#i jest but . there is an inkling of truth in that statement

[daily-joel-smallishbeans]

day 3. and now for the real reason why i made this blog

[1800titz]

Really, really short teaser, but just a little something from the upcoming chapter of TDIAG

“I didn’t fuck you last week, and you’re already looking elsewhere, darling?” the statement is said as a jest — but it’s only half of that. His strawberry mouth is twitchy, and the pads of his digits are gentle on her thigh, and his tone is calm, and friendly, and traitorously sweet. 

But Isla knows better. 

Her mother had always said, behind every joke there’s some truth, sort of like a more wholesome version of drunk words are sober thoughts — far more kid friendly, but. The young woman couldn’t relate more to the wise piece of advice than she was, now, in this moment. Because her Eros is green, and obviously so. It radiates from his pores, the envy, no doubt a response to seeing Faunus’s palm pasted to her arm, and the tidbits of his vulnerability make something oddly twist in her. Something like — feelings, beyond the playroom. It pleases her, in a red-flag-on-her-part sort of way, knowing that he cares. But more than that, the sentiment leaves her brimming with arousal. A jealous man was never a kind man, and a mean Eros, tucked away with her in a reserved playroom at Indulge, always left her simmering in welcomed anticipation. 

“Of course not,” she assuages, tracing the folds of fabric in his collar and fixing them up with a smoothing touch, her pupils fixed to her fingers as she tacks on, “I’d never look elsewhere when I’m contractually obligated to uphold monogamy.” 

It’s a tease that’s blatantly meant to rile him — the corners of her mouth buckle like an afterthought, and beneath her touch, the dominant’s chest heaves with a sigh. 

“Contractual obligation. S’that all my time is to you, then?” 

His tone is lighthearted, but the words have that undercurrent of brooding, like her words have wounded him, and Isla thumbs over a button and pops it through a loop — just for a bit of skin. 

“All my cock is to you?” the man shifts below her, his tone still playful, “A contractual obligation?” 

“No,” she protests, her fingers twitchy before his chin dips to ogle her handiwork, and a palm clasps over her wrist to bring the fingertips to his mouth and nip. 

“Hm?” he prods, teeth grazing over skin playfully, “Gonna go back to alternating having your shit rocked when my time is up?” 

Okay. Little less playful. His cadence is still light and good-natured but. Oddly heavy question. That little, unspoken slice of reality peeks through the facade of joking, traces streaking like dawn through cracks of blinds, if only for a moment. 

Isla swallows. Her pupils paste to his cushiony mouth, to the tips of her digits pressed lightly between his teeth. She settles for something safe, her breath held in her chest. Actually, maybe a little unsafe, given the trajectory of his emotions. 

“If you want me to, Sir.” 

Placate, placate, placate. The words are all that any dominant could want — submission in its ultimation. Whatever he wants of her. Despite this, the statement has something like …disappointment twisting in his chest. He doesn’t want that. He wants to elongate their contract, he wants to keep railing Isla over, and over, and over, he wants to spend the rest of timeless time with her as his, in the realm of Indulge, and only his. And he doesn’t want it to be up to him. Tell me no, Harry wants to say. Tell me you want me and only me. Show me you care, the way I do. 

Instead, his mouth purses. 

If there’s any inkling of protest to her words, the dominant doesn’t showcase it. She’s curious to hear his response, but he doesn’t give one. Instead, he intertwines their fingers and shoots her a glance. The topic of conversation pivots. 

“Were you a good girl for me this week?” 

Was she a good girl for him this week? Vague recollections of a very satisfying vibrator pressed between clammy thighs in messy sheets at late hours flit through her mind. 

And her Eros on the other end of the line.

No. Isla certainly wasn’t. 

[ryusxnka]

fatesrot‌ :

“wha—?!” how dare he assume that? this time it was true! isshin never felt so insulted on his life (this isn’t the first time anyways). “that happened only one time! stop bringing that up!” he groans but then he saw toshiro going up ahead and isshin just followed him. damn this kid. sometimes he wished to tell what he is thinking and feeling because all he gets is that stoic face devoid of any emotion but his words really pack a punch when needed. 

walking besides toshiro isshin needed to fill him up with the new report about the area they were meant to patrol. “i got new intel about that area. they said there’s a really strong monster hiding there. probably is some sort of strong hollow.” he could guess but he is not sure. they said is strong but again he couldn’t tell if those words hold any truth in them. after all, people like to take things far than they need it to. eyes landed on the smaller male. “are you feeling okay? this is a good opportunity to test your skills.” probably he shouldn’t have said that because that would mean more pressure on the boy and will become more nervous. “i know you’ll do okay but if anything i got your back.”

                   U ttering statement, words of deniability, which emitted behind him are forthwith dismissed ‘neath his footing.  He’s treading expeditiously ahead,  uncaring of Isshin’s position, whether he was nearby or  abroad, in his proximity;  any existent investment appended to the other’s reasoning of tardiness vacillated  astray in the likeness of  desiccated petals withering from an abandoned flower  ---  It's lucidly unseeable to the naked eye, voided of any effectual influence.  --  Omitting the youth within a cage moldered as naught but a flesh-like cadaver of professionalism.  --  Anxiety, woeful misery, obstructing bane of his continuation, arose further in spite of his vain arrogance  --  fingers gingerly curl and uncurl, a habit of venation, in hopes to persist as believably composed as  a militant weapon should be; he ought  not or could not remotely  afford to exhibit any inkling of i mperfections when his captain was afoot. Observing intently whilst girding him in edgewise faith regarding his still unrefined abilities. 

                      Hearkening Intel he’s already enlisted ‘fore departure allures a hoarse scoff from his impudent tongue as he discreetly surmounts a diminutive summit  atop a verdant route. “ I am well- aware  of the fact that the  opposition is a Hollow.  An  extrinsic class,  I assume.” He recalls it’s written description ‘pon the parchment accouched to their division.  --  It was as intimidatingly towering as it was cruelly  deranged in morality.  --  An anomalous force no child could partially survive ‘gainst. It  made him ponder  --  Could he defeat it? --  Knowing the lives it's taken? He swallows whilst abruptly ceasing his steps, pivoting once ensuring, as  ensuring as it can incorporate, at least, syllables quieted along the rear of a transient Zephyr, to engage with his superior officer’s jaunty visage. Emotions buried deep, he scorns the question related to such soulful categories. --  Preferably centering on the other’s following sentence on having his back. “ Is that right?  ---  You best keep  those words,  Captain.  If I were to die under your charge, you’ll perish by Matsumoto’s imminent wrath. “ He’s partly jesting ... Or was he?

                 “ More importantly, sir. -- In which direction do we proceed from here? “