#What if Yuuko was the dream for sleep

[completeoveranalysis]

[16]

That growth again! I’m so proud!

I’m also so intrigued by what Yuuko is thinking through these moments. She asks him AGAIN if he has a wish for her, and again she seems not to want to ask but does because she has to, even though it might be impossibly costly for him

And how relieved must she feel when he says no - or at least wants to be, but still has to clarify why just to make sure it’s the good version of this refusal

I DONT THINK I HAVE EVER SEEN YUUKO LOOK SURPRISED

THIS IS PHENOMENAL 

THE WONDERS OF THIS TINY EXISTENTIAL BOY WHO STILL WANTS TO HELP HER IF HE CAN

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OH THIS IS SO CUTE MY HEART

YUUKO JUST OPENLY HUGGING HIM

HELLO DREAM COME TRUE 

this is all I need for now this is better than answers 

Yuuko Ichihara genuinely touched and hugging Watanuki as he tries to help her

GOODNESS WHAT A WILD RIDE THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN 

How much of the blog is just pure caps lock

What have I become 

… what do you mean that’s the end of the volume and I have to buy more

[music-oc-tournament]

Here's some more in-depth Yuuko trivia before polls start!

 “…Hehehe. What are you doing here? Weren’t you on your little jaunt in that hotel? Though, I won’t tell you to go running back just yet. I can entertain you for a while~”

–

-She is a fictional character in-universe. Her creator, Bellhop, wrote Yuuko as a self-insert for her novel about a girl in the Otherworld. And yes, she was written to become a villain.

 < – Bellhop (alias), she/her!

(She’s kind of an airhead compared to Yuuko, and she sleeps often.)

- The setting for the overarching story is a dream realm where fictional characters can exist. (Yuuko’s kind of a special case, coming from the Otherworld.) This realm is connected to the Otherworld and dreaming people can end up falling into it, which puts them in a comatose state.

- Bellhop is half japanese, so that’s why Yuuko’s based on japanese folklore. Also, Bellhop is trans, and Yuuko is as well (Bellhop wanted to write a future of herself who could freely transition). Other choices on Yuuko’s design were just because Bellhop thought it’d look cool/cute. - Seriously cute, she’s the shortest adult character in the story at 5'2.

- You can probably imagine but she has pretty bad identity issues. How much of her personality is real and how much is her acting out what her character is supposed to do? How much of it is just Bellhop? If she could, would she be different? She tries not to think about it too much. If only there was a therapist around here.

- Yuuko’s the one who gave Bellhop the idea of running a hotel in the dream realm, so Bellhop trusts her. Yuuko likes her company and causes her a lot of trouble on purpose, but deep down feels a little guilty that she’s been keeping a real person in a coma for ages.

- Her primary targets are the residents of Bellhop’s hotel. They all have their reasons why they stay there (Bullying, jealousy, stress, loneliness etc.), so she loves to give her special brand of therapeutic advice. And slyly causing trouble in other ways, like letting birds out of their cages and unplugging the lights systems. Thanks to Bellhop’s negligence she has never been caught.

- Her manipulation doesn’t work on the beings in the Otherworld. She carries around a metal bat  that’s tied with a red bow when she’s not in Bellhop’s hotel to play with them… well, they’re essentially in limbo anyway.

- The only person she’s genuine to is the one she works under, Dr. Leo-Worth (she calls him dear Doctor affectionately). Both being eldritch-like beings, they understand each other deeply. 

- Yuuko and Dr. Leo-Worth speak an eldritch language. They only really use it to intimidate people and talking to each other about serious things.

- Her playlist is here (It’s mostly vocaloid though…)

I think maybe there’s a lot of stuff in the lore that’s confusing so feel free to ask me any questions you have! Vote Yuuko and maybe follow my main @tlvq if you like the story concept!

[exoskeletonized]

Hai I’m here with a block of text but this is for a hypothetical of like “dream figures”/“what u would produce if u were in charge of making figures and had no limits.”

-Cool darkstalkers figures, Felicia in cute outfits and also cool monstrous poses. Jedah. Hsien-ko figures that emphasize of her weapons like her claws and giant flail (just cartoony and fun stuff for the whole cast, maybe references to their moves in the pocket fighting game.) morrigan in non sexy poses. Petit chara land marionette

-More Fighting game figs that use different color palettes from in game

-Dynamic Godzilla poses, like Godzilla on four legs in the middle of some movement? Chibi model kits of gigan and angurius. Cute sleeping Godzilla figure (curled up and laying down)

-Model kits of the ssss gridman kaiju, anti especially

-Rain world figure, ideally not just the slug cat but with something like a slug cat and lizard together. (Anything that has the slug cat and one other creature would be cool) plush of the string worms (realistically sized) (so like a foot or less)

-Noodle stopper pla ingo

-Galacta knight figure, (with a little base and a few details) Zero figure. (That’d be a hard one to figure out.)

-Nightbird figures just many. More female characters and everyone from beast wars, better hand molds or multiple I don’t like the fist. Better and varied silly props or no props. And SKOLD SKOLD FIGURE PLEASEEEEEEE.

-Sirene ^_^

-Stuff with fun bases like the Yoshida Yuuko 1/7 scale the base is sooooooo cute

-Figures with clear plastic it’s so epic and yes

-Beelzemon with his motorcycle…again!

-Aikawa drhdr please

-Anomolacaris model kit 🫶

-I want to put a lot of those little elden ring beasts in my home. But I think having the figures be stylistically different from the game would be cute. Need the basilisk and gargoyle and watchdog and um idk I haven’t seen everything yet

[pre-reform-voice]

Oooh this is interesting. When I write gay couples (in fan fiction or in original fiction), I usually depict them as an egalitarian's wet dream. (I'm shamelessly borrowing that wording from somewhere, but I cannot for the life of me remember where.) Hold on, my couples are always like that, but with straight couples I sometimes feel like I have to make more of an effort to make this evenness seen, if that makes sense.

Now I've read a bunch of YOI fan fiction, some very recent one, among them, only a couple of months ago, that depicts Yuuri as the sole provider of household chores. With one particular creator, that became so glaring that to me Yuuri seemed to be more a glorified maid with benefits than a partner, and I wondered, what on earth is Viktor doing while you slave away? Sleep? How did he survive before? Yuuri, of course, is completely grateful that he's allowed in Viktor's life and of course he's doing what seems to be his tasks by default.

Now I can totally see Viktor having a cleaning service. I can also see Yuuri saying that this is really frivolous and unnecessary and they can do it bloody well themselves. I can see Viktor saying, yeah, great, knock yourself out. But I can't see him letting his partner do everything without lifting a finger like Yuuri is his demure wife in some male boomer's utopia.

I was aware of this entire uke/seme division and that there are people who see a clear divide there, but I have dismissed it because it's completely ridiculous to think that the preference towards being receptive or active in bed equals personality traits and what the person is expected to do in the household. This is not how people work, pure and simple, it's dated, it's harmful, and above all those, it is plain false.

Now かっこいい is probably the exact word I'd have used for Viktor. It's the word Yuuko uses for Viktor in the flashback. In the anime, however, Viktor has several moments, where I think かわいい is much more fitting a descriptor for him. (Where he's fallen asleep against Yuuri on the plane, for example.) In YOI, both characters can be assertive and cautious and foolish and kind and harsh and soft. Just like people in real life. Reducing them to this flawed uke/seme duality does them a huge disservice. It makes them so much less human.

Of course this is just a 0730 opinion that deviates miles from the original post and not any sort of deep wisdom or insight.

Today's translation #460

Go Yuri Go!!!, Yuri!!! on ICE official fanbook, Jun'ichi Suwabe interview

Part 4.

-- Please tell us about a scene, in which you had trouble playing Victor.

S: The honest answer would be "all the scenes", but if I have to pick up some, then I will say it was the beginning of the show, episodes 1~3, I think? It was really tough for me, trying to understand the nature of Victor Nikiforov. It seemed to me that I didn't have enough information to create the character as one realistic, living human being - well, one reason was that it is an original anime. I don't usually have to worry a lot about how I should express emotions of characters I play, but as I've mentioned before, in case of Victor, I often was asked to play him in a completely different, almost opposite, way to what my image of the character was. It was me, who played the role, but I don't really feel that I did. Probably because often I was expressing [in my performance] different emotions than those of Victor that lives inside me.

-- What the directing was like during voice-over recording?

S: If I played the character going based on the context of the lines I was saying and additional information written in the screenplay, Victor would become a cool (かっこいい) character. But I think that the directors wanted Victor to be, first and foremost, not so much a "cool character", but "a genius that don't fit the standard". I think it was like a trial and error method for us to get that right. I was often asked to do multiple takes like: "It wasn't bad, but lets try something different".

-- Victor's "Vkusno!" was so cute. Was that you who came with the idea to say in that way?

S: I said it that way during a test recording and I wasn't told anything about it, so I said it in the same way during the actual recording.

[Notes: I must have stop reading this interview on the Makkachin vs. Yuuri answer, because it really surprised me that he has said that Victor wasn't supposed to be a "cool character"...

A large part of YoI fandom in Jp were fujos absolutely obsessed with gender norms and who is seme who is uke blah blah... (I've ranted about this before).

Seme should be cool (かっこいい) and uke should be cute（かわいい）period... And based on that cute Victor arts were according to them "against canon".

It's really interesting, because before this guidebook was published uke-Yuuri fujos had a massive meltdown over the art that was drawn for it, with Yurio in the center and no rings.... It was then slightly redrawn (but Victor still has gloves, so "no ring").

There was so much anti-fujos dog-whistling in YoI, and reading this interview I wonder if maybe this "Victor not cool, but cute" and the weird, slightly anti-Yuuri answers (the Makkachin vs. Yuuri etc.) were because of that... It would take me a lot of time to summarize for you the whole history of this behavior from Avex&co., but one day I'll do that 💀]

[noa-ciharu]

FuuKam with ahem, no.33--- i'm testing you how you will make this hot---(?)😎😎 (i know i asked too much but i'm sinful--)

I sinned so much with this one it's unbelievable. TRC setting, nothing much of plot is going on. The plot however...

Also thank you @gabbylyons for helping me chose an outfit for Kamui, it was a tough one because he'd look good in anything. I never called outfit by it's notorious name but if you've been on internet for a while I bet you'll know right off the bat.

Extremely NSFW and kinky so under cut. Look, I planned this to be around 4-5k, somehow it turned 10.5k. It's PWP so all sin and kinks. Maybe I'll put it on ao3 someday, who knows.

33 - "you're not going out dressed like that"

With a yawn Fuuma flipped book pages; hazily skimmed over lines and lines of text. Mind refused to follow. It was what? Only nine in the evening? Absurdity he was already so exhausted but not to say he wasn’t overworking himself during past fortnight. Searching for treasure Yuuko employed him for proved to be no easy feat this time around; candle had to be burnt at both ends.

Leastwise Kamui was by his side, has been for a year or so now; perhaps because of his presence Fuuma felt motivated to work extra hard for few weeks, finish all treasure hunts in least time possible and snatch extra week or two to spend together. Quality time however; they saw each other every day yes, but rarely got chance in last fortnight to actually be together.

Another yawn. Putting finger between current pages he flipped dozen more around; ten more pages till end of chapter, maybe he should push himself a bit more. What was the last thing? Protagonist fainting because someone brought up murder he committed? Way to be subtle. Or maybe he imagined that fatuity? Fuuma leaned back into backrest and groaned; grasped for coffee cup on side-table. He should put book down, call it a day and go to bed; coffee wasn’t doing it for him. Pity however, he wished to spend time with Kamui, even if cuddling and dozing off on couch. He should be done with shower by now? Fuuma didn’t hear water running any longer.

As fate would have it, door creaked the exact moment. Fuuma grabbed book again and tried to concentrate for ten more pages; after that he’d either spend some time with Kamui now that he’s available or go straight to bed. Maybe coax him into joining and have both. Fuuma doubted he had energy for anything more than cuddling or sloppy make-out season.

“I’m going to ground floor to check the mailbox”, Kamui said in passing.

Right, he was expecting a letter from his twin. However, if it hasn’t arrived by late morning chances of letter arriving now were slim. Whatever floats his boat, maybe Kamui wanted to catch a breath of fresh air instead? Fuuma turned page around and mechanically glanced up.

“Alri -”

Words died in throat. Distantly Fuuma discerned bang of book hitting the floor. I have to be dreaming, there’s no other.

Blinking once, then once more Fuuma tried to wash away the jaw-dropping image. Alas, it persisted. Kamui’s back was still turned towards him – naked back. Ends of bow tied around nape slid down bare skin all the way down to small of his back, where dress explicit cut ended. If it was an inch lower, Fuuma had no doubt he’d see crack of his ass. Striking ruby red brought contrast to pale skin and black hair. It looked sinful on Kamui’s slender body. Sight straight out of wet dreams, it made Fuuma’s groin stir considerably.

Damn.

Fuuma sobered up immediately. Mere seconds ago he was considering dozing off but now couldn’t feel more awake. Sleep would certainly be last thing on mind for next couple hours. Fleetingly Fuuma recalled purchasing sexy wool sweater like that many moons ago; a prank, more of a dare. Of course Kamui hissed at him like some offended cat and refused to wear ‘such perversity for him to take pictures to later wank off to’, as he profanely put it. Since then sweeter was collecting dust somewhere in back of drawer; not even within wildest flights of imagination did Fuuma see Kamui wearing it. Voluntary to the boot, no coaxing or dubious consent whatsoever. But now…

Smirk crept up lips, both predatory and triumphant. Gears within mind set into motion. Oh Kamui, you’re not going anywhere like that. Don’t think for a moment I’ll let you.

“You’re not going out dressed like that”, Fuuma commanded in low rough tone as he abruptly stood up. That caught Kamui’s attention; he stopped inches away from door and slowly turned around.

Ah, that image, no words could describe how drop-dead gorgeous Kamui looked. Sleeveless turtleneck sweater clung to him like second skin, only accented curves of his slender body; dress barely covered groin, left Kamui’s bare legs open to unrestrained ogling, something Fuuma planed to do himself. Hell would freeze over before he lets someone else see his lover in outfit that revealing and attention-grabbing.

Still, understatement to say situation felt off. Kamui could be kinky and wanton in bed but never this provocative outside sexual situations. Not to mention libertine, never flaunted himself for others. All Fuuma could see was red, both taunting ruby in front of him and scorching fury within mind’s eye.

Kamui’s voice grounded imaginary rage back to reality.

“I’m not going out”, Kamui responded sharply. Put hands on hips and tried to look self-assured; there was no mistaking slight blush on cheeks.

Sweater rode up thighs; Kamui reached down and readjusted it. Blush intensified, indicator Kamui was, indeed, conscious of how indecent outfit was; as well as implication it carried. Fuuma licked lower lip and took a step forward. Kamui shivered, but then rubbed bare arms and tried to play it of as coldness; adorable but unnecessary, Fuuma knew intimately well what it was all about.

“Just to ground floor”, Kamui murmured under breath and glanced down to carpet, cheeks tiled pink.

I don’t think you will. Fuuma fixated him with predatory look, one that left on place for ambiguity of where his thoughts were. Feast for eyes indeed, especially exposed like that; but not for a second did Fuuma let his stare leave Kamui’s face. Message had to be passed, Kamui had to feel full intensity of that hunter’s fixation, of raw desire in eyes. Pants already felt too tight; deciding to put halt to all coyness and dancing around topic, Fuuma addressed the matter.

“Kamui”, he whispered velvety but didn’t bother masking irritation.

Kamui’s gaze bolted up; their eyes met. His pupils dilated instantly, breath fell short.

“You’re not passing front door in that”, Fuuma repeated roughly, each syllable spelled out accented and slow enough for words to sink in.

Barely audible gasp left Kamui’s lips; few second ticked by before expression shifted from flushed to vexed one; resembled pout more. Almost like he recalled he should act feisty, rather than really feeling that way.

Interesting.

Fuuma felt aroused further at this alleged play-act; they’ll do anything but sleep tonight it seemed. Anger was pushed aside for a second, but not forgotten. Kamui would pay for trying to ruffle him up, one way or another.

“Don’t tell me what to do Fuuma. You don’t control me”, Kamui hissed and tried his best to glare.

Fiery indeed, just the way Fuuma liked. There wasn’t side of Kamui he wasn’t allured to; from coy flirt to rare instance of being docile to wantonly submissive; or boldly aggressive and feisty like now. That side of Kamui evoke a hunter within him; primal instinct to dominate and seduce Kamui into yielding. Is this game we’re going to play? Don’t be surprised if you awaken animal inside of me.

Despite seeing through Kamui’s scheme (more bratty antics fueled by frustration), ire did emerge. Kamui’s rebellious side was one thing, quite another flaunting himself at other. No way Kamui seriously considered going out in outfit that’s basically asking for sex; his kinkier side was reserved for bedroom only, for Fuuma’s eyes only. Bait was laid and he fell right for it; under any other circumstances Fuuma would feel miffed at own predictability, but right now when he’d benefit from it? No way he’d let such salacious opportunity slide.

However that wasn’t to say traces of irritation weren’t present; Kamui chose to play a rather dangerous game.

Fuuma straightened back and aimed to appear as dominating as possible; not to intimidate Kamui, quite the contrary.

“Watch your mouth”, he scolded in guttural tone.

Kamui continued fake-glaring but didn’t protest at all. Surge of triumph swept by at implicit submission. Kamui was leagues ahead of him strength-vise, if he were to seriously retort there would be nothing Fuuma could do but accept. In that manner it was beyond empowering, intoxicating even, to beat someone as strong as Kamui into submission; precisely because it wasn’t fight to begin with, he yielded out of own volition.

Fuuma took a chance to let eyes wander over Kamui’s body once more. Long slim legs, slight curves and hollow of waist – he traced them all before and will so again; very soon. Fuuma felt his erection twitch at sight, only urging on. Pity most of front was covered with red wool; of no account, Kamui’s back was as exposed as one might wish. Fuuma smirked, intelligible desires finally gained shape; gaze bolted up to Kamui’s pretentiously miffed expression.

“Be a good boy and move from that door, I’m not touching you there”, Fuuma commanded.

Not for a second did penetrating stare leave Kamui’s eyes. He visibly shuddered. Oh yes my dear, do submit.

Cheeky smirk crept up lips. In octave lower Fuuma added - “Neighbors won’t hear sounds you make when I’m fucking you. Those are for my ears only”

Flush spread over cheeks, pupils dilated for a heartbeat; yet despite obvious affectedness Kamui tried to remain unaffected; feisty like untamed animal, like he did crave to be tamed. Perhaps that’s precisely why he’s being wayward and purposely instigating sparks of tension. Ah right, it’s been a while since their last time; perhaps even a week, now that he bethought it. Fuuma tended to be one to initiate sexual activities on regular basis; hence thought of Kamui being sexually frustrated never crossed his mind.

Interesting indeed.

In addition, whenever desperate or overall horny, Kamui had inclinations towards aggressiveness and boldness. Fuuma glanced down to Kamui’s groin; slight outline of erection was discernible, if one were to observe with keen eye. Kamui either got aroused by his firmness and dominant side or was hard even before leaving bathroom. Fuuma’s own erection twitched as imagination began to run wild; with ease he silenced those libidinous cravings, or more precisely just postponed them. Flame ignited within veins, in lust and leftovers of rage.

Really, out of all ways to indicate he wanted to be fucked, Kamui chose to evoke protectiveness and possessiveness within him. What was he thinking? Did he really plan to go outside in such revealing outfit and panties in case Fuuma didn’t notice him on time? If he gave a green light (no way of course, but in hypothetical scenario), would Kamui really let other people see him almost naked?

Flame flared up into fire, scorched through very being. Anger partially directed towards Kamui’s boldness to purposely provoke him with something he disliked; all while making him unable to resist. Scarcely ever was he truly irritated but this impudence called for it. Fuuma narrowed eyes and pierced Kamui with a half glare half leer. Don’t think you’ll manage to seduce your way out of this one. Alluring you may be, but I can resist you if situation called it.

And trust me, I will.

Kamui pretended to sigh wearily; murmured something under breath and began pacing towards him. Halted within arm reach and tsked.

“Here, are you hap -”

In a flash Fuuma seized Kamui’s wrists. Startled yelp went over head. Second more and Fuuma managed to hold Kamui’s wrists with one hand; wrapped other around waist and pulled Kamui against himself. I want you, but on my terms only.

“What would you do if neighbor caught you of guard like this?”, Fuuma narrowed eyes and asked firmly.

Pupils dilated, yet no hints of perturbation; raw desire in them. Kamui’s body felt hot against his. Fuuma purposely rubbed thigh over Kamui’s groin; he squeezed eyes shut and grinded teeth, tried to remain unaffected. Yes, he was already hard, no negating that. Grip over wrists tautened, another gasp left lips. Kamui opened eyes and glared, but didn’t try to break free.

“I’d fight back”, Kamui lied through his teeth.

Glare intensified, in response Fuuma smirk broadened; sadistic appetite whetted, he’d make Kamui have a taste of own medicine.

“Like you’re doing now?”, Fuuma offered back in a heartbeat; tone guttural enough to send shivers down Kamui’s spine.

Yearning yes, but perplexed at same time; in all fairness Fuuma was too. Ardency from within burned low, flame of bubbling irritation only fueled by carnal desires. Both primal, both seized too deep, embedded within very soul. Simply fulfilling one of lustful nature wouldn’t do it, not for inner satisfaction, not for serving as lesson to Kamui what buttons shouldn’t be pushed. On other hand denying himself what, in all aspects, belongs to him would be inane; not something he had on agenda, especially not when prurience was residual within blood.

In between and betwixt, perhaps those two desires weren’t that exclusive, intersection in manner of domination did exist. One of forcing not only Kamui’s body into submission, but very soul too. Fuuma wet lower lips. He knew exactly what he wanted to do.

Predatory smirk reached lips, gaze turned into leer; Fuuma added rough grope over waist into mix. Kamui shivered immediately, tried to squeeze legs shut; presumably to calm erection down. Fuuma had no such inhibitions; purposely rubbed their crotches together. Kamui grunted, flush spread over cheeks; Fuuma gazed down to quivering lips, had to control the impulse to lean in and scoop a kiss. It wouldn’t be a peck, it’d be a full blown make-out season; desirable yes, but no space left for romance now; none for slow pace and whispers of devotion.

Kamui closed eyes and tilted head up; stood on tiptoes and clearly expected to be kissed. Fool. Smirk broadened even further, pure triumph coiled within chest.

Right where I want you, unsuspecting and craving.

He abruptly grabbed Kamui by waist. Palms pushed at chest yet all meekly, lacked the bite; Kamui could do better if he truly wanted to break free.

“Fuuma wait! What’s wi - “

In a flash he swirled Kamui around and shoved face into desk. Paper magazine fell down, there was a loud crash of ceramic cup shattering but Fuuma couldn’t care less about that mess at the moment; due to startlement Kamui impulsively stretched arms in front, shoved decorative fake plants down floor as well; oh well, leastwise nothing remained on surface.

Fuuma let eyes roam over Kamui’s body. Unlike front, back was mostly exposed to hungry stares; luckily only his as Kamui was going nowhere in open-back sweater that barley covered ass. Both carnal cravings and leftovers of ire ignited, yet somehow flames fused into desire for domination; for putting Kamui into place yet satisfying his wanton wishes and enormous sexual appetite. Fuuma leaned over Kamui, recaptured wrists and pinned them above head. Free hand toyed with red bow on nape, tracing fingertip over knot like he was going to untie it. Kamui hissed, yet didn’t try to free himself. So fiery yet submissive; perhaps most tempting part of this all was the fact Kamui allowed himself to be dominated.

Cheeky little liar, you want to be hunted like an animal. But are too bashful to admit it either of us, so you’ve opted for provocation in desperate attempt to get ‘punished’. I’ll give you what you want, but first and foremost satisfy my own cravings.

However, Fuuma had qualms whether Kamui was aware of what laid behind his, presumably, impulsive action. Whichever way, he won’t get of the hook so easily, Fuuma would make sure of it.

Lowering over Kamui, Fuuma hushed into his ear -“What if they pushed you down like this, what would you do?”

All hypothetic scenarios, yet he couldn’t stop them from playing out within psyche. Some faceless stranger grabbing Kamui by elbow and dragging into apartment; pushing Kamui down the table and even worse: being horny as he was, Kamui allowing himself to be touched and pleasured. Overwhelming surge of possessiveness and anger emerged at mere imagination. Perhaps said implicit fury kept libidinousness in check for if Kamui was in outfit that kinky under any other circumstances they’d have been on round two by now.

Turning face to side, Kamui rested cheek over desk. Gazed up and regarded him with coy smile. Playful indeed, Fuuma couldn’t wait to put him in place for acting like a brat. Then Kamui spread legs apart, arched back and rubbed ass over his clothed erection. Wordless reply, yet spoke volumes.

Fuuma had to bite back a groan; won’t allow Kamui satisfaction of seeing him affected. Under regular circumstances he’d lavishly praise Kamui for his sexiness and loosen inhibitions; also express urgency to have a taste. But now? No way, all cards will be in his hand.

Sadistic chuckle left Fuuma’s lips. “Figures”, he mocked into Kamui’s nape, then began sliding kisses down spine.

Kamui moaned and writhed at feathery touch; if something so insignificant made him react then he must have been pent-up all along to be this sensitive. And to think Kamui potentially wanted to go out aroused. Hands slid down Kamui’s arms, traveled over sides to waist; palms slid past wool, rested over bare skin. There Fuuma squeezed; simultaneously flickered tongue down Kamui’s spine. High-pitched moan, he arched back and put erotic body of his on display; tried to allure him into temptation. Grip taunted, pained moan left Kamui’s lips. Fuuma squeezed him tighter, at same time grinded against him. Palms shifted a bit higher, red marks could be discerned from where hands were. A pity they’d be gone in mere minutes, bruises left on Kamui’s body could never last. Nonetheless knowledge of them does. Memories of allowing to be tamed and marked will stay with you, of that I have no doubt.

“What a little slut you are, walking around like someone’s wet dream”, Fuuma hushed while tracing pecks and brief sucks down Kamui’s spine; all the way to small of waist where he reached sweater’s hem.

Hmm, should he speed game up? Own arousal urged so, but Fuuma wanted to see how long he could deny Kamui’s desires while keeping own in check. He toyed with hem for a second, let finger slide underneath, just barely to tease; sharp inhale, all in anticipation. Cheeky grin crept up Fuuma’s lips; oh yes, he could and would control Kamui’s libidinous cravings.

Finger retraced from sweater; frustrated groan could be heard instantly; cute, Fuuma though, but won’t grant Kamui what he wants. Fuuma placed fingertip inch above end of tailbone, then oh so slowly glided it up Kamui’s spine; just to let tension build up. Kamui shivered and sweated, whimpered and implicitly urged for more.

Once more Fuuma gripped Kamui’s waist; this time with intention of controlling freedom of movement. Resting knee on desk’s edge, he half knelt over Kamui; lowered over completely and nibbled on earlobe.

“All those men, they love to look. But they can’t touch”

Oh how Kamui whimpered at his voice, it only made Fuuma harden more. Impulsively he rubbed clothed erection against Kamui’s ass; per expected, he wanted to grind back but was unable to. High-pitched moan broke out, one of utter desperation. Fuuma nibbled on earlobe, flickered tongue over it just to hear Kamui whimper again. Nails scraped over heated skin, only enticed Kamui further; he tried to writhe and obtain friction, but couldn’t.

“Do you know why?”, Fuuma let breath hover over Kamui’s cheek.

Waited a second, then growled into ear - “Because you’re mine”

Desperate groan left Kamui’s lips; he tried to rub erection against desk but all in vain, Fuuma stilled him on first thrust; swiftly slid palm down spine and pushed dress down thighs. Ah, he had sneaking suspicion before, but now Fuuma was certain Kamui had no underwear on, not even panties; fire scorched through veins, Fuuma had to inhale to dampen it down. Beyond alluring sight went down to groin, made his cock twitch repetitively. Far from the first time they had sex, yet eagerness and level of desire never wavered; were just as intense as the first time.

Kamui shivered and moaned, arched back and tried to tempt further. Instead of groaning as he’d usual show appreciation, Fuuma let out a devilish chuckle; slid fingertip inside ass crack, all the way down to testicles. Lustful groan combined with rapid thrust mid air, yes they were a delight but Fuuma didn’t plan on satisfying Kamui’s craving so easily or early; he had to earn them.

“Not even panties?”, Fuuma teased and traced finger up to tailbone; skimmed over entrance in process, only to have Kamui writhe and gasp underneath.

Still, mere thought of someone’s shamelessly ogling his lover made Fuuma see red for a moment; let alone if they, for even a second, assume they could touch. Kamui would have their head before Fuuma could even react however; deeply down knew with absolute certainty Kamui wouldn’t allow to be groped by random perverts; never was anything but faithful. Nonetheless, in hypothetical scenario playing out, there… no, merely thinking about it caused additional irritation fueled by protectiveness and possessiveness to surge. For this odd half-roleplay they’ve settled in, more than suitable.

Fuuma removed knee from desk and stood above Kamui; gripped ass cheeks and kneaded them gently at first. Kamui moaned how good touch felt. Yes my dear, be unsuspecting. Grip tautened, fingernails scraped over skin. Moan broke out, gradually altered into scream as pressure intensified.

“Were you hoping someone would grope you like this?”, Fuuma asked firmly, weakened the grip only to squeeze brutally again.

Instead of answering Kamui groaned and stretched arms above head; tried to ground himself on sense of touch.. Whole back was exposed for Fuuma’s hungry stare; heat got to him, he had to unbutton collar; unzip pants too for they felt excruciatingly tight. Boxers had to stay on however, Fuuma doubted he’d be able to prevent himself from slamming into Kamui otherwise. Miffed he may be, but hurting Kamui for real would be uncalled for; something he neither of them wanted. That much he had to keep himself in rein.

Resting palm above groin, Fuuma propped Kamui’s hips up; wool seemed slightly damp over where erection should be, irrefutably Kamui was far more aroused than this amount of foreplay ought to make him. Perhaps being dominated and degraded had more prominent effect than he could anticipate? No matter, Fuuma was grateful for Kamui’s endless sexual appetite. Without sparing second more, Fuuma shoved two finger inside to second knuckle; immediately found out why Kamui was so impatient.

Cheeky grin crept up lips, all self-pleased. Fuuma pushed digits inside to third knuckle; leaned over Kamui and whispered - “Did you finger yourself in the shower?”

No coherent reply, just series of broken mewls and groans. Kamui curved back and began fucking himself on fingers; for time being Fuuma kept digits still, allowed Kamui to pleasure himself. If he were to claim he wasn’t affected by Kamui’s wanton side, he’d be lying. Fuuma felt pulse go rapid, precome dampening boxers and – enough.

This had to stop. With deep exhale he tried to calm alarming level of arousal down; managing to some degree, Fuuma gave Kamui few strokes through sweater then gripped hips and stilled thrusts. As alluring as it is to watch you, I’d rather take control back.

Fuuma eased fingers out, only to slam them back inside. Scream ripped from Kamui’s throat; he tried to grind back but couldn’t. Insides felt loose, with ease he could spread and twist fingers them around. Kamui did a great job of preparing himself, must have taken a while. Within mind Fuuma could picture Kamui, frustrated and horny, trying to find best position to finger himself in; groaning and thrashing around as satisfaction was never reached; could picture water droplets sliding down heated skin, traveling down chest and waist, then teasing even lower; Kamui’s lustful expression and whimper of his name on lips as he – I said enough.

Fuuma hissed sharply and tried to regulate breathing. Arousal scorched inside veins, skin too hot for comfort; beast got unleashed.

Fingers withdrew; Fuuma spread Kamui’s cheek and kissed hole. Flickered tongue over rim but instead of pushing tip in he glided tongue over ass crack to small of back; then sensually licked up spine all the way to nape. Underneath him Kamui was broken mess of pleads and moans; just the way Fuuma loved. He placed lips over Kamui’s neck; nibbled on it before sucking intensely. Simultaneously shoved three fingers inside. Kamui’s body convulsed underneath his, unsystematic mewls and moans falling from lips one after another.

“Were you fantasizing you’re getting fucked?”, Fuuma teased in between the licks and shallow bites.

Prolonged groan from Kamui, followed by high-pitched whine; insides clenched around fingers, Fuuma had to bite back groan of his own. Damn, how much he wished to fuck Kamui relentlessly, it was inhuman; just a little bit more, he’ll endure.

Pace sped up, Fuuma started thrusting fingers in and out repetitively; on each push Kamui grinded back, tried to maximize friction achieved. Sweat rolled down temple, Fuuma was grateful Kamui was moaning and losing himself so much for no way he’d be able to hear how ragged Fuuma’s own breath became. His cock was throbbing at this point, self-control wearing thinner by each moan.

Experimenting with thrusts, Fuuma slowed pace down and curled two fingers. Kamui finally snapped.

“Yes, yes I did!”, Kamui yelled from top of his lungs.

Ah, that delightful voice, he’s been longing to hear it; always so raspy and wretched when they made love. Pity Kamui’s face was concealed from view, but this position was most suitable one for brisk pace and deep swift thrusts; no way he’d go easy on Kamui after that distasteful teasing, point had to be proven. But it won’t be punishment for you, will it? You crave the attention, the roughness and submission. By the time dawn arrives, you’d get your wishes fulfilled, one way or another.

“You’ve been- ahhh b-busy lately”, Kamui managed to murmur in between the gasps and grunts. “We haven’t do-done it… for a w-while”

Cocky smirk reached lips, some of previous anger subdued. Finally Kamui admitted what was evident from start. Really, has it been a week since they last had sex? Fuuma couldn’t believe he lasted that long, especially without noticing (excusable however, seeing as he’s been dead on feet each day in row for close to fortnight now); neglected own lover in a way. No wonder Kamui has been pent up to point of disregarding dignity and seducing him with bratty behavior and provocative clothing.

Explainable, but not excusable. Kamui could have straddled his lap or simply gazed at him with half-lidded eyes and lustful expression – in a heartbeat Fuuma would provide him what both of them itched for. But no, Kamui decided to be bratty and provoke on purpose.

Thumb skimmed over rim, pads massaged inner walls; Fuuma slid free hand inside sweater, encircled fist over Kamui’s erection and rubbed at tip. Kamui moaned loudly, broken yesyesyes and pleasee falling from lips. Reactions stimulating, moans ballad to ears, but Fuuma won’t be stroking him into orgasm; Kamui should consider himself lucky if he gets to cum tonight. One teasing rub, followed by swift stroke; shivers bolted down Kamui’s spine, insides clenched again. Not to risk it and possibly push Kamui over edge, Fuuma released his erection and got up.

Kamui whimpered immediately; turned head around and hushed coarsely - “I got horny and didn’t know what to do…”

Half lidded golden eyes, flushed cheeks, lips parted, saliva dripping from them – he’d never get over erotic expressions Kamui made during sex. Sight went straight to groin, Fuuma felt himself swell even more. Some of anger reemerged too, mostly directed at the fact Kamui could arouse him so deliberately, so effortlessly. Regularly that wouldn’t be an issue, exact opposite, a delight; but it proved to be an hindrance when wanting to establish dominance and control over situation. In far gone state that he was no way Kamui was aware of effect he left, perhaps simply acted on instinct. Whichever way, foreplay had to reach epilogue, otherwise Fuuma feared he might accidentally cum in underwear from sight alone.

“Meaning you became such slut that fingers can no longer satisfy you?”, he demanded, voice velvety.

Kamui gazed back at him with expression so yearning and tantalizing, Fuuma felt resolve shatter bit by bit. Fuck, he should pull erection out, enter Kamui and take him animalistically all until dawn. Reached for elastic band on boxers and – no, not yet.

Emotional satisfaction was as desirable here as sexual, he craved for Kamui’s soul to yield along with body (especially as he presented latter for Fuuma’s touch and gaze long ago); for those reasons Fuuma forced himself to endure a minute or two more. Cupped himself and pressed erection back in desperate attempt to clam it down. It did little help.

“Answer me”, Fuuma insisted rougher this time around; twisted fist around and spread fingers inside of Kamui.

Eyes squeezed shut, eyelashes fluttered over flushed cheeks; so erotic, no way Kamui wasn’t aware of how sexy he looked during sex. Lips quivered, whimper after whimper falling from them. Fuuma eased digits out, only to slam them back in.

He rubbed against that spot. Golden eyes flew open immediately.

“Yes! Fingers can no longer satisfy me!”, Kamui yelled and frantically nodded.

Fuuma smirked. Oh yes, just like that Kamui. Admit only I can satisfy you. Fingers withdrew; slight grunt, otherwise Kamui didn’t react. Easing boxers down hips Fuuma pulled himself out and – ah the chilly room air against heated skin, only made him throb further. Not to mention how Kamui’s pupils fixated on his erection, then abruptly dilated. He groaned and licked lips – damn it, Kamui’s loosen inhibitions and wantonness only hardened him more.

Enough with it.

Fuuma stepped behind Kamui and brought his ass directly against himself; shoved Kamui’s head back into desk. Sensing how rapid pulse down on himself was, Fuuma didn’t want to risk entering Kamui and climaxing in same moment; little bit of additional teasing for sake of buying himself time to dampen down critical levels of arousal within blood wouldn’t hurt. No need to prepare himself, tip was already drenched with precome. Fuuma positioned himself but instead of entering rubbed head over rim. Kamui groaned and tried to thrust back onto him; predictable. Palm rested over small of back and held Kamui in place.

“And what would you say if someone were to do this?”, Fuuma insisted in firmly. Rubbed head over entrance once more to prove the point; electricity bolted down spine, Fuuma inhaled deeply as to ground himself.

Per expected, Kamui tried to turn head around and tempt into giving in with wanton expression. Fuuma raked fingers through his hair and tautened the grip. Even if most of previous ire evaporated from system, desire to tease persisted.

“Fuuma, fuck me pleaseee”, Kamui begged shamelessly, tried to provoke him.

Enticing yes, but not the appropriate answer. Of course noone beside him would ever be doing this to Kamui, that wasn’t up to dispute. But point here was to frustrate Kamui into complete obedience; as well as get him to admit who he belonged to.

“Wrong answer. Try again”, Fuuma commanded, combed through Kamui’s hair as to confuse him with polar opposite approaches. Shifted hips and grinded shaft over ass crack; both of them grunted at electrifying sensation.

“And this time think with your head instead of ass”, Fuuma added mockingly.

Moan or two, but otherwise Kamui kept silent. State of arousal urged Fuuma on, he’d go insane if he had to wait a second more; with the way he was whimpering and writhing, Kamui wasn’t in any better shape. Just unlike him, Fuuma was the one who called the shots. He rubbed tip over rim and insisted.

“Again my little slut, what would you say?”

Kamui let out a mewl, sounded closer to wail. Adorable how far gone he was, but Fuuma won’t give in; he stroked Kamui’s hair as to encourage him to discard little bit of dignity he had left.

“Only Fuuma can do that”, Kamui murmured barely audibly, voice ragged.

“Good boy”, Fuuma rushed out and stroked Kamui’s hair for a split second. Not wasting a moment more, grabbed Kamui by hips and swiftly entered to the hilt.

“Ahhhh – yes yes, ohmygoshyesss!”

Remotely Fuuma discerned Kamui screamed; yet heard none of it.

World narrowed. Nothing existed other than utter pleasure shooting through veins. Complete victory, he couldn’t focus on anything other than how to get more. Fuuma growled, eased erection out until only head was in; then slammed inside. Pulled out again; pushed at full speed. Again. And again.

On each thrust Kamui groaned and grinded back; Fuuma could feel how insides clenched around his cock on every push, how close actually both of them were. Of no matter, he’d be damned if he stopped now. Fuuma briefly pulled out; taunted grip over Kamui’s hips, levitated ass up air; no need to instruct Kamui, he arched back on his own; tried to make himself as erotic and desirable as possible.

Then Kamui glanced coyly backwards and moaned his name. Last fraction of self-control shattered.

Fuuma thrust back into him; brutally, without care for anything. Thankfully for both, Kamui had fair share of masochistic tendencies, hence relished in rough treatment. At one particular rough thrust Kamui shuddered and screamed; insides clamped down on him rather hard, Fuuma had to pause for few seconds as to delay orgasm.

“Harder pleasee!”, Kamui begged breathlessly and shifted hips repetitively; tried to mimic thrusts as he was held still and obtain pleasure.

“Did I allow you to thrash around?”, Fuuma asked firmly and pulled out.

Of course, need for domination and discipline served as ulterior motive, simply a way to buy himself some time. Kamui mewled and turned head around to glare at him; with flushed face, disheveled hair and bruised lips, he appeared more debauched than intimidating.

“Damn it Fuuma, stop being a tease!”, Kamui hissed at him. Wrong move.

Cute but Fuuma didn’t have disobedience in plan. Fuuma lowered hands from hipbones to ass cheeks; massaged them for a second, all with ulterior motive of deceiving Kamui into false sense of security. Spank echoed through room; only afterwards did Kamui scream.

“Still didn’t learn how to behave?”, Fuuma scolded while gripping cheeks; scraped nails over skin firm enough for stings to emerge. Kamui relished in that ache, Fuuma was intimately acquainted with his masochistic side.

“Do I have to bend you over knee and spank?”

“No…”, soft moan, it set fire within veins.

Fuuma was partially expecting Kamui to ask to be spanked. Won’t some as a surprise, they both knew intimately well how enticing Kamui responded to controlled pain during sex. Oh well, some other time for sure, but now he had other priorities at hand. Fuuma hastily unbuttoned shirt and pushed it down shoulders; leaned over Kamui until no space was left between their bodies; Kamui’s skin was as equally heated and sweaty.

“If so then behave”, Fuuma hushed and kissed Kamui’s shoulder; skin tasted salty under lips. Without a warning slammed inside.

Before Kamui could scream Fuuma shoved two fingers inside his mouth; pushed them in and out in tandem with thrusts. Other hand went under sweater; immediately latched onto nipples. Already erected, Fuuma realized pleasingly; rolled left one in one direction, then another; grasped between thumb and index finger and pulled. Muffled moan passed lips, insides clenched down on him; Fuuma squeezed eyes shut and grunted, forced himself to slower the pace. Fuuma positioned fingers over tongue and thrust them deeper down throat; simultaneously glided thumb over nipple and pressed down. Wheeze followed by desperate gasp, Kamui sank fangs into fingers.

Pain surged; unlike ache when Kamui bites his neck, this one didn’t arouse, simply hurt. Good, otherwise he’d be pushed over edge, no doubt about that. Fuuma kept himself as deep as possible, barely eased out on backward thrusts; on each push made sure head brushed against prostate. Kamui whimpered and writhed, tried to catch up with the pace. Fangs caught over wound again, Fuuma winced; stilled thrusts for a second and pulled fingers out Kamui’s throat.

“Lick them clean”, he commanded coarsely.

Kamui obeyed immediately; flickered tongue up fingertips, licked trails of blood. Fuuma pinched his nipple rather hard, just to hear him moan. Tongue traced up digit, lapped over sensitive skin between middle and index finger; then poked into bite-mark.

Ah, sweet ache shot through body, only served as further stimulation; strange how touch on such mundane places could arouse so. If possible he swelled even more, pulse down on erection going rapid. Fuuma squeezed eyes shut an hissed as – ah to hell with holding back. Without a warning he shoved fingers past Kamui’s lips; bit Kamui’s nape and began fucking him for real.

Thrusts gained speed and ferocity; by no means did Fuuma hold back. On each push insides squeezed around him; so tight, so hot. More. On each pull head rubbed over rim; sensitive spot, Kamui writhed each time. He overpowered Kamui entirely, trapped between desk and his far larger body; the heat between them, it was unbearable, so alluring. More. Fuuma shifted hips, changed angle of thrusts; aimed to rub against that one spot that set Kamui aflame. Must have found it as Kamui’s whole body suddenly shook; thighs trembled, lips squeezed and sucked over fingers. More. Just a bit more. With free hand Fuuma aggressively rubbed and pinched nipples, tried to drive Kamui insane with pleasure; positioned thumb over left one and mercilessly pushed. Kamui mewled, would have screamed if weren’t for fingers inside mouth.

Fuuma let out a growl. Triumph surged; pleasure both sexual and of emotional kind. Primal craving fulfilled, Kamui was completely dominated, physically and mentally. Kamui let out a wail, followed by series of muffled whimpers; his whole body sweated and trembled; felt so so good. Shifting head from nape to ear, Fuuma hushed praises into Kamui’s ear; not like those words were processed, Kamui was in far to gone state to focus on anything but carnal pleasure imposed on him. Leaned forwards even more, let breath ghost over Kamui’s cheek; licked tear and placed kiss below eye. Pulled erection entirely, waited few seconds; then entered to the hilt.

“You’ve been a bad boy, you know that?”, Fuuma whispered next to Kamui’s cheek; broken moan in response, it was all Kamui could mutter in the moment. Pity his face was concealed from view, it must be out of wet dreams.

Nails scraped over nipples; Fuuma tries to systematically push and pull them, but lost focus. Arousal was eating him alive as well, lust scorching within blood. Minor miracle he hasn’t climaxed so far, given he didn’t have any release for over a week; still, with how heated and swollen to point of aching his cock was, Fuuma knew he wouldn’t last for too long.

Kamui tried to rub himself over desk but couldn’t; it’ll be beyond arousing to see him cum over himself like an animal, completely untouched. Saliva coaxed fingers, tongue chaotically swirled one direction then another; clearly Kamui had troubles catching up with pace; evidently overwhelmed. I would have granted any depraved wish of yours, all you had to do was ask. However not in bratty way you did.

Heat rushed to groin, pulse down on himself going mile per hour; grunt and groans were impossible to be contained, Fuuma was no longer in control of himself. Yet still, he craved the domination, the utter power over this one special person who tried to turn tables on him; tried to wake up a beast inside of him. A bit deeper, he itched for more.

Strangely enough, he was denying Kamui that depraved desire but somehow ended up fulfilling it. He should pull away and reestablish the power dynamic and – electricity bolted down spine, sweet ache spread through veins.

To hell with teasing. Dominance allured, but sexual gratification and urgency of his desire did just as equally. Just a few more thrusts and he’ll finally obtain the sweetest release. Kamui was close too, Fuuma could feel how he trembled and whimpered; how saliva dripped down lips as he thrust fingers in and out. How insides clenched around him, how amazing it all felt; threatened to bring him over edge at any second. Just a little bit more and -

No.

Not like this.

I want this sense of domination and triumph to last.

At last moment Fuuma gathered enough willpower to control his desire; all because he’d be controlling Kamui’s in process too. Heartbeat later withdrew in all senses; stood up and pressed palm over himself as to calm erection down. Seconds away from orgasm, he could see the pulse down on his cock; great timing indeed. Fuuma rubbed fingers down trousers, tried to clean saliva and remains of blood; leastwise focus himself on anything but how alluring Kamui’s body looked.

Few more seconds passed before Kamui grasped onto lack of sensations. The moment he did -

“Nooo!”, scream echoed around them. Kamui raised on elbows and turned around.

Ah that sight, if it didn’t make him cum immediately then nothing would. From flushed cheeks to debauched appearance, there wasn’t a thing Fuuma didn’t like. Half-lidded golden eyes gazed up at him, prurience and desperation clear as day in them. Saliva slid down chin, lips bruised and parted as he desperately tried to regain breath; wasn’t the only one, Fuuma could barely regulate his panting and pulse. Red sweater still covered most of front but was hoisted up to stomach, revealed exactly how hard and yearning Kamui was.

Damn it, don’t look so tempting.

“Ah, don’t stop… Fuuma p-please”, Kamui managed to whisper in between the panting; levitated arms towards him, irrefutable invitation.

Beg went down to his groin, Fuuma had to clench muscles on stomach to prevent himself from cumming on spot. No, this had to stop. The sooner, the better. Control had to be establish, point to be proven; game was still on after all. And don’t think for a second I’ll let you win.

Wrapping one arm around waist and other under thighs, Fuuma scooped Kamui up. How his body was so light yet held so much power and strength, Fuuma had no clue. Startled yelp passed lips but Kamui didn’t protest for real; even rested palms on his chest and gazed up coyly. So tantalizing, Fuuma could barely resist.

Kamui swallowed and cleaned his throat, clearly wanted to say something. Fuuma placed finger over his lips and whispered huskily - “Shh, let me take you to bed”

In couple of second they made it to the bedroom. Fuuma gently lowered Kamui down sheets; tried to raise himself up but Kamui wrapped arms around shoulders and pulled him in; moaned his name and tried to urge on. Ah, beyond obvious what Kamui wants. Fuuma desperately wished to take him relentlessly again too and he will – but on his and his terms only.

Brief kiss on lips distracted Kamui, lured into false sense of safety with predictability. With ease Fuuma pulled away.

“Be a good boy and wait for me”

With that Fuuma turned away from bed and strolled towards closet. Involuntary shivered for sweat already dried on naked chest; cold night indeed. Still, same couldn’t be said for his lower body; uncomfortable to pace around with unzipped pants and erection out on open, but hell would freeze over before he’d tuck himself back into pants when this hard. Fuuma took a chance to glance down on himself. Damn, he could hardly recall seeing his cock this swollen or angry shade of red; no wonder he was throbbing so much. Of no matter, he’ll obtain release very soon, could endure until then; willpower flared up by primal desire for domination, otherwise he doubted this much resolve would be found. Brutality of orgasm and sexual delight will be salacious, but they alone would provide no inner relish, just one of body.

We can do better than that, don’t we Kamui?

Kneeling down he pushed aside few boxes and – ah there it is. Fuuma hooked finger into bag and drew it closer; hastily rummaged until fingertips glided over something fluffy. Ah yes, exactly what he needed. Fuuma eased on pair of plush red handcuffs; wasting no time searched for other pair and matching set of keys. With divided attention payed attention to lewd sounds filling the room; one of strokes over skin and badly muffled groans. Needn’t turn around and check visually, Fuuma knew for the fact Kamui was touching himself.

Sadistic grin crept up lips, almost predatory. Fuuma was no fool, he knew Kamui’s libidinous nature and poor resistance to temptation rather well. Bait was purposely laid and he fell for it; like a moth to the flame. Every break or rules craved punishment and leftovers of rage he felt before were more than enough to provide necessary ruthlessness and dominance for that.

Gathering all items needed Fuuma raised up; turned around and confirmed his suspicions. With dress shoved up chest, Kamui was pinching nipple with one hand and stroking himself with other; barely audible grunts and moans falling from lips, yet still detectable. Quite a sight, Fuuma felt his own cock twitch in response; it had to reach epilogue soon (such buzzkill if Kamui got to orgasm now, it’ll spoil vast majority of what Fuuma had in store for him). Seeing as Kamui’s eyes were squeezed shut as pleasure washed over features, Fuuma took a chance to sneak up to him.

One step. Then another. In a heartbeat he seized Kamui’s wrist. Golden eyes flew open, startlement and lust equally palpable in them.

“Did I say you can touch yourself?”, Fuuma scolded; even went as far to narrow eyes and frown, all to establish dominance over someone who very much was epitome of headstrongness.

In a flash Fuuma handcuffed wrist to bed frame; pushed key in and sealed the cuffs. Kamui thrashed around instantly. Could break free anytime with that vampire strength of his if he wanted to; pair of toy cuffs meant for bedroom were no match for him. They both knew protest was just for show, nothing more; only ignited fire from within.

“I need to cum so so much!”, Kamui yelled and glared at him. Miffed yes, but retorts lacked the bite.

Kamui bolted free hand down to his cock; grabbed tip and stroked with such ferocity and swiftness Fuuma thought he’d orgasm from first jerk alone. With ease Fuuma captured that wrist too. Needless to say, if Kamui were really putting up a fight he’d be one handcuffed to bed; telltale little minx yearned to be beaten into submission, craved this roughness and discipline; to be punished like an animal. You’ll evoke a hunter within me disobedient like that. I guess that’s what you’ve wanted from the very start, just didn’t have enough dignity to ask directly.

Lowering tone even more, Fuuma scolded once more - “Such a brat, you never listen”

Both wrist ended up cuffed to bed; Kamui tested restrains but quickly concluded they won’t budge; was forced to lay down and accept his fate. Fuuma rested palm on his stomach, skimmed it up and hoisted sweater up chest as far as material allowed. Before Fuuma had chance to intake erotic sight, Kamui rested foot over chest and kicked; all meek for he knew exactly how brutally Kamui could shove him backwards if full strength was used; nothing but kitten play, however teasing had flame on its own.

“Fuck, I was so close! Let me go!”, Kamui protested and thrashed around.

Ah, they were back at square one, weren’t they? Apparently Kamui could be docile only when he had fingers or cock down his ass for otherwise even when aroused there was hardly taming him.

Fuuma gripped his chin and brought them face to face.

“Behave”, he threatened; made sure tone was deep enough to send shivers down Kamui’s spine.

Nonetheless that didn’t put him in place. Kamui glared and hissed back - “Fucking sadist”

Disobedience both irritated and enticed. Temptation to slam inside Kamui and fuck him like an animal was too damn high; being bratty and horny as he was, Kamui would relish in that brutality and briskness. They’ve had fast rough sex countless times before, one more repeat would be desirable but satisfactory only from hormonal perspective. Sight allured too much, Fuuma had to get up from bed.

He paced towards bag; knelt down and searched for toy that could serve as further punishment. Flogger? Nah, they weren’t in doggy style anymore. Butt plug? Kamui would cum in a second if anything entered him now. Vibrator and anal beads were also a no. That elegant red collar with bow would look breathtaking but he’d have to untie Kamui to take turtleneck off him right now. Something leather under fingers, Fuuma fetched it and -

Ah, this one could do. Kamui hated (but loved the resulting sensations; cheeky little liar) anything that served as orgasm denial, especially cock-rings; this time he’ll absolutely lose it. If I monopolize all your desires, I wonder how much would pass before my name is only thing on your mind. I wonder how far up high can you go. Cheeky grin reached lips, anticipation surged. Fuuma got up and returned to bed; sat beside Kamui’s waist and caressed him; fooled.

“You’re basically begging to be punished”, Fuuma whispered velvety and combed through Kamui’s hair; drenched in sweat, even a bit knotty, only logical given what they’ve been doing until now.

Kamui closed eyes and moaned; rapidly thrust hips up air and tried to reach orgasm. Level of his desperation was adorable, only begged to be teased more. Fuuma kept on petting and caressing Kamui, all over non-erogenous zoned; gave Kamui no means of reaching orgasm. The moment Fuuma concluded Kamui relaxed even a tiny bit, he changed the tactic.

Hand bolted down to Kamui’s erection; immediately prolonged moan passed lips. Kamui’s eyes flew open, pupils dilated; silent begs on lips yet no need to express desires verbally, expression and yearning in eyes spoke volumes. Instead of stroking into orgasm, Fuuma wrapped leather over base; only when snap fell in place did Kamui realize what has happened.

“Damn you to hell”, Kamui hissed; glared and squirmed around, all meek effort to break free.

Kamui’s feisty attitude only served as further incitement. There were no more reasons to postpone his urgency anymore; Fuuma got up and swiftly eased trousers and boxers down legs; socks followed shortly afterwards. The way Kamui was sizing him up, shamelessly letting eyes roam over his body – only added more fuel to fire; they’ve had fair share of kinky prolonged foreplay and pauses during sex, this wasn’t anything novel; yet Fuuma could scarcely recall ever being this aroused, this hard and aching.

Kamui fixated gaze down on his cock, blushed and licked lips. Bold indeed; Fuuma leered at him and chuckled. He’d be damned if he waits a second more. Fuuma walked around bed and sat between Kamui’s spreed legs.

Damn the sight, no amount of fantasizing could prepare him for erotic Kamui could look when sexually frustrated and constantly having his desires denied; desperation suited him well, especially when Kamui’s insatiable appetite was added into mix.

He knelt and raised up; purposely loomed over Kamui, served difference in their positions as reminder who called the shots here. Fuuma let eyes roam over Kamui’s body in similar starved fashion Kamui checked him out minute prior; didn’t bother hiding inhibitions, let Kamui feel intensity of predatoriness and carnality in it.

“Watch your mouth. I’m not letting you go until you learn how to behave”

Kamui shuddered at lowness of tone. Yes, show me how affected you really are. Fuuma gripped Kamui’s thighs and lifted legs up; hooked them over shoulders. Kamui gasped, his pupils dilated; surely expected to be penetrated at any moment given position they were in. Cock-ring wouldn’t be enough to prevent Kamui from cumming, Fuuma knew that for the fact; as desirable as fucking Kamui senseless for hours and hours would be, it’ll be equally addicting to be in full control of Kamui’s wants and body. For that reason he’d delay second round of penetrative sex for hour or so.

Fuuma pushed Kamui’s legs together; instead of entering him pushed cock between his thighs. Leaned over Kamui, bent his legs at knees and started thrusting erection in between thighs.

Ah the utter bliss, the ecstasy spreading through veins; victorious smile reached lips, Fuuma closed eyes and smirked. Clearly didn’t feel as amazing as thrusting inside Kamui’s ass or mouth was, but definitely beat jacking off. Still, the novelty and kinkiness act spiced things up, Fuuma knew immediately he’d last for minute top. Especially with the way Kamui was gazing up at him, pleading look drenched in raw desperation; Fuuma couldn’t recall Kamui ever gazing at him with that much prurience.

“Ahh,-ha, you h-have no… clue h-how sexy you lo-look”, Fuuma praised, voice broken in tandem with thrusts; even to his own ears voice sounded way too wretched, way too coarse.

Tip caught between thighs on each pull; he was so sensitive underneath head, each time sparks ignited. On each push Fuuma groaned; squeezed eyes and watched white dots play behind eyelids. Precome formed at slit, some even slid down thighs to Kamui’s erection; temptation to rub their cocks together was high, but Fuuma forced himself to recall original goal.

One particular thrust sent electricity down spine; Fuuma closed eyes and growled. In surge of utter pleasure didn’t notice how rough he was gripping Kamui’s thighs until he started moaning and writhing underneath. Such enticing reaction, Fuuma craved a repeat. He dug fingernails into skin and sped up trusts.

Kamui’s back arched from mattress; eyes flew wide open and saliva slid down lips; gasp after moan falling from them, all ballad to ears; only aroused Fuuma more. Sweat and shivers covered body, all heat rushed to groin; it was all dead game now, only matter of time when he’ll be pushed over edge. Fuuma brought Kamui’s legs as close to himself as possible; picked up pace and stated thrusting towards climax. Kamui’s body shook due to intensity of his thrusts; things squeezed tighter around him, sensation so overwleming it was a wonder how he has’t climaxed from it. Growl ripped from throat; in response Kamui whimpered and mewled.

So enchanting. So breathtaking. So mine.

“You b-belong – ah, to me Kamui, don’t e-ever… forget that”, Fuuma reminded hoarsely.

Kamui didn’t vocalize approval but squeezed eyes shut and nodded frantically. He could do better, but when lust at what little of coherent thoughts were left, Fuuma decided it was good enough.

Room around lost its color, nothing existed except two of them and raw lust within veins. Muscles on lower stomach clenched, telltale he’s alarmingly close to orgasm. Fuuma let eyes wader over Kamui’s body. More. Mostly naked chest, glistering due to sweat; oscillating up and down in rhythm with his thrusts, nipples stood up erected, pleading to be played with; he will very soon. Now he needed more. Just a few more pushes. More. Sweater hoisted up to chest and neck, color matching one of fur on handcuffs; arms restrained above head, only made Kamui appear more submissive and docile. Pulse on himself went rapid, Fuuma could feel cock twitch uncontrollably. Harder, just a bit more. Gaze lowered to Kamui’s lewd expression and -

Wave of pleasure toppled over edge. Fuuma knew once he halted all movements he’d start cumming. He closed eyes and welcomed the sensation. One thrust, then couple of swift and ferocious few more before he stilled. World shattered around him. All Fuuma could see was black.

No amount of fantasizing could prepare him for brutality of that orgasm. In one wave he started releasing long and hard down on Kamui; some of cum caught on thighs and stomach, but most ended over Kamui’s face and chest. Speed must have caught him of guard for he didn’t even close his eyes and mouth. Fuuma held Kamui’s thighs in place while he was pumping even more seed; he couldn’t recall ever climaxing this long, perhaps holding back for a week had some benefits to it. Orgasm so self-shattering whole body went numb; vision blurred at edges, distantly Fuuma heard someone groan but couldn’t tell who. Even if he no more semen was released, Fuuma still felt his cock pulse, was still going through orgasm.

Little death indeed.

World stopped. Nothing existed for couple of seconds beside rapid hammering of his heart. Nothing but sweetest post-coital bliss within veins. Nothing but panting and sweat cooling down on heated skin. Vision returned gradually. Fuuma wiped sweat from forehead and showed bangs backwards; shower will be dire need later on. He felt so satisfied, yet so so numb and detached. Remotely Fuuma concluded he was grinning all along. Maybe he should let post-orgasmic euphoria sedate entirely and -

“Please”, desperation in Kamui’s voice grounded him back to reality.

Fuuma finally properly looked at Kamui. Debauched was first thing that came to mind. Understatement to say Kamui was covered with semen; so thick and sticky, given how mind-blowing and long orgasm felt, no wonder he came bucket. Dress was officially ruined, no amount of washing would save it at this point. Kamui’s release was yet to be granted however; with how swollen and red his erection seemed, Fuuma couldn’t help wondering if leather ring would serve any purpose. Sniffle caught attention, momentarily made him bold gaze from groin to face.

Tears slid down flushed cheeks. Lips quivered and eyes glistered; all due to denied sexual gratification, all frustration.

“Fuuma please”, Kamui pleaded, voice beyond wretched. If it weren’t for refractory period, Fuuma knew without a doubt he’d get hard in a second.

Instead of fulfilling Kamui’s urgent desires, Fuuma got up, paced around bed and leaned over Kamui. Hope flashed over features instantly; fool. Do you really thinking one I got drunk on utter sense of power I’ll hand it over so freely?

Fuuma chuckled; let fingers trace over cuffs. Sinister grin crept up lips; without a warning got up.

He ignored lewd calls of his name; strolled straight to the bathroom. Better do this quick if he didn’t want Kamui’s patience to wear thin and snap; it’d bring such anticlimactic epilogue to their bed play but it’ll be fair, he’d have no rights to protest if his lover called for the halt. Fuuma drenched one corner of towel, then hastily cleaned himself. Washed face for a second and returned to the bedroom.

Thankfully Kamui remained cuffed to the bed; everything was in place. Fuuma sat beside Kamui and rubbed semen from his face; one on chest, waist and thighs could stay however, not like they won’t be taking shower later on.

Whimper after whimper passed lips; needn’t say anything, Fuuma could read him like open book. Especially now, when Kamui was aroused to point of crying and begging. He bent legs backwards and tried to rub erection over own tight; such desperate move it was more amusing; but just as enticing. Fuuma pushed his legs down and regarded Kamui with cheeky grin. Instead of hissing and glaring he teared up. So adorable, how much Fuuma wished to tease him more, it was inhuman.

“You know Kamui”, Fuuma began nonchalantly as he got up from bed.

Strolled towards bag with sex toys; crouched down and rummaged through it once again. Behind him Kamui moaned and pleaded further; he knew intimately well what depravities laid in this beg, of course Kamui put two and two together. Yes my dear, game is just getting started.

“You should have through about consequences of your actions a bit more”

Something silken skimmed over hand. Fuuma caught one end and pulled cloth out. Ah the blindfold; yes this one could do. Even if he preferred observing Kamui’s lewd reactions, sensory deprivation would only heighten the stakes by arbitrariness of touch.

Their bedroom wasn’t too big, meaning Kamui saw what he held in hand. High-pitched whimper confirmed that suspicion. Fuuma grinned sadistically. Post-orgasmic bliss was slowly evaporating from system, very soon he’d be up for round two.

“You should have thought a bit more what game you were starting before provoking me”, Fuuma kept on his monologue while searching for more items. All impact play toys were out of question in this position; yes he could spank Kamui’s thighs but relish laid in playing with his ass too. No matter, some other time.

“You craved to be stripped of all dignity and principles, fucked roughly like a slut that you pretend not to be but at very core are”

Still, sadism from within evoke; he might have decided to not whip Kamui with anything, but Kamui didn’t know that. For those reasons Fuuma eased out nastiest looking tail whip. Far more skill on his side would be needed for properly handling this one with care (as well as aftercare that was needed); maybe one day, but certainly not now. Fuuma purposely lifted toy up; from room’s other corner heard Kamui gasp.

“And we both know it”, Fuuma accented words by experimentally flogging whip mid air; snap echoed through the room.

He partly expected Kamui to seriously retort or beg for him to not use toy as brutal as that one; but that didn’t happen. Fuuma shoved hand into bag and tried to find something he’d really use. Hand brushed against something raw cold, instantly made him hiss. Ah, temperature and sensation play in one, that one would work amazingly with blindfold. Fuuma retrieved metal pinwheel from bag but pushed it on night table behind lamp; concealed from view. Now, they could start once again.

This time completely on Fuuma’s terms. No longer was he aching and aroused of his mind, seduced by Kamui’s coy yet provocative invitations. This time he was in full control over himself whereas Kamui was one whose blood was boiling with lust.Tables have switched in my favor, I’m afraid.

“So don’t pretend otherwise, my dear”, Fuuma whispered in honeyed tone. Gathered tail whip and black blindfold and paced back to bed.

Fuuma sat beside Kamui’s head; whipped tear sliding down cheek with thumb and combed through bangs. Kamui’s eyes fixated nowhere in particular, perhaps he was far to gone to concentrate on anything. Pushing bangs aside, Fuuma leaned in and kissed his forehead; then placed blindfold over face and fastened behind head. Sight straight out of wet dreams, Fuuma felt first stings of arousal emerge. Kamui whimpered and squirmed around a bit, but otherwise remained obedient; nothing else was optional, perhaps Kamui finally grasped he should behave, lay back and look as alluring as possible. Good, Fuuma intook with delight.

Allow me to give you and deny you what you want.

“Now lay back and enjoy your punishment”

[yoificfinder]

Hello! Thank you for the work you do. I've found so many awesome fics through your tumblr which made my life so much happier. I was wondering if you'd please share any fics you or others know where Victor or Yuuri experience a significant disability that is new and that they are adjusting to. Thank you!!!

Hello and you're welcome!

I interpreted your request as them being injured in canon (or at least a 'verse where they are skaters) and here are my recs:

A Practical Guide to Winning the Olympics (Do's and Don'ts) by Anna (arctic_grey) [E, 106K]

When pair skater Yuuri Katsuki’s career comes to a scandalous end, he does not expect the retired pair skating legend Viktor Nikiforov to suggest that they compete together. But taking on a new skating partner is full of trial and error, and the skating world doesn’t know how to react when the Katsuki-Nikiforov duo, against all odds, starts doing well. The last thing either of them should do, as they strive for their last chance at greatness, is to fall in love. Yuuri knows he is damaged goods, and Viktor knows his body is starting to fail him. They have competitions to survive and medals to win. No, falling in love is out of the question; they’re just very good friends. And even if Viktor felt something, he’d never act on it, and even if Yuuri happened to be hopelessly in love, he’d be mortified if Viktor ever found out.

“Well,�� Viktor said, “let’s summarise: I’m pushing thirty, have a bad ankle, and haven’t skated competitively in three years. You’re barely out of a doping scandal, coachless, and on the JSF’s blacklist. Hell, Yuuri – we might as well go for it, then. What on earth do we have to lose?”

When Viktor put it like that, it seemed to make an awful lot of sense.

Dog People by stillmadaboutpetra [E, 94K]

“I’m feeling like you have a mail-order Russian boytoy sleeping in your bed.”

“Phichit! Don’t call him that,” Yuuri snaps, ears scorched and heart kicked into fury. “Vicchan isn’t a – only you would say something – he’s just – it’s not – it’s not like that. It’s definitely not like that!”

Phichit takes a delicate sip of his tea, blinking far too innocently at Yuuri. “Oh? My, what a reaction. Tell me, Yuuri, what is it like? Because the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen apparently crawls on his knees for you and begs for your attention.”

OR

Yuuri thinks he's being scammed when the guy he almost slept with quite literally throws himself at Yuuri's feet and begs.

Olympic gold medalist Victor Nikiforov is, instead, casually falling apart.

here comes a thought by @crossroadswrite [G, 7K]

Yuuri dreams about his last competition a lot. How could he not when it changed his life so viscerally.

In his dreams, it’s always falling. It’s never hitting the ground, because Yuuri knows what happens when he hits the ground – torn ACL, mild concussion and a nasty bruise on his head that had lasted for weeks. It’s never the pain he’s afraid of in his dreams, Yuuri’s well used to pain.

It’s the act of falling, the promise of pain and failure. It’s what falling means. It haunts Yuuri, even now when the bruise on his head is completely gone and his knee is slowly healing.

(Or: Yuuri struggles with being forced into retirement by an injury, Victor struggles with getting Yuuri to talk about it, and they still love each other through all of it.)

lonely two-legged creatures by @poodlesandsucculents [T, 70K]

In a world where Yuuko stopped the triplets from uploading Yuuri’s “Stammi Vicino” video, Yuuri never returns to skating, and instead builds a new life for himself in Hasetsu. Three years later, an injury forces Victor into retirement just before he turns 30. Desperate to crawl out of the depression he now finds himself in, Victor decides to take his first ever vacation, and shows up on the doorstep of the hot spring resort a very handsome drunk boy once told him about at a party. Then he sort of never leaves.

Perhaps we are halves of the same star by llythl [T, 8K] *WIP

He does not know how to say, "I was supposed to go to you."

He does not know how to say - "You should know me," - and there is an accusation in that one, but he is not sure who it blames.

Yuuri's injury pulls him from the fated GPF. But Victor finds him anyway - and fails to recognize him.

Canon-divergent: Where those who are meant to - find each other in the end.

Other recs are welcome!

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

MEET THE MUN.

TAGGED BY ; Stole from the Wife- ( @overx​ )

NAME ; Cristal/Cris. I also go by Xenos/Marz/Ares on most video games I play with the wife lmao. (So Halo PFFT) People can call me whatever though, I don’t really have a preference.

STAR SIGN ; Sagittarius (I’m a day off from Kara, idk what to tell you guys other than sometimes our families joke that we’re the same person) 

GENDER ; literally I have no preference? I could be call he, she, they, and all of them would be accurate lol

HEIGHT ; 5′3″ !! I can pick up my small wife, and I’m living for it.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION ; NO IDEA. It’s Kara. The easiest to say is that I’m a lesbian but I honestly uh. Don’t know and it doesn’t bother me that I don’t. I joke about the badonkers but literally I only have eyes for ONE LADY and I’m married to her.

FAVORITE COLOR ; red, most shades of blue, black, purple, anything you can use in a cyberpunk image as neon lights, THOSE COLORS.

TIME RIGHT NOW ; almost 1:30pm?

CURRENT LOCATION ; mmmmm it’s a location where there sure are mountains and trees (in the US)

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP ; could probably use more lmao

NUMBER OF BLANKETS I SLEEP UNDER ; ranging from 1-2!

FAVORITE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS ; A lot of my own and ALL OF KARA’s. I don’t think you understand how much we talk about them. (We brainstorm while falling asleep, we come up with a new AU literally every week or so--) UM. Danny Phantom, Edward Elric, recently got into Hollow Knight (I say recently but apparently it’s been a whole ass year) SO Little Ghost/The Knight and the Pure Vessel. Also Sonic the Hedgehog and Metal Sonic (and coincidentally Shard) because I am a simple person. UM. Vash the Stampede, Yuuko and Watanuki, and Syaoran and Kurogane (CLAMP my BELOVED), No one knows this one but Jintetsu. Oh and Shinichi Kudo/Conan Edogawa and Kaito Kuroba. OKAY. Okay I could keep going but these guys are the majors...???

Edit: OH MY GOD I FORGOT ZERO AND COPY X AND X. GOD. OH CHRIST. I EXIST ON THIS TUMBLR FOR AUS OF THEM OH GOD GUYS I’M SO SORRY I-- (insert my muses kicking the shit out of me)

FAVORITE BOOK ; oh man um. I used to read a lot more but I loved Cinder and the rest of that series (cyberpunk fairytales with aliens? sign me the FUCK UP). I used to love May Bird when I was younger, and the Dreamdark collection. Also the BOOK SERIES Kurogane. (Different from the character from CLAMP but I love him too). If you want to know my favorite quirks in a story, read Tsubasa/xxxHolic and you have me nailed. AND OH SHIT I ALMOST FORGOT. Artemis Fowl my beloved.

FAVORITE ARTISTS/BANDS ; Starset, The Birthday Massacre, Aviators, Palisades, Written by Wolves. I used to really like Dead by April. New ones are Silent Theory and KLOUD, and Solence is climbing up there.

DREAM JOB ; Same as Kara! Convention artist / webcomic creator. We’re working on it!!!!!

WHAT I'M WEARING ; ...So I like watching Markiplier and thus CLOAK. Tldr last halloween there were these black glow in the dark sweatpants with anime werewolf and vampire ladies. Yeah I had to get them, I was OBLIGATED TO. Also bats are my favorite animal and they’re on my tank top and hoodie too. All black. Of course. what am I, a hot topic loser? (yeah)

DO YOU HAVE ANY OTHER BLOGS ; @the-broken-variable and @ziel-soundwave are my main ones, but I recently made a proper artblog so @hellscythearts is there! Um... oh and a few other random ones I’m never on anymore but, @windbladed-knight was my Sonic that I write sometimes--

DO YOU GET ASKS ON A DAILY BASIS ; No, but I don’t mind? I wish I had time to write more but I don’t so honestly... it’s okay that I’m not swamped lol

WHY DID YOU CHOOSE YOUR URL ; hmm. I think I was trying to come up with a name that encapsulated the fact that this was always meant to be a multimuse. Since a lot of the themes I write have to do with inter-dimensional travel, and some of the MAJOR plots (MZ and Rock christ) are literally about two characters from COMPLETELY different universes coming together, well yeah. Portals = Gates, and space stretches on forever so that’s the more literal reasoning. (ALSO I am indeed making a hint-hint-nudge-nudge about Infinity, the main villain for the major story SO--)

TAGGING ; TAKE IT!!!!!

[konanyeh]

Ough

Do you play an instrument?

i learned piano for a while, but dont play much anymore. took clarinet for elementary school band also lmao

Favorite book characters?

I'm illiterate sorry

does manga count.. Yuuko from thr xxxHolic manga :]

What's your star sign?

Taurus

Favorite color schemes?

oohh idk if i have a favorite.. anything with blue or purple ig- blue/green/white, purple/black/white, etc etc

Naps or long sleep?

i will sleep for 12 hours, i will only take naps on special occasions(sickness)

What languages do you speak?

None. English and whatever bits are left from when i took Spanish and Mandarin classes

Dreams/aspirations?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Long hair or short hair?

i do like long hair, but it's a hassle so im want to cut it short.. in general, long hair, if it's taken good care of

Tea or coffee?

mmmmm leaves, i do not drink the bitter dirt

Bring a book character to life or go into a fictional world?

fictional world absolutely, anywhere, just get me out of here

not tagging anyone, feel free to add on if you see this :3

Wanna get to know my tumblr friends better cuz y'all are dope so have a tag game challenge if you want :)

Also, if you don’t wanna answer anything you don’t need to.

♫Do you play an instrument?

•Favourite book characters?

•What’s your star sign?

•Favourite colour schemes?

•Naps or long sleep?

•What languages do you speak?

•Dreams/aspirations?

•Long hair or Short Hair?

•Tea or coffee?

•Bring a book character to life or go into a fictional world?

No pressure tags: @thebestieyoureinlovewith @nikolaistealcoat @grishaverse-chaos @lostinfantasyworldsbi @lilisouless @l3st1b0urn3s-707 @arany-studio @waluigicumjar

[completeoveranalysis]

~

Warning! This post contains spoilers up to chapter 170 of Tsubasa (and Chapter 71 of xxxHolic). Please skip this if you have not read that far.

Please also make no comments about what happens after that point in either manga.

~

SO here is the other splash image that really stuck out to me:

This time not because of the Seresu arc but because of how the Infinity arc itself ends.

Here's the link to the original post the image is from if you'd like the full context, but the particular quote from that post I want to use as a reference is here:

"Syaoran also sits on the throne - which as far as I can tell, isn’t his. ... The only one ever wearing the crown they’re all wearing [on their clothes] is Sakura. Now, does it make sense that Syaoran has usurped her throne? Heck yeah! He’s stolen everything from her. He’s stolen her journey (they’re following him now, always a step behind), he’s stolen her feathers, and he’s stolen the person she’s in love with."

Where I was kind of on the right track but couldn't have possibly guessed what all the chess imagery was ultimately feeding into. Looking back now the initial liveblogs for all of these Chess-related splash images are such a big mix of different iconography, so it’s very fun reading through all my old guesses back then. I think I did a really good job of trying to decipher some of it, especially the Cinderella and Snow White imagery in Chapter 140, but the Chess was a bit trickier.

Which, like, understandable, because the chess game that was happening in the chapters was stressful as heck and did not end well, but there is a nice conclusion to it with this image which is easier to read now - especially in regards to Sakura. Because it's made very clear to the viewer that the symbol of the Queen piece is in reference to her; both in these splash images (where she wears the crown at one point, and every character wears the symbol in ways that reflect their allegiance to her) and in the plotline, where she functions as the Queen of the battles taking place. Here is another good example of the symbol being used for Sakura with it right there on her throne, and the two Syaoran's wearing the symbol in smaller ways to represent their relationship to her. But with that all in mind? I had no idea what it was really getting at with Syaoran on Sakura's throne here.

BUT NOW I DO.

If you go back to that example I just gave with Sakura sitting on her throne? It's a different throne! It still makes it very clear that she's undeniably the Queen piece, with the symbol in gold actually being a key part of the throne itself.

And the throne Syaoran sits on? It has the crown symbol as part of the decoration, but it's not representing him, it's just a small symbol to show that matches Sakura's throne. This throne is his own.

He's the King piece.

(And, important distinction; the throne is not Lava Lamp's, but our original plotline Syaoran who is now in Autopilot mode.)

This wouldn't have occurred to me the first time through because I was focused so much on what this might mean for Sakura, and how she related to everyone else, but the way the Infinity Arc ends really hammers this home. After all, Sakura is the mastermind in this arc - everything that happens is according to her plan. She's not playing chess just during the literal chess matches, but during the entire plotline, moving every character and circumstance into place to enact her final plan; to activate both Chi's at once, absorb both their feather's, and trigger Fai's curse - resulting in her pseudo (if purely physical) death. But like we see in the plotline, this isn't a loss - it's a win. It's exactly how she planned things to unfold, and it will lead her to winning the game.

Just in case anyone isn't familiar, in Chess the queen is the most powerful piece capable of the widest variety of moves - but the queen is not the endgame goal. You can lose the queen piece in any game and (besides losing a powerful piece) it's not the end of the world. You can still win the game without the queen piece. It's the King piece that's the Win/Loss condition. The King is the piece you have to keep safe at all costs, even if you lose other pieces in the process. The second the King dies, the match is over. You've lost.

And this matches exactly how Sakura played the series events. She was the Queen in control of every move, and Syaoran was the Win condition she was focused on. She foresaw Fai killing Syaoran in the future - which, for her, is the Losing Scenario. She planned everything to avoid this, and she succeeded! She lost the Queen piece (ie, her physical body) but won the ultimate goal of keeping the King safe. She won the 3D future chess game that she was playing by herself, and positioned herself in the place that would have the most benefit for the victory at the end. (Which I still haven't seen, but she was VERY confident about this having a better result than Fai killing Syaoran.)

I'm also super happy that this ties in really well with the fairy tale allusions I talked about back in Chapter 140, but in ways I wasn't aware of back then either.

I talked about Snow White and how the apple (that shows up in a lot of the splash images in Infinity) may have been referring to Sakura's tendency to sleep a lot. What I didn't realise was that Sakura was essentially about to pull the Big Brain Snow White maneuver on herself to ultimately win her chess game. While in Snow White the poison apple is a trap, here Sakura sprung the trap intentionally. Fai is the apple she bit into deliberately - she arranged it so that killed her body, breaking his own curse, and sent her to the World of Dreams (and thus, she is asleep) which also placed her in a Glass Coffin (aka The Jam Jar of Dreams - Im sorry I have no memory of what it's really called). So the Snow White metaphor is now complete.

But also Cinderella! In the image for 140 Sakura is trying on a glass slipper - so she's Cinderella figure as well. But at this point in the plot the clock hadn't struck midnight just yet - like Cinderella, Sakura knew the exact time limit she had to work with, and for her the timing had to be PRECISE. She spent all of Infinity stressed out of her mind about this plan she couldn't trust anyone else with, knowing full well that if she missed the window even slightly it would ruin absolutely everything and they would all lose. Which, funnily enough, makes Yuuko the fairy godmother, since she provided Sakura with the magic she needed to make her plan happen (via wishes). This also means that Fai stabbing her with the sword is the exact moment the clock struck twelve - and like the spell finishing, Sakura could finally drop the act and explain what she had done, even as all the magic disappeared (ie, her luck being traded away). There's even a detransformation sequence of a sort, with her body and soul going in two different directions. But either way, the Cinderella metaphor is also complete!

And with all that done the last part I want to talk about is back in the image of Syaoran on the throne. He's framed on either side with the curtains that portray the chess board, and they're tied back by chains with him in the very centre. He is visually chained to the board - which, like, of course he is. With his Autopilot programming in place he's essentially just a chess piece without any will of his own - a winning piece, for sure, but he's still being moved around without his choice. He's playing the game on auto, making the moves that will lead him to the winning gambit, but without his individual soul he has no choice but to keep playing until the game is over. The goal he's working towards isn't even his - it's Evil Wolverine's. So in the same way that everyone else was a chess piece in Sakura's strategy (if, sort of, willingly), including Sakura herself, Syaoran is a piece being moved around in Evil Wolverine's favour - though if he dies, it's game over for Sakura's side as well.

I'm unclear if Syaoran dying would be a game over scenario for Evil Wolverine, but at the very least it would end the game he is currently playing.

So, in the hyper future 3D chess game that Sakura was playing by herself she couldn't properly win the game for her side by taking out Syaoran because he's her king piece too. Syaoran is the piece at the centre of everything, and will be the key to winning the game for either side. We just have to wait and see if Sakura's gambit will pay off in the way she thinks it will.

[selinascatnip]

@lady-stirling​ tagged me in a bunch of ask memes and because I’m so bad at keeping up with at them although being remembered always make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, I’m answering some of them here

17 Questions 17 Answers

Nicknames: Ju

Zodiac: leo

Height: 169cm

Hogwarts House: ravenclaw

Last thing googled: calcifer

Song(s) stuck in my head: Chances Are - Johnny Mathis

# of Followers: some

Amount of sleep: not much

Lucky number: ??

Dream job: plant

Currently wearing: red dressing gown 

Favourite:

Song: Darkshines - Muse

Instrument: myself

Author: Gaiman and Rice are my parents

Animal noises: ??? wot

Random: coffee

Recent picture: my instagram goes by the same handler I have here

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

Get to know~

RULES: bold everything that applies to you and tag people you’d like to get to know better.

APPEARANCE

i’m over 5’5” // i wear glasses or contacts // i have blonde hair (it grow ugly dirty blong and I bleach it and dye to something I like now it’s orange) // i prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // i have one or more piercings // i have at least one tattoo // i have blue eyes // i have dyed or highlighted my hair // i have gotten plastic surgery // i have or had braces // i sunburn easily // i have freckles // i paint my nails // i typically wear makeup // i don’t often smile // i am pleased with how i look // i prefer nike to adidas // i wear baseball hats backwards

RELATIONSHIP

i am in a relationship // i have been single for over a year (my whole life actually :P) // i have a crush // i have a best friend i have known for ten years // my parents are together // i have dated my best friend // i am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // i have a long-distance relationship // i am an only child // i give advice to my friends // i have made an online friend// i met up with someone i have met online

AESTHETIC

i have heard the ocean in a conch shell // i have watched the sunrise// i enjoy rainy days // i have slept under the stars // i meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // i enjoy the smell of the beach // i know what snow tastes like // i listen to music // i enjoy thunderstorms // i enjoy cloud watching // i have attended a bonfire // i pay close attention to colors // i find mystery in the ocean // i enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season

MISC

i can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // i am the mom friend // i live by a certain quote // i like the smell of sharpies // i am involved in extracurricular activities // i enjoy mexican food // i can drive a stick-shift // i believe in true love // i make up scenarios to fall asleep // i sing in the shower // i wish i lived in a video game // i have a canopy above my bed // i am multiracial // i am a redhead // i own at least three dogs // i have a cat 

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

Tag Game :D

Rules: tag 9 people who you want to know better/catch up with and then answer these questions.

Ships:at the moment I care about BatCat and DickKory but I ship A LOT of ships

Last song: Violão Vadio - Elizeth Cardoso

Last movie: I have no idea, I think it was Ten Things I Hate About You

Currently Reading: nada

Currently Watching: BBC Miranda 

Currently Craving: human conection

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

Rules: List your favourite characters from 10 different fandoms and then tag 10 people.

Koriand’r

Aino Minako

Louis de Point du Lac

Yuuko

Gillian Owens

Martha Jones

Rita Farr

Rebecca Nora Bunch

Alphonse Elric

Prince Zuzu

Let’s end part one here!

[doumekiss]

reconstruction (xxxholic fanfic)

Watanuki, Doumeki, Himawari // G // 1600 words // Fix Fic - POV second person What if Doumeki had used the egg to erase Watanuki’s memories of Yuuko ?

You don’t ask Doumeki what he wants for luch that day or the day after that. That’s an effort, it’s hard to spend the day without this and making food for him was not just something you did to make up for his many rescues but also a part of your routine that you reluctantly liked. He doesn’t seem to expect you to do however, he doesn’t come to ask what you did for him and when you say you don’t want to talk to him for a while he obeys. It was strange you always told him to leave you alone but he could always see when you really meant it. You cook just for yourself and you can taste your food again and feel as something bigger than just a matter of taste. You’re real, you can feel, you’re part of this world, the cost was great but everything is on the right track again. . . . Mokona and Kudakitsune will live with you in the apartment, not Maru and Moro however, they stay in the shop asleep until someone with enough power takes charge of the place. You ask Mokona to tell you how Tsubasa and the others traveling with the other Mokona are, and he does. You think you would feel if something was really wrong with Tsubasa, your souls are different, or became different, but your existence is connected with his and it will be like that until one of you two dies. You and this Mokona are probably the most similar beings in this aspect living in this universe. You also ask him to tell you a bit more about the Dimensional Witch. That makes him hesitate. You remember that one day you found a store and found someone there who said they could help you stop seeing the ayakashis in exchange for a certain amount of service. You remember the cases, the people you helped, and the people you weren’t able to save. But you don’t really remember her, her face or her voice, or the things she made you feel. Now there was a big hole in the place where there was something of great value before, something you had been willing to give up the whole world for the possibility of perhaps having again one day. . . . Himawari comes to visit you at your apartment over the weekend and this is a surprise, she has never done it before and you can see the reason why she thought it safe to do it there at the end of the hall. Doumeki doesn’t ask to enter with her and a part of you wanted him to do it just to say that you won’t allow it and knock the door in his face. But you allow yourself to ignore your anger for a moment, Himawari was there and this always makes the world seem a little better, a little softer. You wonder if the Dimensional Witch used to make you feel something similar. You both sit on the tip of the futton so as not to disturb Mokona and Kudakitsune who are both sleeping there. “So what do I owe the honor of your visit?” You ask. “I just wanted to see how you are, how you’re processing everything” “The idiot in the hall who asked you to come and ask me that?” “No, I came because I wanted to. Although I’m sure he’s also worried, he really loves you… you know that right? ” You don’t answer that, you decide to change the subject. “I made cake yesterday and I could make you some tea, would you like that?” “Yes, sure” “Well, you can stay here and I’ll be right back” When the water starts boiling Himawari appears at the kitchen door. “Watanuki-kun” “Yes ?” “Your computer was on and I noticed the page you were on” Oh, shit  you think. “Sakura Kinomoto, is she who I think she is?” “Yes, she is the Sakura of this universe” “Your mother” “I’m not sure if I can really call her that, or even anyone like that. I couldn’t see her face before but I remembered her hand so clearly on my forehead when I was sick and she calling me Kimihiro, but now I don’t think these things really happened and if they happened they happened to Tsubasa and I just mixed  things that happened to him about me, and it’s because of him that they sacrificed themselves, not for me. I am not their son, I am not a person, I am a side effect ” “Maybe it’s your memories, you told me that everything about your childhood and your time before coming here is confusing and complicated. Are you absolutely sure you’ve never interacted with her? ” “No” “And you know even if you haven’t had a mother you’re still a person, and you have relationships that are definitely real, I love you, Doumeki loves you, Kohane loves you. You’re here, you’re real ” “Thank you” “I’d hug you now if I could” “I know” . . . In the days after the end of that part of your life you were still passing by the shop after school, the place seemed cold and empty. But not today, you can hear the sound of Maru and Moro playing in the garden and when you arrived near the gate there was someone there blocking the passage. You suppose that most people would find you two alike, he was just a little shorter tha you, and but he had dark hair, blue eye and glasses. But the biggest difference was a serene arrogance that had never been present on your face. And also power, of a type you had never met before but one that you could recognize. “You’re Clow” “Wrong, I’m just a reincarnation and only half really. My name is Eriol ” “No disrespect, but your previous incarnation complicated my life and the lives of many people I care about” “Yes, that was the kind of thing he used to do. If that makes any difference, he felt sorry for everything, and so do I ” “It doesn’t. But I think there is nothing to be done now. So you’re the new owner of the store? ” “Oh no, she is” Only then you notice that there is a redheaded woman sitting on the porch looking gently at you. “Hi, my name is Kimihiro Watanuki, I worked for the former owner of this shop and I would like to offer you my services” The woman came to you and took your hand. “Nice to meet you Watanuki-kun, my name is Kaho Mizuki and I’m araid I can not accept your offer” “Why not?” “Payment. Your services would be too valuable for me to pay, and any desire you have is not one that I can grant it. ” “So what am I supposed to do now?” “Go live your life I guess” . . . You weren’t sure where you were going until you got there, but when you arrived you marched into the temple as if you were 100% centain on everything. You found Doumeki in the yard sweeping the leaves, he stopped when he saw you. “I want to talk to you asshole,” you announced. “Allright. Speak” “You had no right to do what you did. I was already forgetting a lot of things, I didn’t even remember the faces of my parents. It was selfish of you to ignore my desires of what I wanted to do with my life and my mind ” Doumeki kept looking at you for a long time, and when you were about to yell at him and ask him if he had nothing to say he said, “You’re right. I didn’t just do it for you, I did it for myself too. Because I wanted you living in the world  ” “This isn’t an apology” “No, it’s not. And you will not get one from me. Not when it comes to this. If you’re going to hate me for what I did I can live with that, but I do not regret anything and I will not apologize ” You can feel your anger boiling, and you leave without saying goodbye. You keep arguing with him in your mind on the way to the supermarket and also back home, and in the kitchen making the snacks for tomorrow, you don’t remember your dreams that night you’re almost sure you were fighting with him in those too . You’re waiting for him in front of his class room when the lunch bell rings and you place the wrapping you made in his hands.

He seems surprised by the sight of you. “What is this?” He asks. “A bento and some other things. But before you start eating I want you to be aware that you don’t deserve this delicious bento or the pleasure of my company and also of Himawari-chan. However I in my infinite generosity decided to take pity on your pathetic self and allow you to continue lunching with us until graduation, and only because there are only a few months left for this and soon I will not have any reason to have you in my life again and - Hey! I’d told you not to start eating before I finish! ” You two walk side by side to your usual lunch place, Himawari is there waiting, and when she sees that you two are together her smile, which is always beautiful, shines brighter than ever. You sit down and you three eat together until the bell rings again. The world feels like it’s in the right place, and for once so do you.

Also available on ao3 

[marble-guts]

(read on ao3)

Yuuri’s favorite color is blue.

It’s not exactly a challenge to figure it out.

It’s the color of his glasses, the case he tucks them into when he steps onto the ice, the color of Yuuri’s poodle phone case. Viktor tries not to smile when he turns it over in his hands, watching Yuuri as he skates around the rink-- once, twice, a slightly faster, more anxious third time. Even the jacket on the chair beside him is blue, and although his warm up jacket looks gray in the lights overhead, Viktor knows its blue.

All of it is blue.

The music Yuuri skates to is blue-- it always has been, and Viktor is sure it always will be.

After Sochi he had taken every free moment of his time to watch Yuuri’s practice videos. He was one of the few skaters who didn’t squander practice tapes and progress under lock and key. Every two weeks or so, another video either practice or tutorial would surface, Yuuri in blue skating to blue music.

Most of them were from Instagram, small snippets of Yuuri at a distance as he threw himself around on the ice, both a marionette and the puppeteer.

The music was always him in a strange way. Soft in a way that ached, dreamlike with a bitter edge, cold like the ice he skated on. When the tone shifted, so did Yuuri, and with each season, Yuuri’s tone became less saturated, less him and more of what others thought he was and expected him to be.

Those were his cracks.

He hated admitting even to himself that he had taken notes on Yuuri’s cracks, on his struggles and fears. It felt predatory, looking at Yuuri like a coach, like a piece of art from afar worthy of his commentary.

Viktor thought back to how Yakov had observed him for a full two years before he decided Viktor was worth his time. He thought about how he had showed off a quad salchow in juniors, perfectly placed in front of Yakov. He thought of how Yakov knew Viktor’s fears before he knew them, how the man would check in on him under the pretense of making sure he was still alive.

Yakov had seen his loneliness, just as Viktor had seen Yuuri’s anxiety.

Yuuri’s cracks were something to be utilized, much like Viktor’s own. He bled from them, the blue he was afraid to release, but released through self-sabotage and deprecation.

It was his passion, oozing onto the ice with every fall, every shy teary-eyed interview, promising to do better next time. Viktor could see the pain in the way Yuuri talked to cameras, the way he looked at the judges without meeting their eyes, how he always seemed to be just in the corner of every video, every photo.

The blue that leaked out of him was deep and rich, it was beauty misplaced, opportunity and potential not yet discovered. Viktor wanted nothing more than to drown in it.

He wants Yuuri to drown the world in it, to coat the world with such beauty and grace, to saturate the world with his talent through the story he tells with every movement, ever performance, program, and season.

Instead, Yuuri covers himself, creating an image of himself so distorted that it’s oppressive. The way Yuuri skates, wants to skate, the way he is, and the way people want him to be is such an astounding clash of electric blue costumes and evening blue smiles that Viktor has to take a deep breath. Yuuri is using the ugliest shade of powder blue paint to cover up what could be a record-breaking view.

Viktor doesn’t have a chance to tell him, or to help him peel it all away like the old wallpaper in Yakov’s dining room. The video the triplets release does that instead and it takes Viktor’s aching with it.

Even without Yuuri’s atrocious costumes,  the overwhelming contrast in who Yuuri is on ice, who he is on a pole, and who he is at home is almost enough to send Viktor back to St. Petersburg, Aeroloft delays and all.

But Yuuri’s blue returns to him in pieces, in small ever-evolving glimmers behind a mask of self-hatred and questioning.

It’s almost like when he was thirteen, sitting at the kitchen table with his reading assignment in front of him. The house was always quiet, Lilia and Yakov in separate rooms giving Viktor the time and silence to focus, though not on school work. He would watch the prism Lilia had dangling over the window above the sink, he would watch it soak in the sunlight, spinning and never casting the same colorful shade again.

It’s in the way Yuuri watches him stake in Hasetsu, the way he counts the beats of Stammi Vicino on the side of the boards without realizing it. It’s in Yuuri’s hesitancy, how simply he can skate compulsory figures, the gentle pause in his voice when he thinks over what he’s going to say. It’s a second, sometimes three, where Yuuri places his determination ahead of his fears.

It’s only when Yuuri says that eros makes him think of katsudon that Viktor realizes he isn’t even aware of his own bleeding.

He stays up that night, wondering just how dense Yuuri must be, but then he remembers the banquet. Yuuri had been so blue, reflecting every facet of himself like the prism over Lilia’s kitchen sink.

It’s when he’s incredibly late to Yuuri and Yurio’s practices that he knows he’s going to make Yuuri aware in some way, and at the same time, he’s going to prove to Yurio he, too, has cracks.

He does. Just not as he had planned.

Yurio disintegrates on the ice during Agape. Viktor can see it in the way his back stiffens, how his arms move through the stilted poses of ballet. He’s breaking his own heart, none of his movements are his. Instead, they belong to Yakov, Lilia, and whoever else has helped shape Yuri into the Ice Tiger of Russia.

Yuuri doesn’t even have to take his skate guards off to lose himself.

It’s like watching an avalanche how Yuuri’s fingers twitch at his sides when he watches Yuri. He doesn’t know where to put his arms, if he should have them at his sides or across his chest. Viktor wants to solve it for him by taking his hands and holding them, but instead he watches Yuuri when the anxiety begins to crush him.

Yuuri’s hands are in his hair, pulling at it, he’s looking down and knowing, thinking, feeling that he’s next. His resolve, all of the distance he’s put between himself and Viktor, it’s all still there between them when Viktor moves in front of him, wanting nothing more than to touch him. Viktor wonders if any of it is cracking, if he’s breaking through to Yuuri’s true self when Yuuri looks up at him on the verge of tears.

“Yuuri, it’s your turn.”

Yuuri is still struggling to get out of his own head, to surface out of blue that’s hidden underneath.

Eros Yuuri, another mask he’s decided to hide behind, comes forward. “I’m going to become a super, tasty pork cutlet bowl, so please watch me!”

That fraction, that small minuscule piece, of Yuuri, cutting through the mask, is enough to make Viktor forget to breathe. The distance between them, it all vanishes when Yuuri holds him close, as though Viktor is the one bleeding.

“Promise!” Yuuri begs, although it is in no way a question.

Part of Viktor, the ghost of the competitor, wants to get Yuuri on the ice as soon as possible, he wants to remove the crowd, stand by the gate, and watch as Yuuri Katsuki releases all that he’s held back.

“Of course. I love pork cutlet bowls.”

And somehow, in the music, Viktor finds more blue.

Eros becomes the paleness of Hasetsu’s sky, the way it looks through budding springtime trees. Oddly, it’s homesickness, but not for Russia, it’s for a place Viktor has never been before. Later, he knows that it’s the way Yuuri wakes up the morning, stretching his cold feet against Viktor’s legs before he rolls over and falls back to sleep without setting another alarm. It’s how the trees along the Japanese hillside turn dark when a storm approaches, looking almost blue. It’s how the calm ocean waves turn dark with strength.

Eros is still a mask, but truer to Yuuri’s blue.

In another way, Eros is everything Yuuri is capable of, but doesn’t want to be. It’s the dark blue of Japan’s olympic team jackets, the cold comfort of landing a quad flip with no one to satisfy but himself, the sensual aggression only found in sixteen flutes of champagne and the devastation of coming in sixth at the GPF.

It’s the blue of an ice skating rink, being the only person on the ice in an empty stadium. It’s the feeling of hearing his own skates, feeling the way he can dig into the surface with the toepick of his skate through the beginning of Stammi. It’s the blue that was missing from St. Petersburg, only found at the Hermitage in the softness of a gray night.

He wants to ask Yuuri what Eros really is, what it means, and where he finds it.

The mask comes off when Yuuri performs Yuuri on Ice.

Yuuri wears his blue, the comfort of stars in a winter night sky, the warmth of his smile, his eyes. It doesn’t bleed, it shines, through what he allows them to see.

He lets them see the gentle start of his career-- the bee program he performed when he was eight, the middle school photo that his mother keeps on the counter in the kitchen beside a photo of Yuuri’s college graduation. It’s his evolution, his falls, his dreams, everything that he has always been.

The blue that Yuuri skates is soft, it’s the warmth of his smile when Yuuko teases them over their warm-up music, it’s the small blue flowers at Yuu-topia, the way Yuuri flops back on his bed, his arms spread out, just before someone calls him for something.

Viktor can see Yuuri’s quiet reflections in the way he jumps, as though compulsory figures have brought this out in him.

He’s beautiful, he’s himself, and nothing else, and that, is what’s captivating.

When he skates, Viktor can’t even find himself to care about Yuuri’s fingers, touching the ice, and he knows he should. He knows that Yakov would’ve stopped him, would’ve sent him back to the start of his program.

This is the Yuuri Viktor had fallen so in love with. The pieces, every single one, they all come together, and the program, even the buzz Yuuri feels afterward, it leaves him breathless. With Barcelona, it’s almost like Yuuri has left it behind.

He knows better than to think that. Viktor knows that Yuuri still has his mask, that it surfaces every time his anxiety tries to coat him in bright, fluorescent blues. Viktor takes to scheduling practice whenever Yakov and Yuri aren’t there. He locks the rink, even the observation room.

Being invited to see such vulnerability, to such truth, as a coach and a fiance, it feels like Yuuri has more than just his heart.

Viktor thinks of Worlds, how Yuuri will crush him and Yurio with a smile and a soft laugh.

He kicks up into a flip and follows through with the rest of his choreography-- soft three turn, think of Yuuri when he skates figures. Viktor slips out of his routine with a spin, stealing the essence of Stammi Vicino, only he doesn’t force the turns tighter. He lets himself spin out of it and crouches there, on the ice.

It’s always missing something so integral, so unexplainable and necessary that it leaves Viktor feeling discouraged.

He isn’t even aware of Yuuri’s presence until he sneezes and Viktor finds himself on his feet again, skating around the rink through the soft build of the gentle Russian waltz he has selected. Yuuri usually sits up towards the top of the rink, in the shadow of the observation box.

Viktor tries not to let the aggressive competitor inside of him take over. The feeling that comes with Yuuri and knowing that Yuuri is watching him, is enough for him to ruin the take-off of a quad flip and turn it into a messy ‘floop’.

He lands cleanly, keeps him moving, shaky, almost, and it’s enough to ruin whatever he had been trying to accomplish. He skates out of it, lazily circling around and filling the second half of the music with what Yakov would consider a waste of time and what Viktor thinks of as a time to reflect.

The music shifts to something far more melancholy and heartbreaking, a lone violin calling out to a duet, one that never follows. The orchestra swells beneath, the soft hum of winds. It reminds Viktor of Yuuri when he skates figures, a shade of icy pale blue, bordering into a hazy lilac.

“What were you thinking of?” Yuuri asks, and his voice nearly startles Viktor half to death.

The song ends and Viktor skates to the boards to stop it, but Yuuri is already there, pausing it from playing the Russian waltz again.

“The flip?”

Yuuri shakes his head, he’s smiling in a way that tells Viktor he already knows. “Before that, before you came out of your combo spin.”

“I wasn’t.” Viktor’s answer is honest, because he wasn’t thinking at all, and Yuuri frowns at that, just a little. “I was… I don’t know, feeling?”

“What were you feeling?”

Viktor lets the ice carry him back just a little. “This.” He says simply, and its too much to explain with any of the words he knows in any language. “You.” He says in a small breath of air.

Yuuri is leaning against the boards now, Eros is slipping from him, leaking to the ice and puddling somewhere at his shadow. “Me?”

“No, katsudon.” Viktor answers, and it’s impossible not to smile as he puts more distance between them. He looks at the ice and it’s hard not to think about everything that they’ve gone through, all that they’ve overcome in such a short amount of time.

The Yuuri that’s watching him is so different from the Yuuri that approached him. He’s soft and gentle, but knows when not to be. Yuuri isn’t delicate, not with him, he’s no longer the electric blue costumes and ties he had tried so desperately to hide behind. The mask of Eros Yuuri is even misplaced. The confidence, the Yuuri from Yuuri on ice, with all of his potential and ability, his boldness and charm not entirely feigned... that Yuuri is watching him.

He’s the soft blue of a forest in winter, the soft dying sun against the bright snow and bitter cold. Yuuri is the Neva River reflecting St. Petersburg’s sparkling beauty. He’s sunlight in the long winter days of darkness and darkness in the bright summer nights. He’s home, and somehow, he always has been.

Viktor has just never known to look for him.

He’s not aware that he’s fallen into figures like Yuuri does until the gentle music of his waltz disappears, replaced with Stammi Vicino. Viktor is even less aware of the fact that Yuuri is on the ice with him until he feels Yuuri take his hand and pull him through one of the careful loops he's carved into the ice with his skates.

The smile Yuuri gives him, the peace it fills him with--

all of it is blue.

[damaless]

To All The Skaters I've Loved Before

Chapter Sixteen: The Name Of This Feeling

Yuuri wakes up with his face pressed against Victor's chest, his nose in the v between his collarbones, his head nestled under his chin. He's wrapped up in Victor's arms, their legs are tangled together, and he hasn't stolen any blankets. It's the best feeling in the world.

He soaks in the bliss for several moments, feeling the rise and fall of Victor's chest as he breathes, slow and regular, before doubt creeps in, dampening the euphoria. Is it wrong for him to enjoy this? Is he taking advantage of Victor's vulnerability for his own gain? It didn't seem like that's what he had been doing last night when he'd come here. He really had intended on just dropping off Makka, but when he'd seen Victor's haggard face and desperate, red-rimmed eyes, he would have done just about anything to help him.

Looking at Victor now, sleeping peacefully, all traces of pain gone except for slight puffiness around his eyes, he knows this hadn't been grounded in selfishness — for once, Yuuri has no problem ignoring the anxious voice in his head that second-guesses everything.

He settles his head back down under Victor's chin and closes his eyes. He's been debating about what name to give to how he feels about Victor, but things are clicking into place now, within the quiet stillness of the morning here in Victor's room. He needs to let this feeling sink under his skin, etch it into his bones, carve it into his heart, and show it to the world every time he skates.

Victor stirs, breath catching, and Yuuri braces himself for all this to be pulled away from him. He can only hope he's had enough time to memorize every detail. But Victor just pulls him closer. He wonders if his pounding heart will give away the fact that he's already awake. He might never get to experience this again, if Victor decides he regrets it, so he's going to lie here silently as long as possible.

But would Victor pull him closer if that were the case? Maybe he's not fully awake yet and doesn't realize who is in his bed. Maybe he thinks he's Makkachin. Oh, god. Maybe some subconscious part of him thinks he's Chris. If he has to see the disappointment in Victor's eyes when he realizes that he's just Yuuri, his heart might just shatter. Sudden nausea twists his stomach.

“Yuuri?” Victor squeezes his shoulder. “Yuuri, are you alright?”

Yuuri squeezes his eyes shut. He can't look at Victor's face now that he knows for sure that Victor is fully aware of who he is. “Mm, yes?” he manages.

“Were you having a nightmare? Suddenly you were breathing fast and seemed upset,” Victor’s voice is full of concern. Maybe that will be the look in his eyes, now, and Yuuri won't have to see what was there a moment ago. Yuuri opens his eyes.

“I must have been,” he lies. “Sorry to disturb you. I can go back to my room so you can get some more sleep.” He pushes back away from Victor.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Victor asks, catching his hand. “You don't have to leave…” He looks worried.

Right. Tell him about it. How would that go over? Yes, Victor, I was dreaming that you were disappointed that I'm not your ex-boyfriend.

Yuuri shakes his head. “I’d better get up anyway, if we're still going over my free skate this morning. I want to go for a run beforehand to clear my head.” Victor starts to sit up, but Yuuri puts a hand on his shoulder. “You should stay, get some more rest. I know you had a rough night.”

Pain flashes across Victor's face before he slides a smile over it. Of course, being reminded of his dead mom again is exactly what he needed. Yuuri pushes a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

Victor shakes his head, a hollow look in his eyes. “Don't worry about it. I'll see you at the rink in a little while.” His expression brightens. “Oh! I forgot to mention, your costume arrived. Yuuko will have it ready for you when you get there.”

Read more on Ao3

[unlovelyunicorn]

21 daisies, 21 Violets

Every year without fail, just as the sun kisses gently his window, Yuuri recieves a bundle of flowers.

January 13th. Same as always, even if he tries to catch the mysterious gifter, he can't come across to finding who or why they give him flowers.

Oddly he finds it a sweet gesture, even though his friends find it creepy and weird.

"Are you sure it's not a ghost? For real, you are being haunted!" says Pichit placing the flowers on the counter. He can't bring himself to touch them, fearing that if he does, he will be irremediably cursed.

"I'd appreciate if I'm not being followed by a dead person" The odds are, none as these beings don't exist. It's silly, at this point I don't care who.

"When we made the beth, I didn't think it could be a thing" Sighs looking forward to spending time cleaning the bathroom floor, for a month or so.

"It's not like I ask for them, they just appear every year."

"Don't you feel annoyed? Not being able to know how? Clearly, they know you." He laughs. The other day they were singing "Daisy, Daisy" over karaoke night.

"Last year I got sunflowers. i guess it has to do with the sunflowers seeds Celestino as a snack"

"Wow, that's something. But seriously just put a camera and voila!"

"We have already gone that path. Actually, Mary and Yuuko did one year. It didn't work"

"Ok, for some reason it sounds no good. Should I be scared? I won't get murdered in my sleep next year, will I?"

"Whoever they are, it is harmless. The flowers are normal"

"...OHLOOKATTHETIMEITSLATESEEYOUATPRACTICE"

------

Time abides and changes the course of the story as something switches the gears of fate. The month prior Yuuri asks, no roses or geraniums, not even peonies -his favourites, a boy can dream- he just waits patiently with a bundle of White Violets like the florist recommended.

Little did he know that a figure of something magical would stare widely eyed, on the eve of January 13th, as he took a place in his bed just next to him.

"I have always been waiting for you"

Who?

"You know, this year I was going to give up," says the breathtaking man before his eyes. He takes the flower arrangement and places his nose over, delighted.

Tumtum goes his heart.

"But I'm glad. They are lovely Yuuri, let's take a chance at happiness. Yes, I do" The silver-haired man stokes his face so gently. Yuuri somehow gets entranced on the loving expression of his blue eyes.

"I can't wait to get wedded, my adorable fiance".

Sorry, come again?

Before he gets a chance to say anything else, the man approaches his lips and places a soft kiss. It tastes so sweet. A wonderful feeling, almost like bathing in a warm cup of tea on a cold night.

Until a ringlet appears on his right hand.

The bubbly spell of love breaks.

"Ehhh?!"

And Yuuri falls hard on his back onto the floor.

"Yuuri, are you alright my love?"

"W-hen? How? What are you?"

"Is it not obvious? I'm a tooth fairy! Victor Nikiforov. But you can call me Vitya since we are getting married"

"When did i say that?"

"Well, You gave flowers in response to mine!"

"Wait! I did. So, now we are engaged?"

"Yes, it's a fairy's standard proposal. I get the flowers that you like, you get me a message in flowery speech."

______

Yuuri Katsuki, 23. Engaged to Victor Nikiforov, the tooth fairy.

The adventure begins.

[kal-el-fornia]

A Home at the End of Japan, Chapter 1: Lavender & Moonlight

Currently editing/rewriting (just a bit) for the purpose of cross posting. I want to thank those who have read this story so far, and those who will perhaps some day read it. This story is the one I have kept coming back to throughout the years, and the one that serves as a reflection of my soul.

This is a character study of Yamato and Taichi plucked out from the setting they exist in, and thrown into a place where time sort of drifts like a dream. This is an exploration of family and love. For me, this was an experiment in writing a story about two soulmates in a world where soulmates don't exist.

Quote of the day:

I shrugged again, and smiled. "This is my life," I said. "It doesn't seem like the wrong one."

-Bobby Morrow, A Home at the End of the World

FFN

Ao3

He flicked the butt of his cigarette down the balcony of the Yagami's apartment, and Yamato stared after it, watching as the dying flame vanished into the night. It was a sight that didn't last very long, as the cigarette's fire disappeared in the darkness of 2:00AM. Yamato searched the front pocket of his jacket for a pack of cigarettes that he had bought just three hours earlier, and he cursed, knowing that he only had two left.

The moment fit perfectly with the rest of his life.

"You shouldn't smoke so much, you know?" came a familiar voice from the darkness behind him.

Without saying a word, Yamato continued to stare out into that dark Odaiba sky, listening as the glass door behind him was shut. In his usual way he gave no response, or any indication that he had heard Taichi at all, and he just kept leaning on the balcony ledge, waiting until his old friend was by his side once again. Like so many other times in their lives, they were together on yet another dark and mystical night.

"Can't sleep?" Yamato asked, pulling out his two remaining cigarettes, one for himself and one for the young man now beside him.

As he lit his own cigarette, Yamato once again tasted the sweet nostalgia of his boyhood. Feeling content once again, he made a mental note to remind himself to buy more than one pack tomorrow. Yamato enjoyed his cigarette for a second or two, before he turned to Taichi and waited for a moment. He didn't bother trying to hide his smile as Taichi leaned forward so that he could light his own cigarette using the flame from Yamato's. It was a closeness that both of them had always been fond of.

"It's hard to sleep when my little sister is getting fucked down the hall," Taichi responded as he pulled away and frowned, partly from the thought of his sister and partly from the way that the smoke tasted in his mouth.

Yamato took a drag of his cigarette. "She snuck into mine and Takeru's room again?"

"Yeah," Taichi breathed out, as he tried unsuccessfully to blow rings of smoke, for no particular reason whatsoever.

"Then I guess that means that I have to bunk with you tonight?" Yamato laughed, taking another drag of his cigarette, "Takeru's greedy, he won't be done with your sister anytime soon."

It was a good enough excuse as any, Yamato being just as greedy when it came to Taichi and himself doing the same sort of things. He smirked, knowing the eventuality of what would happen later that night.

"How do my parents not know that they're having sex? They're not exactly discreet about it," Taichi grumbled, more than just a bit annoyed about the whole situation.

For some reason, even though Yamato knew that he should have been sympathizing with Taichi, he couldn't help but laugh again. It had been a long three years since he and Takeru had moved in with the Yagamis, a long three years since Hiroaki was murdered, and yet sometimes it felt as if the only time that had ever passed were these quiet moments together. They had spent so much time throughout their lives watching the familiar city before them, and there were times where both of them could forget what first brought them here. The Takaishis had vanished along their mother, the Ishidas refused to take them in after Hiroaki's death, but Yuuko and Susumu were there to offer them a home that neither Takeru or himself had any sort of claim to.

"Yuuko isn't as naive as you think she is," Yamato replied after a moment, eyes still remaining on the sky, "and if you didn't know, she's had talks with the two of them about being safe. Susumu has no clue because he doesn't want to have a clue. It' s best we keep it that way."

The flames from their cigarettes were starting to die down.

"They're too young for sex," Taichi muttered, still not being completely okay with the way his baby sister was living her life.

"We were too young for sex," Yamato countered, as his fingers twiddled his cigarette.

"We couldn't get pregnant."

"They're sixteen, and sixteen isn't as young as we think it is, Taichi."

Sighing, Taichi looked out into the night sky that Yamato had been so content to stare at in silence before he joined him. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or not, but for some odd reason that Taichi couldn't exactly place, the moon seemed rather bright to him, despite it not being full that night. Perhaps it was that past-midnight Japan air that had always been mystical to him, or perhaps it was Yamato whom Taichi had always felt had an odd sense of magic about him, but the moon was extra beautiful to him that night. It was almost as if the moon wanted him to stay there forever, something that Taichi wished he could give, especially if that meant that Yamato stayed there as well.

"I leave tomorrow," Taichi said quietly as he stared up at the moonlight, hoping that Yamato would follow him.

"Do you have to?" Yamato responded, the smell of cigarettes staining his clothes in the same way that the smell of lavender so often stained his memories.

Taichi took a puff of the cigarette Yamato had given him. It was a sour thought, knowing that it would be Yamato's last gift to him for a while at the least. "You know that I can't stay here. You know that you can't stay either."

Yamato ran a hand through his blond hair, noting that his other hand held a cigarette that was running dangerously close to reaching the end of it's life. "I can't leave Takeru."

"He has Hikari," Taichi offered, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that Takeru would never feel alone again, "and Daisuke always seems to find his way around here too."

"He needs me," Yamato answered after a long moment, remembering the day that his mother had abandoned their family.

Taichi put out his cigarette, and released the last bit of smoke that his lungs were willing to filter that night. Although he hated smoking, there was always something about it that was romantic. Taichi smiled for a moment at the stars that almost seemed to dance in the darkness, before he glanced back over at Yamato. There had always been a melancholy about him, but the magic was forever there. The moon was beautiful that night, but it would never be as mystical as Yamato was.

"I need you," Taichi said as he rested a hand on Yamato's, not being able to stay in Odaiba, but at the same time not being able to see a future without him by his side.

He knew what Taichi wanted to say, he knew what Taichi couldn't say in this short and vulnerable moment in their lives, and Yamato felt the exact same way. All he had to do was say the words.

Instead, Yamato said nothing as he continued to stare out into the night.

He remained silent until Taichi finally pulled away and went back into the apartment, leaving Yamato alone with his thoughts. The night was cold and lonely, but even so there was still a dreary magic about it. His memories here were tinged with sadness, but they were also tinged with love.

He remembered the familiar smell of lavender, and wondered to himself just what else in his future would someday seem nostalgic? His cigarette was almost dead and Yamato tossed it off the balcony, letting the night of Japan consume it's flame with darkness.

The moment fit perfectly with the rest of his life.

This is the first step in a longer road. I'll see you sooner rather than later.

[spelviin]

oblivion

Read on AO3

In his dreams, the tether slips from his grasp.

He sees a flash of blue, of fear, behind a panic-fogged visor, and hears his own scream echoing in his ears as his world is torn from him, tossed about like a ragdoll by the merciless force of gravity before vanishing, swallowed in bright blue light.

Blue like his eyes, those eyes that had held such terror in those final moments. Those eyes that he will never see again.

In his dreams, he screams and screams and screams and screams, until his agonized wails are reduced to nothing but voiceless whimpers and then, and then-

He wakes, sobbing into his pillow in an empty bed.

Yuuri misses the days when waking from a nightmare brought a sense of relief. When he was able to catch his breath upon waking from whatever horrors his subconscious mind had shown him and realize, it’s not real, it was just a dream, none of it happened, everything is okay.

He misses the days when he didn’t have to calm himself down after nightmares, when there were arms around him the moment he opened his eyes, arms pulling him close, a warm body holding him, the softest voice in his ear reassuring him, telling him he was safe and loved. He misses that most of all.

But those days are over now. There are no arms around him, there is no sense of relief, no escape from the nightmare that plays in his head, over and over every night.

Because it wasn’t just a dream.

Victor is gone, really gone, truly gone, and he can’t wake up from this reality he’s living in, this reality where the man he loves was torn from his grasp, ripped violently out of the known universe, lost to him, probably forever. He can’t escape the pain, the constant dull ache in his chest in the shape of his husband. He can’t tell himself it’s okay, because it’s not, because it will likely never be okay again.

There’s no escape, no denial.

The nightmare he’s living is real, and worst of all… it’s all his fault.

______________

In his dreams, he sees the man with the silver hair.

It isn’t every night. Some nights, his mama tucks him into bed with a kiss and he dreams of other things, like dinosaurs or flying puppies or big scary monsters chasing him. Other nights, he dreams of nothing at all. But the man always comes back eventually.

The man looks strange, but not in a scary way. Just different. Like the people who come to visit the onsen sometimes, the ones his papa calls foreigners. The foreigners are often loud, drinking too much and making demands in broken Japanese, or not bothering to use Japanese at all. Many of them have unpleasant looks about them, causing Yuuri to hide behind his mama’s legs when they come to coo over him.

The silver-haired man is not unpleasant, or loud. When he speaks, his Japanese is perfect, if strangely accented, and his voice is soft and kind. He doesn’t make demands. He only ever talks, asks Yuuri about his day, plays games with him if Yuuri asks.

Yuuri is happy when he dreams about the silver-haired man. But sometimes the man looks so sad. One night, Yuuri is telling him about his first ballet class with Minako-sensei when he notices a single tear slide down his cheek. Yuuri falls silent at the sight; he’s never seen a grown-up cry before.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and the man looks startled for a moment, his hand flying to his cheek before he even seems to realize he was crying in the first place.

“Oh,” he says, smiling a strange smile as he wipes the tear away. “I’m sorry. I’m fine, Yuuri, really. You were telling me about Minako-san’s studio…?”

Yuuri feels troubled, reminded of Mari when she gets sad but doesn’t want to say why. “My papa always says you should talk about it if you’re sad.”

The man laughs. “Your papa is a wise man.” His smile falls, and he draws his knees into his chest, looking sadder than ever. “I really am fine, Yuuri. I just get a bit lonely sometimes.”

“... Lonely?” Yuuri had never considered that dream-people could be lonely. “Don’t you have a family? Or friends?”

“I do,” the man says quietly. “But they all live very far away, somewhere I can’t see them.”

The man tilts his head down, and Yuuri can no longer see his face behind a curtain of silver fringe. He wishes he could do something to help. His mama gives him hugs when he gets sad, but Yuuri knows from several failed games of tag that you can’t touch dream-people. So instead, he sits down next to the man and gathers up all his courage.

“Then I will be your friend!”

The man looks up, surprised. Bolstered by the temporary absence of sadness in his eyes, Yuuri continues.

“Yuuko-chan is my friend! And Minako-sensei is my friend, even though she’s my teacher now! And she’s even older than you, which means that you can be my friend too!”

To Yuuri’s delight, the man actually laughs, a small, affectionate smile playing across his features.

“So? Can we be friends?”

“Of course we can, Yuuri,” he says. “I’d like that a lot.”

When he wakes the next morning, he realizes he does not know his new friend’s name, or even if dream-people have names. He asks his mama and papa at breakfast, but they just smile and ruffle his hair affectionately. Mari calls him a weirdo and tells him to name his own imaginary friend.

Yuuri thinks it would be quite rude to do that, so he decides to simply wait and ask the man the next time he sees him. For three nights, Yuuri sleeps dreamlessly, but on the fourth, the man appears again, looking far happier than he had before.

Not wanting to forget again, Yuuri makes sure to ask his name as soon as he appears.

“Victor,” the man smiles. “My name is Victor.”

“Victor,” Yuuri repeats, the syllables sounding slightly different on his tongue, but the man keeps smiling anyways, and they spend the rest of the dream talking and playing like they always do.

When Yuuri wakes, he feels happy. His friend does have a name, after all.

“Victor,” he tries again, still half-asleep but content. “Victor.”

______________________

“Victor!” Yuuri screams, sitting bolt upright in bed, tears streaming down his face.

His hand is still outstretched, as it had been in the dream, as it had been the day he lost him. He can still feel Victor’s tether in his grip like a phantom pain, feel it slipping out of his grasp, feel his utter helplessness in the face of the Aurora’s pull.

If he’d only been stronger, if he’d only held on for a few more seconds, they could have saved him. Mere seconds after Yuuri’s grip had faltered, the Aria’s engines had come back online, pushing them back out of the Aurora’s gravitational field.

Just a few seconds longer, and they could have pulled him back to safety. Just a few seconds longer, and Victor would still be here with him. But he’d failed. The tether had slipped away, and Victor with it, lost to the void, possibly forever.

Just a few seconds longer.

Yuuri lets his outstretched hand drop down to the mattress, buries his head in his knees, and cries.

“Victor,” he sobs, curling up as if making himself smaller will ease the terrible ache of guilt in his chest. “Victor, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

For a long while, the only sound to be heard in the bedroom is Yuuri’s weeping, interspersed every so often with sobbed-out apologies to a man who can no longer hear them. Then, there is a creak, and the familiar tingling of tags, before something cold and wet touches the inside of Yuuri’s elbow.

He sits up and sniffles, blinking his tears away to see two pairs of big brown eyes looking up at him. Makkachin stands on her hind legs, front paws resting against Yuuri’s side of the mattress, whining softly as she nudges him again.

“Hey, girl,” Yuuri murmurs, giving her a quick pat on the head. “It’s okay, you can come up.”

She does so immediately, hopping up onto the bed and immediately curling up on Victor’s- on the empty side.

“You too,” Yuuri says to the smaller dog, still on the floor. His front paws rest against the base of the bed, and he whines in frustration, too small to hop up on his own.

Yuuri bends down to pick him up, cradling his tiny, fluffy form close to his chest. “Morning, Vicchan,” he tells the little poodle, his voice shaking only slightly.

He gives the dog a kiss on the forehead, and in turn, Vicchan stretches up as far as he can to lick some of the tears off Yuuri’s cheeks. Yuuri lets out a giggle that sounds just a little too close to a sob as he hugs his dog.

He isn’t the Victor Yuuri needs right now, to kiss away his tears and reassure him that everything will be alright, but he’ll do.

______________________

Yuuri is so excited the night of his thirteenth birthday that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep. A soft snoring from across the room emanates from the dog bed his parents had put in, and the sound is so cute he’s half-tempted to get out of bed and cuddle the tiny creature within to kingdom come, but he forces himself to stay put.

The puppy needs his sleep, after all, and so does Yuuri. There’s someone important he needs to share his good news with.

It takes him a while to calm himself enough to properly drift off, but soon enough his eyes slip shut and he finds himself in a familiar place.

His dreams always begin here, in an empty white space, surrounded by a dense fog. He takes a step forward, then another, then another. It never seems to matter which direction he goes; as long as he keeps walking, he always manages to find what - or rather, who - he’s looking for.

Tonight, it only takes a little bit of searching before a familiar shape becomes visible through the fog. A smile spreads across Yuuri’s face and he picks up the pace, jogging the final few steps between him and his friend.

“Victor! Victor, guess what!”

As soon as Victor comes into view, the smile falls from Yuuri’s face. It’s a bad day. Victor is huddled on the floor, staring dead-eyed into the whiteness that surrounds him.

This isn’t the first time Yuuri has found him like this. It isn’t a common occurrence, but every so often the Victor who Yuuri encounters in his dreams isn’t his usual chipper self. He seems distant, sad, afraid, any number of things before he notices Yuuri’s presence, only to immediately snap out of it when he realizes he’s not alone.

Today is no exception. As soon as he catches sight of Yuuri, the empty look leaves his eyes to be replaced by a brilliant, heart-shaped smile.

“Yuuri!”  He uncurls from his position on the floor, stands, and waves as Yuuri approaches. Despite his smile, Yuuri can just make out a flicker of something terribly sad in those bright blue eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks, slowing down as he approaches.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Victor insists, as he always does when Yuuri plucks up the courage to ask. “Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Yuuri’s concern for his friend vanishes in a moment, eclipsed by his excitement. “My parents got me a puppy!”

His smile brightens, seeming more genuine now. “Oh, Yuuri, that’s wonderful! Happy birthday!”

Yuuri feels his brow furrow. “How did you know it was my-”

“So, tell me all about it!” Victor plows over his question in a burst of exuberance, sitting down cross-legged on the floor and patting the ground for Yuuri to sit, too. “What’s its name? What breed is it?”

“He’s… he’s a miniature poodle.” Yuuri says, feeling his cheeks flush preemptively to his next words. “I named him, uh… well, I named him Victor. After you.”

The heat in his cheeks spreads to his whole face as soon as the words leave his lips, and he looks at the white floor beneath them. God, what an embarrassing thing to say! It’s the truth, of course, but still, what on earth had possessed him to admit it right to Victor’s face?

Mari had been the first to make the connection when Yuuri had announced the puppy’s name at breakfast the day before.

“Victor?” she’d asked, not unkindly. “Wasn’t that the name of your imaginary friend when you were little?”

He had learned long ago that dream-people were not a normal occurrence, that not everyone had a stranger who spoke to them in their sleep on a regular basis. He had also learned that repeatedly talking about dream-people seemed to lead those around him to believe he had an overactive imagination, or worse.

So, Yuuri had feigned ignorance. “What imaginary friend?” he had scoffed. “I just like the name, is all.”

Mari had raised her eyebrows, but had otherwise kept her skepticism to herself - to Yuuri’s immense relief- and the subject had been dropped as Vicchan the poodle rolled adorably on his back to beg for belly rubs.

The thought strikes Yuuri now that he really should have said the same to Victor. Claimed that he just liked the name, or that that was the name the shelter had given him already, or just made up a different name to tell Victor entirely. Any of that would be less embarrassing than admitting he’d named his dog after the man!

He’s still flushed red and looking determinedly at the floor, willing himself to wake up so that he can get out of this awkward situation, when Victor finally speaks.

“After me, huh?” This is not the response Yuuri had been expecting, prompting him to finally remove his gaze from the floor and back to the man sitting across from him. His eyes are distant again, something strange flickering behind them. It’s not sadness like it was before, it’s… something else. Curiosity, perhaps? Suspicion? “I’d always assumed it was a coincidence…”

Before Yuuri can ask what he means by that, Victor snaps out of whatever stupor he had been in, that same wide smile on his face. “Sorry, Yuuri! I don’t know what came over me, there.”

“What do you mean by-?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he insists, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “Just me being silly. Victor is an excellent name for a poodle, Yuuri. Does he know any tricks yet?”

Yuuri can’t help but feel like there’s something Victor isn’t telling him, but he’s too excited to talk about his new puppy to pursue it any further. Instead, he spends the rest of the night telling Victor about every facet of his new puppy’s existence, from the early struggles of housetraining to all the tricks he wants his Vicchan to learn.

Victor seems only too content to talk about dogs, his face growing sad only when he peppers in anecdotes about training his own dog, Makkachin. But as the morning approaches, and Yuuri starts to feel the telltale tug of wakefulness pulling at him, Victor grows serious again.  

“Yuuri,” he begins with uncertainty, face half-hidden behind his bangs. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You said you named your new puppy after me” Yuuri nods, flushing again involuntarily. But his embarrassment is cut short by what Victor asks next. “Does that mean… do you remember this, when you wake up? Remember me?”

“Yeah.”

“…Oh.”

The look on Victor’s face is as raw as it is inscrutable. The mist is filling his vision again, but Yuuri tries to read him anyways. Is he angry? Disappointed? Shocked? Before he has time to figure it out, Victor is completely shrouded in grey once more.

Yuuri can hear something distantly, the faint beep of his alarm clock pulling him back to the real world. It nearly drowns out the last words Victor says before he wakes.

“...Why didn’t you stop me?”