#a lot of things happen in a very short amount of time in the first like...10 chaps lmao

[nalyra-dreaming]

What do you think about the choice to change the circumstances around Claudia's turning from the book? Lestat doing it almost just to see what would happen/baby trapping Louis vs Lestat doing it because Louis, out of his mind from grief, begged him to.

Hmm.

Difficult :) I have to expand a bit here, to explain my thoughts:

The show... made some very welcome choices, they made Louis "more", they made it all "more" in a way, they updated the story, and I'm glad they did.

But by doing that they created, let's call it repercussions.

Because... every little change has ripple effects on arcs, and there are arcs in the books. Arcs that span all thirteen books of the VC.

The Lestat in the book is very young still. Only like 10 years a vampire. 30 years in mortal age. He has had a shit life, has been raped into darkness, impossible choices laid at his feet (letting his mother die and his lover behind, both of which he could not), got beef (to put it mildly) with Armand almost immediately because he unknowingly broke the rules that Armand lived by, and then traveled the world, increasingly disillusioned, until Marius found him. And sent him to live out a human life after the little fiasco with Akasha, because Lestat was so young still.

A lot of the events unfolding hinges on the fact that Lestat is still very young. And almost naïve. Rash. Very impulsive. He wants to see what happens. He is hungry for the world (again). And he is very close in powers to Louis.

He falls head over heels in love with Louis, fatally, and wants to keep that love, because of all the shit that already has happened, in such a short amount of time.

The Lestat in the show is not that.

He is ~130 years old when he encounters Louis. A lot more jaded, a lot more... angry. A lot more powerful, too. We know he returned to Paris, and I think the show has already given us the hints as to the "why" with the dates on Nicolas' tomb as well as the Talamasca files.

We know he encountered Akasha (and therefore Enkil and Marius) as well. We know Marius still slapped him with a gag order. Likely also threatened him, like in the book. But we don't know why Marius had sent this older Lestat away (or why Lestat may have left, which is also a possibility, given the backstory Armand told). The Lestat who had not only been turned at a later point in life, but also had likely encountered Marius and Those Who Must Be Kept at a point where he had already lived "a mortal life".

This Lestat knows a thing or two about covens, and the passage of time, better than the book Lestat does. He addresses the loneliness in the opera, with Louis, they address it at the trial. He knows that loneliness. This Lestat has had, by returning to Paris, to deal with Armand, repeatedly. He and Armand have not found a way to consume their relationship, for reasons that will likely stay the same as in the book but which weigh much more heavily, imho, if broken up again and again, over the decades (by Lestat returning). Something likely also happened to make the theater relocate.

This Lestat likely knows the rules a lot better. Knows what Armand can do, and does, too.

This Lestat knows that there's only a few dozen of them out there and what that means for them in terms of loneliness and pain much better, too.

This Lestat knows what it means for Claudia if he turns her this young. Maybe he's seen it. Maybe not. But he has experience. A LOT more experience living this existence.

There were hints that he understands, very well, like the not-translated rant at the chess game. Like the resistance to Claudia being turned, even in Louis' first version. Like the opera. A lot of discussions and comments to Louis.

And there were hints that there were things that made him afraid. And that he really, really did not want them to go to Paris.

Which must have had reasons, obviously.

There were hints already in the show and interviews, that Armand might have more to do with Nicolas' death than... even in the book (where he starves him, drives him even more mad, and chops of Nicolas' hands!!).

This Lestat must have known about Armand's reasoning there, the reasoning we hear some of as well when Armand is threatening to burn Louis in the tunnels in s2. Because he must have heard them, or heard of them, after Nicolas.

All this combined....

All this combined made it quite logical for me that this Lestat... would not have the drive to "see what happens". He has likely seen what happens. Maybe not first hand, but he has seen enough.

He also knows the rules others live by, and knows what would happen if she would encounter certain other vampires.

This Lestat could only be forced emotionally, despite his better judgement - because he already had that better judgment.

This is the "Lestat side of things". :)

The "Louis side of things" has similar changes to consider which carry repercussions.

This Louis is a bit older, too. He is also harder, or can be harder, has a "business persona" that he carries like a shield.

He is under constant pressure, a lot more and way more stifling pressure than his book counterpart. This Louis wears a lot of hats (as Jacob put it), never really fitting in anywhere.

And Lestat, obviously aided by the mind gift :)) - sees him.

Challenges him on that.

For Louis this being seen must have felt cataclysmic. And it was, it came with life-changing events, of course, but the decision to accept those events was born from this being seen, this awareness of the entirety of his being, the good, the bad, the ugly.

It came with the promise to free Louis from the shackles of the world around him.

And of course that promise... had to fail.

And it made Louis suffer.

Of course.

The disappointment stemming from that simple fact, the disillusionment of that promised freedom being an illusion ... must have been like poison, on every breath.

I would like to point out that it was not a deliberately "fake promise", imho. The Dark Gift did free Gabrielle, she quite literally threw off the shackles of society, I bet we'll see that in s3. But it could not do the same for Louis, and it must have hurt them both.

That breaking, broken promise then tainted everything, whether they wanted it to, or not.

Louis' moral arguments re killing were never that in the book, and I don't think they're here as well. Louis' efforts to control his eating are means to regain control over a life that has spiraled out of control, because he cannot return.

When the Storyville arc unfolds, Louis is watching the repercussions of his actions. He has been rash, he has been arrogant, and he has reveled in it, for a moment. And now others suffer for it.

Letting himself go in the "vampiric way" has resulted in a lot of suffering.

That is the lesson that sticks.

His mother sees the devil, he has frightened his sister and her children. Deep down Louis knows that there is no way back, that he is other. Deep down he knows he will only find happiness with his own kind.

And he rejects that notion, of course, because the promise has broken.

He leaves Lestat, because ultimately Lestat is the reason he killed the Alderman. Because Louis cannot help but reject the vampiric aspects of himself at that point.

But Louis loves Lestat.

And he knows it, too.

And so he is stuck in that catch-22, in that predicament, needing to find a way out, aware there is none, unable to truly leave, and wanting to return.

And Claudia... Claudia is the answer.

Claudia is the band aid for the rift. Claudia is the reason to return. Claudia sees him as an angel. Claudia is the bargaining chip.

It's never about her. Unfortunately.

Claudia, the daughter of a family he cannot have (had) otherwise.

Because Louis knows, that even in a mortal life, he would not have had children, in all likelihood.

Because Louis is gay. Oh, he has of course the possibility, if he bends himself into shape. But when we meet him it is clear he only keeps the facade. By entering a relationship with Lestat, no matter the vampiric aspect, he dismissed that possibility, too.

And that, too, gnaws at him.

Louis, in the show, has to ask Lestat to turn her, because Lestat knows better.

And Louis needs to ask, because it is the only way he can consolidate all the warring pieces within himself, his self, his world, his state of being, his morals, his hopes - for a while at least.

[direwombat]

Timeline stuff for katc is sooooo funny like. Joseph tells jacob that syb is in John's custody while she's actively being rescued. Jacob sends Shaw back to the rangers station while syb is in the middle of clearing the outpost and Shaw comes back to find his allies dead and syb unconscious on the ground inside the station and jacob (who watched all that happen on camera) is just like "sorry to do this to ya bud, but I need you to bring her back to the Vets center"

All of this to say that shaw is just the la roux siblings personal ambulance lbr

[tinydefector]

Do you think cybertronians ever get a bit freaked out on how tough we are? Yes they can break us like toothpicks but humans seem to be able to take a good beating as well with adrenaline helping. Even our own body and oxygen trys kills us and yet we stick around like roaches. We're fragile in some reasonable and dumb ways and then resilient in the most dumbest ways.

Oh definitely, alot of the bots are very off put by how fragile humans are just in general and tend to avoid them.

But then there's the moments like Ratchet working a late shift and a small knock on the door alerts him someone's there, he turns around expecting it to be Rodimus or Whirl who he's about to scold but instead it's one of the humans and they look worse for wear. After fussing over them for a moment, detailed scans relay fractured ribs, a broken collar bone, and a heap of bruises and yet the humans just like. "Can I have some Panadol, Nurophen, and a glass of water?" Because they don't know what else to do its what they would get. Most of the times they ended up in the hospital. Ratchet is losing his God dawn mind as he rushes around looking for the best painkillers he can find for orgaincs in the smallest dosage he can give, hoping to primus it doesn't shut their heart down. In the end, they end up on a medication that makes them extremely drowsy, almost like the green whistle/ Weed.

Ratchet ends up doing alot of study on the human body and realises just how fucked up little monsters we are. We literally need oxygen to survive but he we have to much pure oxygen it will kill us. Water, we need a certain amount of it, if we don't have enough we will get dehydrated and die, if we have to much we will get water poisoning, intoxication, or a disruption of brain function. This happens when there's too much water in our cells, such as the brain and blood cells, causing them to swell. When the cells in the brain swell, they cause pressure in the brain, resulting in death. The issue is that it can become an addiction to drinking too much water for the effect it has on the body. Same with nearly everything we consume, it can kill us, but we need a lot of it in moderation.

Human: "I just need some basic pain killers and a nap"

Bot: "No, you need full surgery, sedations, and 3 weeks of recovery!"

Human: "nah she'll be fine!"

Bot: "Absolutely Not, bed now before I cuff you"

____________

Following that imagine a first contact AU where Cybertronians and humans are just slowly getting to know how the other works and next thing a human is kneeling over in horrific pain and it send the bots all into panic mode trying to help them, wondering what's happening and thinking they are dying. And the human after about ten minutes some pain killers still looking rather pale and unhealthy just go. "Sorry about that fuck I hate, Cramps/palpitations/ phantom pains/ and such" and the bots are just looking at them horrified like.

Bot: NOT NORMAL!!!"

Human: what you talking about?

Bot: everything that just happened you literally just short circuited!

Human: nah that's causal wait till you see the really funky shit.

______________

Human pet AU

Cybertronian's keeping humans as pets is like humans keeping hamsters. Humans are some of the most homicidal, suicidal and just deranged creatures that Cybertronian's could keep as pets. It's gotten to the point that they are a luxury/ exotic pet because if you do not feed them the right stuff, give them the right amount of light and socialising, and they will just die. There are so many Cybertronian's who take their human into clinics worried as and its just the human being a little bustard because they didn't get the treat they wanted 2 weeks ago and are still holding that grudge. Not to mention, we are prone to causing as much trouble and issue. We are like cats.

But we are also very easily sick and primus forbid a human gets sick because to a bot they think it's a death sentence for their sweet little spitfire of a human who they have had now for ages. And the human looks ready to die, and the next day, they are up and about like nothing ever happened.

Human: if you don't feed me the meals I want I'm going to pretend to die. If you do feed me what I want I might actually die because I shouldn't be eating it.

Panicked bot: "MY HUMAN HAS GOTTEN SICK. HELP!?!"

Human: totally worth it.

_________

In conclusion, the cybertronians are rather wary/ concerned about how resilient humans really are.

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[ruestheday]

i don’t think tim is the most mischaracterized batman character but he does weirdly have a lot of little things misconstrued about him

- he does not drink coffee. actually, in the comics, he’s talked about how he doesn’t like coffee before. instead he drinks energy drinks and a coca-cola like drink called “zesti cola”

- he doesn’t avoid sleep like in fandom. he’s a big napper. he fell asleep on a roller coaster once. he’s constantly confusing bruce over how the hell he managed to 1. fall asleep that quickly and 2. fall asleep there

- he’s not allergic to shrimp

- he wasn’t bruce’s neighbor growing up. he lived in a town house and moved to the manor beside bruce after already becoming robin and after his mom died.

- he doesn’t exactly stalk bruce and the robins like often shown in fandom. he is a little stalker kid, but he wasn’t running around at night with a camera jumping across roofs. he wasn’t even in gotham for most of his childhood to be able to do that

- he also wasn’t left home alone 24/7, he went to boarding school. he really only spent winters and summers in gotham growing up

- jason was not “tim’s robin”. tim idolized dick grayson, and dick was tim’s robin.

- tim did not want to be robin at first, and then only intended to do it for a short amount of time until bruce either recovered or found a replacement. he originally asked dick to become robin again, and dick basically went “why don’t you do it.” dick does also go back to gotham to help batman as nightwing, but it doesn’t do a lot, so tim decides dick was right and he does need to become robin.

- tim was not a helpless victim during jason’s titan tower attack. not only did he fight back, he snarked jason the whole time. literally did not take him seriously.

- jack and janet weren’t directly abusive. neglectful? yeah. tim was pretty much a spoiled rich kid who’s dad just happened to have anger issues. the most jack is shown to do in the comics is throw things out of anger, but it’s not portrayed as a very traumatizing thing to tim.

- also, bonus, in the comics he doesn’t abbreviate his name to drake-wayne. he either goes by tim drake or tim wayne, it depends on the writer.

that’s all i can think of off the top of my head. kinda crazy once i actually made a list of it

[coffeecatcraze]

I would just like to say how hard it hits me in the chest to see Charlie masking every time she's onscreen the day before the fight (including what we see on Vox's spy screens of course), except when no one is with her but Vaggie. Even during her emotional speech she tries so damn hard to keep that confidence up and smile on. But we do see her stop masking twice, when the only person watching her is Vaggie.

First:

No one's really paying attention to her, and she's not smiling; she's worried. When Vaggie approaches her, she doesn't put on a happy face. She talks about her mom with the same smile as in the first episode (during a very emotionally vulnerable moment with Vaggie, might I add). It's not happy or confident. It's nostalgic, wistful, and sad, because her mom's absence is something very personal and painful for her. When Vaggie asks if they're ready, Charlie doesn't instantly start to smile or answer with confidence even though she usually would (even within that short beat of time), because her mask is off. She's not confident or optimistic. She's scared. She's not ready.

Then Pentious comes out and she's all smiles again! The mask comes back on when someone other than Vaggie is there.

Second:

Of course, one of our favorite scenes. Charlie's alone when she breaks down, but when Vaggie shows up, she keeps the mask off. She admits how scared she is. When she does smile, it's not the big smile she's been throwing on throughout the day, and it's not strained either. It's soft, gentle, and real. She's not masking. Vaggie is genuinely making her feel better when she's finally letting herself fall apart, just by being there and reminding her that no matter what happens, she's already accomplished so much, and she's so loved.

Charlie is under a lot of stress and pressure. She's scared. She's not as optimistic as she's making herself out to be. She's giving everything she's got out there being a strong, confident, inspirational leader and friend in front of everyone, and it's only with Vaggie that she lets it go. She doesn't have to try to be strong. She doesn't pretend. She lets down her guard, because for her, Vaggie is that one infinitely special person who gets to see every part of her; the one person she can always be her honest self with.

There were plenty of times in other episodes when Charlie didn't mask her negative emotions around people, but that was when she didn't have anyone looking to her as a leader. She's running on adrenaline and the weight of people's expectations as Extermination Day gets closer, and she can't let the mask she's put on slip in public. She has to seem like she's totally ready for what's coming. But Vaggie is different.

The amount of trust and love Charlie has for her is staggering. She's under an insane amount of stress and pressure, and having Vaggie by her side is probably the only thing keeping her from completely falling to pieces. Seeing a relationship so full of deep trust and love is absolutely beautiful. <3

[syrupfog]

Luffy grew up with two brothers who, at first, hated him and kicked the shit out of him. Then, eventually, loved him and who expressed that love through kicking the shit out of him. 

Luffy's grown up with a low level of violence as love his whole life. 

His crew is the same, from very early on. Nami will beat on anyone (or at least any of the boys), and Zoro's been known to land a punch to the back of his head at every dumb remark he makes. 

And Sanji... his kicks are INTENSE. 

Luffy's lucky he's made of rubber.

and he laughs it all off-- because it's FUNNY. He knows his crew loves him, they're his CREW. He knows his brothers loved him, they're his BROTHERS. Luffy has always known violence as a form of love, although notably he rarely reflects that methodology onto others.

When Luffy meets Law the first time, Law watches as Luffy punches a Celestial Dragon in the face. That violence is, obviously, NOT a form of love. 

When Luffy meets Law the second time, it's when Law is saving his life, doing impossible levels of knitting him back together.

Luffy doesn't remember a lot of that bit, or the bit right after, on Amazon Lily, when the grief is at its strongest. 

But then, two years later, he sees Law again on Punk Hazard, and they form an alliance, and Luffy declares that Law is a good guy. 

No one else agrees.

But when has Luffy ever cared about other peoples' opinions? Now certainly isn't the time to start. Law gave all those pirates new legs. He saved Luffy. He's good. 

and then Law is travelling with them, aboard the Sunny. 

And he's mean and grouchy and short tempered and, again, everyone is wary of him. 

Luffy's not, of course, because that's just how Law is, but he's confused. 

Because no matter how many times Law snaps or yells or threatens to slice people apart, he's never violent. He doesn't throw punches or kick or draw his sword.

Which does make Luffy wonder if he's done something wrong, that Law doesn't feel like he can be free with Luffy, to go after him when he says something stupid. Everyone else does, is it because he's the captain? But Law's captain too, and they're in an alliance, they're equal.

But he doesn't say anything on it-- and even in Dressrosa, when Law tries to tell him the alliance is over, Luffy knows he wouldn't attack him even if he could. And it's confusing. He couldn't count the amount of times Ace landed a punch on him just for waking him up wrong.

After all that is said and done, and they land on Zou, and Luffy meets the Heart Pirates in all their glory, all twenty of them, he doesn't know if he gets more confused or less. 

The Heart Pirates LOVE their captain (as they should, Traffy is great!) and clearly would do anything for him, starting with those dorky poses they strike. And they yell at him for abandoning them, but they don't get violent with Law, and doesn't get violent with them. He sort of just... lets them yell at him and then talks over them. 

It's weird.

This isn't a thought that keeps Luffy up at night so much as it's a thought that he returns to whenever he looks at Law, reclining as his crew tries to get him to talk about what happened, or whenever Luffy's getting literally kicked out of the kitchen by Sanji.

It's a fact that Luffy puzzles on even in Wano, as Law is passively letting Luffy ruin every plan and then announcing that he planned FOR Luffy to ruin every plan. 

He doesn't hit Luffy for ruining his plan. He doesn't even elbow him in the side.

Before Luffy had seen Law with his own crew on Zou, he had thought that maybe Law didn't really like him. But after seeing Law interacting with his crew, he started to reevaluate. Law loves his crew, and although he threatens to use his Room on them (and maybe sometimes he does), that's not a violent thing. They can pop back together like Kin'emon did. 

But Luffy wonders-- what does it mean to be close with someone without feeling the freedom to get physical with them? 

He wonders this and doesn't have an answer, because that's never been his world.

And of course, what Luffy doesn't know, is that Law grew up with that violence. Had those formative years with Doflamingo, where he was taught to fight and lived with a family who was just as violent as Luffy's own. He was full of hatred and happily took it out on people.

And the only difference was Cora-- who at first was just as violent, to be fair, throwing him out a window and all that. 

But Cora who saw him as someone that could be saved, who sacrificed everything from his mission to his life, to give Law freedom of a different kind— the freedom of gentleness. The freedom that comes from being able to live for yourself. The freedom that comes from being loved enough that the one who loves you gave it all up for you. 

He gave Law everything he had, and he held him tight and told him it would all be okay.

And it wasn't, because Cora's gone, but Law took that love and internalized it, and from the very start the first thing he does is save Bepo from being hurt. 

He gathers a crew little by little and does so by giving them second chances like he was given, and gives them safety— including physical safety. Because separating himself from Doflamingo and that hatred means also separating himself from that senseless violence that comes from growing up in organized crime. 

Law's crew respects him because, despite his prickly exterior, he's stoically kind.He's using his fruit to help and to heal-- even when he gives those pirate hearts to the marines, did he kill them? Debatable. 

Law has worked hard to excise that violence from his life, and Luffy can see that even when no one else on his crew seems to notice.

And Luffy doesn't know why-- doesn't understand it-- but god it makes him smile wide when he sees Law snap at someone and knows that he can trust that Law won't hurt. 

It's like having a wild animal, capable of destruction, lay lazily at your feet.

Luffy wants that. It's an addicting feeling, to feel safe in that way. 

He loves his crew and he loves his brothers and he's made of rubber-- they couldn't hurt him, wouldn't hurt him. 

But the secret gentle kindness of Law is addicting.

[crljhnn]

Sleepy kisses

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x gender-neutral Reader

Summary: You like giving your sleeping boyfriend kisses on the cheek. Your boyfriend likes receiving kisses on the cheek. But then Rodrick gets greedy.

No physical description; No use of y/n

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: A bit of conflict but no intense angst

[Posted on AO3 as well]

In your opinion, your boyfriend is just the cutest when he is asleep.

There probably aren't a lot of people that would agree with you on that one. However, in your eyes, his slight drooling and open-mouth snores are just adorable.

Maybe this impression could be explained by the fact, that you both were still in the very early stages of your relationship. Having just made things official a few weeks ago.

That's why you couldn't resist giving Rodrick a small kiss on the cheek or the forehead whenever you found him asleep. Which, now that you think about it, has happened a lot more often in the last few weeks than it used to.

Rodrick was taking a nap after school when he made a great, revolutionary discovery.

You two had plans to hang out that day, so after your extracurriculars were done, you went straight over to the Heffleys' house. A difference you noticed that day, was that you weren't greeted at the door by your boyfriend like usual, but by his mother. After exchanging a few quick pleasantries with Susan you made your way up to his room.

Hearing someone come up the stairs Rodrick woke up. Assuming it was his mom he decided to act like he was still asleep, to avoid whatever chore she came up to assign him. So when he felt the bed dip beside him, created by you sitting down, he was surprised to hear your voice, instead of Susans, greeting him.

He was about to 'wake up‘ when he felt you gently placing a small kiss on his forehead, accompanied by a short gush about how cute he was.

And just like that Rodrick was hooked.

Everyone else calling him cute would have probably set him off, but when it came to you, every tiny compliment made butterflies burst in his stomach. You probably weren't even capable of offending him, even if you tried to.

After throughout research (aka fake sleeping a lot in your company) he came to the conclusion, that you just seemed to like to give him small kisses whenever he was dozing off.

Little did he know, that you were just as willing to give him those when he was awake. All he had to do was ask.

However, Rodrick being the dumb, lovesick puppy he was, decided that the most logical way to make use of this new information was to 'sleep‘ every time you entered a room. That way he would get the most kisses possible.

You on the contrary started to get worried. There seemed to be something wrong with your boyfriend lately. He was sleeping a lot more than usual, and that said something if you are talking about a lazy teenage boy, who even before took at least one nap a day.

Maybe it was a medical issue that caused him to get tired all the time. You hardly ever saw him not asleep. Was he not sleeping at night? Did he struggle with night terrors? Is there a way you can help?

When you first noticed his new sleeping habit, his naps were still limited to the first few minutes after you reached his house. The routine usually went something like that: When you arrived he would be asleep, you would gush a bit about him a little and give him a quick smooch. Then he would wake up about 10 minutes later.

But then it really started to pick up.

You would only leave the room for a short amount of time, for example, to use the bathroom or to get some water. Before, Rodrick always used to do things like getting you something to drink, for you. He was constantly jumping at every opportunity to do something nice. But all of a sudden he stopped. Now, after doing the small task yourself, you would return to find your boyfriend asleep.

And then he started to fall asleep with you right next to him. He would put on a movie or some music, then lay down on his bed or couch, and just minutes later he'd be out.

Another realization you have come to is that you didn't get to hear his soft snores anymore, which you used to adore so much. But that was likely because he didn't reach a deeper sleeping phase, right? That must be the reason, right?

Wrong.

One day you were coming over unannounced and that was when you saw it. While climbing up the stairs to Rodricks room you already called out a greeting, alarming your boyfriend of your presence. Like always, he threw himself straight onto his bed, closing his eyes.

What he hadn't realized, was that you were already able to see him from the position you were at.

And at that moment the self-doubt started. Did he not enjoy being around you? Was this his way of getting out of talking to you? Was he going to break things off?

Your thoughts kept spiraling, convincing you of the most horrible things imaginable. You felt hurt and tears were building up in your eyes embarrassingly fast. You had to sit down.

In the end, you came to the conclusion, that he never actually liked you and probably was making fun of you with his friends all along. Or he fell in love with someone new. Or he just decided one day that you were revolting. That must be it.

While you were drowning in self-doubt, Rodrick was getting impatient. Where was his kiss? Well, he knew he was probably pushing the limits a bit, but come on, that was no excuse for you to deprive him of his precious kisses.

Sneakingly opening one eye, he looked over at you, covering up his movements with a blatant fake yawn, trying to figure out what you were waiting for. What he wasn't anticipating, was to find you looking rather distraught, like you just saw a ghost and were about to start bawling at any moment.

Hastily he scrambles up and reaches for you.

"Baby, what's wrong? Oh my god don't cry, please don't cry." He was panicking. Rodrick had no idea how to comfort you. Now awkwardly petting your head. He was not prepared for this. Should he get his mom? She would surely know what to do. He didn't know how to console someone.

During his inner monologue, you were pulling away from him. "Why don't you like me anymore?" You sounded pathetic but were too upset to care about it right now.

Were you overreacting? Probably. But you're allowed to. Rodrick was your first everything. Your first real crush, your first real boyfriend, the first person you held hands with romantically, and your first kiss. You didn't know how to handle a situation like this, making everything quite overwhelming.

"What?" how the hell did you come up with that? He liked you, liked liked you. "Why would I be with you if I didn't like you? Who put this nonsense in your head? Was it Greg? I swear-"

"It was you! You don't like me anymore. What does your brother have to do with that?"

"Me?" What had he done to give you that impression, 'Come on Rodrick, think'.

"Yeah," sniffle "You don't want to spend time with me. And to think I was concerned for you! I was researching all the possible reasons for you to be so tired all the time. All while you were faking the whole time, solely to get out of hanging out with me! Why didn't you just say it outright? You coward!"

"That's not true!" Rodrick was nervous. How was he supposed to explain the real reason behind it all without making a fool out of himself? "We always still hung out after I woke up, so your theory doesn't even make sense. And I was always actually asleep!"

"That's not true. I literally just saw you throw yourself onto your bed the second you heard my voice."

"I was sleepwalking."

"Rodrick!"

"I wanted to scare you?" He was grasping at straws.

"Oh okay, that explains it all, sorry for the misunderstanding."

"Really? Great. So I was thinking we could- hey what are you doing?" Rodrick stopped in the middle of his sentence when he saw you standing up and crossing his room.

"I'm leaving. I can't force you to tell me the truth, but I also won't be sitting here playing 'happy relationship' with you."

You pulling away was the last thing Rodrick wanted, so he had no other option than, to tell the truth.

"No wait, I'm gonna explain. But it's embarrassing."

You cross your arms, still standing at the top of the stairs, ready to leave but again willing to hear him out.

He had no idea how to start.

„I just- how do I say this, look, you were right, I was fake sleeping.“

Honesty it is.

„Oh wow, I would have never been able to come up with this.“ You were indeed able to come up with this.

„But it was an accident, I swear!“

"Rodrick," You looked exhausted. "How the fuck do you fake sleep on accident?"

"It was an accident! At least the first time."

That doesn't explain much to you. The whole situation was still weird and confusing.

"So you just decided to make it a habit? And why were you fake sleeping in the first place?"

"The first time I had just woken up because I heard someone coming up the stairs. And because I was still in a daze from just taking a nap, I forgot our plans or that you were coming over. At least for a second. So when I heard footsteps I assumed it were my mom's and she was coming to bug me. So to avoid that, I acted like I was still asleep. Then I realized it was you, but before I could say something, you-"

"I?"

"You kissed me. And then I thought if you saw me sleeping again, you would also kiss me again, and you did. So I just continued acting asleep around you." Saying it out loud made him feel kind of ridiculous.

"Crazy suggestion, we are literally in a relationship, why didn't you just, I don't know, ask for a kiss?"

"Just ask?" he didn't believe that to be an option.

"Yeah. Like, 'Hey can I have a kiss?'."

"And then you would have kissed me?" It couldn't be that easy.

"Yeah? And you could also have had real kisses, rather than only ones on the cheek or forehead." Why was this so hard for him to grasp?

"Wow." He was still a mixture of skeptical and mindblown.

"So can we agree that from now on you just ask if you want something from me, instead of making me think you have some disease or lost interest in me?"

He nodded, still having a dazed, stupid look on his face.

"Thank you. And sorry getting so worked up over that."

But Rodrick was hardly listening to you, still stuck on the fact that he could just ask you for a kiss. He was pining over you for way too long, so now he had to sometimes remind himself that you were dating now. He had to try it out to believe it.

"Can I have a kiss?"

"Of course."

You lean over to give Rodrick a quick but sweet kiss.

"It worked, you kissed me."

Your boyfriend is an idiot. A cute idiot though.

[konpeitonom]

I was wondering if I could ask for some fluffy (+ nsfw if youre comfortable) headcanons about recovered/rescued curly x reader? I’ve seen very few fics about him and I’m so madly in love with him (particularly how ladonb.kokosa on tiktok draws him).

I think Curly would feel guilty about dating and sex because of his disabilities, inaction, and trauma but the reader is still head over heels for him anyway ❤️‍🩹

recovered/rescued captain grant curly headcanons.

sfw/nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

g/n reader - no pronouns mentioned

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; i daydream about this exact curly too!! oh god i love this artist.. writing this in the perspective of you were his spouse previously. let me know if you’d like it if you met him afterwards :)

these r also a bit short so maybe a part 2 if i’m up for it/anyone else would want it. not proofread i never will sorry. this is my 3rd post today i am insane and happy to write!

.. nsfw section is written from the perspective of me, a girl, so sorry men if you cannot relate or feels it doesn’t apply to you too much. i try my best as a non-writer haha. minors don’t read that part thank you please…

here he is in his late forties - early fifties.

SFW

— he feels an intense amount of emotions knowing you waited as long as you did for him— that in those 15-20 years he was gone you didn’t move on *at all?*.. to come back in the state he was in, he felt a lot of guilt.

— he feels even more guilt when you saw him in said state, and still stayed with him throughout the multiple surgeries and months in the hospital.

— that smile of yours always cheered him up. and your reassurance was most comforting. he was lucky to have you as you are lucky to have him.

— curly felt as if he’d have to overcompensate for lost time. he’d plan dates, give you flowers, gift you chocolates or candies you liked. small things like that. he did it often pre-crash but he now does it enough to where it’s still a little special when he does.

— it would take him a long time to tell you what happened, truly. for legal reasons i’d assume he’d have to tell government officials, the media, or some kind of authority what had happened — but the details of it, id take a lot of time for him to speak about. he’d have to speak to a therapist about it first.

— when it came to his inaction, that and the immense survivors guilt he likely holds, he would be scared you’d leave. he’d be upset if you tried to justify his actions too. he knows what he did was wrong. and he doesn’t need you or anyone to tell him otherwise.

— i’m sure curly would donate a lot of the money he receives from media attention, that or encourage people to donate to charities that focus on gender based violence or sexual assault victims. he feels owed too. it’s the very least he could do now.

— back to his relationship with you.. sometimes all he wants is you. sometimes all he wants is to cry in bed as you’re there with him. your mere presence, all of you, is a huge comfort for him.

— he loves that you’re still your happy, old self. and he understands, he’d probably be happy too if someone you thought was dead just came back.

— if i recall correctly, he was in that state for 5 months? most of the time, if anya wasn’t there replacing his bandages or nursing him- he was most likely alone. he doesn’t like the thought of that. and therefore doesn’t want to ever be alone again.

— if you’d allow him, he wants to feel you all over. not in a sexual way. he wants to touch your arms, your fingers, your neck, your cheeks, your face. the feeling of you in his arms feels like gods blessing im sure.

— he’d ask about you. he’s so excited too. he wants updates to your life, your family. what do you like to do now? what’s changed since? do you still like this and that?

— he feels upset that he missed out on those parts of your life, but at the same time he knows that you probably kept him in his heart all those times without him.

— help him get back into his old hobbies!! keep him physically active. update him on all the video games he’s missed, all the movies he’s missed. movie days are probably his favorites. keep him busy.

NSFW

minors do not read

— i believe a strap-on device has to be used, or toys. he is open to all, but he’d enjoy using his hands to please you. it feels more intimate and close. he loves nothing more than touching you— in any way.

— he is old, ok. he lacks stamina, 1 round is enough for him- as long as it’s enough for you. but he is very experienced.

— hand holder!! he loves to hold your hand during sex.. this is canon. i am wrongorgan. he’d rub your palms as you shake, asking “is this okay? does that feel good?” .. please reassure him he thinks it’s the sexiest thing ever.

— uses your facial expressions to reassure himself. he thinks it’s cute when you bite your tongue to suppress your moans. or when your face is all flushed and sweaty. that means hes doing a good job.

— eye contact.. please make eye contact with him. he does struggle a bit with loving himself (especially assuming this is a 1-3 years after he was rescued), but as long as you love him then he shouldn’t have reason to worry.

— loves it when you place your hands on his face, caress his jawline as he fucks you slowly. i think he also likes it when your hands scratch his back. again, it tells him he’s doing a good job.

— i think it’s obvious with the way i write him but he loves talking during sex. i mean, he likes incoherent noises too- just as much as he does talking. but your words mean so much to him. and there’s just so much he wants to say.

— like.. “god, you’re so cute. have you always been like this, sweetheart?” !! he is a gentleman, ok?

— he still prefers a dominant role. he is a service top if i’ve ever seen one. even before the crash, sex is all about you, you, you, then maybe him.

— for the first few times he would be extremely careful and gentle. intimacy is not something he likes to rush. after he gets a bit more comfortable he’d be open to exploring again. like you did as younger adults, but still. he’s old and you’re probably old too ^.^

— feels like he has to make up for all the times you were probably lonely, sexually, the time he was missing.

[boxbug]

A Canary’s Final Flight

My piece for @trafficzine 4th edition! Get it for free here! 200 pages of excellent art and fics, incredible work from all participants and from the mods especially!! huge shoutout to the mods for real

Process notes under the cut! (I struggled a lot so it's a bit of a novel)

So the entire process was a Ride. I knew when I picked this prompt that I was going to have a hard time, because Jimmy’s final death had been illustrated a billion times over by extremely talented artists. But I had a Vision of the snapshot of the second before the impact, when everything is still but you know what’s about happen. It was very much inspired by the clip of Fog by Jabberwocky, bu the thing is, they have the advantage of all the build up of the fall, and that’s when the trouble started.

This was my first version, and obviously it wasn't working. And I was trying so hard, with so many iterations! Small wings, big wings, no wings, different poses, less backgrounds elements. I'd done compositions were everything seemed peaceful but something is Wrong, but it wasn't working this time.

So instead I focused on what rendering I'd like to do - I tried a painterly approach, for that visceral feeling, but it wasn't working either (but hey, I did keep the red sky, so, progress)

At this point I'd been doing back and forths for weeks and I was just as lost as at the start. Now that's my tip for people who make art of any kind, in situations like that, stop thinking about how you can make the best piece possible, and think about you can have fun with it (because when you aren't it's visible). And for that was, 1 - going back to using ink and pen nibs and doing way too detailed inking, and 2- looking at Dave McKean's covers for Sandman (which, funnily enough, was also a reference for my previous trafficzine piece)

And from there I was actually going somewhere! Between the jagged rocks, the red sky, and the increased verticality with the borders, I had hit the vibes I wanted.

I did some experimentation with the border, and even though I really liked the bad boys I drew they were taking too much away from the lonely desolation, so I actually used Red (Unecessary Redstone)'s idea of all of Jimmy's worldy's possessions scattered on the ground post impact, with the idea to make it looks like the central image is his grave being dug.

(and yes for a short amount of time the were supposed to be clock markings on the sun, but there was already enough going with the wings so I scrapped that) (also fun fact the reason why the wings aren't fully material but more ghostly is because my toddler cousin was watching me draw the very first draft and asked why he didn't just use his wings and i went :( so the wings are a metaphor now)

So from there I found a bunch of picture and took some myself, cut and assembled everything together, added shadows in all the appropriate places, and repainted some elements so that everything would look better intergrated (some of the wheats are basically 100% handpainted, the cardboard as well). This took a suprisingly long amount of time, but I was done!

Well I wasn't expecting to have that much to say, but I hope if you're still reading, it was at least interesting!

[risuola]

▶ MOM ISSUES — late night talks, cuddles and lots of theatrics. that's what living with your boys mean, but your mom seems to see it a little differently.

contents: college+roommates!au, sa/domestic violence mentioned (it has nothing to do with the story, but it's a warning nonetheless) — wc. 800

a/n: there it is! i've been thinking about this story for months, drafting dozens of scenarios and finally it's happening! this series will be made of short pieces about three best friends turned roommates that slowly realize there's more to it than just friendship. it's not gonna be chronological, more so a series of random moments from their adventure - in the masterlist i'll try and organize it in an order, more or less. also, as you read it, can you hear Suguru's nagging voice when he calls Satoru's name or is it just me?

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

First thing you learned at the beginning of your university journey is that no amount of sleepovers and cuddles could ever justify sharing an apartment with two grown ass men. To your mom, at least, because once you told her that you and your two best friends – Satoru and Suguru – are going to live together, there’s not a single phone call that goes without her assuming you’re being regularly subjected to domestic violence and sexual harassment. They are men, she always tells you and it’s been long since you’ve given up any attempts to tell her otherwise. They were futile after all and what surprised you the most was that your boys are no strangers to her.

With a low grunt you made your way above Satoru’s ass and dropped onto the mattress in the middle. Both men shot you a short glance before resuming their things – the white haired one was playing a game on his phone and the brunette was reading a book.

“How’s mom?” Gojo broke the silence, cutting the thick tension around you with his voice. “Still convinced we’re fucking you dumb every night?”

“Satoru–“ Geto was quick to nag his friend and his manners (lack of them, actually), and the other one didn’t skip a beat before defensively asking “what?”

“No, it’s fine,” you sighed, covering your face with your hands, hoping to squeeze out some stress out of your head that way. “I can’t believe it. She knows you two for over a decade and it’s only now that she’s absolutely convinced I’m being abused even though she knows I’m safe with you.”

“She used to feed us cookies and now what?” Satoru gasped, his theatrics reaching a critical point as he dropped his phone onto the pillow and fake-sniffled dramatically, clutching the fabric of his white shirt over his chest.

“Do you want me to give her a call?” Suguru offered, now focused more on you than on his book. He reached to you, pulling your hands away from your face and brushing some stray hairs away from your forehead. There’s a delicacy to his movements, a subtleness that the other one of your friends lacks and you’re yet again made aware of it, when Gojo throws his arm over your middle, pulling you towards his body as if you weighted nothing.

“No, Sugu, it’s pointless,” you replied, exhaling deeply and patting the strong grip away before it got a chance to suffocate you. The very aggressive cuddle only got more intense and for a brief moment you thought Satoru wanted to squeeze you out like a toothpaste. “Besides, we all know that whenever she talks to any of you, she’s as sweet as honey. It’s only me who has to listen to her weird assumptions.”

Gojo scoffed and giggled at the same time, a huff of air brushed against your cheek as he nuzzled his nose right next to your temple, threatening to bite your cheek. “Told you she’s gonna get addicted to criminal podcasts when you were introducing her to Spotify and you didn’t listen to me,” he said in a light tone and the few seconds of silence that followed made your heart skip few beats. Any sudden loss of words is always a bad sign when it comes to the blue-eyed princess. “Does your mom know about our sleeping situation?”

“Oh god, no,” you whined, pushing his face away before his teeth sunk into the flesh of your cheek that he always insists, reminds him of mochi. Sugar addict.

“Should I accidentally send her a selfie with our bed in the background? On the group chat?”

“Satoru.” Suguru grunted, nagging again and visibly reconsidering all the life choices that led him to being friends with Gojo. You knew that look, you saw it many times over years of friendship with them.

“You can do that, Toru,” you replied, your tone dead serious. “But if you dare, I will change my number into yours in her phone and you’ll be the recipient of the shitshow it will cause. And you know the hell will break loose.”

“Throughout heaven and hell, you alone will be the fucked up one,” Geto mused, pressing the dark red, hand-painted bookmark that you gifted him a year prior, between the pages of his book, ultimately deciding that it’s enough of reading for today.

“Point taken, no pictures then,” Satoru hummed and nodded once, ignoring the obnoxious insult and he let go of you, suddenly not overly dramatic anymore. He got back into indulging his phone-gaming addiction.

You let out a small sound of resignation and helplessness and crawled underneath the sheets. Suguru soon joined you on the pillows and as you quietly chatted the time away, Gojo fell asleep, nuzzled between your shoulder blades.

[lych33dragoncookie]

Only the masterpieces that survive the fiercest flames earn their place in history.

(Analysis post)

Alright, they absolutely cooked this update. Like, undeniably so. I was admittedly not that huge of a fan of the last 2 beast yeast chapters we got; they had really good ideas, and Mystic Flour is a wonderful character, but... Dark Cacao hasn't really been done enough with for it to feel like it had the amount of weight it could have, and it really doesn't feel like much about him actually changed at all. Combine that with a complete lack of interesting dynamics and you have a lot of very good and genuinely pretty well thought out story concepts with extensive cultural research, executed in a way that feels more like a traditional old-school story that weakens the attachment the audience feels to the components of said story.

Here, though? I have no complaints so far. It was absolutely wild in fact, to the point where I don't think it's gonna happen again (nor am I entirely sure it should ever happen again). This was back to back, non-stop, smack to the face one after the other. The moment the first point of conflict came up, it was just shit happening left and right; even in the mandatory moment of rest where we chill out for a bit, it's revealed that hey, these sandstorms? Yeah the sand is actually ashes. It's the remains of all the people that live here. Whether they died off on their own or were killed by someone else.

And if that wasn't enough, very shortly after;

... It's fucking crack.

So, people die and kill each other here very frequently, and not only are their remains visibly on display, their ashes also become sandstorms that make it near impossible to navigate the land; on top of being something that people snort like cocaine to become more energetic and aggressive.

We started fucking wild, dude. This whole thing is pulling no punches.

Though, I do wanna note; I really, really enjoyed the interactions between Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese. It shows not only how forgiving she is, but how these two have known each other for an incredibly long time, and know each other well. They're incredibly comfortable around each other, despite it all, and despite how brazen and Very Much Not Strategic the queen here can be. I really, really enjoyed them.

Always fun to see a recovering villain do things for good, but in their own unique way that's still not exactly heroic but definitely effective and, at times, very gratifying.

Though I enjoyed all this, there's one thing I wanna talk about above all else.

The star of the show. Note that every single part was enjoyable, of course, and he wouldn't be half as interesting without Golden Cheese Cookie to serve as a parallel, but they've cooked up something special here.

So far, Burning Spice's extent of onscreen appearance is very, very short, but... I don't think I need to tell you that he's already made an impact and a half.

Christ, that's violent. With the sound effects and everything too, god damn. But, I'd be lying if I said this wasn't a pretty superficial source of judgement for this character. It's very very telling of what kind of person he is now, what he's all about, what he's willing to do, what he likes doing, but...

More than anyone else in recent memory, the devil is in the details. So let's look at those details.

Nothing too much so far, other than how much he absolutely loves destruction, but there's already a trend; namely on "Nothing lasts forever. It's as simple as that", "In the end, everything becomes dust.", and "You, too, shall see that destruction is the only way.". There seems to be an infatuation with the natural process of everything fading away, turning to dust and dying out. An entirely honest one, believing that there is just about nothing else to life. These will be important to keep in mind.

Here, we see a bit of his current relationship with his own immortality. He doesn't seem to mind the idea of losing it, finding something that may eventually take him down, but he still takes great pride in it. These lines, in text, seem somewhat miserable (and trust me, they definitely are), but the voicework in just about every language conveys that they are said in a more neutral, even potentially proudly manner. Again, not much on their own, but...

Here's where we get into the fun part.

This. This is the crux of their character. At the start, him and Golden Cheese cookie were more or less the same. Benevolent royalty, close and personal with their subjects. Beloved, and loving.

And then, they lost it all.

One way or another, their kingdoms were lost, reduced to almost nothing. They were overcome by grief, desperate, unable to cope with their loss. One tried to latch on as hard as possible. Preserve what she could, blindly, replacing the harsh truth of reality with an idealized, constructed world, where no one would ever have to know pain ever again. She shut herself off, and retreated in the safety and peace of a false reality. She would rather have lied to both herself and all her subjects than face reality. And eventually, she had to learn to move on. Let herself and her kingdom heal more naturally, facing reality. The other, meanwhile, was desperate to let go. He detached himself, trying to move past the pain of loss. But, of course, he couldn't force it to happen. No one can. And so with the grief of losing that which he held dear, continuing to be faced with the reality that nothing is forever, over and over, while he endured, the world slowly turning to ash around them again and again... It's no wonder something in there eventually cracked.

What will it take to destroy me. Nothing is forever, and yet, I am.

Nothing is forever. And yet, I am.

With time, misery turned to mania, and in an attempt to overcome their grief, they embraced it, in the worst way possible. A coping mechanism gone horrendously wrong. That destruction, that loss, the inevitability of death... It's not painful, no. It doesn't have to be. It can be thrilling. Exhilarating. A new reason to live. If all you care about turns to dust anyways, if that's really the only logical destination... Why not have some fun with it? Why not embody that inevitable, unstoppable force? Why not become what you fear, so you no longer have to be afraid anymore?

... You know, at least that's what I think is going on here. The next chapter could contradict this reading, but... From what all we have right now, it seems like Golden Cheese and Burning Spice are two completely different paths for the exact same type of pain. They are, in a way, the same, but diverge in almost complete opposite ways where it counts.

Spice is genuinely equal parts absolutely terrifying and absolutely miserable; a balance that is incredibly hard to strike in writing, but always absolutely fascinating and wonderful to observe when it happens. I have to say, the more I found out about them, the more I couldn't keep my eyes off everything they have going on.

I'm loving every little bit of this update. Mad props to the devs for cooking something up here that I am genuinely incredibly invested in, almost to the same degree as White Lily and Dark Enchantress. Banger update. Absolute S tier material.

TL;DR: Burning Spice is terrifying, miserable, and ridiculously cool. Everything about this update was an absolute merciless flurry of consecutive gut-punches. And I loved every second of it.

... Now we sit and wait for Shadow Milk's release next year.

[meownotgood]

under the influence / hayakawa aki

When Aki gets dragged to the most popular strip club in Tokyo in hopes it'll help him "de-stress", against all odds, you help him do just that. In return, he finally cures your itch for something more.

CHAPTER TWO — PINK LEMONADE MIMOSA

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 75.3k

tags (for this chapter): 18+, aki is a virgin, reader is a stripper, strangers to lovers, literally so much smut, semi-public sex, body worship, hand job, blow job, multiple orgasms (from both parties), orgasm control, fingering, creampie, virginity loss / virgin kink, cumplay, overstimulation, riding, doggy style, missionary, reader is shorter than aki, reader has nipple piercings, reader has a bit of experience, lots of praise + teasing + dirty talk (giving and receiving), switchy aki, reader is touch-starved and has had shitty relationships in the past, the smallest hint of coercion (reader convinces aki to do it without a condom, he's into it tho), the smallest hint of bloodplay (reader bites aki's lip so hard it bleeds, he's also very into it)  

masterlist.

read on ao3

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

You're finally starting to realize just how far you've come since this night first began. 

Aki Hayakawa has grown from a stranger who's name you fortunately happened to catch on his ID, to a man you've grown closer to than you ever could've expected. In between it all, your relationship has morphed into something you can't even begin to put your finger on. It's something more — much more — than what you were to each other at the start, that's all you know. 

In the short time you've spent together, after everything you've both been through and after everywhere this has gone, what your heart holds for him is nothing you've ever felt before, not for anyone. You aren't used to a softness this genuine. You know he isn't, either. This could blossom into more, for the both of you, if you're foolish enough to let it. 

Maybe that's exactly what you're hoping for. 

Truthfully, this scares you, almost. There's an ache in his shape gnawing at your chest and begging for more, for a closeness and a sweetness you didn't know you could crave. For the deliberate tenderness he's already given you a taste of, and the spark in your system you've felt since minute one; the kind you only get when you know you're alive. 

And really, as crazy and unpredictable as this night has been, it's not like you didn't see this coming. You did, and you didn't. 

Of course you knew most of what you'd be getting into, no matter how innocent you tried to play. You can't drag a handsome devil hunter to the club's private bedrooms and still expect nothing to happen. You knew he'd be inexperienced, and when it comes to this, you figured he'd be timid to the point where you'd have to show him the ropes. You knew that, but if it meant getting closer to him, you were fine with it. More than fine with it. The only thing you didn't know was the true extent of his naivete. 

You're not upset, not disappointed. Not mad or disgusted. Not any of the things he might've assumed you would be if he'd worked up the guts to tell you himself. After all, it's just sex. 

No, if anything, you're amused. You're excited. You might be wrong. Maybe you're jumping the gun. Either way, you can't get your heart to stop pounding. Fluttery and eager and incessant in your ears, your chest feels hot and your head is light. When you place your palm onto his cheek, he's burning up, as warm to the touch as you are. The intensity you've felt in the minutes past comes rushing back to you in waves. 

He must have the wrong impression of you. He's wrong, if he really thinks whatever amount of inexperience he has would make you care about him any less. 

Perhaps Aki is far from what you first expected out of him, too. If anything, you could have never predicted this night to turn out this way with him, not one bit. The sex, maybe you saw that coming. But the feelings you have towards Aki as you've come to know him? Never. 

He needs this. For once, you want him to let go, to forget. You're going to give him a gentle taste of love, of a world more divine. Now that you think about it, you've needed this too. 

You're greedy for neglecting everything else to be with him, common sense and the rest of your job. You shouldn't, not when you know once you have him, you aren't going to be able to let him go. But who is going to blame you? 

This is the most entertained, the most relaxed and comfortable you've ever been in the entirety of your time working here. Aki is a tenderness worth holding close, he isn't calm or collected at all, he isn't what he shows on the surface. He's soft and he's scared, he might seem composed but he's no more experienced than any of the strip club's regulars, he's sweet and kind and perfect and he's so — 

"You're so dramatic." 

"What?" 

A pin drops; Aki's expression turns to confusion, his brows knit up with a slight yet unmistakable tinge of annoyance. You're starting to laugh and he stares up at you expectantly, wide-eyed. 

The grin you give him nearly takes his breath away. Playful and purely ecstatic, tugging at the strings of his heart without even trying. You aren't taking him seriously, but that's alright. That's a relief. 

"Stop," You half-heartedly push at his chest, "You don't have to be so embarrassed. It's not like I'm judging or anything. I wouldn't do that." 

His voice has already regained its usual steeliness. It feels good to hear. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"You've never had sex before?" 

"I…" 

Ah, you've got him. And you aren't wasting any time, you're ripping the bandaid off right away; whether it was the brazenness of your words, or whether it was because he didn't expect you'd find him out so soon, your question takes him off guard. His shoulders stiffen up, a telling heat blossoms from under his cheeks. Everything caught in his throat, thick and blistering, he can't speak. He glances up towards you, and even without a proper answer, the look on his face tells you all you need to know. 

So, you were right. 

"Aki, what's wrong?" 

He's really starting to lose his composure. Aki's face is red from his cheeks to his ears and even though he can't see it, he can feel the way the flush travels even further, across his chest and beneath his collar. He tries to sit up but it's no use; he's blocked by your firm palm on his chest and your weight in his lap. 

Aki groans, flopping back, covering his face with both hands. "This is stupid." 

You carefully grab his wrists and guide his hands away, and he keeps them limp, moving them without a fight. 

"You're the only one who's stupid." You counter.

Aki visibly pouts. "Let me up." 

You won't. You think you'll do the exact opposite, actually. Aki opens his mouth — to spout another protest is your best guess — but you shut him up with your lips on his, before either of you can find out. 

Immediately, he chokes out a surprised sort of noise, vibrations muffled by your mouth, but then he's relaxing, tilting his head to the tune of your own. Thumb and forefinger grasping his chin, you kiss him softly, intensely. Aki lets himself melt into it, his eyes closing, fingertips grazing your cheek as he kisses back. The world stops turning for a few fleeting seconds. When you pull away, he's calm, his eyes are deep, hazed over. He scans your face, he waits for you to say something. 

"You're way too serious." 

Aki blinks, eyelids heavy. He wishes you'd quit the embarrassing talk, and simply kiss him again. 

Your tone is quieter this time when you tell him, "None of that is a big deal to me, you know? Quit acting like it is." 

Your gaze is difficult to keep meeting. Aki looks past where you sit on top of him. He glances down towards the end of the bed, where the sheets have grown untucked and messy from what he can only assume is yours and his fault. A couple seconds go by, and then a few seconds more. Your finger taps his cheek. He doesn't reply. 

You scoff, but it's unconvincing. This time, your fingers drift down, skating either side of his neck. The rosy-purple marks flushing the surface of his skin look prettiest when they're underneath your fingertips. 

"What do you want me to do?" Earnest and tender, your words recapture his attention. "I promised you I'd give you whatever you wanted, right? So tell me the truth." 

Aki glances towards your gaze, finally. He answers without skipping a beat, "Whatever you want to do." 

"Dumbass, I'm asking you." When your fingers start to trace underneath his collar you resist the urge to grab a fistful and shake him by it. To your disappointment, he looks away again, seemingly unfazed, but you don't miss how the bridge of his nose subtly crinkles. 

You sigh. "I just want you to be honest with me. Can't you do that?" 

"I don't… I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with doing." 

"Stop it. I want this, I wouldn't be asking if I didn't. And I want to do whatever's gonna make you happy. Whatever will make you forget about all those stupid little stresses you've got swirling around in your head." 

Aki's lips purse into a thin, taut line. 

His weight shifts as you fling your arms around him, elbows resting on his shoulders. You're continuing, "I want you to enjoy yourself. You deserve to enjoy yourself. Do you not think so?" 

Now, it's Aki's turn to sigh. He looks back towards you, expression softer than before. He watches with his breath caught in his lungs as you lean in, fingers toying with his hair but refusing to give him the satisfaction of running through. 

You're quiet. So quiet, so alluring it makes his head spin; "Tell me what you want Aki, tell me, and I'll give it to you. Anything at all." 

Anything. 

Oh, there's so much he wants, he's longed for more from you in this past hour than he's ever wanted for himself in his whole pathetic life. He hates this feeling and loves it at the same time: adores the addicting river of desire flowing through his veins, despises how it itches and claws at his chest until it aches. A desperate sense of need chokes up his throat, goading him to beg for things he never thought he'd be begging for. He hates that he wants to be cherished, hates how badly he needs to feel like he's sitting right in your soft spot. 

The feeling of want is a lot to contend with for someone who's barely ever wanted anything. When he was younger, he wanted his brother to get better, wanted his family to be happy. When he got older, he believed he didn't deserve to want for them to come back. 

"I- I think I…" 

This isn't as simple as you, or even as he first made it out to be. It could have been, but he's gone and made feelings for himself he can't chase away. Because as much as he's tried to be strong and composed and resistant, ultimately, he's weak. Weak and lonely, relying on you to fill in the blanks. Weak enough to fall for you when he knows he shouldn't, for your kind touches and even kinder words. Enough to crave more, more than he believes he deserves. 

Maybe that's alright. He can quell his shaking heart, he can pretend things are simple. Just for tonight, he supposes. 

You told him you wished for him not to think about work, or devils, or hardships. Or anything outside of this room and what's happening right now. He's always been the type to look towards the past and the future, never focus on the present. But for tonight, he thinks he should. He'll have regrets if he doesn't. And he's been through enough to know regrets are always worse than whatever comes before them. 

He promised himself he wouldn't hesitate. A half-hearted promise, really. It might be time to make good on that. 

Breath sharply quickening, Aki finally concedes, "I want to… Think I want to keep going. Like you said." 

"Yeah? You want more?" 

Your voice tickles the shell of his ear, you're right, but it's more than humiliating to have his own words deciphered and tossed back in his face. His eyelids are getting heavy. His chest tingles like fireworks about to explode, and his limbs go limp. 

"Yeah. I do." 

"We can take it slow. Take our time." Right against his ear, you whisper such sweet words, your fingers curl in the roots of his hair and the sensation is oh-so pleasant, "I want to make this about you. We can do whatever you're comfortable with, and stop when you've had enough. How does that sound?" 

"Good. That sounds good." Aki swallows, nodding. 

The mattress dips slightly as you shift, pushing back up again, palms flat on his chest to steady yourself. "Then I promise I'll take care of you. Okay?" 

When you look at his face, Aki's got his lips pursed up into something of a pout, he's clearly unsure or nervous or embarrassed, maybe a combination of the three. But regardless, he doesn't falter, he nods again. 

"Okay." 

"Don't look so nervous." You're sliding down slowly to give yourself more room, moving to straddle his thighs, "All you need to worry about is making sure you enjoy yourself. And if there's anything you're scared of, just tell me. I'll show you what to do." 

Aki exhales a steady puff of air. "Got it." 

Reaching up, you start by unbuttoning his shirt. You stretch forwards to pop the top-most button, then the second one down, then the one after that. Aki's thighs squirm slightly as your weight repositions on top of them. His gaze darts from your face to your hands, his vision going blurry at the edges, and he breathes in deep to keep it refocused. 

Already, you're tugging his shirt from his shoulders and he's following along before he has a chance to think about it, pulling his arms from each sleeve. He sits up, allowing you to yank the dress shirt free from his back. You gently toss it aside on the bed once you're finished. 

You waste no time pressing your palms flat to his bare stomach. He flinches instinctually from the contact, but soon, he's melting into it. Your hands are surprisingly warm, even warmer as you start to glide them up, bringing them to his chest, causing him to relax and sink further into the mattress. Your thumbs brush over the faint muscles in his abdomen. You feel out the ridges of his ribs when he breathes in, the expanse of his chest, needy fingertips dip into the curve of his collarbones — Your touch spreads warmth and flickering sparks in its wake. 

Aki swallows the thick lump forming in his throat. His heartbeat rings in his ears like a church bell; you trace your fingers along a deep scar traveling the length of his shoulder. Your fingernails tickle the surface, and he's expelling a nice, deep sigh, closing his eyes as he gives himself up to you. 

That's it. You're whispering, voice quiet, only a figment, See? No reason to be anxious. I've got you. 

It's your job to make people relax, isn't it? Yet Aki still finds himself wondering how you got to be so damn good at it. 

You trace his arms in the same way you did once before, palms traveling up each one. You squeeze his shoulders, massage them a little until he's sighing, going down further to hold his waist, thumbs rubbing the faintest circles into his skin. His figure is as handsome as you were expecting: thin and stronger than he looks, muscle in his back and his shoulders, pale skin scattered with long, faded scars. Aki looks down — You're shifting back, leaning in. He sucks in a breath of anticipation, he sees you press your lips to his stomach, and feels you kiss right above his waist line. 

Again, you kiss closer to his side, you go upwards to place one over where his sternum would be, and then a kiss on his shoulder, one onto his throat — he's shivering, his eyes are closing. You press one on the shell of his ear, one over a mismatched scar on his chest. Each touch is rippling water: trembling, echoing. 

He can hardly handle this; you're leaving kisses over all the places no-one has ever touched before, no-one but you. No-one but blood and bruises and devils. There's never been room for anything this soft. 

He feels like he's dying. Dying and coming back to life. Or perhaps both, simultaneously. It would be nice if he could feel exactly like this when he dies. 

You're so pretty, Aki. 

One hand rising to cup his cheek and tilt his head upward, the other dips lower, fingertips snaking underneath his slacks to barely brush the waistband of his briefs. Aki almost doesn't hear you. His eyes go misty, and he thinks for a second he just might cry. 

You really are so soft, treating him softer, safer than anything he's ever known. He was supposed to be keeping things simple, but when it's this easy for you to tug at him, he finds it impossible to keep his brain from scrambling into a complicated, wound-up knot. 

You're still going, dragging your hands down his sides. His skin tingles, your fingertips caress every one or his scars, each of his little insecurities. How long has he waited, needed to feel this, without even knowing? How long has his heart eaten away at itself, desperate for something just like this? 

"You okay?" 

Your hands have frozen, he realizes. The familiar sound of your voice, louder than before, brings him back to reality. 

"I'm fine." 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah. I'm sure." 

You part his bangs, pushing them away from his eyes and tucking them behind his ears. You prop yourself up and lean your elbows onto his chest until they're close to digging in. 

"You know," You're saying, the faintest tinge of a smile tugging at your cheeks, "I feel special, getting to see you like this." 

Aki blinks, doesn't answer. 

"I wanna make you happy. You're important to me. I want to make you feel special too, Aki." Fingertips drumming a rhythm on his shoulder, your lips ghost the space between the corner of his jaw and his ear, "You'll let me, won't you?" 

You already have. 

With a dull sort of laugh, you double over, you wrap your arms around him; you understand you're getting cheesy, a bit too sentimental for your own liking. Your voice comes out as a deep mutter, breathed right against his skin, "I bet you've never felt like that before, huh? So special."

Like this? Like the world's stopped, instead of mercilessly spinning around? No, he hasn't. This is the first time it's felt as if everything finally makes sense. 

He knows it's fleeting. Aki doesn't want to think about what's going to happen when this is all over. He wants to think even less about how he probably won't see you again after tonight, how he won't be able to forget the things you've said to him, how he'll feel your touch linger on his skin for the rest of his time alive, and he'll end up cursing himself for not stretching out this moment with you for a few moments more. 

Returning to his same old job, the same old nightmare, only to feel that familiar lingering pain will be even harder to bear knowing the taste he's had of something softer. 

He takes a deep breath in, an even deeper breath out, and somehow manages not to tear up. He answers, "Not until now." 

"I must be doing something right then, huh?" 

Aki can practically feel your smile against his skin, swears he can almost hear it in your voice. You sit up, and that intoxicating grin is proven true on your face. Your hand cups his cheek and Aki, ever so pliant, finds himself leaning into your touch. 

"So-"

The moment's short-lived, because you're already tearing your hand away and breaking the silence; you scooch further back, and Aki watches, complacent. His heart skips to a steady rhythm in his chest. The ghost of your touch still lingers on his cheek, tingling and warm. 

"...You've really never done this before, or anything like this. Right?" 

Aki doesn't answer, figures it's rhetorical. By now, you've settled on his thighs, you're reaching down for his belt. He hardly notices. He stares at the shadows — yours, his — on the ceiling and allows his mind to spin. 

He's important to you. His head keeps coming back to those words in particular. Through your eyes, he'd like to see himself. Perhaps then, he'd come to treat his own well-being much kinder, gentler. 

You're already fiddling with the buckle. "Why though, why haven't you?" 

He merely shrugs, not having an answer. The gentle clink of metal on metal rings in his ears, and he tries not to pay too much attention. 

"You ever had a girlfriend? A boyfriend?"

Aki freezes up at that: stone cold. Though it's not like he has a reason to lie. 

"No. I haven't." 

Cute. God, he's cute. The professional little topknot devil hunter you found yourself so intrigued by is an innocent, goody two-shoes virgin. 

Carefully, you pull the metal pin from the hole in the leather, working it free. The buckle makes a satisfying jingle as you smoothly tug his belt from the loops in his slacks. Gaze focused down, you're talking while you work, "Ever been asked on a date? You're handsome, I can't imagine you never have. Do you always say no to that kind of thing?" 

Aki's voice is level. "I've had a few people ask me before. But I turned them down." 

"Why's that? Not interested?" 

Tilting his head, eyes narrowing, he fixates on the streaky paint job adorning the adjacent wall. 

"I guess not. I don't want to burden anyone. And I don't have time to go on dates, anyways." 

His belt is gathered in your hands and neatly set aside onto the edge of the bed. You hook your fingers in the empty loops of his slacks, you take a moment to feel the smooth fabric beneath your palms. No reaction. Then, you're toying with the shiny silver button on the front, you're popping it — and that gets Aki to suck in a nice, sharp breath. 

"A burden… How could you be a burden to anyone?" You ask him honestly. As you're pulling down his zipper, he props himself up on his elbows, and you're glancing up at his face; his brows are slightly knotted, he's looking away, he's still fronting his composure. His slacks go loose around his hips, and he presses his thighs together instinctively, holding them in place. 

Matter-of-factly, like he's reading off a script rehearsed a thousand times over, he answers, "I'm not good with relationships. And either way, I'm a devil hunter. Devil hunters die on missions often. It'd be irresponsible to get involved with someone. If I die, I'd only be burdening whoever I leave behind." 

"Lift your hips for me." 

At the murmur of your command, Aki does so, slowly lifting his hips off the bed, enough to allow you to pull his pants past the divots of his hips, down his thighs and his bruised knees, all the way until they're left pooling at his ankles. Your thumbs hook around his waistband, touch warm on his bare skin. He doesn't notice the way you're smiling to yourself; his boxers are a soft, blue and black plaid, so fitting for him. You're barely able to resist making a comment about how cute they are. 

"So you'll burden yourself, make yourself lonely to avoid hurting someone else," You meet his eyes, but for only half of a second before the creeping heat on his spine forces him to look away. "Just when I thought you couldn't get any more self-sacrificing." 

Trying to hide his growing nerves, Aki flexes his sweaty hands, "It's what I have to do. You'd understand more if you were in my position. If you were a devil hunter." 

What he has to do. There he goes again. All of the sudden, it's like you're back at square one, remembering how you felt when you first sat beside him. How you watched him shake and wanted more than anything to hold him until he was breathing again. 

You'll have him change his mind by the end of tonight, no matter what it takes. 

You scoff, "Is that so?" 

Your head tilts, fingertips drumming on his side, touch so faint he can hardly feel it. Aki steals a glance towards you. The hint of a smile on your face is indecipherable. 

"You aren't a burden to me." 

This time, he holds his gaze on you, he keeps it there. He couldn't look away even if he wanted to. His heart shouldn't skip in the way it does, instantly pounding and throttling inside his chest. You've barely said anything, but those simple, stupid words alone send him spiraling a mile a minute. 

Throat dry, hands clammy, he's about to muster up the courage to ask you if you really mean that when you're sitting up, sliding off of him, smiling warmly and laughing even warmer. "And for the record, I think you'd do pretty well on a date." 

He wants to, because boy does he feel awkward letting you ramble on while he stays silent, but Aki can't seem to figure out how he's supposed to respond to that, either. 

'Til now, a date seemed like such a foreign concept. The kind of thing his coworkers blabber about to pass the time. The kind of thing he'd only see in movies where the world isn't as complicated, and afterwards be left to wonder if it's anything like real life. 

Probably not. Life is never so simple. He shouldn't get his hopes up. A date with you might be nice, though. Your arm outstretches, your hand tightly grasps his wrist before Aki can mull over the rest of those thoughts. 

"Look, c'mere." You instruct, tugging him forwards, he follows along and you pull him until he sits up the rest of the way. "Sit on the end of the bed. Make yourself comfortable." 

So, Aki does. The mattress shifts as he shuffles to position at the edge of the bed with his legs hanging over. You let go of his wrist and you carelessly push his clothes onto the floor in a heavy heap to make more room for him. Your eyes lock with his, you're sinking down in front of him and — Oh. You're sinking down in front of him. 

The realization alone hits him nearly as hard as the sight of you below him. When you're down on your knees, you're forced to tilt your head, peering up at him through your lashes. Aki takes deep, steady breaths, they're shakier than he expected. He can't stop his heart from beating out of his chest, his gut from stirring with warmth. 

Just like that, he's finally out of his head. He was almost starting to forget what the plan was in the first place. 

You're giving him no time to rest either, already messing with the waistband of his briefs, hooking your fingers around while your other hand rests on his thigh and pushes them apart. He can hardly handle this; he's red in the face, he can feel beads of sweat prickle at the back of his neck and his forehead. You drag your fingers away, his waistband gently snaps against his skin, and as your palms work their way downward, smoothly gliding across his thighs, Aki shudders from the familiar, eager pang between his legs. 

It isn't even all that dirty. Aki covers his mouth with his palm, surmises he's the dirty one for already getting so worked up when the only thing you've done is get down on your knees in front of him. 

You rest your cheek on his inner thigh, you stare up at him with big, soft, wide eyes; you're so pretty like this, and he's so much taller compared to you, so much larger — You're the one beneath him but God, you're still the one with all the power. 

Aki is the one who's waiting with bated breath for you to give him something, anything. You've got him in the palm of your hands, and he's the one who would so easily turn the situation around at a single word from you. He'd kneel and beg for it if it's what you wanted, what you asked for him to do. 

Hopeless, he's always so hopeless when it comes to you, and every little thing you do to him only makes that clearer and clearer. 

"Nervous?" You coo, and Aki's quick to answer with a hasty shake of his head, denying. Your eyebrow cocks, "Yeah? You look nervous." 

"I'm not." Deep and weighty, Aki inhales, letting cold, sharp air enter his lungs. You keep your eyes locked onto his and he fights every urge in his system to tear his gaze away. 

"It's okay if you are." 

"I'm- I'm fine. Really." 

Sure, he might say that, but in the short time you've known him, you've come to learn Aki is the easiest man in the world to see through. He's more honest than he tries to be, you bet he isn't even trying to lie, more-so attempting to keep himself convinced. He isn't nervous, he can handle this. He'll be fine. All he has to do is trust you. 

"Are you sure you're ready?" You're asking, tone genuine, a flash of concern in the back of your eyes, "We can keep relaxing some more instead, if you want to. I wouldn't mind." 

And he does, he trusts you, he really, really does. That's why when you're asking him, even though his heart is in his throat, he's giving you a hesitant nod, he's answering with a quiet voice, "Yes. I don't want to stop." 

"Promise?" 

Aki swallows. "Promise." 

An ambient buzz fills the room when the air conditioner kicks on. The familiar smile returns to your face, now. Your fingertip trails nonchalantly up his inner thigh, it dips under his briefs, leaving goosebumps on his leg when it dances across his bare skin. 

"You aren't used to this, I know." 

You stretch that last syllable out until it makes him dizzy. Your bottom lip is pouty, tone sweet but pitying, "You've never had anything like this happen to you, huh?" 

Your thumbs brush his waistband again. This time, it really seems as if you're going to grab it and start to take off his briefs, in the slow, teasing way he's found fitting of you, but your hands drift right away. Aki lets go of his held breath and can't decide if he feels disappointment or relief. 

He grunts softly, he shifts. He stares down at your pretty hands as they softly squeeze his thighs, and he spreads them open a little wider on impulse. Quietly, he answers you simply, "Mhmm." 

"You're pretty smart though. I bet you knew this would happen all along." 

"It… Maybe. Maybe it could have. I wasn't sure what the hell you were planning." 

Despite your teasing, or perhaps because of it, he's still all tense, still shifting with unrest. He reaches up and presses a palm to his forehead, he feels the heat that's builded there, pushing the messy strands of hair away from his eyes. The slightest outline is tenting his boxers, fabric darkened around where it's damp. Aki breathes a long, shaky sigh, his eyelids flutter. He leans back on the heels of his palms and swallows, his throat dry, gasping from the effort. 

You murmur, "Never had anyone jerk you off before?" 

"Ah-" 

Instantly caught off guard, Aki feels his whole face get set on fire, his cheeks burn and his head goes woozy; blood rushes between his legs and he can't say anything, he can barely even manage the hurried shake of his head. It isn't the question, not you asking what he's done. It's the insinuation of what you're about to do. 

He stammers over his own tongue, trying to rush a response, "No, no that's- No." 

Leaning back a bit, he forces his posture to relax, his shoulders slumping. He stares down at you and doesn't care to fix his bangs when they fall in a sweaty mess around his eyes. 

Your slight grin turns into something more akin to a smirk. You've just gotta do a little dirty talking to get him into it. 

"Oh, yeah?" You tilt your head, your voice lilts in a giggly, far too innocent sort of way, "You're so sweet, I can't wait to touch you. You gonna let me make you cum?" 

Aki breathes an airy gasp, almost chokes, doesn't answer. How the hell is he supposed to answer that? His wrist pops when he flexes his hand too hard, he starts trying to speak but everything comes out in a stuttery mix of ah's and uhm's and eh's. He was red in the face from the very start, but now, it's so much worse; the tips of his ears almost hurt from how hot they've been burning. 

Thankfully, it doesn't seem like you were expecting an answer, because you're already peering up at him and continuing on. 

"I can touch you, can't I?" 

Voice as sweet and as smooth as spun silk, hands delicate and light as they skate the apex of his thighs, rubbing, then squeezing — If there was no hope of denying you before, Aki stares into your sparkling eyes and knows at this point, he's utterly done for. Not like he was ever planning on stopping in the first place. 

He gulps, Adam's apple heavy and bobbing in his throat. He gives you the go-ahead with a simple nod. His hips squirm and his body weight shifts back and forth as he tries to get more comfortable, ignoring the growing tension gnawing at his gut and aching in his lap. Carefully, your fingertips drag from his thigh to his waistband. Then, across to the other side, and then back again, ever-so teasingly circling where you know he wants you to touch, dancing around where he's starting to get fatter and needier beneath his briefs. 

The anticipation is worse than anything. Prickling at his neck, it bites down harder and harder with each passing second. 

Your voice chimes out louder than the perpetual ringing in his ears. "Tell me I can, Aki." 

Aki. His name sounded nicer that time than any of the other times you've said it before. Or maybe he's losing his mind. 

He is, isn't he? He knows he is, damn well. But he needs this, you're so sweet, he's been alone and he can't handle being strong anymore — So it's okay, right? It's okay to indulge, just this once? 

"You can," He says, he's breathless when he tries to speak, "Please, I need you to." 

He knows you can tell how badly he needs more, knows the way you're toying with him is on purpose. Your eyes never leaving his, the air trapped right in his lungs, you let the heel of your palm brush over him slightly, just barely. Almost like you did so by accident. 

But Aki knows; he gasps louder than he was trying to, even the smallest graze of contact has his head heavy, has him feeling himself pulse — and he's never felt that, never felt it ache so fucking badly before. He's a mess underneath his briefs already, and you've hardly touched him, hardly done anything more than tease. Yet still, he's dizzy, wound up and panting. You can tell how desperate he is, he's sure of it, but it's clear playing this game with him is your only concern. 

Each echo of his loud, staggered breathing is music to your ears. Your fingertips brush closer, closer. He fists his hands in the sheets, he grips them firm to try and establish some form of composure. The thick fabric of his boxers is impossibly tight around him, so wet and constricting, he'd go ahead and tear them right off if he had less self-control. 

But he's better than that. A little better, at least. Aki can play. He can be good, patient, compliant. He's put together enough to survive through your teasing, to keep meeting your eyes with the same eager, lust-filled flicker present in the back of his gaze as what's reflected in yours. 

He isn't good enough to keep himself from getting hard, though. He's insatiable, sitting heavy on his thigh. And once you bring your hand to him again, soft expression caught between amusement and adoration, once you're more deliberate — Your hand rubs the stiff outline of his cock through the fabric, he's warm and he's perfect, you love the way his breath shakes. Love how his lips part and his pretty blue eyes go glossy, like water frozen-over. 

Right then, Aki doesn't have enough strength to stop himself from gasping, from bucking his hips up into your touch to get closer. He huffs in disappointment the moment your palm travels away. 

His head slightly tossed back, he shuts his eyes tight, he inhales harshly and his knuckles protrude out from his hand when his grip tightens on the sheets. His hair is a mess in his face, every inch of his skin is tinged rosy, warm to the touch. You've barely started, you've barely touched him, and already, he's falling apart. 

And it's Aki, it's Aki who you're touching, who you've got falling apart at the seams from a few simple touches — It's him, everything about him and no-one else that has you so hooked. Those same broad shoulders tense up, skin slick with beads of sweat. His shiny black earrings glint when they catch the light. It's his tone of voice when your hand grips him again, his soft gasps that turn into even softer moans. Your touch melts his normally so smooth, so stern voice into high-pitched whimpers and whines, shy noises he has to keep muffled with the palm of his hand. 

Your head is spinning. You squeeze him harder, toying with his thickening cock through his briefs, and Aki groans into his palm, his own breath hot on his skin. Pleasure racks through his body in waves. He needs your touch more, closer, his bottom lip won't stop quivering, and he thinks he'll die if you stroke him any harder, but he couldn't take it if you stopped. 

With your thumb, you press down, applying the slightest pressure, you rub up the length of him and you swear when you reach the tip you can feel his dick throb. 

You smirk, nearly chuckle, instead huffing contently out through your nose. Your gaze fixates on his lap, where his shape's grown more prominent now. "Sensitive, huh?" 

Aki replies with a shallow, barely-there nod you almost don't manage to catch. 

Almost. 

"Yeah?" You place your whole palm over his covered cock, you admire the way he barely fits in your hand, "You must be, look at you. So hard. So needy already." 

Aki's voice goes shaky, breathy. He spreads his thighs wider. His dick's twitching, leaking wet and sticky precum onto his leg, and the better you make him feel the more difficult it gets to keep playing along. "Mhmm…" 

Your hand slowly drifts away with him, he follows your movement with his gaze as you take it up, up, up, until your fingers are wrapping around his waistband, and Aki's heaving a forceful sigh at the thought of you tugging it down. 

"You want these off?" 

You're clearly looking right at him, clearly asking for his answer, but he can't. His chest heaves, and Aki stares back at you dumbfoundedly, like a deer caught right in your headlights. 

Your head tilts, "You gonna answer?" 

Perhaps you're being a slight bit cruel to him, you're aware. But when his eyelids promptly flutter, when his expression starts to soften as you bring your hand back down, when you grab him and squeeze his dick through the fabric hard, his thighs tremor. He utters something pretty, something between a hitched breath and a whine, and you just can't help yourself. 

He grits his teeth, jaw tense as he grinds them. His hips shift and threaten to roll up into your touch, but you stop him, holding him still with a firm hand on his thigh. 

"C'mon," You scoff through a smile, "Talk to me." 

"I- I'm- Give me a minute." Aki manages. You can't help but be impressed by how smooth his voice still sounds, how level he can keep it, despite how desperate he clearly is. 

Your smile half-drops, and you let your tone go rigid for a moment, nice and genuine. "You alright? Is it too much?" 

"No, no, keep- Keep touching." Aki huffs softly, neediness more present in his voice this time. He glances down, meets your gaze with big, round pupils, full moons of black swallowing the ocean blue of his iris. "But don't take anything off yet." 

Oh. You like this. The desperation is more than evident in his eyes, in his voice, but that was stern, he's commanding. You can't deny how much you like it when he's selfish, when he takes some initiative. You could get used to him being bossy. It makes you wonder what else you'd see if you could bring out more of this side of him. Maybe in time. 

So, without protest, you oblige; your hand finds the thick curve of his dick through his briefs, you give it a nice firm squeeze and Aki tosses his head backward, he swears under his breath. Sparks run through his veins again, his heart beats against his chest and fuck, he can feel himself dripping. He's making a damp, sticky mess of his cotton boxers. You grip him firm, give him a few half-hearted strokes, you fist his cock as best you can with the fabric in the way. 

Aki shudders from his legs to his shoulders. His cock leaks steady dribbles of precum into his briefs, and he's certain you can feel the growing dampness of the fabric with the palm of your hand. 

You're groping him so softly, and he's starting to throb, pulsing incessantly until he's squirming, his head spinning, his dick commanding all his attention. He can't even think, let alone speak. The softer you touch him, the more everything melts; his throat's dry, his heart aches from pounding so fast, so hard. 

He wants to ask you to strip him of his briefs already. You won't make it easy, he's sure. Could he even handle any more than this? Briefly, when you stop touching for a moment, his head begins to clear, and Aki debates with himself whether he should start begging. He's sitting up, he's peering down at you with a quivering bottom lip, sorting through his options as he thinks of what to say. 

And then, before he has the chance to make up his mind, and right when he thinks things couldn't get any worse, you start leaning in. 

Staring up at him through your eyelashes, never breaking eye-contact, your hands on his thighs, your face between his legs, Aki watches as you kiss the shape of his cock through his boxers. Your lips are plush enough to feel, breath warm enough to give him a head rush. 

He thought he'd be able to regain his composure if you gave him some time. But he was wrong, so wrong. 

His breathing comes out a thousand times faster. The room is small, he's getting dizzy. He can fucking feel the outline of your lips like they're right there, with nothing inbetween, and he can't, not anymore, he can't take it. 

"Stop… stop… stop…" Oh, he's whining now, so much for being assertive — He's practically blubbering over his words as he tries to speak them. 

You freeze, hand hovering in the air. "You had enough?" 

Aki gulps, hard enough to make his throat ache, to cause his Adam's apple to bob up and down solidly. Sweat forces his bangs to stick to his forehead and tickle his vision. 

"Please." He begs that word and that word alone, voice fraying at the edges, soft and barely audible. It's difficult to speak, but he's trying. 

"Please what?" Your palm rubs smooth circles into his thigh, your head tilts, "What is it?" 

You're ridiculous. 

Aki huffs. He throws his head back in annoyance and grumbles, but with a stern tone, he answers anyways, "Please touch me." 

"You want these off?" Repeating the same motion, hooking your fingers around his waistband for the hundredth time, you peer up at him, to where his hand's come to cover his eyes, "Look at me." 

Sweat glistens on the edges of his frame. Aki breathes in slowly, deeply. His lungs hurt. He clenches his jaw so tight it nearly starts to sting. 

"C'mon, you can do it," Your hands drift up to meet his hips, thumbs nudging at his hip bones. Your words are much sharper than your touch, "I can keep teasing you, is that what you want? I'll gladly keep these on, keep touching you just like this." 

Aki can't see it, but he can feel how your palms leave and then appear further down. They dance over his cock and give a tentative squeeze, and then one hand is gripping his thigh as the other squeezes him harder, firmer. He groans, breath catching, the sound of your voice laced with laughter resounds in his ears — "You wanna cum like this? God, that'd be so cute. Cute little virgin devil hunter cumming in his briefs." 

"Stop, stop-" 

His last few syllables come out like a choke. Aki opens his eyes slowly, he sits up more, he looks at you through a gap between his fingers. That small hint of his gaze, dew forming at his lash line, pleads infinitely harder than his words ever could, "Take it off. Please." 

You follow along. 

You follow before he's even got his plea halfway out of his mouth, fingers tugging at his briefs, committing the desperate tinge to his voice to memory and letting it run rampant in your heart. You want to hear more, and you'll give more, to get that taste of the side he only shows to you. You lean in, press another faint kiss to him — he shivers, swallows thickly — your eyes catch his for half a second longer than they should and he's flustered, his gaze is quick to flicker away. 

The anticipation is palpable. Aki feels the way it bubbles up in his veins, swiftly boiling over. He shifts, he tries not to look as your hands around his waistband expose the messy patch of dark hair around his pelvis. He closes his eyes, and he sucks in a breath loud enough to hear when you finally free his hard cock; it springs up, taps gently against his stomach. 

Fuck, he's pretty. Thick and pretty and long, the head's flushed a rosy shade of red, wet and glistening. You lean in a bit, not touching yet. You sigh and breathe warm air onto the weeping tip, and you swear you catch the way his dick twitches. 

You're staring up at him, he can feel your gaze, but he can't even look at you. Aki leans back further, his weight resting on the heels of his palms. He overestimated how much of this he could handle, possibly. He'll go insane by the end of this, surely. You're not touching, you haven't touched yet. But he's still so hard and he just knows you're smiling, waiting for him to glance down at you so he can see it. 

Steady droplets of precum drip down the length of him. His mind's a mess, he's so dizzy he can't think. You're cooing something he can hardly hear over the ringing in his ears, under your breath — Oh, sweetheart. — and suddenly the air gets so much thicker. The end of your thumb presses to the tip of his cock, rubbing right over the soaked slit, echoing soft, wet noises, sending needy pangs of pleasure straight through his system, and it's all too much. 

Your voice is warm, soft around the edges. "Look at you. You're so thick, I got you so hard, huh? Look at how pretty you are." 

"G-God…" Aki mumbles. The mattress bounces as he flops back-first onto the bed, an arm tossed over his face; this time, you gently squeeze the tip between your thumb and your index. You're coaxing more precum to coat your knuckles and your fingers, slick and shiny when it drips down and gets his dick nice and wet — "Don't, I- oh f-fuck…" 

You're fisting the tip, gripping it in your palm and gently stroking — You grind it hard against your hand, squeeze and massage it between your fingers. Up and down, jerking him off by the tip, just the tip. A little faster, then. 'Til he can't only feel your touch, but hear it, too. 

Wetness clings to your hand, slick on the head of his cock and sticky on your skin. Aki can't breathe. You're going faster, he's panting harder, louder. His back arches, clumsily bucking him into your touch, he tenses up and he feels so good, so amazing. 

He could cum if you don't stop, just from this. He thinks by now, you probably know. 

Having him at your mercy is as perfect as you could have ever expected it to be. He's so goddamn needy, terribly touch starved, he's longed for this for so long, and you want to give him everything. Everything he can handle, whatever he needs. Aki moans, desperate and guttural, he runs a clumsy hand through his hair. The hitches in his breath, the gasps and the whines belong to you and you alone. 

If you could tease him for the rest of the night, watch him squirm and beg, see him cry from something other than his usual strife for a change, you'd be completely, utterly content. 

Your palm pumps the head of his cock to a steady, eager rhythm. His breathing is shaky, it's over and over and over as he pants, desperate for air. Desperate for anything. 

He's gonna cum, he's gonna cum already, all over your hand and the sheets and his own dick — 

But despite how toying you can be, you are merciful. 

You abruptly take your hand away, his length falls against his stomach. And Aki swears, he grunts a disgruntled-sounding fuck and takes loud, heavy breaths, his brows knotted, his jaw tensed. 

"There," You say softly, though your spine still tingles at the sound of his voice, "I'll stop. Take a breather." 

Aki lets out a sigh so heavy and long his lungs shake with the weight of it. He swallows, his voice sore. "I was close." 

Merciful, no; you'd be merciful if you let him finish, but you haven't. And something tells him you won't, not until you're satisfied. 

You tut, wiping your hand off onto the bedspread, "Uh-huh, I thought so. That's why I stopped. Come here, sit up again." 

Aki stays still for a few moments longer, chest heaving. When he's mustered up the energy, he pushes himself up with a quiet grunt, fingers rubbing circles on his temple, pushing messy strands of hair away from his face. He shifts to sit onto the end of the bed again, squirming to get his briefs off and stepping out of them when they pool at his ankles. You snatch them up so they'll at least be off the floor, tossing them to the other end of the bed. Palm to his forehead, he feels how hot his face has gotten. Heat burns under his shoulders when he stretches and rolls them backward. 

Elbows coming to rest on either of his thighs, you ask, "You alright?" 

He's gonna have to be. Aki nods, glancing down towards you. "Yeah." 

"You wanna keep going?" 

Again, he answers, "Yes." 

Carefully, you let your hand wrap around the thick base of his cock. You're barely touching, but it still gets him to shudder. The faint patch of his dark hair tickles your skin. Aki sighs, he tries to relax, leaning back and spreading his legs more. His heart hammers in his chest but his body feels limp, like he's weightless. 

"Is this alright?" You're glancing up at him through your lashes, "Should I keep going?" 

"Yes." Aki answers, "Please." 

Whatever was stressing you out at the beginning of the night doesn't matter. All the worries and the boredom mean nothing, they don't exist anymore. You can hardly remember how you were feeling then, what was going through your head, you've ceased to think about any of it. This moment is the only thing you care about — Aki is the only one you care about. 

Nothing else matters, nothing but the pretty look that overtakes his features once your hand grips harder and starts moving, nothing but the eager sigh he breathes out as a plea. Nothing is running though your mind but how perfect he feels in your palm: hard and silky and wet. 

It's clearer now than it ever was before just how sensitive he is, his dick twitches when you drag your palm up, throbs like a heartbeat when you squeeze too firmly on the first upstroke. You're as gentle as you can be to ease him into it. You keep your hand nice and loose, stroke him up, down. You wait a few moments for him to get used to the feeling, and then continue again. 

Being touched by you is what makes it all the more sweeter. Aki watches your movement with his breath already ragged, gaze flickering from your face to the work of your palm. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down to keep from falling apart. 

The slow pace of your hand on his cock becomes more manageable the more he gets used to it. Peering up at him, you ask him a question you're sure you already know the answer to. 

"Has anyone ever touched you like this before?" 

It's nice to hear your voice again. The sound is familiar, oddly comforting to him. Aki gasps when your palm swipes the sensitive head, he answers with a quick and barely audible no. That'd make you the first. 

The first to jerk him off, probably the first to see him like this. The first person to hear the way his voice sounds when it's breaking, the first to make him feel this way, the first to touch him here besides his own hand. 

Maybe you're the first to kiss him, too. God, his first kiss. 

You shouldn't say anything, but you can't seem to keep your mouth shut. "Was that your first kiss too? Earlier, I mean." 

It's indulgent, definitely. Possessive. Wrong of you, even. There's something certainly wrong with how your heart gets way too fucking fluttery, simply from the thought of finding yourself as Aki's first kiss; you, of all people, a total stranger. You were able to charm him enough to let his guard down, he's enamored with you to the point of no return. 

You aren't the type to act this way, you swear you aren't. But Aki makes everything easy. Is it so wrong of you to want to take his firsts for yourself? 

Fortunately, Aki's oblivious enough to indulge you. 

"No," He snaps, his voice threatens to waver, and you hate yourself for it, but you can't help but feel a slight, sudden tinge of disappointment. You take out the ire of that feeling by stroking his cock faster. 

"Hhah," Aki trembles, pleasure rushes through his veins and he can barely keep his eyes open and focused on you. "Not- not the first. But- doesn't matter. I haven't… nothing like that. I haven't done anything like that." 

You're smiling to yourself. "Yeah? Nothing as good, huh? You liked kissing me, didn't you?" 

If you weren't busy making him feel so good, if your touch wasn't so perfect, if he could think somewhat straight instead of nowhere near the mark at all, maybe he would have started to wonder why you're asking him such stupid questions. But he doesn't. 

"Yeah, yeah." Breath weighty in his lungs, a burning warmth spreads across the back of Aki's neck as your hand pumps his aching cock harder still, "S'good, so good. I… I want to- oh- Slow down, slow down, slow down…" 

His gasps turn to soft, open-mouthed whines, he muffles them with his palm, he's so loud it's shameful. Your touch disappears when you take your hand away, embarrassment is a creeping warmth on the end of his spine and Aki shuts his eyes tight. He takes in quick, choppy breaths, trying to slow them to calm down. It's no use, the burn in his lungs has him panting sharp and shaky. He leans his head back, his hair tickles his shoulders. Tapping your fingers against his thigh, running them along the wake of gooseflesh, you graciously give him a couple seconds to compose himself. 

"You okay?" You ask quietly. 

Aki swallows, nods. His hands are shaking. He props himself back up and watches in timid silence as you lean in, pressing a feather-light kiss to where his hip bone juts out from his side. Sighing, eyelids fluttery, Aki resists the urge to reach out and touch you. You place another kiss onto his stomach, you squeeze his thigh at the same time, and you can't resist smiling from the breathy, meager noise that leaves his lips. 

"Just relax. Take it easy." Hands at your sides, you speak slowly, calmly, until Aki is starting to mirror. "There's no reason to get so worked up. We've got all the time in the world." 

Steady, Aki exhales the breath he was holding. His posture straightens, he keeps his gaze fixated on you and watches as you come into focus, the knots in his brain untangling themselves. 

"I'll go slower this time." You say smoothly, "You'll be fine, focus on me. Okay?" 

In response, Aki nods again, harder than before, more assured. His muscles loosen when he grabs his shoulder and squeezes, rolling the tension out beneath his palm. He shifts, getting comfortable. Once he's settled, gaze rested on you in waiting, that's when you finally return to him. 

The budding warmth of him in your hand is a sensation you've grown used to, the gentle way his length pulses to the tune of his thudding heart are rhythmic enough to memorize. He's thick and heavy in your palm, already firm again when you stroke up, applying a slight pressure the closer you get to the head. Slick precum wets his slit, it drips onto your knuckles. 

Aki wobbles, the bridge of his nose crinkles and creases. Spots of light paint the darkness in his vision, his eyes closing. He exhales, calms, and he only now realizes the way his knuckles ache from clenching them so hard. Easing up his hands, he drums his fingers against the bed to give himself something else to do with them, he tries as best he can to keep his mind from racing. 

"There you go. Now you're relaxed." Your thumb gently brushes over the tip of his cock, Aki grits his teeth hard. "You've been so pent up, haven't you?" 

He tries, but he can't speak without stuttering: "I'm, ah, a little-" 

"When's the last time you touched yourself?" 

"I-" 

There's no way he can answer that. There's no reason to, either. But — 

"I… I don't know." Aki's voice comes out softer than he wanted it to, weak and airy when the words leave his throat. Your hand's stopped, his heart pounds audibly his ears. You stare at him expectantly, and Aki's eyes nervously scan you up and down. 

Your head tilts. "Too shy to tell me? That's okay." 

"No," Aki snaps, "I can't remember, it's been a while. Maybe a few months ago? Sorry, is that a stupid answer?" 

It might be, he doesn't know, but shame fades away to pleasure the moment your hand starts moving again. 

True to your word, once your rhythm's started up once more, you're much slower, much more careful. Your strokes are shallow, they're teasing, the fluid motion of your wrist keeps him panting, but right under the edge of getting overwhelmed. Your focus stays on him to will Aki to do the same, eyes on his, his own gaze cloudy with need, with anticipation. You watch the persistent rise and fall of his chest in your peripheral. 

"Is it 'cause you're too busy?" 

"A little, I'm, hhah," Aki stutters when your hand twists and then squeezes, "A little busy. Ever since my boss made me… s-shit," A soft grunt, "Ever since they moved in with me, I haven't had any time alone." 

Ever since they moved in with me, could he mean the trouble-makers from before? 

"Awe, is that so?" You coo, "Poor thing."

Aki's lips purse, his eyelids flutter, he nods his head and mutters a mix between a whine and a quiet mhmm. 

Your voice is sweet, heady like liquor, "It must've been forever since you last had some alone time, you're so sensitive. All you want is to be taken care of, don't you?" 

Head spinning, breath hot and sharp when it enters his lungs, Aki blinks away the blur taking over the edges of his vision. He tries not to choke at the sight of your delicate fingers wrapped right around his cock. Sensitive is exactly what he is when your palm caresses the fat head, making him gasp, his arms and his shoulders shivering, warmth in his chest and a fire underneath his veins. 

Aki sighs, "Yeah." He does. He wants to be taken care of, wants to be treated softly by you. 

"It's hard, huh? Hard to always have to be so strong." The heel of your palm rubs harder into his cockhead and Aki groans, tosses his head back until his hair is making a mess in his eyes. The smile on your face is deceptively innocent, "It's hard when you're a devil hunter. Even harder when you don't get all the love you deserve. You just wanna feel loved and safe and cared for. Isn't that right?" 

Right. You're right. And truthfully, he's never realized how badly he needed this until now, until he met you. 

It's so hard, every new day he spends slaughtering devils becomes harder and harder, and Aki wants to be weak, to let go, like you're all he has. He's spent so long in hell he didn't realize how much he craved to feel a dose of heaven. He couldn't have imagined the way he'd end up, or could have predicted where he is now, alone with you while all his senses spark alight, his heart in your waiting hands. 

But he doesn't regret anything. He's stupid, really stupid, stupid and insatiable and everything he thought he couldn't be — and he loves every second of it. 

Aki swallows. "Yeah, I want to." Trembling, and then steady, "But I already do. You make me- you're making me feel so…" 

You think your heart might explode. 

Your lips can't help but twist into a smile, you let your palms wander to give his thighs a playful squeeze. "You're such a sweetheart." 

Aki opens his mouth, he realizes he doesn't know what to say half-way through. 

So you continue on instead, "You think you can do something for me?"

"Uh," He clears his throat, "Sure." 

You reach for his wrist, gripping it tight, dragging him closer. 

"C'mere." 

Your hand guides his own — much larger than yours, the difference in size between his and your palms is way more noticeable when your hands are pressed to one another — and carefully, your hand wrapping back around his waiting cock, you bring his own hand to lay on top of yours. His palm brushes over your knuckles, his fingers twitch and jitter before they settle. His glance flickers towards you, gaze expectant, his lips slightly parted; your words are the only thing to finally crush his confusion. 

"Show me." 

"Huh?" 

"Show me how you touch yourself," You instruct, "I wanna see how you make yourself feel good." 

"Ah-" Aki's voice cracks, he looks away, fights the urge to take his hand away, too, "What you were doing was fine, you don't need to- I don't-"

You interrupt when Aki starts to trail off, "Please, Aki?" 

Funny how those few words are enough to make him start to forget why he ever wanted to object in the first place. Your eyes are big and pretty, practically sparkling. You tilt your head and fucking hell, he's never going to be able to resist you, is he? He exhales, letting out the biggest, longest sigh of exasperation. 

"Don't take it too seriously," You're saying. You laugh a little, and it makes your nose scrunch in a way Aki finds so endearing, "It'll be fun, I swear. You'll enjoy this. Relax, alright?" 

Aki scoffs, breathing a soft tsk, mostly to himself. He gives you one more glance, pleading look and all. His shoulders slump, he pushes his bangs from his face with his other hand and sighs again, in defeat this time. 

"Okay," He answers, "Alright."

Warmth burns hard in the apples of his cheeks. He bites down firmly on his bottom lip to steady himself, his fingers flex as he curls his hand around yours more comfortably. He glances towards you, shyly glances back down. Slowly, his palm begins to guide yours. 

And Aki moves, touching himself with your own hand. 

The languid rhythm he sets isn't much different from how your own was; he takes your hand up, down, lazy and smooth. He adjusts, spreading his legs wider to get a better grip. You stay focused on him, your expression soft, intoxicating, near impossible to look away from. Aki tries to ignore his nerves when he feels them inching up his spine, he closes his eyes to make it easier, his head slightly tossed back as he concentrates on your gentle palm, on the way your pretty hand jerks him off. 

The feeling is similar to before, similar to when he'd do this by himself. But at the same time, it's different — It'll always be different, because it's your hand instead of his. 

Your palm is smaller, much more delicate. He'd noticed the difference between you when you first started touching him. Hell, he knew how small your hand was compared to his own when you first grabbed it all those hours ago. The thought then made his heart pound. The sensation of it now makes him ache. 

You don't have the calluses he does, or the scars, the bruises. Your touch is tender. Your touch is nothing like what he thinks he deserves, everything he could have ever longed for. His body's warm when the idea of you shakes inside his feeble chest and even weaker head. The look in your eyes makes him want to say something, to tell you how you make him feel, to explain how desperately he's longed for you. He can't come up with anything worthwhile. Soft, wet sounds fill the empty space instead. 

His knuckles are filthy already. He catches a steady dribble of precum when he drags your hand up, he brings your palm over the tip and makes it slicker. Gentle breaths pair with every slow pump of his arm. His brows furrow each time he strokes to the top, his expression relaxes when he takes your touch back down. A prominent vein in his wrist bulges out each time he squeezes. 

Aki can feel your gaze on him, even with his eyes closed. He's tried to stay composed. Tried not to lose whatever was left of his mind, but it's no use, it's never been. Even though he's the one guiding you, even though he's setting the pace, you're the one holding all the control — You could tell him to do absolutely anything right now and he would. One last word, one more please and he'd give all of himself to you, everything that remains. 

Your voice is calming, quiet. He was almost beginning to miss what it sounded like: "You're so gentle. Do you go any faster?" 

"No, I usually… I start off slow." Aki answers, the heat beneath his cheeks blossoming brighter. Strong enough to burn him alive, but he forces himself to continue through, "I've gotta get… used to it," He breathes a shaky gasp, timid hand leading your palm until you swipe over the needy tip of his cock, "Shit, so sensitive." 

"You think about anything when you're doing this by yourself? Maybe someone you like?" 

Aki exhales, he gulps hard enough to shake his Adam's apple, dragging your hand back down to the hilt, "I don't like anyone that way." 

With his eyes still closed, he hasn't been able to tell, but when your warm breath fans over his aching length, hot and fuzzy and so much but at the same time, nothing at all — He can feel how close you've leaned in. 

You continue, "Do you think about having sex?" 

"No. I guess not." Aki lets his eyes open, he stares up at the ceiling. His chest expands with the deep gulp of air he takes, "I focus on the feeling. Let my mind go blank. I don't really think about anything." 

A coy smirk tugs at the corners of your cheeks. 

Perfect. This'll be another first, then. 

"You wanna try thinking about it?" Your eyes meet his own when Aki glances down, he starts to say something but interrupts himself with a sharp breath in when you give his cock a teasing squeeze, deviating from his instructions. Yet he doesn't look away. 

"Think about," He grunts, playing dumb, "Think about what?" 

"While I'm touching you, why don't you think about having sex with me?" 

Aki's eyes go wide. His mouth falls open, lips slightly ajar. He freezes in place, his expression twists from disbelief to something apprehensive. 

"I can't do that." He's matter-of-fact with his answer. Stern, surely positive. If you knew any better you'd think he was scolding you. You'll change his mind very, very quickly. 

"Sure you can. Here, my turn," You bat his hand away, leaving just yours touching, and Aki awkwardly hovers it in the air for a few long seconds before hesitantly placing it back down at his side. "What, are you too nervous?" 

"Somewhat." 

"Well, don't be." 

"That doesn't help." 

"I bet it's 'cause you're one of those people, like you have a bad imagination," You chuckle, the sound bubbly and light, "I'll help you out, don't worry. Lean back, close your eyes if you have to. All you have to do is try and picture what I tell you." 

Aki blinks once, twice. 

"Think you can do that for me? Pleeease. Just try." 

With a disgruntled, loud exhale through his nose, he finally gives in. You're smiling wider as he shifts back, relaxing, resting his weight on his palms, and allowing his eyes to flutter shut. 

"You ready?" 

Aki nods, "Yeah. Keep going." 

His hands clench the moment your palm starts stroking him again. The tension leaves his limbs like an ebbing wave; quick, anxious beats of his heart turn into loud, thudding echoes he can feel deep in his chest and hear in his ears. Your touch is deliberate, his cock is aching and sensitive; a few pumps of your hand are enough to get him hard around your fingers already, breathing in short pants, utterly desperate. 

"Think about, hm," The pad of your thumb rubs circles into his cockhead, and Aki shivers, gritting his teeth firmly to get himself to focus. You're continuing, "Think about me and you. We're at your place. In your bedroom." 

Listen, focus. Aki takes a steady inhale in, out, trying as best he can manage to bring a picture to the scene. 

It would be dark, the lights off. The moon would hang high in the night sky. Your figure bathed in shadow, you'd be spread out over his navy blue bed sheets, arms sprawled above you, reaching up towards the headboard. His alarm clock would tick, tick, tick. The sounds of the city fill his bedroom's empty space: the low hum of distant sirens, the rumble of the trains. The cacophony which would inevitably come from his not-a-guest-room-anymore guest room would quickly drown out everything. 

He wonders if the two of you would ever get a moment alone. He'd push his dresser in front of his bedroom door because it doesn't have a lock. He'd kick the two idiots out for the day — No, no, they'd just come walking in anyways, ruining everything, because whatever Aki says not to do is exactly what they end up doing. 

It's giving him a headache. His face is starting to tense up, eyebrows knitted, jaw clenched. You notice. "Don't overcomplicate things." 

Aki huffs. "I'm trying."

From the base to the head, your hand strokes his dick, squeezing harder the closer you get to the tip until precum is wet on his slit and he's covering his mouth to muffle the sound of a soft whine. God, how is he this fucking sensitive? 

The smoothness of your voice is his only tether to reality. "Let's try something else, maybe." 

"I… I'm sorry," Aki's thighs twitch, his head spins. He lets go of his held breath, his hips shift from restlessness. "Alright." 

"It's okay. Relax. Just try your best."

Aki breathes in. "Okay."

"How about you think of us right here? Y'know, maybe a little while from now on." Your hand pumps his cock faster, and Aki feels his pulse thrum rampant in his throat. "I'm on top of you, your hands are on my waist. Picture me in your lap like I was before, picture me touching you, just like this." 

Gulping, he answers again, "Okay. I got it." 

And he tries. 

This new scene is easier to imagine now. You'd be on top of him, the neon light of the room frames your silhouette from behind you. All your clothes would be off, and his, too. You're pressed close to his own body with your skin warm, shimmering from sweat. Your hair is a mess, you're taking up every corner of his vision until you're the only thing he can perceive. One of your hands lays softly on his cheek; your phantom touch feels as real and as perfect as what he's come to be familiar with. 

You'd grip and stroke him, just the same as in this moment. Your delicate palms would caress his neck, the length of his shoulders, down his chest. You'd brush his messy bangs from his eyes and kiss him on the corner of his mouth, gentle, but teasing enough to make him woozy. 

He'll get to that point with you tonight if he isn't careful. These ideas in his head are very much real. That only makes them all the more intoxicating. 

This time, your voice comes out at barely more than a whisper: "Are you imagining it? Thinking of me touching you? I'd make you feel so good, Aki. And then, I'd offer to make you feel even better." 

Every thought in his head spins in circles, never getting anywhere. Aki focuses on your touch, on each pleasurable pump of your hand on his length. 

"Yeah, yeah," Aki sighs, breath trembling, "When I think about it, I- Oh, fuck-"

When you'd grab him by his waist and sink down on him, skin against skin once he's all the way inside, when you'd wrap your arms around his shoulders and ride his aching cock until your rhythm of sighs are a mantra in his ear; he'd follow along, gripping you tight, fucking up into you as much as it takes to get you louder — Aki groans. He covers his face with both hands, he can't stop himself from rocking his hips into your touch, grinding his cock into your palm, desperate for more friction. 

He's breathless, he feels filthy, his mind can't stop conjuring the thought of you pressed close to him, your fingers running through his hair, plush lips pressed to his nape while he's buried deep inside you. God, he's terrible, he's dirty for imagining this, and yet he can't fucking stop. What the hell is he doing? 

Aki pictures how you'd coo into his ear, how the tones to your voice that he's already managed to memorize would echo sweet gasps and even sweeter utterances of his name. You'd cling to each syllable like it's special as you say it for him, over and over again. Aki, Aki, Aki. 

Please, Aki. I need you. 

He's losing his mind. The sensible half of him tells him he needs to get a grip. But it's a little hard, impossible, even, to do so when your hand is stroking his needy cock, and when his whole body feels light, when he's gotten so hard he's practically aching. His thighs are trembling, his heart is beating wild inside his chest. 

So, he decides he won't stop you. Aki grunts low in his throat, his eyes flutter open, but he closes them again when a glimpse at your pretty face staring up at him only makes the picture in his head even clearer. 

He knows you're smirking now. 

"Does it feel good?" You purr, and it's in that same sweet voice he was imagining, "You thinking about fucking me?" 

"Y-Yes…" Aki answers, panting, hesitant and quiet, like he's almost hoping you won't end up hearing him. 

But you do, "Yeah? Tell me what you're thinking of." 

Your hand pumps him firmly, he's slick, silky underneath your touch; the sound it makes every time you drag upward is indecent, disgustingly wet. Precum drips from his cockhead in steady droplets. You swipe the tip with your palm and coat the rest of his length in his arousal. 

Aki's words are shaky: "You're… you're on top of me. And you're kissing me, and I'm- I…" 

You squeeze him harder, the rest of whatever he was trying to say catches in his throat and he nearly chokes, his shoulders tense. He can't even think anymore, and he couldn't possibly say anything to you when he cracks his eyes open and meets your gaze — for only a few moments, but enough to make pleasure boil hotter and deeper in the pit of his stomach, warmth traveling up the length of his spine. 

He tries to speak, just one more time. His sentence barely starts before he's cutting himself off, gasping and sputtering, blown out pupils hidden behind fluttering eyelids. His bottom lip trembles alongside every ragged breath he takes. 

You wanted for him to keep going. Wanted to hear him tell you all about how that sweet head of his imagined taking you — and you're normally patient enough to wait. Up until now, you've been unbelievably patient. You can't deny you like dragging things out with him, you enjoy watching him beg and squirm as he tries his best to keep up. You should give him time, let him have another break, and normally, you would. Normally. 

Aki swallows, he pushes his hair from his face and it's clear his hand is shaking. His palm lingers, hiding the scarlet hue to his cheeks. He mumbles a muffled swear, he sighs out the softest please, and as you find yourself leaning in closer, you finally lose the last of your restraint. 

He feels the tickle of your breath on his length first, warm and devilishly subtle. His fingers twitch, he swallows again to chase away the dryness in his throat, harder this time. He can't look. Then, there's the faint ghost of your lips, and as they press ever-so gently to the thick tip of his cock, kissing it softly, that's when Aki practically melts. 

His shoulders slump, his head tilts back. Tingles rack his nerves, his heart pumps fast, hard. He can barely focus on anything but the feeling, too caught up with how you're starting to trail sloppy kisses down his cock; you kiss the right side, lean over and kiss the left. You admire the way his dick throbs beneath your lips, pulsing to the tune of his breathing: sharp, quick, and desperate. 

There's something so tender about your touch, softness in intensity. There's a feeling budding deep in his center he can't begin to get enough of every time he sees you on your knees, between his legs, a saccharine look in the back of your eyes. When you continue to press warm kisses to his length, palm on his thigh to keep him steady, desire wells hot in his chest. He wants to touch you, hold you, keep you closer than anything he's ever had before because he needs this, needs you. God, does he need you. 

Your kisses travel up the sensitive underside of his cock, and as your tongue swipes right under the head, Aki fists the sheets so hard he feels his joints ache. 

"F-Fuck," The pleasure's practically overwhelming, Aki pants forcefully as if his lungs are pleading for air, "Fuck, oh God- please, I-" 

Voice wobbling and fraying, he can hardly speak; the tip of your tongue flicks against his cockhead, wet and teasing, and he's done, utterly done for. 

His entire body shivers, he sighs out whines too high-pitched for his usual tone. Your gaze flutters up, and Aki's sweating, quite literally dripping with sweat. Droplets cascade down his jaw, his chest shiny, skin glistening. Despite his best efforts, his hair has made a mess around his face again. His pulse is quick enough to feel, pounding feverishly in his ears. 

Your hand pumps his cock fast. It's wetter now, slick from the mix of your saliva and his precum. He lets his eyes roll back, his mouth falling open. He moans at your touch, broken and feeble, loud enough that the room over would hear if the walls weren't already soundproof. 

His taste is salty on your tongue when you swirl it around his tip, heady, taking over your senses. You lick his cockhead until he starts to go dizzy, quick flicks of your tongue making him twitch. You close your lips around, sucking softly when you feel him throb — and to your satisfaction, he only throbs harder. An incessant, needy pulse, he breathes deeper with the same sort of weight, gasping forcefully. He spreads his legs open as wide as they'll go, and leans further backward. 

It feels so fucking good. He's shaking, his thighs and his hands trembling. You kiss him again, lips on the warm length of his cock, and his palms fly up to shyly cover his face, his stomach flexes — You know he's close. 

And you were just getting started. 

"Don't cum yet." 

Lips hovered a centimeter away, you breathe the words onto his sensitive tip, the sensation sharper now that he's coated in your saliva. As your hand twists up the length of his cock, squeezing, he groans in a mix of pleasure and disappointment. You're quiet, and you almost think he didn't end up hearing you, but with his eyes shut tight and his temple creased, he finally answers, frantically shaking his head. 

"No, no…" Aki pleads, he's full-blown whining, his voice is weak and trembles like he'll cry. When you abruptly let go of him, taking your hand away to leave him throbbing against nothing, his bottom lip quivers and he practically sobs. 

"No, please, you can't… Please don't stop, I wanna- oh, please, please." 

Only a few seconds without you, and he's needy already, dribbling precum while his thighs shake; his face is flushed with vibrant warmth, and his head dips to hide it, eyelids fluttering between open and closed. His hair falls around his pretty pierced ears, the ends of them burning in shades of pink and red. He pants, chest heaving, up, down. 

"Awe, c'mon. You've been so good for me up 'til now." You offer him the smallest reprieve when your lips press against his cock in a faint kiss, and he can't help but whimper softly. "Try and hold out for a little bit longer." 

Aki's voice sounds pathetic when it lilts, "I- I can't. I'm so close." 

"I know you can, you'll do it for me, right?" You're purring, pleading, but it's less of a plea when you're already sure he'll do everything you tell him to. "Please, try?" 

And you're right. There isn't a single possibility where he'd ever be able to say no to you. 

Aki's mind goes foggy as all the blood rushes to his head, making him dizzy. He wants to cum on your tongue or your hand or wherever you'll let him so goddamn badly it's the only thing he can think about, and the thought of having to hold out for any longer is enough to send him reeling. 

He's not sure how much more of this he can take, even if he tried. The smallest touch from you and he thinks he'll explode. Every part of his body is tense, begging for release. 

But he can't say no. He couldn't. He won't, because it's you. Because you're sweet and perfect, because you promised to take care of him and he trusts that, trusts you. You know he can, and it's all he needs to hear. 

Aki sighs in defeat. He meets your gaze, his eyes glossy with tears that haven't fallen yet; he blinks hastily to do away with them, and he nods his head, giving in. 

You smile. You smile, and it makes everything worthwhile. 

"Breathe, okay?" Your thumb rubs slow circles onto his tip, a tingly warm feeling returns to his gut, "Take deep breaths. I'm gonna take care of you. It'll feel so good when you finally finish, I promise." 

Aki steadies himself, rubbing his temple with his fingers. He rolls his shoulders back, loosening them. 

"Go slow," He says at last. He swallows, still slightly shaky, "Go slow or I'll cum." 

Eagerly, your lips pressing to the warm head of his cock, you mutter a muffled mhmm. The noise sends pleasant vibrations down his length, and Aki groans quietly, urging you on. 

Your hand grips the base of his cock to keep him situated. The promise you made to take care of him comes in the form of your wet tongue pressed flat on the underside, hand slowly pumping his length to get him ready, and your eyes closing as you start to take him into your mouth. 

He's thick. He makes your throat tense up the more of him you try to swallow. You're unprepared for this, the same as he is. You shouldn't push yourself, but when he feels this perfect in your mouth, and when he's sighing, making such pretty noises already, you just aren't able to resist. 

And even though tears are pricking at your lashes and your throat aches like you're going to choke, you need to hear more, give him more — You don't stop until you're at least halfway down. Until your hand is doing the rest of the work, and Aki's rewarding you with a whine, then a cute hitched gasp. He keeps his hands clenched at his sides, veins protruding from his knuckles when he fists the sheets and grips. 

And God, is he hard, he must be aching. He won't stop throbbing to a rapid rhythm even once you're pulling back, sucking hard on the tip before sinking down when you're itching to feel him in your mouth again. His taste is addicting, strong, and you lick all the way up his length, drooling a mess of saliva onto his cock. You flick your tongue at his slit and breathe cool air onto him, watching the way he squirms. He'll cum soon if you aren't careful. 

But Aki is pliant, despite your teasing. He's good. He can wait. 

Even though he's already overwhelmed, he lets you place messy kisses all over his dick, he glances down and his gaze connects with yours as you're taking him back into your mouth — You're all droopy eyelids and soft eyes, his heart stops the moment you look at him, but now you're swallowing his cock down to the hilt and he can't look away. Can't do anything, in fact. Anything but hopelessly feel his breath come in short pants, gasping to the same tune as the lovely patter in his warm chest. 

You keep your face buried in his pelvis until you start to get lightheaded. You're hollowing your cheeks, gently sucking while you pull back. And when you go down again, screwing your eyes shut and whimpering weakly around him from the pace you've set, Aki moans loud. You bob your head on his cock and his noises partially drown out your own: quiet gags, wet sputters. 

Your head goes up and down, you drag upward to give yourself a break and catch your breath. Reaching for his hand, your tongue swirling around the head, your eyes half-open, you grip his wrist. You guide his palm to rest on the back of your head and sink back down at the same time. He keeps it there, shaky and hesitant at first, but when you gag on him and he suddenly needs something to hold onto, he's gripping tightly at your hair, his knuckles flexing. 

This is debauched, and he knows it. You've given up on holding back, the noises you're making and the sight of you is downright disgusting, spit glistening on your lips and his shaft, your eyes shut, choking feebly as you suck him off. Your cheeks are wet with tears, and he reaches to brush them away with his thumb. 

He knows, but he doesn't want you to stop, you can't stop. Holding your face in his hand, he admires you, unable to look away. You're gorgeous, your pretty eyes teary, your mouth on his cock. He's felt more in this moment than he has in forever — or perhaps he's never felt anything so intense, never been this tender-hearted. Not until you. With you, it begins and it ends, always. 

You've got his dick down your throat, and all Aki can think about is how much he adores you. 

Your pace increases, teetering on the edge of what you can handle. The tip of his cock rubs the soft inside of your cheek. Then, you're grabbing his thighs, coaxing them apart more and gripping them for leverage. You swirl your tongue as you take him, forgetting the need to breathe in order to lavish him as much as you want to, as much as he deserves. 

The way it feels, fuck, the way it sounds — Aki is sure he could never hope to get your voice out of his mind, the hums you make when he rubs the back of your head affectionately, brushing your hair from your face with his fingers. The chokes you utter as you take him deeper, deeper. You're close to crying, but you aren't stopping, you don't stop because you're too addicted. 

He's overwhelming every time he fills your throat, but you love this too much: the noises he makes through his teeth, the blissed out look on his face. You peer up at him through your lashes, your vision blurry, and Aki's gaze is heavy, locked onto yours. His bangs are a thick mess around his forehead, his chest rises and falls. The ragged melody of his breathing fills your ears; you're obsessed with his taste, with the soft touch of his hand on the back of your head. 

His grip on your hair tightens. You stop for a moment, pulling back and placing a kiss to his needy cockhead, to which Aki instantly huffs a sigh of relief. Your gaze on his, you keep your tone at barely more than a whisper. 

You ask him, "How's it feel?" 

"Good," Aki's voice cracks like he's forgotten how to speak, "Feels good." 

"Yeah? Keep talking to me." 

You trail your tongue up his length, he's already soaked with your drool; you lick a stripe across the thick head and his fingers start to shake. 

"Your mouth is- it's warm," He starts, already panting, swallowing thickly, his throat dry, "Pretty, you're so pretty. Can you- please, ah- yeah, that's it…" 

Your lips close around him, and you take him back into your mouth, giving him just what he was hoping for. Aki feels all of his muscles tense, then relax. Working the rest of his cock with your hand, you run your tongue along his length's underside, licking and swirling, 'til he's in heaven. 

"Oh, fuck- just like that," He encourages, his words shaky. Watching you try so hard to please him fills him with a bubbly warm sense of adoration, "I'm close, really close, I- oh- don't stop…"

His head tosses back, his moans are loud and desperate. Your mouth is irresistibly warm, so wet, your chokes send the most pleasant vibrations over his cock and make it impossible to try to speak. Your head bobs up and down recklessly as you focus on him and his pleasure alone. The rest of your mind is utterly blank. His grip grows stronger close to your scalp, so tight it nearly stings. He loosens his hold when he realizes he doesn't want to hurt you. 

Fog in his head and a pounding in his heart, he's getting restless, impulsive, starting to move more — Aki clumsily bucks his hips up the next time you sink down, the slightest movement forcing him further down your throat, added pleasure making him moan, deep and guttural. He gasps, thighs trembling. He starts meeting the bobs of your head with gentle thrusts into your mouth, and he's so out of it you're not even sure if he realizes what he's doing. 

Aki can't think, his head is spinning too fast, everything is dizzy. There's no way he can hold back any longer but he couldn't bother to care, he's so close and your pretty wet mouth feels so good and he needs to cum, God he needs to cum — 

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," Aki begs in slurs of words and stuttered gasps, a roll of his hips fucking him deeper into your mouth. His vision is going white, he's struggling to keep looking at you; eyes watering, like he might cry, "Please, don't-" 

You drag off of his cock with a strong suck and a pop of your lips, his pleasure wavers and wanes, but then comes back to him strong as ever once your hand twists and squeezes at the base of his cock, moving upward. Your tongue swirls over the sensitive head, your gaze flickers up to meet his own. And you have your eyes on his, tongue greedily flicking his flushed cockhead, warm soft stare the sweetest thing he's ever seen — and that's enough. You suck on the tip with a harsh, wet sound and he's melting, heat rushing his system all at once. 

"I'm- I c-can't," He sounds pathetic, "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-"

Pleasure buds and explodes in the pit of his stomach, you hum around him in approval, soft vibrations enough to burst that final bubble; Aki whimpers, chokes on air, and then he's throwing his head back, gasping hard. His Adam's apple bobs solid in his throat, his cock twitches and his hands shake. You hold your breath and sink down on him, warmth enveloping his length as he cums in your mouth. 

The feeling hits you before the taste. Thick and warm, heady on your tongue, his dick throbbing steadily through his release. Your temple knots up in your efforts not to swallow. You grip his thighs and squeeze them tightly, admiring the cracks in his voice, the lilts of his moans. Desperate ah's and quiet swears strain his normally smooth tone into a weak, high-pitched mess. If he sounds this good when he cums for you, you aren't going to be able to stop here. 

How much you've teased him shows in how much he has to give you, his cum quickly fills your mouth and forces you to pull back. Even once you do, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, it's still dribbling from his cock, such a mess. His dick is slippery and soaked from your saliva, his skin caked in sweat. Your head clears slowly, it gets easier to breathe. You watch Aki pant with a placid expression on his face, an expression you've never seen on him before, lips parted and his eyes barely open. His arms quiver slightly, trembling from the aftershocks. 

His head spins, his heart pounds until it calms. His cheeks blister with warmth, his chest aches from the weight of his breaths. He reaches up, running a palm over his face, rubbing his eyes — his vision goes fuzzy, then returns after he blinks — and he pushes messy strands of hair away, tucking them behind his ears. When he glances down at you, you're already looking up at him. There's a slight smile on your face, captivating as ever.  

Pretty, you're so pretty. 

continue reading on ao3

hello! I'm sorry to have to cut the fic off here, but unfortunately tumblr won't allow the entirety of this chapter to be posted because it's so fucking long... if you like it so far and you want to read the rest pls consider hopping over to ao3... thank you 🫂

[justwinginglife]

Hi! Im not sure if you're open some request or I might give you some idea. I wonder what Hoshina's reaction when his s/o asked him curious question “what if I disappeared one day?"

Feel free to ignore this request! ^^

Omg my first request- hi! So sorry, this got so much sadder than I wanted it to be but the short answer is the poor guy just can't live without you.

My One & Only

You knew marrying Soshiro Hoshina was going to be the best decision of your entire life. You'd give up a winning lottery ticket just to be able to stand next to him at the altar. Marrying him was like winning the lottery anyway, only he was a lot more attractive than a couple of numbers in your bank account.

Nothing could compare to the feeling of waking up in the middle of the night just to check the time and realizing he was wrapped around you tightly like he couldn't sleep without your skin on his. Even when he'd roll off of you, some part of him would always be touching you, whether it was his leg thrown over yours, or his arm under your neck, or even just his shoulder snug against your shoulder. He needed to touch you like he needed to breathe. And you'd never get tired of it.

Your favorite part was when you'd get up to start getting ready for work, or even just to go to the bathroom, and he'd feel you move and roll over to you mumbling "Wait... don't go, I haven't said I love you yet, okay I love you," sleep still dripping from his voice, and then he'd conk out again. You'd kiss him on the forehead, cheek, lips, anywhere really, and then whisper back, "I love you too baby." And even if he was out cold, he'd smile like he heard you.

You loved everything about being married to him, even the fights- because he couldn't stay mad at you for long. The longest fight you'd had with him in the years you'd been together lasted less than 24 hours- you'd had enough of his pouting and his cold shoulder, and so you did what any rational person would do when they wanted to go to bed and have their significant other actually come to bed with them, you stripped naked. Ended that argument real quick. In fact, he was in the bed before you even got your panties all the way off, he wanted to help.

But, after only being legally married for a few weeks, you finally discovered one thing you did not like about being married. You'd have to have the talk with him. What happens if one of you dies?

Insurance companies wanted to know, your jobs wanted to know. Honestly, you hated to talk about it, but some part of you wanted to know as well.

So one day, you sat him down to talk about life insurance, emergency contacts, all the things you don't want to talk about when you're freshly married, but that need to be talked about anyway. Who do you want me to call first if you're in an accident? Do you want to be resuscitated if you're injured beyond belief and wouldn't be able to live a normal life again even if you were brought back from the brink of death? Do you want to be cremated or buried?

Then, under the guise of talking all things rational and logical, you slipped in a question you'd secretly wanted to know. "What if I... disappeared one day? What would you do?"

He went silent, gripping the legal paperwork in his hands tightly. You hadn't expected the vast amount of pain that would stain his eyes and spill over to darken his face. You reached over to rub his hand until he loosened his hold on the papers. He sighed.

"Like if you... went missing? Or... died?" He asked, the words like knives scraping out of his throat, threatening his very livelihood.

You nodded slowly.

"Well... if you were... missing, I'd search my whole life for you. I'd never give up. And if you... died. I'd be right there with you." He said solemnly.

You wanted to stop this conversation right now and tell him something like you'd never die or you'd never go missing, anything to erase the hurt that he was in right now because of you. But you couldn't stand the thought of you actually dying or going missing and him spending his whole life in pain because he couldn't move on.

You kneel on the floor in front of him and grab both his hands which have now been balled up into fists. You kiss at his fists and keep kissing them until his hands relax and wrap around your hands. He's shaking but he holds onto you tight like you'll disappear if he lets go.

"Baby." You say, making sure you have his attention. He won't look at you, it's like he knows what you're going to say. He always knows what you're going to say.

You pull a hand away from his trembling fingers and cup his face with it, stroking smoothly at his cheek. "If I die, I want you to promise me you'll live on and be happy."

He shakes his head no immediately. "Can't do that, love."

You smile at him warmly. "Baby. It'll be okay. I want you to be happy."

For the first time in your life, you think you might make him cry. If this weren't such a depressing moment, you might tease him about the Vice Captain of the Third Division being such a crybaby. But you can't tease him. You can't even seem to get anymore words out when you see the state he's in. He's acting like you're dead right now. His face has gone pale and clammy and his fingers must be bruised from pressing into your skin so hard to make sure you're still there. His eyes... you almost can't look at his eyes anymore as you see the tears start to collect. It's like he's drowning but there's no bottom so he just keeps sinking and sinking.

"I-" He starts but this time the words get stuck. He blinks and the force of it pushes a tear over the edge. You watch as it trails down his cheek, feeling helpless but also in a heartbreaking way, feeling so very loved by him. He swallows and then clears his throat. "I-I'm happy.... because you're here. How could I... be h-happy... without.. without you?"

You can't take it anymore. You stand up and throw your arms around him, hoping maybe he'll forget this whole conversation if you smother him with enough love. He pulls you in even closer to him and sighs deeply, like he's exhaling his first fresh breath of air after being submerged for so long. You think you might crack a rib from how tight he's holding onto you, but you're scared to pull away, having never seen him so vulnerable like this.

"Don't cry baby, you're going to make me cry." You mumble into his shoulder.

"Don't die then. Don't give me a reason to cry."

You smile against his shoulder. "Alright baby. You got me. I won't die. Ever."

He runs his fingers through your hair and you wonder if the repetitive motion is to soothe him or you. "That's my girl," he murmurs against your neck as he nuzzles up against you.

"That's my girl," he repeats again, "My one, my only."

[lees-chaotic-brain]

swapped! (todoroki x reader)

summary: after you get hit with a strange quirk, you swap bodies with your long time crush and hero partner todoroki shouto. somehow, every single thing that could possibly go wrong goes wrong and chaos ensues. idea dump here

genre/content warnings: afab reader, reader has some sort of telekinesis quirk for plot efficiency (i got lazy sorry), suggestive, periods, reader is implied to have a heavy flow but it's really just for the plot to ensure maximal crack, mentions of blood, swearing, fluff, crack, todoroki is a little shit (when is he not)

wc: 5.9k (oopsies this is my longest fic to date)

note: this is for @andypantsx3's pretty boy summer collab! (sorry it's late andie) it is also one of my sponsored fics for @ficsforgaza's fundraiser! i couldn't fit all the scenes i wanted into the fic without ruining the flow, so go check them out and sponsor them if you want to read more! also everyone needs to go say thank you to @thelov3lybookworm for giving me the push i needed to stop making excuses and find solutions so i could post. thanks girl <3

i'm not sure how i feel about the ending, but i think it's as good as it's going to get! since i haven't written in a little while and things have been tough, likes, reblogs, and comments would be so so appreciated, and will help me get the next fic on my list done faster!!!

blog navigation | bhna masterlist | extras!

The first thing you notice when you finally emerge from the depths of your slumber is how comfortable you were. Everything feels just right, your pillows are cool against your neck, and your sheets hold the perfect amount of warmth; enough to keep you cozy, but not so hot that your sweat is creasing the silky sheets and making you feel sticky and gross.

The second thing you notice is the very large, very male hand sprawled on the pillow next to your head. A deep male voice lets out a surprised cry as you jerk back, the hand moving with you.. It takes you several moments to realize that it had come from you. 

Your bare feet thump against the wood paneled floor as you stumble out of bed disoriented and realize where you are for the first time. Namely, not in your bedroom.

Glancing around in confusion, you wonder what the hell happened, and how you ended up somewhere so nice.. The space itself is fairly bare, but you can tell that all of the furniture inhabiting it is expensive. From the sleek wooden dresser to the geometric modern light fixtures to the insanely high thread count of the sheets, everything screams tasteful luxury. 

Where are you? You definitely feel asleep in your own bedroom. Reaching up you rake your hair out of your face and freeze. Instead of the familiar texture and length of your own hair, you’re greeted with short, silky soft strands that definitely did not belong to you.

Mussing your hair to make sure you’re not imagining things, you glance down, and for the first time notice some inexplicable things.For one, the ground is a lot farther away than it normally is, and for two, last time you checked you did not have washboard abs, or a male anatomy.

The entire situation was confusing, and you were still slightly sleep-addled. Despite that you knew that you needed to find a mirror. A quick glance around the room located one in the corner and you hurry over to it. 

Sliding to a stop you grip the edges of the little stand, frost spreading from your right hand to cover the wood while you gaped at your appearance.

Intense heterochromatic eyes stared back at you, shock filling them. Your hair was a unique mess of red and white strands, the two colors mussed with sleep. With those distinctive features, plus high chiseled cheekbones, a jawline that could cut stone and a slim yet unfairly muscular body there was no doubt about it.

You were Todoroki Shouto. At least, that’s whose body you’re currently inhabiting. His very shirtless body. 

BZZZZZT BZZZZZZT

Saved from having to fight your urges to poke at his abs by the noise, you jump, swinging your gaze around in search of the origin.

BZZZZZZT BZZZZZZT

A simple black phone flashes on the otherwise empty nightstand (does he seriously not even have a lamp??), the caller i.d. sending you scrambling across the room to the phone. 

Fumbling in your haste, you manage to swipe and pick up the incoming call from your cell phone.

Your mind is racing a mile a minute. There were only two ways to get into your phone. The first was the password, but even you forgot it most of the time. It sat safely tucked away on a post it in the safe you store all of your important documents in. The second was through face i.d. and the only person who could unlock your phone with their face was you. And since you were in his body, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that he….Lifting the phone to your ear you speak hesitantly.

“Todoroki? Is that you?”

“Y/N?”

It was unnerving to hear your voice saying your name from the other end of the phone,

“What happened?!” You’re a little mortified to hear the hysteria lacing your words, but you can feel the panicked adrenaline flooding your veins as your body goes into fight or flight.

“I believe that the quirk we got hit with yesterday caused us to switch bodies. However, it is highly unlikely that it is permanent so it will be fine.” Even though it’s your voice, something about knowing Todoroki is on the other end was reassuring enough that some of the tension bled from your shoulders.

“That’s good.” You sigh, rubbing your face. There’s a mildly uncomfortable throbbing coming from your lower half, and you absentmindedly reach down to rub at it, forgetting you weren’t in your own body. Brushing against a bump in your gray sweatpants, you shiver as a familiar feeling spreads through your lower stomach and something twitches.

“Todoroki?” Your voice suddenly gets a little higher, the hint of hysteria from before returning to the normally deep monotone. “We have a problem.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?” 

Ignoring his questions, you stare in growing horror at the very obvious tent in the front of the sweatpants you were wearing. You have no idea how you didn’t notice it earlier, but now that you’ve seen what’s going on down there you can’t help but be extremely aware of the uncomfortable pressure. 

“Y/N? Please explain what’s going on. I’m growing concerned.”

“I-” You splutter, unable to form a coherent sentence. Finally you gather your wits enough to say something. “It’s uh, it’s hard.”

“What do you mean? What’s hard? Oh...” He trails off into embarrassed silence.

“OH?” You can’t handle this. “What do you mean ‘oh?!’ Do something!”

“Like what?” He sounds a little defensive. “What am I supposed to do from here?”

“I don’t know!” You’re shouting now. “But you have to do something! How am I supposed to sit here with your massive boner?!”

There’s a loud crash on the other end of the phone, and you jump. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He answers a little too quickly, but his voice still retains his usual impassivity. “Anyways, returning to the problem at hand. It will go away on its own after a little while. Unless you would rather handle it yourself-”

“No!” You wince as you practically shout into the phone. “I mean, no it's okay. I feel like that would be unprofessional.”

You can hear the amusement in his voice as he responds. “I feel like this entire situation is rather unprofessional. After all, I did see your breasts this morning.”

There must be something wrong with your hearing because there’s no way he just said what you thought he did. In such a nonchalant manner at that. “Wha-What?” Embarrassingly your voice cracks as you rack your brain, frantically searching through your memories of the night before. Then it hits you. 

“You went to bed without pants, a shirt, and a bra last night.” He informs you matter of factly, and you must be going crazy because there’s no way that that’s smugness you’re picking up from him. “Judging from the temperature of your apartment I’d say that your air conditioning is broken. You should probably get that fixed.”

You’ve completely forgotten about the boner you’re currently sporting due to the mortification of it all. Of course the one time the two of you switch bodies it just has to be the day your AC broke and you went to bed in nothing but a pair of striped cotton undies.

A small part of you mourns that you weren’t wearing something sexier, but the larger part of you is screaming that he is your boss. Sure you’ve been friends for years, and you have a not so little crush on him, but you are his subordinate. This was going to make things so awkward in the office. Hopefully once this is all over you can go hunt someone with a memory erasing quirk down to wipe his mind. But maybe not yours. You kind of want to remember the toned planes of his abs and the impressive bulge in his sweats. 

Giving yourself a shake you chastise your internal voice. Absolutely not. That would be an invasion of his privacy. In fact, you should put on a shirt right this second to respect his privacy, not that he didn’t walk around with half of his hero suit burned off from time to time. Wait. A thought suddenly occurs to you.

“Wait. You have a shirt on now, right? You put on a shirt before calling me.” You laugh nervously, because of course he has more common sense than that. It’s not like he would just sit on the phone with you while your tits were hanging out, right? Right??

“Well no.” Your heart falls out of your ass and you accidentally sear a handprint into the edge of his nightstand at his casual answer. “It’s uncomfortably warm in here and without the use of my quirk I am unable to regulate my body's temperature. Aside from that, I don’t know where you keep your shirts so I prioritized calling you to discuss the situation over going through your personal belongings.

That all sounds perfectly reasonable and you would have fallen for it except for one little thing. “Todoroki. I know for a fact that I was too lazy to put my laundry away yesterday and there is a stack of clean t-shirts sitting on the end of my bed right now.” 

You hear rustling -is he still in your bed?!- as he leans forwards to check. “Oh. You’re correct. My apologies.” There’s more rustling and the sound of fabric sliding over skin as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. “It’s on now.”

“Thank you.” You pointedly ignore the fact that he did not sound the tiniest bit apologetic, filing it away to revisit later. For now, the two of you need to discuss what to do next. “I appreciate it. What’s the plan now though? I think we should meet at the agency as soon as possible and go from there.” 

“I agree.” He seems to lack the sense of urgency currently consuming you as he hums in agreement. It’s incredibly annoying. “We should probably give each other directions on what to do, and where to find the things we need.”

On second thought maybe it’s better that he’s calm and thinking clearly because that was an excellent idea. “That’s smart. I keep a pad of paper and a pen on my nightstand to jot down reminders if you want to use that. Where do you keep your paper?”

“Check my bookshelf.” The telltale sound of paper flipping told you that he found the notepad as you crossed the room and stopped in front of the simple wooden bookcase. “Where is it on your bookshelf?”

“I think I keep a notebook and a pad of paper on the middle shelf.” He sounds distracted and a little uncertain, but when you stoop down to check (it’s weird being this tall) you find a simple yellow legal pad and a black pen. “I got it.” 

“Okay.” The sound of a book closing accompanies his words and there’s a hint of some unidentifiable emotion lacing the two-syllables. 

Not thinking much of it you shrug it off, sitting down down at his desk and listening as he tells you where keeps his car keys, hero suit, and other necessities. You ask a few follow up questions, jotting down what cabinet he keeps his cologne and deodorant in, before launching into your own instructions.

“The first thing you need to do is start the coffee machine. Trust me. My body will not be happy unless you give it at least three cups of coffee or like two big energy drinks before 9 am. Next…” After you’re sure he has understood the importance of caffeine, you move on, explaining where you keep your clothes, car keys, and shoes, as well as where you parked your car. 

“Don’t worry about makeup or hair products or anything while you’re getting me ready. I know there’s a lot on my bathroom counter but it’s not necessary. But you do need to go into the first drawer on your left when you’re standing at the sink and grab my anxiety meds. They should be in an orange prescription bottle. Only take one. And please for the love of god do not forget to put a bra on. You got all that?”

“I believe so. Is there a specific outfit you want me to wear or should I just choose?” You stop and think. Left to his own devices there’s no knowing what he might put you in (his first hero costume proof of his abysmal sense of fashion) so it would be best to give him some guidance. “Could you just wear a casual sweater and some jeans?” 

“Yes. Let’s get ready and meet at the agency in about an hour. If that works for you.” There’s not much writing on the yellow legal pad, the black scrawl of your handwriting barely taking up half a page. Okay. It isn’t that much. You can do this. “That sounds good to me.”

“Oh, I also think it might be best if we kept this from the general employees at the agency for the time being just to reduce drama. Is that okay with you?” 

“Of course.” More than okay actually. Some of them were aware of your not-so-little crush on him, so it would spare you some teasing and interrogation.

There’s a couple seconds of awkward silence, and you get the feeling he wants to say something more, the tension crackling through the speaker of his stupidly expensive phone. Opening your mouth, you start to say something then realize you don’t really have anything to say. The awkward silence persists a couple seconds longer before he wishes you goodbye and hangs up.

Click. Click. Click. Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick. You didn’t even realize that you had started clicking the pen open and closed, a nervous habit of yours. Sheepishly you place the pen down on his desk and stand. Sure the vibes were kind of weird at the end there, but it’s not like anything worth making you nervous happened. The situation might not be ideal, but it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world. You could handle it. The worst part was already over. You just had to meet him at the agency, figure out what to do with the rest of the day, and wake up in your own body tomorrow. Piece of cake.

Gaping in horror, you realize that this was not, in fact, going to be a piece of cake. 

Getting ready had been easy enough so you had arrived at the agency a few minutes before your agreed meeting time, which fortunately/unfortunately put you in the perfect position to witness the walking shitshow.

You had been idly sipping at a cup of coffee, marveling at how many packets of sugar it had taken to make it acceptable to his taste buds when he staggered in, catching the eye of pretty much everyone in the lobby.

Hunched over weirdly, he staggered in, wearing a pair of jeans that rode just a little too low to be professional and a very white, very sheer shirt that was meant to be layered over an undershirt. Or, at the very least, with a sturdy, modest bra underneath.

Alas, you can only stare in abject horror at the sight of what everyone else would assume was you stumbling in, your nipples visible from across the room, the bra that should have been on your body clasped in one hand. 

You’re pretty sure you disassociated for a few seconds from sheer mortification, standing there unmoving for several seconds. Once you had processed (and gone through the seven stages of grief multiple times) you were bolting across the floor, seizing his (your?) arm and dragging him down the hall and into the family bathroom where no one could see.

Slamming the door shut behind you, you shove Todoroki/yourself into the small space, wincing as you watch him stumble in your body. Did you always seem this weak and small in his eyes? The sound of the lock clicking as you shut the door reminds you of the current situation and you turn on him, rage emanating from every pore of your being.

“I. Thought. I. Told. You. To. Put. On. A. Bra.” You’re hurt, and seriously pissed off, neatly trimmed nails digging into your thighs as you grip your pants. Humiliation courses through your body, pulsing behind your eyes in tears that you will not let fall, no matter what. “Is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to embarrass me-”

“No.” It’s disconcerting watching yourself speak and move, but subtle mannerisms remind you that it’s Todoroki you’re looking at, not yourself in the mirror. “I wouldn’t do that to you, I swear.”

“Then what is this?” You wave your hand at your body, flinching at what others must be whispering about you. “Do you want people to think I’m some sort of crazy person who goes around practically flashing people at their workplace? Someone who has no sense of decency?”

“Of course not.” His tone is as even as ever, but you can tell that he feels bad. “People here know what type of person you are. I’m sure they’re more concerned than anything.”

The fabric of his blue hero suit unscrunches as your hands drop to your sides, chest heaving as you take a deep breath. “I hope so.”

There’s vulnerability in your voice, and for a second you find peace in the quiet of the moment before he ruins it. “Besides, I’m more worried about my reputation than yours right now.”

You look up indignantly. “Why? I did everything you asked, and I’m fully dressed so I’m not sure why you’re complaining.”

He winces as your voice raises (maybe the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet) but he hides it quickly. “I mean, from their point of view, they just watched me forcibly drag my subordinate off and locked myself in a bathroom with her. They probably have all sorts of unseemly ideas about what I’m doing right now.”

You freeze. Shit. You hadn’t even considered what it would look like to the others. “I’m so sorry. We can explain this to everyone. Like you told me, everyone here also knows you, and that you would never do anything inappropriate.” 

“It’s fine.” He gives you a genuine, yet slightly strained smile. “I’m not too concerned. However, your body doesn’t feel great.”

‘What’s wrong?” You reach out and touch his forehead. “You don’t have a fever.” Glancing down, you sigh. “First things first let's make you decent. You literally brought the bra. Why aren’t you wearing it?”

“The best way I can describe it is it’s similar to the time I accidentally ate Bakugou’s extra spicy curry, except it’s not in my stomach. It’s more in my abdomen. And I meant to wear it, I just couldn’t figure out how to get it on.”

“Okay. I can help with that.” You motion for him to lift his arms. “Take off your shirt.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Is now really the time?” The bathroom is silent as you give him a death look. “It’s my body. There is quite literally nothing about the body you are currently inhabiting that I do not already know about. Now, shirt. I’ll help put the bra on.”

Understanding that you were not in the mood, he hurriedly pulls the shirt off, and you’re presented with the sight of your bare torso. Ignoring the strange intimacy of the moment (it was literally your own body you had no idea why you felt weird) you help him slip his arms into the straps, then motion for him to turn around. 

He complies, and that’s when you see it. The relatively small, but somewhat noticeable stain on your crotch in the back of your pants. That’s why he wasn’t feeling good. Your body started your period.

The clasp of the bra dangles in your hands as you stare at it, evaluating your choices. One. You could pretend like nothing is happening but chances are he’s going to have to pee at some point during the day so he’ll find out eventually. Plus the stain wasn’t small.

Two. Be the mature, rational adult you are and calmly explain the situation. After all, there was nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a perfectly normal, perfectly natural, biological function that comes with being a female.

And three. Just leave and go crawl into your bed until this nightmare is over. Let him deal with it himself. 

Option number three was looking pretty good there for a moment and you were calculating how fast you could escape the agency without drawing attention when Todoroki spoke. 

“Everything okay? Why aren’t you doing the hook things?” Snapping out of your trance, you clumsily clasp the back, taking several tries to get all the hooks in the same row. Patting it, you tell him to put the shirt back on before taking a deep breath. “Hey, Todoroki?”

Wisps of hair emerge from the neckline of your shirt, followed closely by your head as he pops into your shirt. “Yes?”

“So like, it’s going to be okay and I swear I’ll help you and I’m sorry you have to deal with this but please whatever you do, don’t freak out. Promise?” He tilts his head slightly, regarding you with confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you say it’ll be okay I don’t see why I would feel the need to freak out.”

His calm response puts you somewhat at ease, and you just rip the bandaid off. “My body just started it’s period. With you in it. That’s why your abdomen was hurting. It was period cramps. Don’t worry, I’ll get you some advil soon. There’s a small stain on the back of your pants, but it’s not bad yet. However, it’s really heavy on my first day so we’re going to need to get a tampon in and a pad on asap.”

A blank stare is your only response. “What…is a tampon? And what does heavy mean? Also, does it always hurt this bad?” A small furrow appears between his brows, and you can tell he’s overthinking.

“Normally it’s only this bad for a few days, but I’m used to it by now.” You reassure him, grabbing a tampon and pad from the free dispenser on the wall. “And to answer your question, a tampon is basically a fancy roll of material that goes up there and absorbs the blood.”

You’re doing your best to remain calm and unbothered on the outside, but on the inside you’re losing your mind because there was absolutely no way that you were about to teach your crush how to insert a tampon into your cooch because you managed to swap bodies on the worst possible day.

He looks at you pensively as you approach him with the hygiene products. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

You pause, considering. How did you want to do this? It would be weird for you to put it in yourself, even if it was your body. The packaging crinkles in your hands as you turn the items over in your hand. The easiest route would be to have him just put the pad on, but you also didn’t want him to deal with the mess and discomfort of sitting in a pad. 

“Alright.” You clap your hands, the sharp sound echoing off the clean linoleum floors. “We’ll get a pad on first, then we’ll try the tampon. Ready?”

“Yes. How do I do that?” Okay. You can explain this. It’s not that complicated. “First things first, pull down your pants and underwear and sit on the toilet.”

A rustle of clothing and the click of the toilet seat against the porcelain bowl told you he had complied. “Wait, but like, don’t look okay. Keep your eyes averted.”

“Understood.” You choose to ignore the amusement in his voice, instead grabbing another pad and giving him a demo. Feeling guilty about the waste, you rip open one of the packages and pull out the pad. It’s thick, and made of cheap material like all free pads in public bathrooms tended to be.

Holding it up so he can see you demonstrate peeling the tab and unfolding it before peeling the sticky back off and showing it to him. 

“Basically you just have to remove the covering and stick it to the bottom of your underwear. Make sense?”

He nods, so you pass him the pad and watch him carefully peel back the appropriate backings and smooth it into the center of your panties. His eyes gleam at you hopefully as he looks up, and when you tell him he did a good job you could have sworn he preened. 

“Good job Todoroki.” A subtle frown pulls at his lips. “So for the tampon-”

“Shouto.” He cuts you off, looking disgruntled. “Call me Shouto.”

“I-What?” Thrown off guard by the sudden demand request you blink at him. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to what’s going on right now, but you’re my boss. It doesn’t seem right for me to address you so casually.”

“But you call me Shouto while we’re at work.” He stubbornly refuses to give the point up, clinging to it like a dog with their chew toy. “How is it any different?”

“Because-” You give him an exasperated look. “Some idiot decided to make his hero name his first name, so when he’s at work his co-workers are forced to use it. I don’t call you Shouto as in Todoroki Shouto. I call you Shouto as in Pro-Hero Shouto. That’s the difference.”

“But we’ve known each other for years.” He’s very matter of fact, clearly missing the point. “I would say we’re close enough for first names.”

He’s unbelievable. Of all the things to focus on right now why on earth is he choosing to argue over how you address him? “Of course we’re close. I consider you a good friend. But I wouldn’t say we’re close enough where it’s appropriate for me to address you by your first name when you’re my boss.”

“I’m currently in a bathroom with you right now, in your body, sitting on a toilet with no pants, on your period. I don’t see how we can possibly get any closer.” He had a point, and you just wanted to get this whole disaster sorted out as quickly as possible so you conceded. “Fine. Shouto. Now, will you please listen to me so we can get this over with and go on with our day?”

Using demonstrative hand motions and trying not to show how flustered you were you explained how to put the tampon in. Finally you finish, and hand him a tampon. He unwraps it, then hunches over in an awkward position trying to see what he was doing.

A red flush crawls up your neck as he quite literally examines your pussy, your insecurities running rampant, thoughts you’ve never had before occurring. Like, what if it looks weird? You didn’t exactly have a huge frame of reference, and all of your past experiences were horny hookups so you literally had no idea what it looked like from his point of view. He was probably repulsed by it. If everything that already happened hadn’t ruined any chance you had with him this was the final nail in the coffin.

A quiet splash cuts through the silence of the bathroom, interrupting your downward spiral. Looking up, you lock eyes with Todoroki, who’s frozen guiltily on the toilet.

“What just happened?”

“I, er, well I’m not sure.” Your eyes narrow. “What was the splash?”

“I did my best.” He sounds defensive. “I had a hard time finding…it…and it’s not easy to line it up and I think I did it wrong because as soon as I put it in it kind of just…spat it back out?”

Gaping at him, you’re at a loss for words before a loud, unflattering cackle rips itself out of your chest. The self-consciousness caused by the strangeness of the moment and being in the presence of your crush fading away as you reverted to treating him like you did in high school.

“Oh-Oh my god!” You’re doubled over, almost crying with how hard you’re laughing. “You can’t find it. You can’t even find the hole. You must be so popular with the ladies.”

As you laugh, a strange sensation builds in your stomach, and next thing you know it feels like you’re getting sucked into a vacuum and shot out the other end. Your vision goes black and fuzzy, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom hurting your eyes when you finally open them.

When you finally open them and find yourself staring into the unimpressed face of one Todoroki Shouto that is. 

Seeing his face again instead of staring at yours is a relief, but it’s also unfortunate because now you are the one perched on the toilet, your pants hanging around your ankles and a tampon floating around in the toilet water beneath you. 

The two of you lock eyes, and you realize that now you’ve both returned to your own bodies it’s even worse that he’s seeing you half naked (don’t ask you why it just is somehow. Maybe it has something to do with him seeing it from his point of view instead of yours?). 

Embarrassment floods your face, and you yell at him to turn around, hurriedly grabbing another tampon and putting it in before using your quirk to retrieve the tampon from the toilet and dumping it into the trash. A rushed tug has your pants back on, and the two of you stand in the bathroom not moving or speaking. Finally you break the silence.

“Uh, well, anyways. I’m glad this all worked out, sorry for the inconvenience and how weird it was. I’m going to head home and enjoy my day off now. Have a nice day!”

Not giving him the chance to respond, you dart past him and out the door, ignoring him as he calls your name. Yeah right. Have a nice day? More like have a nice life. There was no way you could ever show your face around him again. Maybe you could call Kyoka up and ask her if she needed a new hero at the agency she shared with Denki.

Unfortunately, life doesn’t always go as planned, and you wake up the next morning to your phone buzzing. You called in sick the night before, partially because your cramps were really bothering you, and partially because you were avoiding Todoroki. 

Blearily, you roll over, pawing at your phone before lifting it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Good morning.” Immediately recognizing the smooth, deep voice belonging to none other than the one man you were actively trying to avoid, you do the only logical thing and hang up immediately. 

A couple seconds later your phone rings again, and this time you let it go to voicemail. The sharp trill of your ringtone reaches you through the pillow you pressed over your head, alerting you that he called several more times after that. Finally the calls stop, and you emerge from under the pillows, beating back the strange sense of disappointment rising in your chest.

Ping!

The sound of your phone chiming startles you, causing you to drop it. Picking it back up, you check your notifications with bated breath.

(1) New Message From: Todoroki Shouto

Scared to read the message, you hesitate to click on it, having no idea what to expect. Your thumb hovers over the banner, the light washing over your skin as you work up the courage to check it.

Ping!

Your phone lands on your carpet with a plop as you accidentally drop it over the edge of your bed, not expecting it to go off again.

Ping! Ping!

Cautiously, you poke your head over the edge of your bed, glancing down at the illuminated lock screen. You let out an internal screech of horror.

(4) New Messages From: Todoroki Shouto

Unable to deal with the agony of not knowing what he said any longer, you scoop your phone up and tap the notification, scanning the messages, your heart dropping further and further the more you read.

Todoroki Shouto: Did you just hang up on me?

I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes. Do you want anything?

*image attached*

Also: are these the chocolates you’re fond of? I asked my mother and sister and they told me they enjoy chocolate when they are menstruating. 

Those are, in fact, your favorite chocolates, but as much as you wanted them you wanted him at your apartment in fifteen minutes even less. The sound of aggressive tapping filled your room as you typed out a response at breakneck speed, praying to whatever was out there that he wouldn’t actually come to your place.

You: Good morning Todoroki-San. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was you and hung up because I was half asleep. It’s sweet of you to think of me, but those are expensive. Also, I’m taking the day off today so is there any possible way the matter you have to discuss could wait until tomorrow? Thanks!

A couple seconds after you hit send, the little label beneath the message changed from “delivered” to “read.” Then radio silence. Anxiety bubbles up in the pit of your stomach? What does read mean? Did he agree with you? Is he still coming? Too drained to deal with the emotional turmoil this was causing you, you rolled over and pulled your covers up over your head. This was a problem for future you.

Drifting off, you were awakened a short time later by your phone chiming once, then again a few minutes later, and the sound of your doorbell ringing. Surely it wasn’t…Half-closing your eyes to shield against the harsh glow of your phone, you unlock it.

(2) New Messages From: Todoroki Shouto

Todoroki Shouto: I’m here. Open your door.

I didn’t want to tell you over text, but you aren’t responding. Bakugou says I have romantic feelings for you and I think he is correct. He also said you’ve been “a mooney-eyed moron” for me since we were in high school. If that is true and you do feel the same way, please let me in. I would like to see you and care for you while you are on your cycle.

Three dots appear, signaling that he’s typing. A couple seconds later, your phone chimes again, not even giving you a moment to process the previous messages.

Todoroki Shouto: Our former classmates also unanimously agreed that I am, in fact, popular with the ladies. I’ll forgive your comment if you let me in. The old lady who lives next door to you is giving me suspicious looks. 

You blink. Rub your eyes. Squint closer at your screen. The words didn’t change, and neither did their meaning. And Todoroki wasn’t the type of person to joke around like this. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and your pulse thundered in your ears as you realized there was only one thing left to do.

You had to get out of bed and let him into your apartment.

taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight @sunaraii @hotvinimon

as always, please please please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from any of my taglists. tysm for reading, and i hope you enjoyed it!!

[yunniestars]

"maybe this time, love won't end."

. . . ACT IV. "Oh No, I'm Falling In Love." ʚɞ pairing: kinich x gn!reader ʚɞ cw: kind of short sorry, mostly fluff hehe, reader is shit at cooking

"sorry..." you dry his hair off using a towel as you apologize. "to be fair, it started to rain heavily, too. so it would've saved you from being sick."

"it's fine," kinich responds as he mesmerize over how your hands knead his hair with tender. "i would've said yes either way. but you really didn't had to headlock me like that," he frowns which erupts a giggle from you.

"i literally never seen you make that face. i should do it more often." he scoffs at your suggestion.

even with such childish banter, kinich feels so much warmth from what was happening at the moment. the loud and thunderous rain contrasted the comforting laughter from the both of you. it reminded him of how you'd tend to his wounds when he came home from a commission that made him end up in a bunch of bruises.

this very moment felt like one of them, however he knew it wasn't the same.

the love and affection he felt, though, remained.

suddenly, he felt something caress his hair. and it wasn't a towel.

"hmm?" kinich feels your hand on top of his hair, which surprised him. "what are you doing?"

"feeling your hair. it's so soft," you tell him as you bask into the softness of the strands. "seriously, how do you have better hair than me? it's so annoying," you sounded a pout which made him chuckle.

"maybe it's because you're the one taking care of it."

୨୧

time ticks down and before the both of you knew it, the hour of supper had arrived.

kinich would expect that it would've been domestic, cozy and full of laughter. he thought that it'd be a simple moment of peace with shared fondness.

boy he was so wrong. because apparently alongside your memories, your amnesia also caused you to forget your ability how to cook -- or more like, you have no idea how to measure things and the portions you pour in the dish ends up altering the taste completely.

"oh my archons- i said SALT."

"THAT'S SALT YOU DUM-DUM."

"look at the label closely, and it says 'sugar'."

"oh."

it was rare for kinich to get verbally upset, but this very moment had him wanting to throw punches at you and toss you from the very top of tectipac peak. he tries his very best to not show his frustration and be patient but oh goodness gracious of all archons you were stubborn.

"kinich! how much soup do i pour in?" you ask but even though you did, your hand had a mind of its own and poured a lot of soup on the bowl which could only take half of the amount you poured on, which ultimately led you to dropping the bowl and a loud yelp from you.

kinich immediately stopped what he was doing and immediately ran up to you, caressing your burnt hand while bringing you to a place away from the shards of glass.

"are you okay? how bad does it hurt?" he asks while checking for any bruises.

"a little..." you responded while feeling a bit faint from the altercation that just happened. kinich sighed and carried you to your couch, gently laying you on top of there.

"stay," he instructs while he goes off to grab your first-aid kit. you were confused on how he already knew where it was placed, but perhaps it's due to the amount of times he crashed in your place.

besides everything, though, you felt your heart thump at how he'd take such good care of you. even though you were stupid to pour an unreasonable amount of soup in the cup, he never insulted you and just immediately came to your aid. it felt nice, considering how you'd always get called out for being clumsy when you still lived with your family.

it wasn't just that, though. the way he'd gently hold you felt like you just fit right in his arms. is it platonic to say that being your friend's arms felt like home? because that's exactly how you felt.

you were used to how boyfriend-material kinich would be but goddamn it still made your heart skip a beat each time.

then again, he said it's how he treated his friends in general, so did you really have any right to feel like that?

after a time of thinking, he soon comes back with the first-aid kit in his hands and kneels in front of you, grabbing that injured hand onto his immediately to treat it.

"so reckless... you just do whatever you want, huh?" he huffs while applying ointment on your burn.

"i'm sorry," you apologize, feeling a lot of guilt while refusing to look at him.

"for?"

"for being clumsy and... not being a good host."

"host?" kinich raises a brow and remembers the main reason how he winded up in your abode. "ah, you don't need to apologize for any of that." "but-"

"but what? no matter the amount of apologizes you utter to me, you'll still do the same thing ever again, and i would be a fool to repeatedly tell you that it's 'okay'," he chuckles lightly and touches your bandaged hand. "i treasure you a lot, so i'm willing to put up with your antics."

ah fuck.

you feel yourself burning up at your words, while also feeling tears well up in your eyes. "i mean that much to you?"

"of course."

you smile and look at him with a gaze you'd only ever show to him. "well, i feel the same."

୨୧

a few hours after eating and cleaning up, the rain hasn't still gone away which led up to the reason why he's staying at your home overnight for the time-being.

"i'm going to sleep at the couch," kinich says, about to tell you good night until you beat him to it.

"no, you're sleeping in my bed," you refute. "you're the guest, i should be the one sleeping on the couch."

kinich sighs and crosses his arms. "well, looks like this is another argument i can't wait, so how about this -- we share a bed."

the idea made you blush. even though kinich looked nonchalant on the surface, deep down he was pulling his own hair for saying such crass things. now he felt kind of like some creep for saying it.

"sorry, i shouldn't have said anything," he apologizes, wanting to break the awkward tension. but you just shake your head and drag him on your bed.

"it's fine. we can share," you fiddle your hands together.

oh. well... that definitely surprised him.

"what? are you sure? i just suggested it because i didn't want you to sleep on the couch and i know you're going to force me to sleep on your bed so..." he trails off and you just put your index finger on his lip, which immediately shuts him up.

"if i say we can share, then we can. okay?" you huff and place your finger back down, leaving him to no choice (even though he really liked the idea). "

and so, you two end up sharing the same comforter. surprisingly, kinich ended up falling asleep real fast. after all, you did notice how exhausted he looked even before the two of you got soaked by the cold rain.

you smile and stop any urges to go and caress his face. you notice his long lashes, the marking on his neck, and of course your favorite part of him, how soft his hair looked. even while sleeping, he looked so undoubtedly beautiful that you'd think about what it'd be like if you kissed him- woah there.

kisses?

beautiful?

you notice how you used such words towards him, ones that only couples would ever refer to each other. but can you blame yourself? he was so full of love, giving you attention when you barely ask for it, doing things that you'd only let him do to you.

the more you think of it, more the realization finally dawns upon you...

you were in love.

୨୧ act iii | act v ୨୧ masterlist

♡ tags: @lvvcian @sunsethw4 @wutap @gasoline-eater @ellieloverrr @romyoia @lunavixia @hipsdofangirl @3lectraheart @keiiqq @fantasyhopperhea @idontevenknow129 @kimura-uzuri

a/n: finally!! ive been wanting to finish this chapter ive had the idea since act 3 but i am so sorry for not updating a lot as of late!! :( ive been preparing for lots and lots of projects + exams r coming up. not sure if i can keep on updating consistently, but most likely when exams end and also during our club week hehe. thank u so much for being patient :')

[dduane]

The first part of that last message got me curious -- given how long-running of a series YW is, how do you keep track of All That when writing a new entry? Copious amounts of notes? Re-reading the entire series backlog? Keeping a fully-functioning simulation of the entire YW universe running in your head with perfect accuracy? (only mostly joking with that last one)

And somewhat-relatedly, did you have any plan or idea when you started for how long YW would run? Or was it more of a "I'll keep writing about this universe until it stops churning out ideas," type of thing and that point just (very thankfully!) hasn't happened yet? I know for per-book purposes you're a proponent of outlining (I swear I'll try writing to one one day Q_Q) but do you also apply that to a series as a whole?

Let me take this backwards, as it may make more sense that way.

Particularly when doing series work, outlining is more vital than usual for me. (Which is saying a lot.) Some of the most basic reasons for this are laid out over here.

The simplest one, though, for series outlining, is logistical. Without having achieved a sense well in advance of what events (or effects of events) are going to be most formative or important (or both) for the characters in a series, you won't have allowed yourself time to think about them enough. And to fail to spend enough time on this is to cheat both yourself and the books in the series. (And your readership.)

If you're smart, you learn very early on that attempting to save time by shortchanging or omitting the planning stages is potentially profoundly destructive. You need to have a plan... and you need not to let anyone make you ashamed of needing one. Putting off your detailed character-interaction and event planning in the name of some magically occurring fit of inspiration, or theoretical bid toward creative spontaneity, will serve neither you nor your creation. You can throw "Hail Mary" passes all you like... but you'd better be damn sure there'll be someone in the end zone to receive. ...If not Herself.

...And just in case you're worried, your initial plans can be really loose! They don't have to jump out of your head full-formed like some local war goddess after somebody hits her dad in the head with an axe. The plan for the Middle Kingdoms books—after The Door Into Fire dumped me gasping by the side of the road and left me a few minutes to breathe—was nothing more than "Now that his boyfriend's finally upped the ante beyond all expectations, Freelorn finally gets off his feckless Would-Be Robin Hood shit and gets to work becoming king." I then spent the next decade thinking purposefully about how that was going to happen, and writing the second book in the series—while sufficiently working out the fine details of the climax (and beyond) to then be able to get busy executing the third book. Even though there was a change of publishers between the beginning of that series and the end of it, the basic dead-simple MK plan from a very early stage quickly became detailed and robust enough (because the series was short enough) to withstand the change. Not least because I'd been thinking about it in a general way since the early 1970s... and continue to do so, pretty much daily. The Door Into Starlight is still hanging fire...

YW has been a different story—quite literally—because the only plan extant at the start of things was, "Everybody slowly gets older (and slowly closer)." I always knew there were going to be more than the original three: there was way too much interesting ground to cover to just stop with those. (I've never yet succeeded in finding out who started the rumor that there were only going to be three books. Over time it's become one of those things you just shrug at and move on.)

(Adding a break here, because this does go on a bit. Caution: contains publishing skullduggery, plans ganging aft agley, approximate word counts, software recommendations, and value judgments.)

("Now wait just one minute. 'Feckless would-be Robin Hood shit'? Can she just say that??")

The circumstances surrounding the writing of Deep Wizardry and High Wizardry, though, made it plain to me that I was not going to be at the then-publisher (Dell) all that much longer. By the time HW came out, they were already starting to pull away from midlist books and authors in order to spend that part of the budget on best-sellers... so it became plain to me that attempting to construct a long arc with/at that publisher would have been folly. Because who could be sure what was going to happen next, and blow everything I'd built to smithereens?

Sure enough, when I finished A Wizard Abroad, Dell declined to pick it up (even though the books had been selling steadily and increasingly strongly in paperback). This annoying validation of my concerns—and my shiny new agent's—made it plain to me that further books in the series were going to need to be thematically driven, rather than mostly character-event-driven, and almost entirely capable of being taken as standalones. Any long arc was going to have to be one that could be suspended, or reworked, with little warning. Because what happens to you once, in publishing, doesn't at all mean you're immune to it after that.

It wasn't until the YW books were picked up by Harcourt in the mid-90s, with a strong editorial team behind them, that I felt confident enough to start building longer-arc material into the books, beginning with the arc that kicks off in The Wizard's Dilemma and more or less completes in Wizard's Holiday and Wizards At War. There is a secondary (and I assume, generally less obvious) arc that picks up material still unhandled in the "War Arc," and deals with it in A Wizard of Mars and Games Wizards Play. But plans for those stories' management were already nailed down in electrons as soon as 2001, because I had made some early choices about where I was going with the characters and their situations; and as new books came out, my editors agreed with me that the choices had been sound, and should remain.

I'll say this only because I've said it before: there is one piece of business planted in So You Want To Be A Wizard that has never been explicitly dealt with/followed up on in any of the books, and is at the core of YW #11. For the moment, it's safest merely to say that I do not willingly leave loose ends hanging. Beyond that, I'll leave you all to your own deductions.

...Now. How do I keep track of all this stuff? (The urge to mutter "With great difficulty" and run off into the wings is strong. But never mind.) :)

The question's fair, as there's a million-plus words' worth of it in the series at the moment. ...Mostly my guide remains the books themselves, in ebook form (in their NME versions. If I need to, I refer back to the traditionally published versions as necessary). I normally have a general memory of where a given event happens or where a given issue comes up for handling. I then pull that copy of the ebook(s) in question, and do a search on various useful target phrases until I find what I'm after, and where it leads.

For new work, or stuff not yet committed to what passes for canon, I do have lots of notes. Some of them are actually out in public, at the currently-being-revised Errantry Concordance (though they're not in any form that anyone but me will recognize). Others are tucked away in the notes sections of pertinent Scrivener files—this being one of the most valuable things about Scrivener, as far as I'm concerned: the ability to store project notes in the project itself as opposed to "all over the damn place." Others yet are in my iPad, as either typing or dictation, and get transferred to other files/formats as necessary.

But the very first thing that happens, when a new work comes into train, is an outline. Sometimes a hilariously simple one, sometimes one with more detail in the middle than at the beginning or the end. Doesn't matter what shape it starts in. All notes, scraps, prose chunks, random thoughts, and midnight cogitations, get slotted into place in this until it's ready to be organized and sent off to an editor. And this outline—no matter how fragmentary or how polished—remains ready to hand at all times until I've finished with correcting the book's ARC and am looking at the release date.

And then I zip it up and put it away where I can find it later if I need to... because some other plan, still in the building stages, may need something in that one that never happened, but now has its chance. Because in YW, as everywhere else in my work, it's so often about the things that have always almost happened... until they do.

...Anyway: HTH!