#so there was a struggle to match it ����

[eva-does-its-best]

Damn, I regret reading all of this. You really believe masculinity is constructed around the hatred of women??? You're really disconected from masculinity then.

You know what hurt me the most when I was a trans woman? People like you! Your ideas made me hate my body, your ideas made me afraid of what I was capable of, your ideas made me allow myself to be abused by women.

You know how many trans women I've had to see struggling with that too? Not because of dysphoria but because of the whole discourse around anything masculine. And now I don't just need to defend them against terfs and transphobes, I need to defend them from other trans women who seek so desperately to validate their fucking womanhood by adopting the most barebones surface level oppositional sexist feminism. Like what you are spewing right here.

You know what is constructed around the hatred of women? Patriarchal masculinity and Patriarchal femininity. The alt-right men, the radical feminist women, all of those imbeciles, specific types of each side.

Man-hating doesn't end at men no, it always leads to hatred of anything with masculine traits, be it men from minorities, masculine women, butches, trans women, some non-binary people, some intersex people, etc.

It's the literal terf and radfem rethoric or men bad and dangerous women good and pure that leads to the hatred against trans women in the first place. It's what causes so many trans men and transmascs to have trouble with their transition because they are constantly being told how all masculine traits are undesireable and worse than feminine traits.

And you really out here like women are not also perpetuators of the patriarchy, in my whole life most of the sexism, misoginy and transphobia I've recieved came from cis women.

If you wanna perpetuate the ideas behind transphobia don't coat them in trans colors, just go mask off and save us some time. If you actually wanna help trans people and trans women in specific stop with this bullshit, reflect on what you are actually saying and the effects it has, and grow and learn to be better.

You won't ever convince me with your arguments because your theories fail to match the reality of our world, so you can either argument for your fans, rage at me, try to learn from your mistake or shut your mouth and stop spewing stealth hate. Bye.

So when women say they hate men we can agree that most of them arent saying "testosterone bad" right? It's pure projection to read it like that. It also shouldnt be read as "men are fundamentally evil by their spiritual male nature". Thats also projection. Im insecure af too but like come on now.

If trans men have such amazing insight into patriarchy then we can probably read between the lines that what is being said is "the overwhelming and endless cycle of patriarchal conditioning affects trans men too. Because masculinity is currently construed around hatred of all things woman, trans men are going to internalize at least some of these thought patterns pre- and post transitioning, and thus are not fundamentally different from other types of men when it comes to violence against women. Some of this violence is unintentional callousness, carelessness or performative cruelty and thus creates a hostile environment for women who are afraid of these behaviors".

Patriarchy isnt just big strong white hetero men who beat up the men they deem unfit, or scrutinize the behavior of other men until everyone conforms. It's also the nerdy men who project their insecurity onto women and repeat the cycle, thus elbowing their way into acceptable masculinity through emotional and verbal violence instead of fists. And so much of trans man masculinity is just this pattern in a smaller scale.

Also just going to trans women's posts to harass them and crying about misandry and eyeing every feminist statement with suspicion truly is just misogyny 101 and has to stop

[hueseok]

can’t stop thinking about boyfriend!yoongi who in a way, found his match with you.

for decades, his oldest friends always teased him for being the textbook definition of ‘nonchalant’, labeling him as a stoic man who loved to pretend that he didn’t care about anything—even though in reality, there were always a few tells that made it obvious that he did.

he was the type of guy who made it seem like he didn’t care if you forgot about his birthday, but would send a joke afterwards saying that he was disappointed that you didn’t remember.

or the type who acted like it didn’t matter to him if the meal he worked hard on cooking tasted delicious for your taste buds, only to grin really wide as soon as you complimented him and uttered a string of praises afterwards.

it was an endearing quality of yoongi’s, a rather fascinating trait that also became the butt of the joke at times whenever the topic was his love life and his bad luck when it came to relationships.

“you can come off as emotionally unavailable,” hoseok told him over beer once. “ladies don’t like that. they want men who can tell them how special they are.”

“isn’t it enough that i show it?” yoongi asked, having just been dumped by the girl he was dating. “i mean, i drive her to work every single day. i fetch her from work whenever i can too. i buy her stuff if it’s necessary, like shampoo or paper towels.”

hoseok stared at him. “paper towels?”

“yeah.”

“wow. i take it all back. you are the most romantic man on the planet.”

yoongi rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. “she mentioned she was running out of them so i bought more for her.”

“are you her dad or something?”

“i heard ladies like a provider.”

“yes, but not in that sense. it’s more like… you get the bill whenever you’re having lunch or dinner at a restaurant, or buying her a bag she’s been eyeing, or paying for her nails when she gets them done. doing all of that without not being asked is the key aspect of it, really.”

“how do you know this stuff?”

hoseok shrugged. “i have an older sister,” he says. “also, i’m engaged to my girlfriend of 6 years. being in a relationship that long ought to teach you a lot.”

thanks to that conversation, yoongi began understanding what it really meant to be a great and affectionate boyfriend without sacrificing his rather reserved personality. he knew what the right gestures to do, what the right things to say, what the right gifts to buy—and he did all of that with utmost sincerity, genuinely wanting to be a better partner for his current girlfriend, which also happened to be you.

the funny thing, though?

you couldn’t seem to recognize the nice boyfriend things yoongi was doing and how much he improved compared to his last relationship.

you were just… independent, he thought. a strong woman who didn’t like to be coddled and didn’t like asking help from anyone regardless of how much you may be already struggling. he had a realization that you were naturally like this because of the stories you used to tell him that made him understand that you just weren’t used to relying on others, a trait that he didn’t have an issue with and sometimes even admired.

however, he couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t sometimes frustrating as well.

for example, just last week, the both of you had a semi-big fight because of how you constantly insisted on changing the broken lightbulb in your bedroom yourself even though yoongi was already telling you that he could do it instead. in the end, since you were stubborn as hell, you still tried changing it on your own but had a very minor injury due to falling off the stool you were standing on for extra height.

yoongi was furious when he found out, and you ultimately became furious because it seemed like he was being unfair to you, the negative energy impacting your mood and rationality that you didn’t get how he was more mad on the fact that you let your pride get to you than just asking for his damn help for the freaking lightbulb.

when the both of you calmed down and said your apologies, yoongi took your hands and looked directly in your eyes. “babe, you have to start depending on me,” he said.

the straightforwardness caught you off guard. “huh?”

“i mean…” you felt him squeeze your fingers softly, “i understand that you’re used to doing things all on your own… how you don’t like being treated like some baby… but that shouldn’t be the case with me, okay? i’m here to take care of you, to always help you with whatever you need.”

you opened your mouth, about to say something he knew was not going to align with his point, so he took the liberty to cut you off.

“i’m serious. you know what i’m talking about. let me take care of you, ____.”

“but—” you couldn’t continue with your sentence, a wave of emotions suddenly flooding you that made your throat tighten and voice quiver as you began speaking again— “how? i… i don’t—i just… you don’t need to. i don’t want to be a burden.”

yoongi gave you a look, a mixture of fondness and disbelief. “you? a burden?”

“yeah. you don’t need to take care of me.”

“i’m well aware that you’re a grown woman who doesn’t need taking care of.” he joked. “but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to do it. that’s why if i were you, i would just start depending on my poor boyfriend and learn how to be comfortable in being taken care of because it’s definitely how things are going to be now that he’s here.”

you snorted at the use of third person. “fine,” you sniffled, “okay, i’ll try to be better at asking for help next time.”

he sighed in relief, releasing your hands to instead engulf you in a tight embrace. “thank you, baby. i appreciate it a lot.”

****

the first time you willingly asked yoongi for a favor after that talk—regardless of how small and trivial it was—it still affected him big time.

“can you help me assemble the drawer i bought?” you asked him over dinner, ever so casual and nonchalant.

he almost dropped the chopsticks he was holding. “what?”

“i said, can you—”

“no, i heard that perfectly well. i’m just surprised at what i’m hearing.”

your lips twitched while your face visibly burned. “don’t start teasing me or else—”

“i’m not.” he laughed, a little too loudly than usual, before reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. “i’m not, i swear. i’m just happy.”

“you’re happy because i’m asking for help?”

“i’m happy because you’re letting me take care of you,” he corrected. “it’s a bit overdue in my opinion but who am i to complain?”

you playfully shoved his hand away, which made yoongi laugh harder and lean towards you to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, letting you know that your simple effort of trying to let him in meant so much more than words could ever say.

note. this blurb is unedited and has been in my drafts since december because it's always yoongi missing hours!!!!! but for real though, i wish yoongi is doing great and is always surrounded by good people who can give him the support he needs + remind him how loved he is :(

[valalice]

hear me out… combat training with rival!caitlyn where she gets all mad n frowny when you shit talk her so she pins you down on the mat. i’ve been thinking about this for WEEKS.

this is what i'm talking about !

you should've known better really, shit talking caitlyn kiramman of all people. but she makes it hard to somewhat tolerate her to a certain degree when she parades around like she owns the fucking place, her lean figure pin straight (perfect posture of course, nothing less expected of a kiramman), head held high (cassandra made it a point to instill the objective into young caitlyn's mind that you never let people persevere you as weak), and a cocky smirk that for some reason stays glued to her face at all times. she had every reason to be cocky—full of her self when she's the best at everything, everyone is either intimidated by her or adores her, and no there is no in between. you feel neither towards her, having the same prideful air about you, and there's no way in hell you'd ever adore her, you hate her, but again, hate does no lie between intimidated and adoration, it's the rotten third, born from pure animosity you have for her. it's something sacred really what you and her have, something so foolish, childish about your rivalry, but still serious in its own way.

you should've known your words would've been whispered right back into the ear of the heiress, too deep in the pits of blinded hatred to realize that kiramman has ears everywhere. and you know she knows when the next time the two of you cross paths her stare is more daggered than usual, and if your words hadn't sent the blue haired beauty into a frenzy, the laugh in her face upon seeing her had lit the spark, setting her ablaze.

you should've know caitlyn would come marching up to you like the prissy person she is and demand a combat match immediately, rolling your eyes at her temper and the shrill in her accent, she annoys you immensely by thinking she can get anything at her beck and call.

"can't you see i'm eating, kiramman?"

"i do. and i don't care. you talk shit, you're going to back it up."

"you're really looking to get another ass beating already?"

your words stung like a fist full of salt in a wound. the last match you two had, you won by a sliver, a tiny one, but you took the victory nonetheless. and it sends a tingly sensation down your spine, to the tips of your fingers, and then your toes to see the ever so barely noticeable twitch in her eye. but, of course you notice, you love seeing how you're able to get under her skin.

you should've known better than to accept that damn match, because now caitlyn has you pinned on the mat, struggling to think quick and reach for her weak spots to get you out of this position. you hate it, you hate her. but more importantly you hate how quickly she was able to pin you down, the swiftness and pure skill and talent (you'd never mutter these words out loud, even with a gun to your head) it took for her to pull off that move. it's all that damn excessive training with ambessa, you'd wander pass this very room time and time again heading the hits and grunts, caitlyn always overworked herself to the bone until she was able to get something right, and do it better. and you hate that when you opened your eyes from being slammed against the barely soft surface you were met up and close with gleaming cerulean eyes and that fucking smirk; it was in the moment you realized how close the two of you were, you always get this close but you're always too caught up with your motive of defeating her that you never took into account the compromising positions you'd put each other in.

"am i supposed to be getting my ass beat right now?"

should've spit in her face, but instead you're too stunned, focused on the knee slotted between your legs, pressing up against your pulsing heat. too focused on the wispy blue hairs fallen from her bun and how the usual sweat trickling down her eyebrow isn't there; she didn't even break a sweat. it takes a lot of restraint in you to not squirm beneath her, you won't give the satisfaction of seeing that (no matter how badly you want to sooth ache she's caused), you'll figure away out of this, eyes darting around to find anything's she any opening to free yourself or flip over, but you're too slow;

one.

two.

three.

the grip on you lessens when she's done counting, un-slotting her knee, and standing to her feet, gaze raking over your unmoved body, eyes swirling with gloat.

"i won."

and with that she walks out the room, no outstretched of a hand to help you off the matt, leaving you to lie there. she plays dirty.

you hate caitlyn kiramman.

[panstarry]

Hey friends, Mohamed (@/help_mohamed_from_gaze on IG) needs help buying food for his family and medicine for his leg! He is a 15 year old boy with a family of 6 in Gaza. It is so important to financially support the people of Palestine as they struggle to survive under apartheid. Prices have skyrocketed and it is extremely cold in the tents. If you have anything to spare right now, please donate and share 🫶 Can anyone match my £25?

🔗 GFM: https://gofund.me/05166cf7

[psychologeek]

What is Zionism, in your understanding? Genuinely asking, as I struggle with understanding your question.

In general? Saying "I'm an ally to minority X, unless they are (something most X are)" is problematic.

"Zionism" isn't "current politics in Israel" or "support Israeli government".

"Support Israel" - please explain. This isn't a football match.

Also, like. About half of the world's Jewish population lives in Israel, and 80% of Jews outside of it sees their relationship to Israel as important so. Uh. It's a thing.

(question: do you know where the word "Zionism" comes from? And why are we called "Jews" in English?)

Edit: Jewish-only poll is posted here

*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

[futureperfectchanges]

The Woolly Socks: Part 2 - Dan

As Dan crept out of the bedroom he wondered if moving in with Chris had been a mistake. For the third night in a row he had woken up cold in the middle of the night with the covers pushed off the bed. He knew Chris didn't do it deliberately and it was just his boyfriend instinctively trying to keep his furry muscular body cool, but it had happened enough times now that it was no longer amusing to Dan whose slim toned physique struggled to stay warm. Dan had tried going back to sleep but wasn't able to get comfortable so decided to do some reading in the living room. Chris would be getting up soon for his gym session so he would try and get a bit more sleep after Chris had gone.

The couple's differing routines were another issue with the relationship. Chris had a group of gym buddies that would work out in the early in the morning, whereas Dan never went to the gym as he instead did training with his running club after work. Before moving in together they had often gone out of their way to spend time with each other, but now they seemed to have got into a domestic rut where they actually spent less time together.

As Dan moved into the living room he shivered a bit and couldn't help thinking about how their different preferences for the heating in the apartment was another issue. Even in the middle of winter Chris would often walk around with barely anything on, whereas Dan would always be wearing at least one thick jumper. Dan didn't mind getting to see so much of his boyfriend, and he liked having easy access to rub his hands through the hair on Chris's chest, but he had started to worry about how different their lives seemed to be. Dan worried that they just didn't have enough in common and moving in together had made that painfully clear.

Dan had picked up some clothes from the bedroom before leaving, but in the dark he hadn't been able to find his socks. As he walked barefoot on the cold floor he wondered if he could cope without socks, but he quickly decided that he'd have to go back for them, which was when he noticed the white socks on the floor by the laundry. Chris had mentioned the previous night that he had bought a pair of socks but had found them too hot. As Dan walked over to them they did seem a bit thicker than the thin socks that Chris normally bought. Dan wasn't complaining though as they seemed like they would be perfect for keeping his feet warm until Chris got up.

After putting the socks on Dan was surprised by how warm they were. He felt a warmth creeping up from his feet but was unaware that warmth was due to thick hairs growing in all over his legs. Dan also didn't notice as his legs, that had been toned from countless miles of running, started getting more defined as they thickened up with muscle. Instead Dan started to think about the effort he had been putting into leg day at the gym, in particular growing his calf muscles despite all his buddies saying that muscle was mostly defined by genetics.

The warmth Dan was feeling quickly travelled up into his chest. He didn't notice as hairs burst out all over his stomach and then across his chest, he also didn't notice as his flat chest quickly swelled up with muscle whilst his shoulders widened out and his arms expanded to match. Instead the burning he had felt in those areas made sense to Dan as he was in the middle of his winter bulk, and was really pushing himself each session. Chris had recently made some gains in the gym, but Dan had always had the slightly bigger body and he wanted to keep it that way.

Finally the warmth reached his face and caused his beard to grow out, but for Dan that made sense as he had been growing it out during his bulk. He had intended to trim it back down in the spring, but he had decided he liked the look and was considering keeping it. Dan had also noticed Chris had been rubbing his cheeks more than normal too so he didn't think Chris would have a problem if the beard stayed all year round.

Dan looked at the jumper that he was about to put on and then wondered why he had taken it from the bedroom. He had woken up due to the bedroom being too hot and had come out to the living room to cool down, so a jumper was the last thing he wanted to put on. Dan decided that even the socks he'd put on were too much, so he quickly slipped them off.

Instead Dan walked across to the fridge and enjoyed the cool breeze on his chest that came after he opened it. He decided to start getting breakfast ready as Chris would be getting up soon and they didn't want to be late for their buddies at the gym. It was chest day today which they both enjoyed, although Dan's favorite part of the day actually came in the evening when they would spend time massaging each others sore furry pecs and then snuggling up together on the couch.

Dan couldn't believe how lucky he had been when he met Chris. It seemed like he had met his soul mate and now they had moved in together everything was perfect.

[slutforpringles]

It's so *nice* of Peter Bayer to admit, now in 2025, that when VCarb introduced their new floor in Abu Dhabi 2023 that they did so in the knowledge it would be a development direction that would not favour Daniel. And despite Bayer trying to link Daniel's struggles with this floor to this "generation of car" - I don't think anyone with half a brain can look at Daniel matching or beating Yuki prior to Abu Dhabi, to then being a long way off, and blame the generation of car and not the floor upgrade itself.

And considering Daniel's feedback was the driving force behind the team moving from P10 to P8 in the constructors that year, there's something incredibly nonsensical and self-defeating about the team then choosing to develop the floor in such a way that would put Daniel at a huge disadvantage considering his driving style and setup preferences. (And while yes I do agree that it is a driver's job to adapt to their car, I also think an engineering/design team not taking their lead drivers' preferences into account is absolutely idiotic. Also Daniel did a huge amount of work to adapt and find solutions and made huge progress with the car over the season.)

It's also hard to argue it was a successful design/engineering decision, given that VCarb ultimately has been totally unable to further develop this car concept throughout the 2024 season. Nor did it make sense from a competitive standpoint, given it meant one of their drivers was starting the season with a car that was ultimately balanced completely opposite to what he prefers to drive.

It's also WILD to me that it's taken the team this long to either realise this was the driving force behind Daniel's issues, or at least to publicly admit to that being the case, because I picked that the floor was causing Daniel issues the very same weekend they introduced it - and also continued to point out Daniel was struggling with it early into the 2024 season. And I don't say that to brag but it just confounds me that somehow with NO engineering background whatsoever I was able to deduce this when apparently an F1 team full of engineers couldn't forsee or mitigate these problems??

All this to say I hate that Yuki was literally setup to succeed from day one this season, while Daniel was left not only starting the season at a disadvantage but also having to fend off increasingly nasty F1 media from Red Bull and Marko regularly throwing him to the wolves - and meanwhile VCarb refused to publicly explain the mitigating circumstances as to why Daniel was struggling.

via: Planet F1 | Why did Daniel Ricciardo struggle? The Racing Bulls theory uncovered

[kawoala]

Can you write smthn with kenma

Literally anything but fluff pls

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐊𝐎𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐄 you’re getting better word count ; (751) content warning ; (video games, soft! kenma, not a lot of cw’s with this one guys, also not a lot of talking, this isn’t as good as i wanted it to be but umm ENJOY!)

The soft glow of the TV screen illuminates the room, casting a gentle light over everything, but your attention is solely on the game in front of you. The controller feels odd in your hands as your thumbs move quickly over the buttons, your eyes flickering between the screen and the person sitting next to you. Kenma is hunched over, his focus unwavering as he plays with that quiet intensity that you’ve come to love. His hair falls slightly from the hair tie, but he doesn’t bother pushing it away. He’s too absorbed in the game to care about something as simple as hair.

You can’t help but admire how effortlessly he plays, his movements smooth and calculated. Each time he presses a button, it’s with purpose, and you feel like you're trying to keep up with his rhythm, struggling to match his precision. It’s not a competition, but you still can’t deny that the small part of you wants to impress him.

"Kenma, wait up!" you call out, your character getting ambushed by enemies, and you're frantically trying to get out of the mess. You look over at him, slightly exasperated, but he doesn’t even look up from the screen, his expression unchanged.

"I’m not waiting. You have to learn how to dodge better," he says, his voice soft, but there's a hint of amusement behind it. You pout, pretending to sulk, but you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Not all of us are professional gamers like you, you know," you tease, moving your character in a circle to avoid another attack.

Kenma just shrugs nonchalantly, though you can see the glimmer of a smirk forming at the corners of his mouth. "It’s all about practice," he says simply, his tone matter-of-fact as he deftly takes out a boss in the game with a single well-placed move.

You watch him for a moment, impressed by how effortlessly he handles everything. His fingers glide over the buttons, never missing a beat. It’s like second nature to him, and for a brief second, you wonder if he’s even human. But then, when your character dies yet again, he pauses the game, finally turning to you with a small sigh.

"Here," he mutters, offering his controller to you. "You need to take a break."

You blink at him in surprise. "But I’m—"

"I know," Kenma interrupts, shaking his head. "You’re getting too frustrated. Just… watch for a bit."

You take the controller reluctantly, but instead of immediately handing it back, you rest it in your lap, watching him as he continues playing. His brow is slightly furrowed, and his mouth is set in that familiar, concentrated line. But every so often, you catch him glancing at you, almost as if he’s making sure you’re okay.

"You're really good at this," you say quietly, almost as an afterthought, but Kenma hears you.

He doesn’t respond immediately, and you think maybe he didn’t hear you properly, but then he glances at you again, his eyes softening.

"You’re not bad either," he says, his voice low but sincere, and it makes your heart skip a beat. He says it so casually, but you know Kenma doesn’t give out compliments unless he truly means them. It’s rare, and when it happens, it feels like a quiet victory.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting like that— him playing, you watching— until he suddenly pauses the game, the characters frozen on the screen.

"Alright, your turn," Kenma says, handing you the controller again. You blink at it, slightly startled. "You’ve been watching long enough. Time to try again."

You grin at him, taking the controller with newfound resolve. "Alright, Kenma. Don’t get mad when I show you how it’s done."

He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a small smile. "You can try."

You start playing again, this time with a little more confidence, moving your character more smoothly, avoiding attacks with better timing. It’s not perfect, but it’s better. And Kenma watches, silent but approving, his quiet presence a comforting weight beside you.

"See?" you say, glancing over at him, a smirk on your face. "I’m getting better."

Kenma gives a soft, almost imperceptible smile, and for a moment, the world outside the game doesn’t matter. All that matters is the shared silence between you two, punctuated only by the rhythmic sounds of button presses and the occasional murmur of approval from Kenma.

"Yeah." he nods, his tone almost fond. "You’re getting there."

[cleolinda]

I have never played a video game and I am training for this like a Couch to 5K

I've started attempting to play Silent Hill 2 and it is... going slowly. I wanted to record gameplay with voice commentary and that is going even slower (slowlier?). I am still learning how to use various software(s) and get a borrowed mic attuned to various volume levels and also the aspect ratio of the game is off no matter how I try to match the screen dimensions but that is simply one more tribulation in a long series that I have endured. My mom's motto is "Work the problem." If nothing else, I have gained new skills. We persevere.

ANYWAY I was in the parking lot (of the game. Not just, like. Here) just trying to learn the controls and I started shouting so I grabbed my phone and turned on Voice Memo and now we have some rough audio (my voice only) of Baby's First Video game. If you would like to hear those (with artisan hand-formatted transcripts. Sometimes I use sPonGeBoB case), they're over at Patreon, free for members. (I'll post the whole set in a public post later this week.) Today I'll upload Baby's First Combat over there, which... honestly involved the least screaming? I lost my absolute shit struggling with the sprint command, but I just calmly started trying to monster-whisper a Lying Figure. The duality of gamer.

[qprpbj]

thinking severely hard about a five ways darrel curtis says i love you to people without saying it and the one time he finally does fic

[sucodelaranja86]

Ahem..may I request teasing poor gf young-mi? I absolutely love her and there’s NOTHING for my poor girl

- you're so cute! : ★

featuring: young-mi kim x reader

summary: your girlfriend is very shy and timid, but what's the deal when their partner just happens to be a little teasing menace?

warnings: angst at the end.

A/N: AAAAAAAAAA A YOUNG-MI REQUEST FINALLY I LOVE HEERR 💕 also, she survives in this 😋 oh, and pretend the number of the room was not 6, but 7.

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ When you two first met each other, Young-mi reminded you of a rabbit or a small hamster that flinched and ran away at the smallest movements or threats.

So when you two started dating, it wasn't a surprise you treated her like she was made out of glass.

For starters, based on the scene she called 246 a "charming prince", i think she would be really down bad for the 'classical gentleman' behavior, but wouldn't in 100 years get the courage to tell you. HOWEVER, she makes it so damn obvious you discovered it in the first week (and used it against her).

Opening doors for her, pulling out chairs, offering to to carry heavy things. If you want to see her turn the color of a tomato, do one of these things while she is distracted.

Now, inside the games the situation doesn't change that much. Let's say you both were dating before you two ended up in the game.

In the first game, when you find out that the 'crazy' guy was right, and the game was actually deadly, the first thing you do is put her behind you. Holding her tightly to avoid that the panicking people pushed her. Of course, when the game ended, you two were both shocked and relieved that you didn't get shot.

However, even in this situation, you didn't lose the opportunity to mess with her. Creating a light atmosphere in the middle of the panic.

"Oh, princess Kim Young-mi! I shall give my life for you!"

"S-stop! This is se-serious!" she stuttered. An adorable sight, if you must admit.

In the second game, she called a tall woman who you both sympathized very much due to no one wanting to form a team with her. You, of course, didn't lose the chance to tease her for her courage.

"Someone is getting bold, finally?"

"It was nothing!" she stammered.

The team consisted of you, Young-mi, a man with his mother, and the lady who you reminded yourself to thank later for encouraging your girlfriend so much.

At lunch time, you were sitting with the same group you were matched for the previous game. Oh, and of course you were not eating normally.

"Open wide, sweetie!" you said as you pointed a spoonful of rice in front of her mouth. You were glued to her, with your thighs touching, your arm wrapped around her shoulder, you head laying on the top of hers. Who would you be without embarrassing her at every second of the game?

"This is embarrassing..." she stuttered again, trying to make herself look smaller and smaller at every passing second. Yonsik was making disgusted noises, Hyun-ju was quietly laughing to herself, and Jang only muttered something among the lines of "ah, couples these days..."

-

As the third game started, you haven't separated from Young-mi. As each round passed, you ran close to her to each room as fast as you both could. However, close to the end as the female voice announced the number '7' you and your group were struggling to find a room, until a familiar voice called,

"Here!"

It's Hyun-ju! Thank God!

As you ran beside her, you could notice you were both going to be the last ones to reach the room. And as the sight of the open door reached your vision, even if it wasn't one of your talents, you quickly did the math that the number of people would not be correct by one.

You didn't have much time to think as a young man quickly pushed you both to the ground, running away before you could even glance at his face.

As the time ran out, you realized that if one of you two didn't enter the room, Young-mi and everyone you had formed a close bound inside this game would quickly perish.

Using the last bit of strength you had left, you yanked the small girl by her hair (something you honestly felt a bit bad for) and threw her to the arms of 120. The boy with the number '333' on his jacket closing the door shortly after.

As the time ran out and the doors closed, you slowly began to walk to the door of the room she was in, peeking on the small space between the locked room and the outside.

"Young-mi. You sure are slow, aren't you?" you called her. Not in a sad or melancholic tone, but one that held love. You only wanted to see her one last time, not give her another reason to be saddened.

"NO! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO-!"

As she reached the door, she tried desperately to open it, her attempts all futile. You didn't dare to look back, only gazing at her softly.

Before you could say something one more time, your body felt numb as your vision began to fade.

Her adorable face being the last thing you see.

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

A/N: lowkey didn't like how this turned out 😞

[riririnnnn]

To know that Sae doesn't think he is having any kind of fight with Rin and he, in fact, watches BLTV too makes me think that this post of mine wasn't that far from the tracks.

Yes, of course, he might not be watching BLTV solely for Rin and the reasons might also be Isagi, Shidou, Kaiser, and maybe even Lorenzo, Charles, Loki, and Noa. However, I just like to believe that he never stopped looking out for his little brother, Rin. And in a very strange way, I think he was looking out for Rin in that Snowy Night too.

First thing first, something was wrong with Sae in that flashback.

As the saying goes, "Eyes are the window to one's soul," he looks so worn out—miserable, in fact. And I highly think that around the time of this flashback, it hadn't been that long since he lost his dream—or maybe got his dreams crushed. And I got two reasons to think this way:

To repeat my words, he looks miserable, which is a given when you lose a dream, compared to his later appearance like in the U-20 match. And judging by the timeline, the flashback and U-20 match have 1 year-ish gap which is an ample amount of time to cope up and get a hold of yourself.

Rin kept close tabs on Sae through news and all. The younger Itoshi would definitely be the one, if not the first, to know that Sae was now aiming to be the best midfielder instead of the best striker. But..

...Rin didn't know shit.

Now, you might be wondering why in the world I'm focusing so much on the timeline, right? Like, Sae got his dreams crushed, then he return to Japan and confronted Rin—what's the big deal about it even if these events happened in a short amount of time?

...

And that's where you'd be wrong if you think this way.

We all keep forgetting that to be the world's greatest striker was Sae's dream first before he decided to share it with Rin. Sae has been playing this sport since he was one year old. Soccer, probably, came into his life before Rin did. Rin gave his teen years to this game, but Sae has nearly given his whole life to this dream.

Now imagine yourself in Sae's position. Imagine devoting your whole childhood and teen years to something only to not be able to achieve it in the end. Won't you be devastated? Won't you be a mess? Won't you need some time to collect yourself together? Now do you understand why the timeline matters so much? And why the timeline is such a big deal? Hm?

Secondly, Sae has never been a visibly sweet person, even to Rin.

Yes, Sae took care of Rin, but did we ever see him go, "Aww! My lil baby bro Rinnie! Cutie patootie! My baby bro <333333" Did we? He had always been rather.. emotion-less and blunt. After the above panel, too, his words were, "You can be the most amazing, after me."

He just has been like that.

Always.

That's why I have always believed that he never changed as a person, even after Spain. He has been like this from the start, which is also why I think that his harsh words in that Snowy Night was just another way of him looking out for Rin because guess who has known soccer longer? Who has gone out of Japan and seen the outside world's soccer with his own eyes?

Yeah.

In a way, Sae's dream had more weight than Rin's. The older Itoshi had soccer in front of his vision, meanwhile the younger one had his Nii-chan in front of his eyes. Despite being so focused in this sport, Sae just couldn't be it, so what makes you think Rin could've made it when his sole focus was his Nii-chan instead? Wouldn't have Rin struggled so much in the outside world with this kind of mentality?

And this is something, I think, Sae knew too—on that Snowy Night, he actually realised what Rin's real mindset was like and immediately knew that it just wasn't going to fly in the world stage. Sae was just saving Rin from the hardships he himself must've went through during his time in Spain—Sae was just looking out for Rin.

"What about those mean things he said to Rin?" you may ask, and that's exactly where the timeline comes into play—Sae was just a mess, and Rin's words were the breaking point for him.

"What words?" you may ask now, and these are the words:

Repeating myself, eyes are the window to one's soul:

Sae never broke his promise—Sae never stopped looking out for Rin.

[kiame-sama]

Oi! Can you stop posting things that get stuck in my brain so often? Joking, but I mean a lot of things you bring up a lot of fun ideas in your AU that just stick in my brain. Hope I’m not bugging you too much with messages. However, you have introduced my lil emo catholic boy Rollo so I must ask: how would Rollo and Malleus (and anyone else tied to fire) deal with a fire bug?

Like not necessarily someone who starts fires, but someone who LOVES fire. Like I could stare at fires for hours. They are just so pretty and the flickering and swaying look just look amazing. Imagine all the different colors of fires! Especially when I poke it or have something like a match.

Ima go before I start ranting about fire again. Hope you’re keeping warm and have a great day! Can’t wait to see that fish prince get hit shins kicked!

Warnings: Grim and Ortho are platonic only, yanderes, yandere behavior, yandere temper, different levels of yandere, use of magic to amuse the Human, Rollo wrestling with self-loathing, Malleus is malleus,

- Grim is thrilled his Hooman loves his little ear flames and will intentionally make them flare brighter when he wants more attention. Mostly he just uses his ear flames to make them smile.

- Ortho will laugh and be excited to tell the Human about the hair flame many Shinigami have, giving details while he consciously makes his hair slowly change color flame. It takes some effort, but he cycles through the visible light spectrum before he needs to take a break, his hair snap returning to the usual blue. He's happy to tell them all about it, so long as the Human will listen.

- Idia is going magenta and doesn't even know it, warm hearts forming in his long flame hair as he internally fanboys over the Human looking at him with such an interested gaze. The way they stare at the flickering light and flames as he just burns brighter. He loves it and will burn that sight into his memory.

- Papa Hades quickly picks up on the Human's interest in fire and flames, happily using his magic to create flames for them. Different shapes, colors, creatures, he is making a show of fire to marvel at and enjoy. It has been too long since he has last had an audience so enraptured and it soothes his heart.

- Rollo is struggling with himself over this. He dislikes his flame and the fire that fules his very core. Get a bit too out of hand and *poof* gone. That's how he sees it, at least. It is tragically sweet to him for the Human to adore the things he hates most about himself. Leave it to a divine Human to see the good in the wretched and sinful. He will slowly begin allowing his fire to flourish, if only for the Human's sake. He does adore them quite a bit and will willingly do what the Human wishes of him.

- Malleus loves that the Human enjoys his flames. He will show off his mastery over summoned flames and explain how they differ from Dragon-fire which he can only ever create when angry. Any time the Human wants to see his magic displayed, he will create a bright green flame for them. Eventually he will gift them a crystal containing one of his green flames, around it will spin a group of green fireflies. So they can take his flame anywhere they go and always marvel at his fire.

[stellarsecrets86]

Moon in Signs of Groom Persona Chart

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(PS: For entertainment purposes only. Have fun❤️)

[In astrology, the Moon is said to represent emotions, intuition, inner needs, and the way one nurtures and is nurtured. In the groom pc, it is closely related to the subconscious, reflecting how he emotionally responds to his surroundings and relationships, especially with his spouse. The Moon also reflects habits, instincts, and the way the groom establishes emotional security within marriage. Understanding the placement of the Moon in the chart of the groom pc provides insight into his emotional depth, needs in relationships, and ways he processes feelings.]

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Moon in Aries

Moon in Aries makes the spouse emotionally dynamic, passionate, and straightforward. He processes feelings fast and often acts on them without a second thought. In marriage, he is enthusiastic, wanting a partner who can match his energy and spontaneity. Yet, he may struggle with impatience and emotional impulsiveness, needing a spouse who provides balance and encourages reflection. His instinct is to take charge emotionally, and he thrives in a relationship where his independence is respected.

Moon in Taurus

He is practical emotionally and loyal; a man of relationship stability. Feeling secure is evoked in him by tactile expressions of love, shared comfort, and sensations. A person with his Moon in Taurus becomes a marriage-partner-nurturing, steadfast husband, eager to establish in marriage a life overflowing with peacefulness and beauty. His great attachment to the customary may resist innovation, however, so his partner needs to stimulate it. He is very affectionate and committed to long-term relationships, so he can be a very good partner for those who need emotional constancy.

Moon in Gemini

Spouse is intellectually curious, communicative, and emotionally versatile. He thinks out loud about his feelings and wants a partner who enjoys deep, engaging conversations. He brings excitement and adaptability into marriage but may struggle with emotional consistency or depth. His wife will appreciate his vivacious mind and help him delve into the depths of his psyche at the same time. This position does make him a light-hearted, jocular husband who values intellectual rapport no less than emotional intimacy.

Moon in Cancer

Spouse is loving, sensitive, intuitively emotional, and his very special attention remains riveted upon building a nest-a warm home, where love continues to overflow; he needs to be wanted and felt indispensable in married life. Yet this sensitivity could as well invite mood swings or emotional vulnerability, for which an assured and sympathetic partner becomes vital. This position is indicative of a husband deeply attached to family and home, wherein the spouse's emotional equilibrium becomes his foremost concern.

Moon in Leo

The groom pc with Moon in Leo craves attention, admiration, and emotional assurances. He is generous, warm-hearted, and loves to show his emotions with big displays. He marries for a life partner who will make him feel special and appreciated, with the same kind of enthusiasm he has for life. At times, though, he may have pride or an over-need for recognition. His spouse needs to balance the attention he requires with encouragement toward humility and emotional balance. He is passionate and a loyal husband who adds drama and excitement in the relationship.

Moon in Virgo

Moon in Virgo in groom pc is emotionally analytical, practical, and profoundly caring. The way he loves is by serving and paying attention to the minute details in life, working toward creating a sense of order and security in marriage. He might get into overanalyzing or self-criticism, extending that to others around him. His wife will have to reassure him frequently and keep telling him that this is not an exercise in perfection, but a wedding. He bases the relationships on mutual assistance, pragmatism, and common goals - an absolute guarantee of the seriousness of this young man as a life partner.

Moon in Libra

Groom is harmonious, balanced, and fair in his relations:. He flourishes in a relationship where there is an exchange of feelings. He often idealizes love and romance. He is diplomatic and yielding in marriage to maintain peace and connection. The negative side of this is indecisiveness or suppression of feelings. A spouse will have to be encouraging toward sharing feelings and support his need for balance emotionally. He values beauty, partnership, and shared dreams, making him a charming and committed husband.

Moon in Scorpio

Moon in Scorpio in groom pc husband is intense emotionally, passionate, and transformative. He feels deeply and looks for a marriage that's as deep and intimate. He desires emotional depth and loyalty in relationships and forms bonds with his spouse that are very hard to break. But this same intensity at times finds him possessive or struggling with too much closeness of emotions. The partner will be called upon to handle his deeper emotions while he is learning to trust and stabilize them. This placement presents the husband bringing emotional power and transformative growth to the marriage.

Moon in Sagittarius

Husband could be adventurous, optimistic, and emotionally expansive. He values the freedom and explorer aspects of marriage, preferring a partner similarly enthusiastic about taking life's trips. He brings joy and humor into his relationships, is often philosophical, and is likely to tell his spouse to dream big. Where he may sometimes fall short is in emotional inconsistency or an avoidance of deeply felt emotions. His spouse will take his adventurous nature and help channel it into deeper emotional grounding. This placement describes a husband who brings growth and excitement into a relationship.

Moon in Capricorn

Moon in Capricorn is in groom pc emotionally reserved, disciplined, and seeks stability in marriage. He deals with feelings in a practical, organized manner and will often put responsibilities before emotional expression. He is responsible in relationships and works hard to establish a safe and prosperous life with his partner. However, he may find it difficult to be vulnerable or allow excessive attention from his partner for worldly success. The partner would need to motivate him to open up emotionally and remind him that shared feelings matter. Being a very dedicated and hardworking husband, he is deeply involved in long-term marriage stability.

Moon in Aquarius

Moon in Aquarius here is emotionally free, creative, and in search of mental contact in love relationships. He thinks through emotions with reason and objectivity and can often bring a very different perspective when emotional issues need resolution. Marriage must be a partnership based on mutual respect, individuality, and shared ideals. Emotional detachment or inability to show deeper emotions may be a challenge. A spouse would have to value his progressive outlook while encouraging emotional expression. This placement describes a husband who values freedom, equality, and innovation in the relationship.

Moon in Pisces

A Pisces groom is emotional, empathetic, and intuitive groom. He strongly feels the emotions of his spouse as his own and mostly reciprocates unconditional love and support. It is spiritual and emotional understanding that he seeks from marriage, lays emphasis on compassionate committal of shared dreams. Highly sensitive, he runs into escapism and is unable to tackle practical issues. His partner will have to provide grounding energy while appreciating his romantic and imaginative nature. He is a very loving and sacrificing husband, adding magic and spirituality to a marriage.

{Each Moon sign carries unique emotional needs and strengths the groom brings into marriage and shapes how he nurtures his spouse to create emotional security in the relationship.}

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | DIVINE WHISPERS: Celestial Discord DIVINE WHISPERS: Celestial Discord | divine whispers: celestial discord⌟

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Olympus was in an uproar.

Clouds churned angrily overhead, their silvery edges tinged with the golden glow of the sun as it struggled to pierce through. The usually serene, cloud-strewn halls that echoed with godly laughter and the soft whispers of nymphs now thrummed with irritation and frustration. The air crackled with tension, thick enough to still even the most curious of immortals.

At the center of it all stood two deities.

Apollo, radiant god of the sun, music, and prophecy, was the picture of uncharacteristic fury. His golden eyes blazed, and his hair, usually impeccable, was disheveled, as though raked through in frustration. The laurel crown adorning his head had slipped slightly, its delicate leaves tilted askew. Even his embroidered chiton, a testament to his domains, hung unevenly, brushing awkwardly against his sandals. His aura flickered erratically, like a flame caught in a storm.

Across from him lounged Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, her demeanor calm amidst the brewing tempest. She reclined lazily on her golden chaise, she plucking idly at a cluster of freshly picked grapes, her flowing robes of rose and ivory cascading like morning mist.

Yet her serenity was deceptive, for her expression carried an edge—her pale blue eyes regarded him with thinly veiled disdain, as though his anger seem like little more than a passing breeze.

"You had no right!" Apollo's voice thundered, raw with emotion. His fists clenched as his aura pulsed unevenly. "Everything she has suffered—it's your doing!"

Aphrodite leaned back further, her bare foot dangling lazily over the edge as she popped a grape into her mouth. "Oh, please, Apollo," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. With a wave of her fingers, as though swatting away a pesky fly, she added, "Must we go through this charade again?"

"It's not a charade. You've meddled—"

"Meddled?" Aphrodite interrupted sharply, sitting up slightly as her tone hardened. "If by 'meddled,' you mean holding your precious little muse accountable for the sins of her lineage, then yes, Apollo. I have meddled." She flicked her golden hair over her shoulder with an elegant motion, its strands catching the light like molten silk. "But you make it sound so villainous."

"It is villainous!" Apollo snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at her. His golden eyes flared, the usual warm glow hardening into something sharp and unrelenting. "The so-called 'sins of her lineage' were committed eons ago! Aren't you just being unreasonable?"

The lazy amusement in Aphrodite's gaze evaporated in an instant at the mention of your ancestor, her serene facade shattering. A wave of anger surged through her as the delicate grape she'd been holding burst between her fingers, crimson juice dripping onto her robes like spilled blood.

With a sharp motion, she tossed the entire cluster aside, the fruit scattering across the floor with dull thuds. She rose to her full height, her movements fluid yet brimming with purpose, like a storm gathering strength.

"Unreasonable?" she hissed, her voice rising to match Apollo's. The sound echoed through the marble halls, silencing the murmurs of lesser gods and nymphs who dared to linger nearby. "Unreasonable? Do you have any idea what her ancestors did?"

Apollo held her glare, his jaw tightening. He had seen her temper before—her fury infamous amongst the gods—but this was personal. Her nostrils flared, and her flushed cheeks only highlighted the fury twisting her otherwise flawless features.

"They dared," she spat, her words venomous, "to mock me—the goddess of love, beauty, and passion. They believed their so-called 'true love' was enough to defy the very domains I govern! They didn't even acknowledge me, Apollo. Not a single offering, not a single hymn of gratitude. Nothing."

"They thought their love was pure, untainted, eternal, above me," she continued, her lip curling with disdain. "As if love exists without beauty. Without desire. Without me. They wouldn't have known love at all if not for the gifts I bestow, yet they refused to pay homage."

Apollo frowned. "And so you cursed them? All of their descendants? For one slight?"

"Yes!" Aphrodite's voice flared, sharp and unwavering. "And I'll do it a thousand times more because they needed to understand! Love is mine, Apollo. Every stolen glance, every whispered confession, every aching heartbreak—it is all within my domain. Without me, there is nothing but loneliness and longing. How dare they assume they could take that for themselves without paying the price?"

She inhaled sharply, her anger rolling off her in waves. "So, I did what was fair. I cursed them and their bloodline. For every family that dared to find happiness, heartbreak would follow. Whether through betrayal, unrequited love, death, or tragedy—it was a lesson they couldn't ignore. No one defies the goddess of love without consequence."

Apollo's expression twisted, flickering across his face. "And you call that justice? Punishing innocents for generations because one mortal failed to worship you?"

Aphrodite scoffed, a sound as sharp as a thorn. "Shove off, Apollo. Spare me your self-righteousness. We both know the only reason you care is because your 'little muse' is involved."

Her words struck their target, and Apollo's golden eyes narrowed dangerously. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. It was true. It was because of you.

Aphrodite didn't wait for a response. Folding her arms across her chest, she began tapping her gleaming nails rhythmically against her skin. "Generational grudges are simply... part of divine life, Apollo. Surely you, of all gods, understand that."

Apollo sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as though the action could stem his rising frustration. Her indifference, her casual dismissal of his words, grated against his pride. His golden aura dimmed momentarily before flaring again. "For the goddess of love, you certainly hold onto grudges longer than anyone else here," he muttered.

Aphrodite's head snapped toward him, pale blue eyes narrowing dangerously. "What was that?"

Apollo shrugged, his tone laced with mock innocence. "Nothing. Just an observation," he said, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his intent.

Her gaze darkened, and a dangerous smirk curled at her lips. Slowly, deliberately, she plucked another grape from the cluster beside her and popped it into her mouth, chewing with maddening grace. Every movement was calculated, a silent reminder that no matter how incensed he became, she would remain unbothered.

"Besides," she said sweetly, though venom lingered just beneath the surface, "my little grudge isn't nearly as cruel as yours."

Apollo's expression shifted instantly, his frustration twisting into something sharper. "What are you talking about?"

Aphrodite's smirk widened as she leaned back, thoughtfully. "Oh, don't act surprised," she said, her tone deceptively casual, savoring the tension that filled the room. "Don't you think your interference hasn't made her suffer in its own way?"

His aura flickered dangerously, and his posture stiffened. "What are you implying?" The tension in his tone carried a challenge, daring her to continue.

Aphrodite's gaze gleamed with predatory intent. "One of your little gifts," she said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness, "isn't really a gift if it takes away autonomy... is it?"

Apollo felt his chest tighten, his pride bristling at the insinuation. "How... do you know about that?" His composure frayed as he squared his shoulders, divine fury radiating from him.

"Oh, Apollo," the goddess sang whimsically, her head tilting as she studied him with an air of triumph. "Secrets never stay secrets for long on Olympus."

She rose gracefully, her golden robes cascading around her like liquid light as she stepped toward him. Her presence was overwhelming, her beauty sharp and unyielding, like a blade sheathed in silk. Stopping just short of him, she fixed him with a penetrating gaze, amusement and malice dancing in her eyes.

"Tell me," she murmured, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "How does it feel knowing that every time your little muse plays music—especially your precious, favorite little instrument—her most troubling memories, her deepest fears, are buried without her knowledge?"

The hall grew suffocatingly still, the air heavy with the static hum of Apollo's barely contained fury. His golden eyes flared, the warmth that usually radiated from him replaced by a blinding light that pulsed with his anger.

"You don't understand anything, Aphrodite," he said sharply, his words cutting through the silence like thunder. The marble halls seemed to vibrate faintly with the force of his voice, the static in the air growing louder. "My favor has brought her strength. Hope."

The golden glow around him intensified, sharper and more piercing, as if the sun itself had descended into the hall. His hands clenched at his sides, his knuckles faintly aglow with divine energy.

"She's a small, innocent soul," he continued, his voice laced with defiance. "She's not equipped to handle the kind of torment you so casually throw her way. My gift—my favor—is a shield, a safety net for when the weight of it all becomes too much."

The buzzing static thickened, almost oppressive, as his anger intertwined with his pride. But the words weren't entirely for Aphrodite—they were for himself, a defense against the unsettling truth she had unearthed. The possibility that she was right tightened his chest.

Was his gift truly a blessing? Or had it stripped away more than it gave? He shoved the thought aside with practiced resolve. No. It was a blessing. A gift. It had to be.

"She doesn't need to remember every hurt, every fear, every doubt," he said, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. "She's mortal, Aphrodite. Do you even comprehend what that means? To feel everything so acutely, to bear so much with such a fragile heart?"

"Oh, I understand perfectly," Aphrodite replied, her voice saccharine with mock sweetness. "What I don't understand is why you care so much. It's almost endearing, Apollo, how you've convinced yourself this is all for her."

Her words stung, though Apollo refused to let it show. His aura pulsed brighter, as if to shield himself from the truth she was so eager to expose. "It is for her," he insisted, his tone hardening.

Aphrodite stepped closer, her golden robes trailing behind her like liquid light, her presence overwhelming and unyielding. "Oh, darling, we both know that isn't entirely true," she cooed, her voice laced with condescension. "Your little muse... she's not just a mortal you've chosen to protect, is she? She's yours, Apollo. Your light, your inspiration, your creation."

Leaning in slightly, her voice dropped to a near whisper. "And that's the real reason you gave her that 'safety net,' isn't it? Not for her sake, but for yours. Because you can't bear the thought of her breaking under the weight of it all. Because if she does, what happens to your precious muse? What happens to you?"

Apollo's glow faltered briefly, the doubt creeping in like an unwelcome shadow. But his pride surged, burning away the flicker of uncertainty. His light blazed brighter, his voice cutting through her insinuations. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Aphrodite stepped back gracefully, her movements fluid and deliberate. With a swanlike elegance, she lowered herself onto her chaise, raising a perfectly arched brow as her lips curved into a sly smile. "Don't I?"

Reclining slightly, she tapped her chin thoughtfully, her eyes glinting with mischief. "A little birdy told me something fascinating," she continued coyly. "Your muse doesn't even remember your favor, Apollo. Isn't that a shame? Tsk, tsk." Her feigned sympathy dripped with condescension, and she chuckled softly as though savoring the moment.

Apollo opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. He closed his mouth abruptly, his jaw tightening as he looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

Because she was right.

His gift—the essence of his favor—didn't work if the pain it erased wasn't truly yours, but his. It wasn't just the mortal worries, the small fears, or the mundane struggles it buried. It was the moments that touched on him if tied to them—his interference, his presence, his domain.

And that realization stung.

Aphrodite's laughter bubbled up again, light and mocking, as she tilted her head, studying him with a predatory gleam. "Every time your muse loses herself in the music you so generously gifted her, her pain disappears. And with it, the very knowledge of it—of you," she said with a quiet giggle. "How convenient."

Apollo's aura pulsed violently as he stepped closer, his golden eyes narrowing into molten fire. "Watch your tongue, Aphrodite," he warned, his voice low and threatening.

But Aphrodite only tilted her head further, her confidence unwavering. "Oh, sweet, dear, loving Apollo," she cooed mockingly, her tone syrupy with condescension. "Are you upset because I've pointed out the cracks in your perfect little gift? Or is it because you know, deep down, that what I'm saying is true?"

The hall crackled with tension, the air between them heavy with divine energy. It felt as though Olympus itself held its breath, waiting for one of them to break. Apollo's fists clenched once more, his knuckles white, as his light flared brighter with every passing second.

And yet, Aphrodite remained unbothered. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she leaned back further into her chaise, plucking at an imaginary speck of dust on her robes as though the confrontation was a mere trifle.

"Face it, Apollo," she said coolly. "We're not so different, you and I. You meddle just as much as I do—you're simply better at pretending your interference is a blessing. And whether that genius or idiotic... I suppose I'll leave that up for you to decide."

With a languid snap of her fingers, a nymph appeared, bowing low as she knelt before the goddess with a polished silver bowl of peeled grapes. Aphrodite reached down, plucking one delicately between her gleaming nails, biting into it with exaggerated leisure. She turned her attention back to Apollo, her gaze sharp with intent.

"If you care so much about your little muse, perhaps you should consider whether all your 'gifts' are truly gifts at all."

Apollo said nothing, his chest rising and falling with the effort it took to reign in his anger. His frustration was visible in the dimming of his light, as though his emotions had been swallowed by the weight of his ego, his pride refusing to allow any outward acknowledgment of her words.

And yet they echoed in his mind, slipping into cracks he didn't want to acknowledge but couldn't ignore.

Releasing a sharp sigh, Apollo finally looked up, his golden eyes snapping to hers. "Look, Aphrodite," he began, his tone tight but controlled. "It's not my fault you were insulted by something so small. But punishing an entire line of descendants for centuries? Cursing them for something they had no part in? Do you even realize what it's like to watch someone so... innocent suffer for a grudge that isn't theirs to bear?"

Aphrodite's expression shifted, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. Her lips tightened, her fingers flexing against the arm of her chaise. Crossing her arms, she let her gaze drift, as though suddenly uninterested in his words. "I'm not the only god who's acted on a whim, Apollo," she said quietly, her voice carrying a defensive edge. "And what would you have me do now? Lift the curse just because you feel pity for a mortal?"

Apollo's gaze remained steady, his golden aura flickering faintly. "Maybe it's time you did," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "Hasn't she paid enough for whatever perceived slight you imagined all those years ago?"

Aphrodite's lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers twitching at her sides as though she were tempted to retort. But no words came. Instead, her shoulders sagged slightly, and her gaze softened, drifting to the distant horizon where the golden sun kissed the edge of Olympus.

"It wasn't imagined," she murmured, more to herself than to Apollo. "They did insult me. But..."

She sighed, a sound heavy with years of resentment. When she looked back at Apollo, the fire in her pale blue eyes were now tempered by something else. "Perhaps, you're right. It's time I let it go," she admitted reluctantly, her voice quieter now. "Perhaps..."

Apollo's posture shifted, his golden aura brightening slightly with cautious hope. He stepped closer, his earlier anger giving way to something steadier, gentler. "Please, Aphrodite. I care for her. Let her be free of this. Let her have a chance."

Aphrodite studied him in silence, her gaze tracing his features—the earnestness in his golden eyes, the way his lips pressed tightly together, as though holding back something deeper. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken meaning.

Finally, she sighed, long and theatrical. "Fine, fine," she said, her voice dripping with exaggerated annoyance. But even as she spoke, a faint trace of something genuine softened her tone, fleeting but present.

Relief flickered in Apollo's eyes, and his golden aura steadied, its warmth filling the room once more. His shoulders began to relax, but the moment was short-lived.

Aphrodite's expression shifted suddenly, the faint gentleness evaporating, replaced by something sharper, colder. Her lips curled back into a wicked smile, and her gaze gleamed with calculated malice.

"Under one condition."

Apollo's relief vanished instantly, his posture stiffening. "What condition?"

Aphrodite's smile widened, her head tilting slightly as she raised a hand, her fingers toying with the edge of her robes, her movements languid and deliberate. Then, with a casual shrug that bordered on flippant, "Get rid of your little memory gift."

Apollo froze. His golden eyes widened briefly before narrowing into slits. "What?" He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.

Aphrodite's shoulders lifted in another delicate shrug, her tone light, almost mocking. "It's simple, brother. You get rid of your little safety net for your muse—no more memory erasing, no more burying her pain—and I'll lift my curse."

The weight of her words filled the space between them, heavy and suffocating. Apollo's golden light pulsing erratically as he processed her demand. "You can't be serious," he said finally, his voice laced with venom. "That's not a fair trade."

Aphrodite giggled, the sound light and musical, but with a sharp edge that set his jaw tighter. "Oh, I think it's perfectly fair. You want her free of my curse? Fine. But let's see how she fares without your little crutch to hold her up."

Apollo's light flared violently, jagged shadows cast across the marble walls as his anger surged. "You're asking me to strip her of the one thing that helps her cope with everything you've put her through. That's cruel, even for you."

Aphrodite tilted her head, her smirk unwavering. "Oh, Apollo, you and I both know your little gift isn't as selfless as you pretend. You didn't create it for her—you created it for yourself. To keep her tethered to you, to your domain, so she'll never forget the comfort only you can provide."

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees, her gaze predatory and piercing. "Dress it up however you like, but at the end of the day, your gift takes her autonomy. It buries her pain—her pain, Apollo, not yours—and you've convinced yourself it's for her benefit."

Leaning back, she plucked another grape delicately from the bowl at her side, her nails glinting like polished pearls. "So, what will it be?" she asked, her voice honeyed but mocking. "Your precious little muse, free of my curse? Or will you cling to your perfect little gift and let her bear the weight of both our meddling?"

Apollo's lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening as he stared at her. He let out a slow, measured breath, his gaze falling momentarily to the floor. In his mind, the scales tipped back and forth, weighing the cost of her offer.

When he looked back up, Aphrodite's eyes gleamed with a knowing light, her confidence palpable. He realized this was a one-time offer. She wouldn't make it again.

Releasing another sharp sigh, Apollo straightened his shoulders, his golden eyes meeting hers with quiet intensity. "Deal."

Aphrodite's smirk melted into a sweet, saccharine smile, her demeanor softening as she pushed herself upright. "Good choice, brother." Her hand rose gracefully, a soft glow emanating from her form. Her robes shimmered faintly, her divine light filling the space between them. With a deliberate motion, she lowered her hand, the glow dissipating like a receding wave.

"There. All done," she said simply.

Apollo blinked, his golden aura steadying as warmth spread across his face. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his expression softened into a tired but genuine smile. A glimmer of hope danced in his eyes as he inclined his head toward her. "Thank you. Thank you... sister."

Aphrodite rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a half-smile laced with exasperation. "No need to thank me, Apollo. Just make sure your little muse knows how much I've sacrificed here... if she knows what's good for her."

"She will," he said firmly. "Trust me."

Aphrodite sniffed, reaching for her discarded grapes. She plucked one and tossed it into her mouth, her demeanor already shifting back to its usual nonchalance. "Now, leave me be," she said with a languid wave of her hand. "Go... dote on your mortal or whatever it is you do. And remember, Apollo, no more of your sappy requests."

Apollo chuckled softly, shaking his head as he turned toward the archway. "I wouldn't dream of it." His golden form glistened in the light as he strode away, his footsteps steady.

Behind him, Aphrodite watched him go, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips as she popped another grape into her mouth. "I swear," she muttered, her voice almost lost in the gentle breeze sweeping through the hall, "gods and their muses."

A/N: surprise! more insight into apollo/other things;  ive been getting questioned asking/wondering why you and telemachus just cant seem to get it right, we'll here it is and now since all the players are introduced and the curse is lifted, may the best love win, lololol... i also maybe just wanted to write a lil aphrodite (y'all cant tell im in love with her can y'all?) also i dont think ive ever stated (might do it in a later chapter) but yes, all of the gods so far---aside Aphrodite and Athena---have the gold eyes (my thought process is that they wouldnt since they were born weird, athena=zeus head/aphrodite=chronus shlong, so i  gave them/let them keep the grey eyes/blue eyes lolol)

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight

[takes1]

i am really in love with the way you write asahi!!!! really looking forward to part 2 of tipsy playfighting with him 😊😊😊

[final part] asahi getting rough with petite!reader

hellooooo thank you so much!!! was thiiiis 🤏close to doing a daddy kink thing, chose not to because that's kind of polarizing. like... pineapples on pizza

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / rough sex / f!rec oral / asahi is the perfect dominant / submissive!reader / aftercare king / fingering / mutual size kink / playfighting kink / rough play kink / power struggle fetish / pseudo-bdsm themes / pet names / mentions of subspace / mid-sex communication / being way too loud / daichi being a great friend / 3.5k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here.

'Kind of' made you stall at the top of the stairs.

The second floor, you realized, was all bedrooms. Your legs got heavy, your heart beating like a panicked bird in a cage.

It was ironic. Your ability to handle him downstairs came naturally, but as soon as you had some privacy, it all got intimidating.

Asahi paused after turning the corner. He eased back against the wall with a breath. He glanced to the staircase one more time to make sure nobody had followed you.

"There's nothin' to help with," He laughed, rubbing the side of his stubbly face, "I just- yeah, that was a super lame excuse, actually."

You stood with your hands clasped in front of you, a polite smile, trying to flex all the shivers down. Your crush on him reached its peaks and valleys throughout your years in school together. It reached a happy medium until tonight, starkly reminding you of your old, pushed-down feelings.

He was wicked cute, and that whole performance downstairs was cut too short.

A big breath led to a bigger sigh, "I really wanted to kiss you."

"Me too," You said, with almost no time to let his words settle.

Asahi covered his automatic laugh, and you shared a wholesome moment of mutual, nervous relief.

"Well, uh-," He seethed, eyes up to the ceiling, face much warmer, "If we're being totally honest-,"

The cheers downstairs cut him off. It sounded like Kageyama might have won his match, but neither of you cared.

Asahi suggested, instead, "Should we- go somewhere more private?"

Although you nodded, you weren't sure where he had in mind until he showed you into Daichi's bedroom. You raised your brow, taking in his posters, his books, the layout, feeling a bit guilty that he wasn't in here.

"Oh, I made sure it was cool with him if we- um, talked, in here," He explained.

The supportive body language from those two made infinitely more sense, but you doubted it that ended at 'talking.' You kept your excitement under the surface, for now.

"Right."

He sat on the mattress, a little invested in the feel of the sheets, by the way his hand slid and prodded over the thread count. The ache between your legs was starting to make your whole body cold.

Daichi had those glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, and you didn't want to leave it up to Asahi to fill the silence, so you tried, "How long do y'think he's had those?"

There were at least 20, you counted. When you looked back down, he was relaxed forward, elbows rested on his knees, with his face in his hands, staring straight at you. Screw the ceiling.

He cleared his throat, his eyes flickered dismissively up, "Oh, um- forever, I'm sure."

Asahi was a terrible liar. You were glad he was honest with you in the hall, because he had zero capacity for beating around the bush. His intentions were spoken for, but now they were transparent in his clouded, almost tormented eyes. He made it seem difficult to look at you without touching you.

"You said you wanted to kiss me, right?" The decision to make it easy for him was met with a huge shift in his expression, an ease you saw, earlier, that spread as he ran his hands along your sides.

A gentle brush of his thumb across your cheek, "I did."

Kissing him was simple- it didn't feel rushed, or confusing, at all. He made it all a pleasant and invigorating experience to follow his lead.

His fingers spread through your hair, at the base of your neck. A strong but soft pull brought you into the warm embrace of his body.

He smelled good- mostly like the aged liquor he was nursing most of the night, but a bit woody, with hint of cashmere. Even his scent made you feel taken care of.

"So," You caught your breath for a second, taking in his face as you tucked some hair behind his ear, "Are you sure Daichi's fine with us- talking, all over his bed?"

The way his eyes lit up during his chuckle made you grin, validated and light.

His lips smushed against yours again. He was lifting you up by the waist, setting you on your back with proud effortlessness. You kept your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, getting your fill of his hair while you could.

Before he could completely forget to respond, he hummed a preoccupied, "Yeahh, don't worry about'm."

A hand pinned yours against the mattress.

All he needed was a little reassurance, and he was no longer the sheepish wimp you knew him to be. For a while, when those hot summer seasons coincided with the throws of your crush, it was fun to imagine what he might be like. Now, there was proof, and he didn't disappoint.

The growing pressure he placed on you kept you flat, and slowly limited your ability to move. It was getting familiar.

You tried to move your hand from under his, unlace it, just to touch him, but it proved impossible.

A small chuckle, a little mutter against his temple as he struck crude kisses down the side of your neck: "Can I have my hand back?"

The skin over his knuckles was tough, and his palms were leathery, firm, from all the lifting he did. His strength alone spoke for his dedication, but you felt pleased to know these intimate details about his body.

Your request was met with your other hand being taken hostage. It wasn't fast, but he did it so naturally that you didn't think to move away.

The look he gave you perfectly represented the edge under his words.

"You want your hands back?"

It was a tease-- a way of telling you 'I know you can't move, but I want to see you try.'

You grew warm under the weight of his subtle, playful pushing-- both between your legs and over your palms.

Robbed of your autonomy, but still finding yourself exhilarated by the reality of his size, and his capacity to use it well, the only thing left to do was play along with him. If he had a real thing for this, you wanted to know just how far it went, how worked up it could get you both.

A tiny attempt to pull your arms closer was met with his easy, slow adjustment to cross them instead, above your head. He kissed you through it, all warm and gentle and kind and safe-- but curiously engrossed in your inability to physically overcome him.

It sent a warm chill down your back- flexed, lingering in another ache between your thighs.

His lips were so soft, and sweet, and light, contrasted well against the slight burn of his stubble.

"Mm-," Asahi sighed, a soft peck to your cheek so he could collect himself, "You're givin' up already?"

The warm spill of his words across your face, plus the thrill of his little challenge, had you squirming, all knotted up and itching for him to give you more than just kisses.

"You--," You tensed at his slow, messy sucking along your jaw, "You-mm! Know I can't move..."

Maybe he was taking pity on you- maybe it was your whiny admission fueling a more licentious desire, inspiring him to let you go so he could start stripping you. You delighted in the chance it gave you to watch his reactions.

Soon, you were fully nude- and he was still fully clothed, with no foreseeable urgency to even the imbalance out.

Instead, he let a hand overlap your waist, eyes still busy scouring over you, "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Dunno," You mumbled, playing with his fingers as you shot a look to his fly, "Maybe you should check."

Your coquettish quip earned a hasty, rough, but amused kiss. You writhed against his weight again, this time with a justifiable anticipation at the sound of him pulling his cock out.

It was hot as it fell against your skin. A welcome feeling of closeness you couldn't get from much else, just being skin to skin with somebody else. It made you feel a bit like melted butter.

He pushed himself up to take his shirt off, all the while examining his length, pushing it down so that he could measure it in relation to your small torso.

"We'll have to, um..." You trailed, a shaky exhale at his burly, tanned physique, "Be.."

The word 'careful' fell apart on your tongue. Now he was measuring his fingers, next to his cock. One hand remained idle wrapped around the bulk of your thigh.

It was indeed fascinating how some body types probably shouldn't try to come together, like you were. Seemed like an evolutionary flaw.

Especially because the look in his eyes was nothing short of carnivorous. It was occasionally batted back by bouts of concern for the logistics of it all.

"I've got a few ideas," He smiled, real handsome, real sweet, down at you.

Curious, you watched all your favorite muscles of his work and relax again as he backed up off of the mattress, standing at the edge of the bed.

In a second, you had been pulled closer, then adjusted in front of him- it left you breathless at the simple ease of it all. You fixed your hair, a glossy and fixated admiration in your gaze up to him.

Awed, you told him in a shaky giggle, "I really like that..."

Asahi leaned over you; a timid and flattered sigh prickling up your skin, "Yeah?"

His rough hands pinched at your hips as he kissed a messy trail down your tummy.

Whispered, just as his knees hit the carpet, "I like it, too."

It was impossible to not get excited. He always stuck you as a guy with more patience than most.

Patient was a good word to describe the way he ate you out-- he may have liked to toss you around, but it wasn't out of carelessness, or negligence. It was an exploration of boundaries, a bit of power play, and this was played right into the dynamic. His performance wasn't perfect, or void of little, silly hiccups, but it was endearing and fun to discover together.

After he got you warmed up, he began slowly, one by one, pushing his fingers into you.

"How's that feel?"

It was a curious, but flirty question.

He already knew how much you were enjoying yourself, how you were trying to keep yourself quiet under your hand, struggling to not roll your hips into his hand. He just wanted to hear you.

A raspy sigh, a distracted nod, "So g-ood--,"

"Takin' me soo well," He grinned, sucking another messy kiss to you, "Y'want another?"

It wasn't exactly audible, but he was watching that sweet, desperate little expression on your face enough to know you did.

You could feel his smile spread- making your thighs flinch, your body curl at the intensity of getting stretched even further.

"You're so cute."

A mumbly admission, buzzing just right onto you. You were so full of him, reeling in how thick three of his fingers were, and dangerously close once he concentrated on your clit.

Soon you were gripping harder, twitching, then squeezing him--, "H-ah-!"

You started begging when nonverbal queues didn't get through.

"Asahi- asahi, please-ah," You huffed, starting to feel your climax rushing in, threatening to take hold of you, "I'm s-o close-!"

You thought he would stop, for favor of dragging this out longer, but he didn't slow down, nor did he let off of you. The only change was his grip tightening, gripping into your skin. A twitch of your thigh, trying to push on him, was met with a powerful pull to keep it far away, to the side and keep you opened up.

The pressure it brought only added to your rapture- he was actively getting off to watching, hearing, feeling you beg for a break. He loved it.

"Mmn-!" Pulling on his hair did you no favors, other than encouraging that slow, constant swirl of his big tongue around your swollen clit.

In the end, the harshness in your brow, in your clawing fingers, your shaky thighs, all softened under his steady hold. He felt so good taking you apart, then bringing you all back together.

Another messy kiss, so sweet- but so mean, shoved you over the steep edge.

He could feel you tighten, pulse around his fingers and filled you to the knuckle; a tipsy, crooked smile barely visible under his working tongue.

It took so long to come out of the throws of your orgasm that he was already back on top, filling the space above you. You quickly locked your legs around him, hands guiding his face up for a kiss.

His knack for multitasking never stopped. You were given so many gentle, attentive kisses as he put you in the center of the bed, where there was finally room for the both of you.

He wanted you on your elbows and knees. Numb, and tingly, and pliable, you let him adjust you the way he wanted; you kept your debaucherous smile to yourself.

You needed every second of that foreplay to take him- he was the biggest you had ever been with. Thankfully, he also happened to be the sweetest.

"Ooh my god," Your trembling was quelled by the weight of his body.

His groan was low, stuttery, at your tight pussy clenching hard all around him.

He caught his breath, a pretty moan in the back of his throat, "Shit."

His praises were loosely strung together, punctuated in little kisses to the back of your head as he placed his elbows on the mattress, at your sides. If he had been watching, he probably wouldn't have lasted very long.

It was getting rough, quickly, but you found his kind attention more than enough to keep you relaxed.

"Mm-!" You muffled a cry, fisting the sheets while he chuckled at how cute all your little sounds were, hungry for more.

In one fluid motion, he had your arms pinned; one was tucked under you, the other was extended far out in front of you. The responsive gasp was more of your body, reacting on its own, but it was an invigorating thing to consider. He was such a timid guy, so every dirty thing he said or did still took you by surprise.

It was just like how you finished your match earlier, with one big difference.

"Mmnh-aAh! Augh-ah-Mm!"

Your surprised, whiny sounds spilled free against the sheets. His cock filled every bit of you- it felt so good your breath was getting shorter, harder to catch.

You couldn't see it, but he drank that messiness up, a furrowed concentration in his brow to keep giving it to you as hard as you needed.

"You like that?" His voice was right in your neck again, buzzed.

It melted your resistance away- you couldn't even squirm, couldn't tell him yes. You were so full, so close already, that when he stalled deep and cruel, to let you think, your euphoria was barely interrupted. You cried, tearless, drooling a little on Daichi's sheets.

"You wanna talk to me, sweetie?"

The kindness in his voice right now should've been illegal. You breath was getting shaky, your vision long since useless.

"T-ell me-mm, how it feels," He muttered, still egging you on, a kiss to the tip of your ear.

His voice fell away from you, your heart pounding in your ears- you were just swimming in delectation. His warmth, his sure delivery of careful pleasure, his gravelly, well-meaning taunts. It was starting to take you far away, for the first time.

You noticed, but didn't react to his retracting hands, nor the readjustment of his weight off of you.

He was deeply troubled that you hadn't responded to him.

If Asahi had been any more experienced or confident, he would've known the clear signs of subspace-- but considering his experience ended at some casual sex, and the absence of conversation, and not understanding of either of your limits, he thought he fucked up, bad.

You were just different. That made him nervous.

Concern laced his voice quick, a sobering sound.

"Hey?" There were a couple taps to your cheek, and when you got your focus back, he was bending to try to get a good look at your face.

You gave a weak smile, "Mm?"

"You okay?"

A big stretch, an otherwise silly invitation for him to put his hands back on top of yours, "Mmmmhm..."

The way you sat back a little, pushing yourself gently onto his cock, made him take a second. A quick moment to suck in a restrained breath. Then a reserved, relieved chuckle.

"Are you- sure?" Was his last attempt. Now he was noticing the shakiness from your legs, your irregular breathing.

He put a tiny peck to your temple, fingers carefully running over your side.

You gave a close-mouthed whine and winced away at the ticklish sensation, "God-- Just fuck me please,"

When he was watching where to put his hands, he noticed your wiggly fingers, and grinned- happy to take you up on the offer, again.

He met your light pushing with stronger, steady strokes that kept you gasping- whiny, with pleasure.

Your endurance was absolute garbage, when it came to his unconventional way of treating you. Neither of you were expecting it to click so well- not as just-friends, for years, with on-and-off separate partners and countless, ill-timed crushes on each other.

It was amusing to think of how different this would make your 'friendship' now. How could you tell the team you were dating, after they watched what was essentially half of your foreplay downstairs?

This orgasm washed over you in shorter, smaller waves than the first- but it took so long to fully crest that it felt a thousand years longer.

You weren't particularly loud, this time, but now that he was paying so much attention to you, he spoke you through it with unparalleled timing.

"Good, fuck- that's good," He sighed, huffy, in your ear.

His hand quickly clasped over your mouth before you could make a sound.

Though you felt so perfect, the little scare you gave him warded off any chance he had at cumming, too. It'd have to wait for some other time. The satisfaction from getting you to this point was more than enough payoff for him.

"Good girl."

You had never felt so disconnected from your own body before. It was like you felt your climax about two rooms down the hall- and all it left you with was some invisible, heavy blanket all across your limbs.

For all that was worth, it was pretty cool.

His quiet shushing, all in your ear, was the evidence you needed that you hadn't been entirely present. You weren't sure when he started and when he stopped.

"You're okay- you're okay," He cooed, thumb gently brushing your warm cheek.

He held you incredibly still, listening, watching, for you, before pulling out.

You felt like a heavy bag of sand.

In fact, after he had shifted slowly off you and leaned closer, the way you slumped down was akin to one. Maybe more of a bag of concrete mix, instead.

It was staggering to believe your sweet, silly, nervous Asahi took it out of you, like that.

"You okay?" He was ultra-gentle, now, sliding featherlight touches over your back.

It was just enough to keep you awake.

"(Y/n)?"

You didn't realize you needed to respond. A slow, laborious sigh. You opened your eyes and were surprised to see him, once again, leaning over you to watch your face.

"Yeah..."

It didn't convince him- he looked like he was going to call an ambulance.

"I'm- tired," You went to push yourself up.

The intense quivering in your arms stopped you. Having to push back against him for so long was exhausting, and now you were completely spent. You wondered if it had anything to do with the little fight earlier, too.

He shook his head when he noticed you try to move on your own again, "Nono, I got you."

For the millionth time tonight, his ability to pick you up, from whatever position he found himself in, left you in a delighted daze. He set you so that you at least had a pillow under your head.

"You need some water? Let me go get some for you real quick."

You did feel pretty dried up. Like a dead, frail flower.

A tiny nod, and he was rushing to put on enough clothes, zipping out the door in search of water. You fell asleep in the short time he was gone, too sleepy to pull the covers over you or to roll to your side.

"Mmh..."

It had only been a minute or so.

But you felt a thousand years old, getting woken up from an ancient slumber, when a soft throw blanket was covering you- a big, gentle hand over top of it, rubbing your shoulder to rouse you.

Asahi settled to your side, watched closely as you drank, and pressed more kisses to the side of your head. He reached over you to set the bottle on the bedside table.

"Thank you," You leaned into him, then decided to give him a little edge of the blanket, too, and rested your head on his chest, "I'm okay."

"Good."

He was warm. You squeezed an arm over him.

"How are we gonna tell everyone?" You mumbled, against his tummy.

"I-... don't think we need to."

Confused at what he meant by that, you stopped trying to burrow into him, and propped up a little to look him in the face.

"Uh-," He tilted his head from side to side, a little warmth on his tan features, "We weren't...exactly...quiet."

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