to some nobody. “i’d sooner drop dead than see our clan head getting married to this whore!” one of his elders snarls at you, instinctively causing satoru to shield you from them. his face hardens as he speaks his next homicide-coded words. “that could be arranged, auntie.”

╰┈➤ gojo satoru who purposefully chooses a rainy day for your wedding date, so no one could see the joyful tears streaming down his cheeks as he finally makes you irrevocably his.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk drabbles #jjk headcanons #jjk fluff

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lazuruspit · 1 year

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separate ways (worlds apart) — (m)

pairing: miya osamu/afab!chubby!reader (no prns used) content warnings: osamu and reader are divorced parents, angst, smut, pwp (minimal plot if you squint and stand on your head), finger sucking, cunnilingus, size kink, unprotected sex, marking, cheating (reader cheats on her current bf he is an npc tho) wc: 2.8k

“Osamu.”

The aforementioned man looks up, rubbing the back of his neck, and laments your first name as a retort. It’s with the same blunt cadence and everything—rolling off his tongue a little sarcastically, squeezing past his lips like sandpaper.

“You’re late,” you finish.

“Traffic was a pain.”

“You could’ve left your shop earlier.”

“I was busy,” Osamu grunts, jamming his hands in his pockets, “occupied with something.”

Your eyelids wilt into dubious slits. “Something? Or someone?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He mumbles, “How’s yer new boy toy?”

“Don’t bring up Rafael,” you say, pointing an accusatory finger at the taut canopy of his black t-shirt, “I know how to keep my romance life separate from my daughter's life.”

“Our daughter’s life,” he firmly states, “and I ain’t seeing anyone. Not that it’s any of yer business, anyway.”

You eye him gingerly. Osamu looks unseemly beneath the doorway to your home—especially considering it used to be the doorway to your shared home. He awkwardly idles on the threshold to your genkan, his thick body and tall stature almost taking up the entire space of your doorway. He rubs the scruff of his neck and hangs his head, averting his eyes.

“... You’re right. I’m sorry,” you say, before pivoting on your heel and walking briskly down the hallway.

Osamu hurries in toeing off his shoes, lining them up next to the door. He trips over his socked feet trying to follow you, making a conscious effort in keeping his eyes cast downward, unwilling to be faced with the barren walls that used to be decorated with photos of the two of you, or bleak shelves that once held ornaments from all your past anniversaries.

Osamu clears his throat. “Where’s Sayu?” He asks, saving himself from saying anything else.

“Upstairs sleeping,” you reply, “she fell asleep waiting for you.”

Humiliation flares over Osamu’s cheeks. “I was working overtime,” he mutters, “I’ve been saving up for Sayura’s birthday gift. She said she wants a Furby—whatever the fuck that is.”

He idly drums his fingers on the kitchen island—the counter he spent so many nights bending you over—as he watches as you flit around the kitchen, preparing your evening tea. It strikes a chord in him. Through bones and flesh and cartilage and all. It hurts for him to realise that the only thing fully cut from your life following the divorce was him, not any other part of your routine.

(A selfish little part of Osamu wishes everything else was uprooted for you, too—that the smell of hōjicha tea reminds you of him; that you couldn’t walk past Connel Coffee without remembering how bare your ring finger feels—just as it is for him.)

Osamu silently heeds your silence, and decides to help you by grinding tea leaves.

“I’m trying my best,” he tacks on, “that’s all I’m trying to say.”

“I know you are,” you huff, vigorously wiping down the marble counter. Osamu watches with depthless eyes as you run a threadbare rag over the already spotless island. He can just about see your reflections—your sullen cheeks, his tired eyes.

“I–”

“It’s just– it’s hard enough for our daughter to move between our house– my house– and your apartment every other week. If you wanna work doubles, that’s fine, but you shouldn’t do it on the days you’re supposed to be picking her up–”

Your words die on your tongue, and before you—or Osamu—know it, instead of rubbing an unstained counter, you’re now wiping away the tears that dribble like scythes.

“Woah,” Osamu panics, “hey, hey hey hey–”

He pulls you into his arms, letting your head ensconce itself on his shoulder. He gently shushes you as he glides his hand lower, letting it rest atop the small of your back. Osamu’s fingers run over your spine, over the familiar divots he has committed to his memory, and tries to stamp down the rush of nostalgia that fleetingly impairs his focus.

“It’s just so difficult–” you sniffle into his chest, clutching a fistful of his shirt in your hands.

“I know, I know,” he placates.

Osamu’s heart furors before he can stop himself. He pulls back—just scarcely enough to look you in the eyes—and cups your face, running his jaded thumbs over the cherub of your cheeks, wiping away your tears. He always told you you’re too pretty to cry—especially when you were squirming around his throbbing cock, desperate to swallow him whole.

His silvery eyes flicker down to the necklace locked around your collarbones. It’s gold, lustrous against your buttery skin, and twisted into the letter R. For Rafael. The piece of jewellery mocks him, winking under the dull kitchen lighting.

(That of which you used to slow dance under at the crest of midnight, baring the skeletons in your closet to one another, before feeding each other lukewarm rice soup with cupped hands placed under a worn wooden spoon.)

Osamu’s bigger than you—decidedly so—he’s lost his edge over the years, with his college six-pack being replaced by a heartier layer of flesh, but still, he’s buff. Has the body of someone disciplined. So Osamu encompasses your world as you hoist your neck up, staring at him through your blotchy vision. He preens under your gaze, sliding the pad of his thumb along your mouth, which prompts you—through the curse of muscle memory—to part your lips, and shepherd Osamu’s finger into the round of your cheek with the curl of your tongue.

Your eyes widen. “Osamu–!”

“How is he, by the way?” He asks, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. Chewing it, gnawing it, tearing it, before letting it slip from his bite—swollen and raw and red. “Does he treat you well?”

Does he treat you better than I did? Is what Osamu wants to ask, stuck on the threshold of whether or not he even wants to know the answer.

“I’m not crying ‘cause of Rafael,” you sniff, “it’s just hard dealing with everything.”

“Has Sayura met him yet?”

“It’s too soon,” you whimper, “she still asks why we can’t have Sunday brunch together anymore.”

“... We’ve been divorced for a year, baby.”

(The term of endearment slips out before he can stop himself. He stands ramrod straight; you slacken into his warmth. Your chests touch, kept apart by the protective fence of your ribs, but even then, your heartbeats pulse in synchronisation.)

“It’s already been a year?” You slur, puckering your eyebrows.

“Yeah. It has.”

He slips his thumb out of your mouth, hooking his forefinger under your chin. He tilts your head up as he looks down at you, eyes glazed with a misty glow. Osamu weaves his thick fingers between the wisps of your hair, craning your head back, baring your neck, and sets his sight on the supple skin of your collarbones.

His heart thumps in a rapid succession, miles from his brain. His impulsiveness overrides his consciousness, and in an undertaken lapse of judgement, Osamu tugs you close by your love handles, breathing lowly against the shell of your ear.

“Does he fuck ya well?” He sharply inhales, scarred lip tilting into a snarl as he not only smells your sweet shampoo, but something else—something a little unseemly wafting from your supple skin—like pomade, or burnt sandalwood.

It’s Rafael’s cologne, Osamu realises. He growls under his breath and kneads your waist, eyes darkening.

“Osamu–” you start, cutting yourself off with a croon of surprise as your ex-husband bullies you backwards, catching you against the kitchen island. The cold marble does little to offset the heat that flares over your body—blooming under your flesh, sluicing between your legs, spreading like a labyrinth throughout your chest—as Osamu cuts his fingers into your chubby skin, pulling you against his sturdy chest.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you gasp, but you refute your words by grinding against his thick thigh that he slots between your legs.

Your fickle statement is countered by Osamu’s beseeching “Just the tip,” as he holds you close, meagrely humping his swelling cock against you, nose buried in your neck.

You shuck Osamu’s shirt above his stomach as he works his fingers into your leggings. He massages the flesh of your ass and captures your lips for a wet kiss. It’s reminiscent of returning to your bed after a long vacation.

Osamu cards his tongue past your lips and curls it over your teeth, savouring your taste. Blood rushes to his cock at the thought of you having been chaste ever since your divorce—he knows it isn’t true, he knows you’ve had sex with Rafael, you have your realistic needs—but Osamu indulges himself, allowing his mind to caper and prance as the taste of home fills his mouth.

He moves his hand to the front of your leggings, palming your pussy through the thin gauze of panties. He shepherds out your natural lube—angling the heel of palm against your clit, tracing feather-light circles around your fluttering hole. Your arousal licks the skin of his fingers, making them glisten and glimmer under the lighting fixtures.

Osamu sinks to his knees, imploring a prayer to the altar that is your body, and tugs down your leggings. He digs divots into your thighs and leans in close, burying his nose between your thighs. Osamu puckers his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen clit. He pulls back, mouth glazed with a wash of your slick, that of which he eagerly cleans with the swipe of his tongue. You twist a tuft of Osamu’s hair in your fist and shepherd him closer, into the welcoming warmth of your pussy, fucking yourself on the defined bridge of his nose.

Osamu rolls out his tongue and flattens it against your cunt, revelling in the way your arousal sieves through the cotton of your intimates, marinating in his mouth. Your dewy cunt dampens your panties, turning them a pearlescent tint of off-white with your pre-cum and Osamu’s saliva. The panties stick to your cunt, making the froth a little see through, outlining the barest hint of your soft pussy.

He snags the band of your underwear between his teeth, and drags them down your legs. Osamu wastes no time in lapsing back to your pussy, slipping his tongue between the fat of your cunt, sucking at your sticky folds. He moans into you, sending vibrations curling up your spine, his eyes fluttering shut as your sweetness saturates his mouth.

You fuck yourself on Osamu’s tongue until you’re creaming around the wet muscle, running your slick and swollen clit atop the tip of his nose. You moan synchronously with him, a cacophony of your voices echoing out in otherwise empty the kitchen. He fully submits to you—he lets you ride out your orgasm on his face—greedily lapping up all your juices, letting the rest trickle down his chin.

Osamu doesn’t give you the luxury of reorientation. Not after having been starved of you for so long. He raises to his feet and mashes his lips against yours. You taste yourself on his tongue. The saltiness of your arousal and the sweetness of his lips play like a mosaic inside your mouth.

Osamu sharply undoes his belt and shoves his pants down his thighs, not even bothering to pull his balls out. Just his cock—fat and heavy as it flares with an angry red tip, leaking with cum.

Your eyes flit down to his boxer briefs, widening. “Did you–”

“Of fucking course I did,” Osamu interrupts, jerking himself off, shameless as he admits he already came—just from eating you out.

Osamu spins you around and folds you over the countertop. The coldness nips your skin the same way Osamu nips your neck, marking you with love bites. He drags his dick between your legs, slapping it against your puffy slit. The sensation prickles your heat, causing you to moan, squirming beneath his firm hand that keeps you in place, locked between your shoulder blades.

“Just the tip,” he repeats—mostly to himself, as some fruitless reminder—“do ya want this? Do you want my cock?”

“I want it,” you cry, halfway between a whine and a beg, “I want it all.”

Osamu grasps the base of his dick and directs it to your winking hole, teasing it with the drooling head of his cock. He drags it against your clit, and just barely squeezes himself past your opening before he starts to vibrate, sweat gathering over his eyebrow.

He tightly curses under his breath, white-knuckled as he grips your waist harder, rolling his hips into you, and into the deep warmth of your cunt. His “just the tip” resolve didn’t last long, he muses. Osamu lifts up his shirt and wedges the hem between his teeth, letting himself watch as his big cock slips in and out of your cunt.

You haven’t been stretched this far in a long time. Rafael’s good; Rafael’s stable; he’s safe. But Osamu—while your safeguard—was always a challenge. He always had to wiggle himself in, watching you struggle around his cock.

Osamu’s hands loll over your waist, pulling you down on him; he growls as your pussy simultaneously swallows his impossibly large cock and squeezes it back out. Skin slaps against skin. Pleasure seizes Osamu, the feeling wholly better from the tightened fist he uses on lonely days, where his greying hairs are a testament to the struggles of co-parenting and the after effects of divorcing his first—and only—love.

Osamu pulls your arms behind your back and collects your wrists with a single hand, making a conscious effort in avoiding the stark absence of your wedding stack. He then raises his dominant hand and sinks it into your hair, using it for leverage to pull you up, to mould your back against his chest, still fucking you stupid as he wraps his arm around you, fingers finding your clit and blindly sweeping at the engorged bud.

His dominant hand leaves your hair and goes for your collarbone. He rips the necklace from its place, and there it goes tinkering to the tiled floor. A puckish chuckle crosses his tongue, seeing it flimsily discarded.

Your jaw hangs open at the pressure of Osamu’s fingers paired with the snap of his hips—his thrusts attuned to your every need.

(You remember back in university, your first year of dating, finding a dog-eared kamasutra book stashed under Samu’s dorm bed, in lieu of the usual eroge or hentai. His friends teased him about it; you found it endearing. He said he wanted to learn it all for you. To study it and improve—and from there your intimacy came a long way: graduation, engagement, and eventual marriage. Divorce.)

Osamu knows you like the back of his hand by now. So he makes your second orgasm come easy, capitalising off the fact that you’ve been strung so far for so long, that only he knows how to turn you into a trembling mess.

Your orgasm crests when Osamu slots his mouth against yours, breathing a plaintive “IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou,” into your cleft lips. Making you feel good makes Osamu feel good; so as you quiver in his embrace, Osamu’s pleasure flares, and he hastily pulls out just in time to screw his fist around his heavy cock and jerk himself off. You mewl at the loss, kittening your butt over him, adding friction to his rising pleasure. Osamu whines as he cums—cutting his fingers into your hips, directing the thick ropes that shoot from his cockhead to the soiled crotch-area of your panties, low on your legs. Some of it sticks to your thighs, dribbling down like hot strings as they tremble.

Osamu rests his forehead against your back once he’s sapped. His hot breath sluices down your spine, his lips barely brushing your sheen-stained skin in what sounds like hesitance. It was always a part of your ritual for Osamu to kiss you everywhere after sex. To soothe the burning mosaic of hickeys and bruises with his lips.

“... You can shower here,” you say, stepping out of your panties, pulling your leggings back up.

Your name crosses Osamu’s tongue. It’s quiet, a premise to talk about what just happened.

“Samu,” you turn around. “I…”

“You can leave Rafael, ya know?” He says, and immediately regrets it. Selfishness was supposed to be something self-indulgent—not something he’d ever admit. This was not self-indulgence, this was pure assholery, because Osamu still missed you, and you had moved on.

You look up at Osamu. He always cried during sex. But not like this—red, scythe-like ribbons around his bloodshot, puffy eyes. You smile, and Osamu’s post-orgasm haze, riding on the last tendrils of love, ripens into dread.

“I think we both know this was a mistake, Samu.”

Osamu hopes you mean the divorce, not the post-divorce sex. But you tilt your head, your telltale sign of discomfort, and Osamu submits to the pain.

“I’m sorry.” You awkwardly turn. “I’ll see you later.”

A tight knot nestles between your shoulders and your heart as you head upstairs, taking whatever’s left of Osamu’s heart and soul with you as you leave.

#osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu smut #osamu miya smut #osamu smut #osamu miya x reader #hq x reader #mine

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hauntedfoxhut · 11 months

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Muzan and werewolf! reader? reader is scared of what he thinks of them when muzan first sees the form, especially since when reader is in said form, they go hunting humans like it's their last day alive-

...cuddles & comfort after the fiasco happens pls.

Muzan x werewolf!F!reader

Warnings: Blood, dead bodies 💀

It will have a bit of angst and cry but the rest will be pure fluff just as you wished

You meet Muzan a couple weeks ago, your relationship started slow, probably because of your second identity, you’re a werewolf and he’s an Oni, But the truth always show up.

But you never imagined that I would be so bad

You were walking, on a cloudy night, near the woods, because you just love the nature, until the clouds flew away showing your worst enemy, the moonlight of the full moon. You felt your blood getting hotter, your fangs started to appear, your back arched and you knew that you were hungry, very very hungry, but now there’s no turning back, your eyes got darker and you can smell the people from far, but you can’t fight against your instincts.

And then blackout, you can’t control your body, the feral instinct dominated all your brain…

Where??

Where am I?

This is??… BLOOD?🩸

Indeed it was blood, all over your body, the moon above you was the only witness, well that what you thought…

Those red eyes, black hair and charming white suite, between the trees, he witnessed the whole chainsaw, in total there were 5 bodies laying on the floor covered by their own blood.

You heard footsteps near you, and you froze, getting closer second by second, you couldn’t move, and then you felt something touching you… a hand?? Those nails, you saw them before, they’re just like Muzan’s. And even smell like Muzan, that mean he knows the truth.

“So you’re a werewolf? That’s pretty impressive, I didn’t even noticed” he said, but he sounded proud? Of what? Of me??

You fell down on your knees, when you saw him in front of you, you opened your mouth but you didn’t said a word… but instead you cried… your eyes got full of water and you started to hyperventilate, you closed your eyes to stop staring at him, but he hold your cheeks, cleaning your tears away, and we you calmed down he hugged you.

“ Don’t worry sweetheart, I am here… and I’ll always be so you don’t have to worry, I’m just like you, I understand what you’re passing through, and I can help”

When your opened your eyes he was so near to your face, making eye contact, just like he was reading your soul…

“Is that a promise?” And he answered right after,“ Yes it is ”

And he smiled showing his fangs? How could I never noticed it, but he doesn’t have a tail or fur, and tonight was a full moon, so if he’s not exactly like me… then what is he?

“ I am a demon, I also eat humans to live ” Wait he just read my mind? “ you seemed curious to know what I am and I didn’t read your mind, I swear” that phrase was followed by a smile which looks honest and calm.

“Can we leave here? I don’t want to stay in these bloody clothes anymore, I want to go home, can you go with me and spend the night?” “Surely we can my dear, and I’m pleasured that you invited me”

When you both arrived at your house, he closed to curtains to protect you from the moonlight, he prepared Hōjicha, and sat on the “couch” waiting for you.

You wore a simple yukata, the tails was gone, just like the fur and the fangs, you sat near him and he hold your hands, “no more secrets, ok?” “Ok”

After a couple hours of talk and hugs, you started to feel sleepy and yawned, and when you least realized your head was on his shoulder, and then your eyes closed.

Muzan watched you sleep for a couple of hours until he took you in his arms and took you to the futon, covering you and kissing your forehead, when he opened the door to leave your bedroom you murmured his name, as if you were calling him, and he stopped and decided to lay down with you, and when he least expected you hugged him, keeping your head near to his chest, he fell asleep with you, hearing your heartbeat 💗

I hope you liked it, i tried my best, hope you appreciate it ❤️❤️

My inbox is open for more requests❤️

#haunted fox hut #imagine #muzan x reader #muzan x y/n #muzan x you #muzan imagine #muzan kibutsuji #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x female reader #female reader #muzan fluff #inbox requests #cute #dms open #open inbox

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4ngel-inc · 2 months

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POV — a date day / night with yukichi fukuzawa ᰔ

he usually drinks plain hōjicha green tea (he's a creature of habit) but i convinced him to try a few new tea lattes to start our day off !! (he wasn't a fan of the matcha but he tried it hehe)

we got dressed up all cute & went to a few museums. naturally i was clinging to him the whole time (needy girlfriend vibes) but he wandered off a few times and had some moments deep in thought while looking at some of the exhibits. he's gorgeous when he's thinking so i loved it ofc :) i just admire him from afar when he's like this hehe ᰔ

we got sushi and it was delicious !! fukuzawa is a great cook so he's a little competitive, commenting that his sushi is better, but he enjoys it anyways (he really does make the best homemade sushi omg, it's amazing).

we returned home and read our respective books while cuddling, had some tea to unwind and talked about how much fun we had, fell asleep wrapped up in each other :)

#— misc ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆#— re: [fukuzawa] ༻#I'M ANNOYING #i could talk about him forever !!#he has my whole heart :)

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tezumi · 9 months

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A fun and playful kyusu by Shōhō is perfect for this relaxed houjicha session 🍵 . . . . . #ceramiclover #tokoname #ceramicteapot #teaware #japanesepottery #teabrewing #drinkyourtea #teaworld #teaaddicts #teaaddiction #teablogger #teaislife #teatime #japanesegreentea #tealover #thewayoftea #昭萠 #fortheloveoftea #hojicha #houjicha #teadrinker #hōjicha #美濃焼 #日本茶 #常滑焼 #急須 #お茶の時間 #湯呑 #焙じ茶 #ほうじ茶 — view on Instagram https://ift.tt/Ez1R4qN

#Instagram #IFTTT

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oceandiagonale · 11 days

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This is something I thought of in terms of how Youkou would possibly greet Gene should she meet him, and that's with a freshly steeped cup of hōjicha. She'd be overwhelmingly polite & modest and honestly very nervous and trying to not trip over her words and not come across as too much because, how often do you meet someone who is the champion of multiple regions? That is like, the greatest honor!

This has the unfortunate side-effect of making her come across as incredibly stilted as a way of maintaining a calm appearance.

I'd imagine that Gene would pick up on this and gently tell her that they're both equals; to not fret over it, and to not think of him as some sort of celebrity but as just A Guy, and she'd calm down substantially and apologize. (he'd probably tell her to not worry about it and then she'd have to bite back apologizing about apologizing. She's better about this after knowing Fukakai for some years and she loosens up quite a bit and isn't so formal, but it's still a hard habit to break. She's making progress, though) She'd be much more naturally friendly to him and not be so worried about making a flawless first impression. (especially so if he catches sight of her Alcremie and remarks on its uniqueness to which her anxiety would dissipate and she'd happily gush about it and how much she adores her precious Kanbi)

Though she offers him hōjicha, she'd certainly also offer one of her homemade confections that would be best paired with it. ("Some flavors that pair beautifully with hojicha are maple syrup, chocolate, matcha, black sesame, sweet potato, fig, caramel, and vanilla.")

She'd make specifically hōjicha for him because she'd learn of his love for coffee and not know how exactly he feels about tea, so she'd go a safer route by making a tea that tastes and smells reminiscent of coffee which also has the plus of being the most luxurious of the tea she sells. (again, first impressions— but also wanting to provide him with a gift of something very nice to enjoy)

(Gene would like hōjicha, right? I had a thought he possibly would given what's stated in this [https://www.goldenmoontea.com/blogs/tea/106690311-hojicha-the-perfect-tea-for-the-coffee-drinker] and this [https://hojicha.co/pages/hojicha-vs-matcha#:~:text=Hojicha%20is%20made%20by%20slowly,stems%2C%20stalks%2C%20or%20twigs.] I am not concise so I give the links themselves for viewing. Anyway, I thought this, and your answer as to Gene's taste in coffee further left me with the feeling he'd like it, but I'm curious to know how he'd react to a tea that smells similar to coffee and tastes somewhat like it)

(context for fukakai, context for youkou)

(link 1; link 2)

(Honestly that tea looks so delicious I'm tempted to buy some myself to try it... My sister makes matcha all the time and I'm a huge fan of jasmine green tea and my mom can't drink coffee, so it would be a big hit in our household 😳😳😳)

Absolutely, Gene would jump at a chance to have a decaf tea that still has the taste of coffee,,, I originally planned to have him cut back on the caffeine over time and start drinking more tea once Team Ultra Flare got defeated, but (gestures at Lysandre and the others who are still working as usual)

More importantly, Youkou is so sweet,,,, her character design and personality are so well implemented, and Gene would love to hear about her Alcremie 🥺🥺🥺

#oceandi answers #darkclouds-rainsounds #fukakai #youkou #others' ocs #oc sunday #let me know if you want me to remove the context links -- I figured it would be better to have them since it's been a long time #since the last OC sunday but they're not rebloggable so I thought a link would help instead #long post

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boissonsaumiel · 2 months

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My December batch has cleared!

Not that you could tell, lmao. As you can see, it looks black unless it's backlit.

First photo: hōjicha tea & wildflower honey mead on the left; elephant cactus blossom honey mead on the right

2nd photo: same hōjicha tea mead as first photo

#mead making #mead journaling #home brewing #No.092423 #No.122023

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loosesodamarble · 10 months

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OCs Favorite Drinks

Black Clover

-Josele: honey lemon tea -Helia: berry and hibiscus tea -Selen: water -Lorelei: whisky -Lexi: orange juice (with pulp)

.....

Demon Slayer

-Shizuka: non-alcoholic amazake -Yumiko: sake -Ayami: shincha -Masatsugu: mugicha -Norifumi: hōjicha

.....

My Hero Academia

-Haruka: peach Calpis -Ryouko: black coffee with a bit of caramel cream -Kyouhei: chamomile and honey tea -Terumi: sakura cola -Okami: Pocari Sweat -Fukue: yuzu ramune

#soda's ocs #black clover oc #demon slayer oc #hero aca oc #soda asides #black clover #demon slayer #my hero academia

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slut4stansny · 4 months

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This request was sent in via AO3! Anon asked for a Fem! SenGen NSFW story so thought I’d share here

Herbal Teas and Horny Teens (18+)

Warnings: Lesbian SenGen, sex

“C’mon, quit slowing down! We’re almost there!”

A tired Senku yells to her regretful companion.

It had been nearly three days since Senku announced her plans for the Medusa powered Time-Machine to the world, the machine itself that would save humanity as everyone in the Kingdom of Science knew it.

This particular trip, however, had nothing to do with the Medusa. In fact, Senku had been requested to search for some tea leaves, as Kohaku had unfortunately caught wind of an illness, limiting her ability to report back what her monstrous sight ability could tell.

“Senku, please, we’ve been walking for HOURS.” Gen whines, dragging her feet and slumping against her girlfriend. The scientist chuckles. “You’ll be fine. This is nothing compared to the labor I’ve bestowed on you before.” She chirps, interlocking her fingers with the mentalists.

Gen hums in agreement; Senku was right. A simple walk to the forest was nothing compared to the hellish labor she endured on Treasure Island.

Soft footsteps soon became hard as the duo reached more solid, and brittle ground. Caressed by broken twigs and last years leaves, the fields in which farmers of Kyoto harvested Hōjicha were truly a scenic view.

“Ah!” Senku exclaims, excitedly running into the fields. “This is perfect. Kohaku will feel much better after she drinks this. Considering tea leaves are rich in polyphenols, this will help strengthen her immune system currently battling the bacteria in her body.” She continues, rambling on and on about how great the discovery is.

Gen, on the other hand, listens with half an ear. She’s really just focusing on the scenery of it all, the tranquility of the uninhabited fields, how blissful the sight of nature in its full capacity really is, and how….beautiful her girlfriend looked when she projected her never ending knowledge. Gen was too lost in thought to notice that Senku had finished grabbing a plentiful helping of the medicinal herb, until she felt a peck on her cheek.

“Thank you for coming all this way with me.” Senku says softly, gently placing her hands onto Gen’s hips in a tender way. Blushing, Gen gives her a sweet kiss to the temple before eventually moving down to her lips.

The same lips that carry orders, the lips that Gen tries so hard to keep up with, the lips that whisper dirty things when they’re alone. The lips, that not only let sweet words flutter out, but delicate moans and encouraging statements as well.

Still closing her eyes, Gen feels Senku drop her bag full of tea to focus her hands on Gen’s body. Fluttery touches and squeezes until both girls were breathing heavily, breaking apart to look at one another and giggle.

“We shouldn’t… not here…” Gen starts, but is soon cut off with a delicate kiss.

“I think all signs are pointing to ‘yes here, yes now.’” Senku teases, pulling her leather garment to the side to reveal one of her breasts.

Wide eyed and eager, Gen doesn’t hesitate to grope the plush area of skin, and swiftly pulling Senku down on top of her into the soft grass of the fields.

Stripping her of her colorful kimono, Senku moves down to suck on Gen’s sensitive areola, giving the bud a flick of the tongue accompanied by the pop of sucking.

Soon, Gen is breathing heavily, rutting her hips against Senku’s clothed clit, rolling her head back, frustrated that her girlfriend is taking so long to trib on her.

Senku grins, undressing the rest of herself incredibly slow, spiting Gen even more. Senku props Gen’s legs up by her shoulders, earning a giggle and hitch of breath from the multicolor haired magician.

Licking a stripe up her soaked cunt, Gen moans deeply as Senku swirls her tongue expertly around her clit.

Once Senku is satisfied with the mess she’s created, she completely strips down and straddles Gen, pushing the plumpness of her engorged clit against her girlfriend’s, mewling as she slides against the slick beneath her.

“This is exhilarating.” Senku moans, wasting no time in grinding her pussy lewdly against Gen’s, earning sweet groans and begs from the magician.

The sound of wet skin and continual breast sucking soon fades out as the women approach their orgasms.

Sliding faster, Senku swipes slick from her cunt onto her fingers, pushing them into Gen’s mouth as she curls her head back.

Gen, now sucking and feeling that white hot electricity crest beneath her, cums and clenches hard as she feels Senku do the same.

Dismounting her girlfriend, Senku lets Gen ride out the remainder of her orgasm by licking up the cum and slick that adorned her pussy.

“Mmmm, you okay?” Senku whispers, collapsing on top of Gen. Gen nods and breathes heavily, nuzzling into her girlfriend as they watch the birds from the blue skies paint the world with vibrance and life.

#dr stone #anime and manga #asks #gen asagiri #senku ishigami #dcst #fem sengen #sengen #gensen #ishigami senku #asagiri gen #gay love #lesbian

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