#to balance your personal feelings about the gods against so many others

[deadrocks]

I do think that, when discussing the merits of a post-god Exandria, it's important to remember that many people in this world find peace, comfort, and purpose in their worship of the gods, and would be devastated by their loss. Not just clerics or god-aligned paladins, but many, many regular folk. Here in the real world, significantly more people ascribe to some kind of religious faith than don't; imagine what that proportion would be like in a setting where the gods are clearly and objectively real. Where people can pray and truly feel the presence of their god with them. Where they can grieve their loved ones in death yet know, without doubt, that that person's soul was welcomed into a divine domain. Where they know these gods came to their world and created all mortal life. Is there truly nothing there worth preserving? Is the imbalance of power between gods and mortals so fundamentally unjust that all that faith grants should be violently ripped away?

[alwaysmicado]

in my arms

2.1k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | one-shot

Warnings: fluff, Joel’s POV (first person) Summary: As Joel watches you sleep beside him for the first time, he realizes just how deeply he’s come to crave something more than just fleeting moments together. A/N: This one-shot has been sitting in my drafts for ages, and I could really use a bit of heartwarming fluff right now—so I figured it’s the perfect time to share. I really hope it’ll bring you some comfort, too. Can be read alone or within the fwb!Joel AU. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts! I love hearing from you! ♡

It’s been a while since anyone’s slept in my bed with me.

Hell, it’s been a long time since I let anyone close enough to even get that far. But you—well, you have a way of making everything feel different, even when you don’t know it. Even when you don’t mean to.

And tonight, after weeks of the same routine, of having you in my arms just for the space of a couple of hours and then watching you slip away again, you are still here.

Fast asleep in my bed.

I shift in the darkness, the mattress dipping just slightly beneath me as I turn onto my side to face you fully. The only light in the room comes from the full moon shining outside, its glow filtering through the slats of the blinds, casting faint lines of silver and shadow across your bare skin. 

You’re lying on your belly, one arm tucked under the one pillow in my bed—yeah, yeah, I know—while the other rests loosely against the sheets. Your breathing is slow and steady, your chest rising and falling in a rhythm that is starting to soothe something deep inside me I didn’t even realize was tense.

I can’t sleep.

Not because I’m not tired—God knows I am—but because the idea of closing my eyes and missing even a second of this, of you being here, feels like something I can’t bear.

It’s strange. I’m not used to feeling this way.

Most of the time, when we’ve been together, I’ll lie awake for a bit after you’ve left, letting the quiet of the house settle over me like a blanket, pretending I don’t mind the loneliness creeping back in. Pretending I don’t mind that you leave.

But tonight is different. Tonight, you stayed.

I didn’t expect it, honestly. After the way the night had gone, with you laughing and dancing and a few too many Tequila shots, I figured you’d brush me off like you always would when we were done—give me that soft smile, kiss me one last time, and then slip out into the night before I could say anything to stop you.

But when I asked if you were alright, if you wanted me to call you a cab, you surprised me. You said no.

“I think I, uh, might have had just a liiiittle too much to drink,” you mumbled, half-laughing as you tried to sit up, only to sway slightly and grab onto my arm for balance. “Maybe I should just…stay here. If that’s okay.”

Of course, it was okay. It was more than okay.

But the way you said it, so casual, like it wasn’t a big deal, like it didn’t send a rush of something sharp and warm straight to my chest, made me realize how much I’d been hoping for this. Hoping for you to stay, to let me have this one night, where it wasn’t just about the—albeit fantastic—sex we had. Where it was about something more, even if we never put a name to it.

So, here we are.

You didn’t say much after we settled in. Just curled up beneath the sheets, close enough that I can now feel the warmth of your body beside me, but not so close that it feels like you’re giving me more than you’re ready to. And that’s fine. I’ll take whatever you are willing to give.

The truth is, I’ve been wanting this for a while now. Maybe even since the first time I took you home, if I’m being honest with myself. There’s just something about you that has gotten under my skin from that very first time our eyes met, and no matter how much I try to keep things simple, I can’t help the way I feel. The way you make me feel.

You’re smart, funny, insanely gorgeous, and stubborn as hell sometimes—but you have this vulnerability about you, too. Like you’re always holding back, keeping a part of yourself just out of reach, and for some reason, I want to be the one to reach it.

Tonight, though…tonight, I have you right here. No walls, no goodbye, no running off into the night. Just you, asleep beside me, looking so damn peaceful it makes my chest ache.

I shift a little closer, gently, just enough so that I can see your face better in the low light. I have the sudden urge to trace the contours of your face with my fingers, to put a soft kiss on your lips.

My hand twitches at my side, but I don’t move. Don’t want to risk waking you, even though part of me wants you to wake up, to look at me with those tired eyes and give me that sleepy smile that always makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I’m more than a temporary distraction to you.

I believe you when you say you like spending time with me. You make me feel it, too. When we’re together, you’re really here with me. But it’s just that, after every time, it ends. You always leave.

And I’m left wondering when, or if, you’ll come back to me.

I watch you for a long time. Longer than I should, probably. But I can’t help it. There’s something about the way you look when you’re asleep—so soft, so unguarded—that makes me feel like I’m seeing a part of you you don’t let anyone else see. Not even me.

I wonder what you’re dreaming about. If you’re thinking about anything at all, or if your mind is finally at peace, even for just a little while. I hope it’s the latter. You’ve had a stressful week you told me, and I hope you’re dreaming of something nice, something that makes you feel safe.

And I want to be that for you. I want to be the one who makes you feel safe. But I know better than to push my luck. You aren’t ready, and I’m not going to ask for more than you can or want to give.

Still, lying here beside you, feeling the warmth of your body so close to mine, I can’t help but imagine what it would be like if things were different. If this wasn’t just a one-time thing, but something we did every night. If you stayed, not because you were too drunk to leave, but because you wanted to.

Because you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

I can picture it so easily—waking up with you next to me, your sleepy voice mumbling something incoherent as you stretch and blink the sleep from your eyes.

I’d make you coffee, just the way you like it in the morning, and we’d sit at the kitchen table, talking about nothing and everything all at once. Maybe we’d bicker about something stupid, like which show to watch or who gets to choose the music while we cook dinner. And then, at the end of the day, we’d come back to this—this quiet, this closeness—and I’d fall asleep knowing you are right here in my arms.

But that’s not how things are.

I know that. I’m not delusional. I know that whatever this is between us, it isn’t something you’re ready to define. And maybe that’s fine. Maybe I can be okay with that, at least for now.

But damn, it’s hard not to want more.

Not because I want to hold you back or limit the way you explore the world and discover yourself—that’s the last thing I’d ever want for you. You’re young and bright, and the world’s wide open for you. It’s because of you—the way you make me feel when you’re with me. The way your smile lights up my world, the way you make everything feel like it matters. 

The way you make me believe I could be the man you deserve.

You shift in your sleep, your body turning slightly toward me, and I freeze for a second, thinking you’re waking up. But you don’t. You just let out a soft sigh, your hand twitching as it curls into the pillow, and then you settle again, your breathing evening out once more.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

God, I’ve got it bad.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt like this. The last time I’ve cared this much about someone, about something that wasn’t already a part of my life. I was used to keeping things simple, keeping my world small. It was easier that way. Less messy, less tiring. But you…you snuck in somehow, made a place for yourself without me even realizing it, and now that you are here, I don’t want to let you go.

I won’t tell you that, though. I’m not stupid. I know you aren’t ready to hear it, and the last thing I want to do is overstep and scare you off. I can wait. I can be patient.

But that doesn’t stop me from feeling it.

My eyes trace the curve of your cheek, the gentle slope of your lips, and my fingers itch to touch you. I know I shouldn’t. I know this is already more than you’ve given me before.

But It’s hard. It’s hard not to reach out and hold onto this moment, to hold onto you.

I let out a slow breath, trying to steady myself and my heartbeat, but my thoughts keep circling back to the same thing: What if this is the only time?

I reach out, finally letting my fingers brush lightly against your temple, tracing your soft skin, your cheek, your shoulder. You don’t stir, don’t even flinch, and for some reason, that makes my chest tighten even more. You trust me, even in your sleep. Trust me enough to let me be here with you, to see you like this, vulnerable and real.

And that…that means more to me than I could ever put into words.

I move closer, just enough so that our bodies are barely touching, and I let myself close my eyes for a moment, even though I know I won’t sleep. Not tonight. Not with you here, like this.

Instead, I just let myself feel it. The warmth of your skin, the soft rise and fall of your breathing, the steady beat of your heart just a few inches away from mine. It’s a quiet kind of intimacy, one I haven’t realized I’ve been missing for a long time.

Maybe tomorrow you’ll wake up and slip away again, back to the way things always are between us. Maybe you’ll put up your walls, tell yourself this didn’t mean anything more than any other night. And maybe I’ll let you, because I’m not ready to push for more, not yet.

For now, you’re here. You’re here. And that’s enough.

For now, that’s enough.

I open my eyes again, letting them drift back to your face. You’re still so peaceful, so soft in the moonlight, and I feel something swell in my chest that I haven’t felt in years. Something big, something real.

I lean in, just a little, pressing the softest kiss to your warm forehead, barely more than a whisper of touch. You don’t wake, don’t even stir, but the simple act makes something settle deep inside me. Like this is right. Like this is how it’s supposed to be.

I could stay like this all night, just watching you, soaking in the quiet comfort of you beside me. And maybe I would, if I didn’t feel the pull of sleep finally creeping up on me. My eyelids grow heavier with each passing second, and even though I try to fight it, I know I can’t stay awake forever.

You keep me on my toes, but I’m not thirty anymore. 

So, with one last look at you, one last moment of quietly letting myself feel everything I haven’t been ready to admit, I let my eyes close. My hand rests lightly against your waist, and I finally let sleep take me.

For the first time in a long time, I fall asleep feeling like I’m not alone. Like I don’t have to be. Like maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something more.

And that thought—you—is the last thing on my mind before I drift off.

– – –

Series Masterlist ♡ Joel Masterlist ♡ AO3

taglist: @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @theoraekenslover @moel-jiller

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@koshkaj-blog @missladym @paleidiot @pattwtf @theoraekenslover

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@am-3-thyst @joelinawrites @purpleprincess75

[jm-2406]

Answers.

Summary - after an unexpected heated makeout session in the library, Theodore Nott corners you in his bedroom, demanding answers for your reckless behaviour. his possessive side comes out after witnessing you dancing closely with someone else and he decides that enough is enough.

Word count - 1.1k

Note - beware of the stupid writing, i gave it my best. This is written in third person pov and has mentions of [Y/N]. It is quite sweet imo.

This was not how she had planned for the night to go. This was not what she had thought would happen when she stepped foot in the party. And she definitely did not think that she would find herself in such a compromising situation with none other than the host of the party, Theodore Nott.

But, no matter what she had thought or planned for the night things were completely opposite now.

"Did you really think that I'll spare you after the stunt you pulled?" His raspy voice did its magic on her, he didn't even need his wand to cast a spell on her that prevented her from looking away from his intense eyes.

"I don't know what you are talking about." She decided to play dumb; To irritate him and make him mad so that he would leave her instead of cornering her in his bedroom, demanding answers. Answers that could change their equation and mess up everything.

"Oh, so the innocent [Y/N] doesn't know 'what I'm talking about', Is that so? Wearing this sexy dress to rile me up, Flirting with Malfoy, getting too close to him, grinding against him while you looked directly into my eyes and then you have the audacity to play dumb with me? Do you take me for a fool, [Y/N]?" His voice was low but strong, it sent shivers down her spine, in a good and bad way; clouding her senses in fear and lust.

Theodore placed his hands on either side of her head, caging her effectively. [Y/N] turned her head to the side when she felt him coming closer, their noses brushing. She gasped as her eyes fell on the trail of blood dripping from his palm; looking down she could clearly see the shards of glass even in dim lights. It didn't take long for her to put the two and two together. 'Oh god, how much did he drink?' She thought.

"Answer me [Y/N]," Theodore demanded again and bit her earlobe gently. [Y/N] shuddered at the sinful touch. "Stop playing games with me." He whispered in his silky voice.

"You're hurt," [Y/N] said and pushed at his chest. Theodore moved back, giving her space to escape from him but instead, [Y/N] rushed to the bathroom and returned with a first aid kit.

She made Theodore sit on the bed and bandaged his hand. "How careless could you be?" She muttered under her breath but Theodore understood her words. He held her chin with his un-injured hand and made her look up at him, gazing deeply into her eyes he said. "How breathtakingly beautiful could you be?"

He brought his face closer to her, their breath mingling together, just a few centimetres between them but [Y/N] pulled back. "You had one too many drinks. You're not in your senses. You don't know what you are doing at the moment. I can't let you make this mistake."

Theodore pulled her to his lap by her waist. [Y/N] gasped, she kept her hands on his chest to balance herself. "Do I look like a drunkard to you? Can you smell alcohol on my breath? Do you think so low of me that I'll take advantage of you when drunk?" He said with utmost sincerity. [Y/N] was at a loss for words. What she thought to be a drunken mistake was reality. Theodore was sober, he knew what he was doing by coming so close to her.

"Why are you doing this?" Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I am going to say this clearly once again. I feel nothing for you." Her voice broke as she said. Her heart knew that her mouth was spewing lies but 'it was for the best', she consoled herself.

Quickly putting some more distance between them, [Y/N] rushed to the door only to find it locked from the outside. "If you feel nothing for me then how will you explain whatever happened between us in the library, Miss [Y/L/N]?" She heard his cheeky remark. Tears wetted her face as she pulled on the door but it didn't budge.

"It won't open. My room is secured very efficiently so if by chance someone does trespass my room, he'll get trapped inside. The door won't open unless I unlock it." Theodore stated calmly.

[Y/N] froze. She turned around to face him. "Please. Don't make this difficult for me, for us, for everyone around us, for Daphne." her voice was thick with emotion, breaking his heart.

"That's what I'm asking from you." He was near her in a matter of seconds. His hands cupped her face. He wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and brought his lips closer to hers, his eyes searching her face for any signs of discomfort. "Tell me the truth, [Y/N]." He asked her once more.

“I do… I feel the same as you. I'm just… afraid… of the consequences.” She finally confessed, her resolve breaking as she lost herself in the moment. Her heart soared high, her soul content with her response. She sighed as she felt Theodore's lips on her, he tasted like the apple juice that he drank not long ago. Their kiss.. it was magical, full of Passion and intensity. He kissed her like he was a starving man and she was a scrumptious meal. He poured all his feelings, his doubts and insecurity into that one kiss. He ravaged her lips completely, kissing her with everything that he had while she found herself moaning against his lips, submitting herself to him. The world be damned.

-♡-

When they were found together in his bedroom the next morning, no one doubted them. The lies that they weaved left no chance of doubts regarding their last night's activities. She reprimanded him and herself too for getting caught up in her emotions and doing something morally wrong, no matter how right it felt while doing it. He laughed it off saying that it'll never happen again but they both knew that it was a lie.

It was not the end but just the beginning. Their beginning.

-♡-

Anyone up for part two/prequel? Please let me know.

[kakiastro]

2024: The Year of the Dragon

Well, we made yall! This was a 7 ruled year, ruled by the Moon, Neptune, and South Node. This year had us all deep in our feelings. So many people had their first spiritual awakening, others psychic gifts has strengthened. This year was teaching us on how to listen to our intuition. If you’re a creative, then this year was really the year ideas and projects came to you. With the moon here, so many people started their own families, so many woman in my personal life had babies this year lol. Our family dynamics changed, our homes may have changed. Lots of early life/past lives issues smacked us in the face this year, a lot of people started their healing journey.

This year is an 8 ruled year.

8 rules over the spiritual and materialistic world. 8 is balance, it means you need to balance being in our world and the spiritual.

8 is also an infinity symbol, hence why is it’s a loop. What loops(patterns)have you been stuck in? This year will show you that and what loops you need to get out of

8 also have a deep love for humanity, so I personally expect more protest against wars, those who are really suffering in our world. There’s going to be a strong empathy pull. Make no mistake though, the number 8 also rules over authority, social status, ego, inner strength and wisdom. While there’s a lot of love, there’s going to lots of people having unchecked egos so be careful of that. Listening to others opinions(whether you agree or not) will be a collective lesson.

The number 8 is ruled by Saturn and Capricorn. This is a Saturnian year. So to my fellow Saturnians/Capricorn placements/10h, we are the first in line the classroom (earth) this year lol.

Saturn is in Pisces, so fellow Caps, and everyone really, I feel we are going to continue being in our feelings and will begin to open our hearts to others. Capricorn is a reserved sign, doesn’t really show outward emotions, they would rather cry in private or in the shower😅. Not this year LoL, this year is teaching us that it’s okay to not be okay, it’s okay to be open about it as well. We will meet people who will show us the magical side of life. Saturn is a realism and pessimistic sign, but Pisces is the sign of hope, magic and fantasy. Remember, Pisces is also co ruled by Jupiter which is currently in Taurus. What is success to you? Is this success to you because this is what you were taught or is this what you really want? These are the type of questions you will be asking yourself.

8 is the number for Karma as well. Karma isn’t what many people think it is lol. Karma isn’t just some revenge type of thing lol. Also, Karma isn’t always bad either so get that out your mindset as well. Bad things happen to good people all the time, you being a good person doesn’t exempt you of messed up situations. If anything, it’s to make you become more empathetic and self aware of the bad things. Karma can be good as well

The etymology of karma is from the Sanskrit meaning “Action, Effect, Fate”

Karma is what you do that will cause a ripple/effect that can change your fate.

Example:

1. You get into a relationship and everything is going great for a year. Then you discovered your partner cheated. Your hurt and say “karma will get him and I can’t wait to watch.”

2. Months go by and you see your cheater ex is in a new relationship, treating this new partner better than you. You start thinking “karmas not real because if it was, why are they living the good life?” Meanwhile, you’re still picking up the pieces to heal but you’re healing is the key word.

3. Little do you know, your ex had cheated on you with someone who’s only using them and they end up getting cheated on. It wasn’t because of you, know they created that ripple for themselves. They let there ego and lust dictate there actions. If they would’ve had any control, they would’ve known not to do this so the Universe/God let the domino fall. They may end struggling with their career, health, spiritually to teach them to grow and learn. Now will they? That’s up to them. Just because someone appears to be doing well from the outside doesn’t mean that they really are or going to be.

4. You’ve done your healing and now know what you want and the red flags to look out for. You end up in an actual healthy relationship. A friend of yours suspects her partner of cheating and asked for your advice. Because you went through this, you know the signs. Because of this, you helped her. See that domino effect lol

That was long but I hope that makes sense you all! I have a mercury Rx in my chart so my thoughts go everywhere lol.

One of the first biggest events of 2024 is that Pluto enters Aquarius

Dates: January 20th - September 1st

Then: it will go back in Capricorn for the last time in our lifetime in September 1- November 20th.

Finally: it will go into Aquarius November 20th, where it will stay unto 2043. Y’all this is a 20 year transit!! So many changes are about to happen

I’ve already made a post about this transit, you can read it here!

2024 is the year of the dragon, in the element Wood.

Dragons are seen as honorable, strength, success

Wood represents vitality and creativity

-this is good year to pursue your goals and if you’re consistent, you will achieve success.

Eclipses

First Lunar eclipse will be on March 25th.

It will be in the sign of Libra! Which is where South Node currently is as well. Relationships with our family and within our home will be highlighted. The house that Libra rules in your chart will tell you how this will

First Solar eclipse will be on April 8th

It will be in the sign of Aries with NN being in it. Setting new goals for yourself, starting something new in your life, be bold and brave.

2nd Lunar eclipse is in Pisces on September 17th. Hello feelings lol! Pisces will have us sit alone and think about our most hidden thoughts and they will be highlighted. This is a good time for spiritual growth.

2nd Solar eclipse is in Libra on October 2nd. Relationships will be the hot topic for 2024. I predict so many people are going to be breaking up, finding love, having new friendships, family relationships are going to be changing, collaborating with people, justice, fairness will all be themes

Mercury Retrogrades will be in fire signs this year

First Mercury Rx is in Aries on April 1st-25th. Thinking and planning your goals, making sure everything is in order.

2nd Rx is August 4th-28th in the sign of Virgo and Leo. It’s giving say it with your chest energy but not too much lol. Be brave with your thoughts but try to think rationally as well.

3rd Rx is November 25th in Sagittarius. Time for us to reflect on our ideals that we’ve learned. Look at different philosophies point of view

Another big Astrological event is the Jupiter-Uranus in Taurus conjunction on April 20th.

Jupiter is the planet if expansion, higher learning, traveling and religion

Uranus is the planet of change, science of medicine, innovation and rebellion.

Taurus is the 2nd sign of the zodiac and it rules over our finances, self worth, our possessions, food, beauty, nature such as forest and trees.

What do I predict with this transit:

-huge breakthroughs with regarding medicines and innovative discoveries

-something dealing with travel or immigration

-I suspect some type if change regarding the church or how people view the church (pastors, priest etc)

-something dealing with our food and us being more aware about our own dietary choices. What’s not good for us and what goes in our food basically

On May 25th, Jupiter leaves Taurus and enters airy sign Gemini. It will be in Gemini until 2025

The best way to describe this transit is communication!!! Remember Jupiter expands everything so we will be more open about our thoughts and standing on business on what we say! I feel there’s going to be a huge influx on the dire need to want to go back to school and learn new things. Big cars are going to the thing everyone will want to have! If you’re a writer, this can be a good year to write that book and get it published, all the way up until 2025 at least.

Mars Go Rx December 6th- February 23rd 2025, in the sign of Cancer and Leo!

This is poignant because Mars only go retrograde every 2 years! The last Rx was 2021-2022 ish and it was in Gemini

With it switching from water and fire, emotions will be be high. Really check your emotions during this time, this can be a good time to sort your home out, being motivated to start something like a creative outlet.

As you all can see, this is going to be an eventful year but I’m wishing you all happy and memorable one! To those who’ve been following me this year, I just want to say thank you! thank you! thank you!

With love and gratitude

-kaki

[eoieopda]

one to ten | jww

summary: your roommate may not know how to help you feel better, but that won’t stop him from trying. pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader au: roommates to ?, pining, sick fic type: drabble (hurt/comfort, fluff) rating: pg13 — still, minors do not have my consent to interact with my content. cw: gn!spoonie!reader; downbad!best boi!super shy!roommate!wonu; chronic illness/pain is implied but no diagnosis is specified; hand-holding 👁️👄👁️; barely proofread because brain fog, lol. a/n: this is super self-indulgent and based on my own personal experience with chronic illness (fibromyalgia), so it may be different than yours!! wc: 1k

Wonwoo isn’t psychic, but he knows that something is up the second he gets home from work.

Walking through the door of your shared apartment, he moves immediately to deposit his keys on the nearby hook and finds that yours are already there. Odd, he thinks, given your habit of imposing your own overtime. Your commute is shorter than his, and you still never beat him back here.

He looks down as he toes off his shoes, carefully maneuvering them across the mat to avoid both your heels and your sneakers, which don’t seem to have budged since this morning. Wonwoo frowns. It’s rare for you to skip out on the gym at the end of the day, but it’s unheard of for you to miss work — even when you should, in his non-expert opinion.

That’s a bit of a red flag, he’ll admit.

Wonwoo locks the door behind him, pads off across the kitchen and through the adjoining living room, and eventually stops at your bedroom door. It’s cracked open — a secret code of yours, he’s learned. One that means you don’t want to be alone, but you feel the need to warn him about what’s on the other side. Usually, it’s you, deflated in your bed in a way that you find embarrassing. Still, even on your worst days, he’s never seen you look bad. 

He’s not convinced that you could if you tried.

Softly, Wonwoo raps his knuckles against the doorframe to warn you. In response, he gets a muffled, “Hello?” It wraps around his heart and squeezes just a little. He loves that about you; how gentle your voice is when everything else you’re experiencing feels the opposite.

You lift your head up just enough to make eye contact with him as he slips through the doorway, and you smile. If it aches to do so, you pretend like it doesn’t.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Hey.”

Admittedly, this is the part that Wonwoo feels he’s worst at. He’s never quite sure what to ask or what he can do to help, always simultaneously afraid of being patronizing or too hands-off. It’s a balancing act; his equilibrium is off.

And, god, he’s so shy when it comes to you. He can’t make himself act on any of the comforting impulses he absolutely has, so he simply pauses at the end of your bed and sweeps his eyes over your frame. A triage of sorts, he supposes.

You’re on your right side, hugging a hot water bottle, and there’s a Munchlax plush between your knees to keep them separated. Your left hip hurts, he guesses. It’s probably safe to assume that the rest of you does, too. Crinkling his nose as he thinks, he asks, “One to ten?”

Another code. 

Wonwoo has to adjust the scale when you answer — three — because your three is his eleven. The good news isn’t lost on him, though: Your pain was a six during the last flare. Things may not be great, but they’ve definitely been worse.

“Mostly just tired,” you sigh, as if you can hear the calculations he’s running in his head. “I was this close —” You lift an arm and pull your thumb and index finger in so that they’re almost touching. “— to making it out the door this morning.” 

Dropping your arm again slowly, you pat the space next to you in silent invitation. Wonwoo’s body hesitates, even though his pulse doesn’t. It’s par for the course, unfortunately for him.

He wonders how many moments like this need to pass before his palms don’t sweat anymore. Will filling the spot next to you on your bed, on the couch, or even in your passenger seat ever not affect him like this?

Maybe not.

He’s okay with that, so long as you keep giving him the opportunity.

You laugh, and it single-handedly diffuses the tension in his posture. “I think the side of the bathtub got taller. I almost had to yell for you to haul me out of there, but I managed.”

“Proud of you.” He’s chuckling now, too, but that doesn’t undermine how much he means it. Getting your body to cooperate with you is always hardest in the mornings.

For what it’s worth, he would’ve come running if you’d called.

Carefully, Wonwoo sits down on the vacant side of your bed and scoots closer to you, knowing you’ll call him out for leaving distance and anticipating how badly he'll blush if you do. It’s so much easier for you to be close to people than it is for him, but he’s trying. 

He hopes you see that.

There’s a microscopic wince when you wiggle your way towards him. It’s replaced quickly by a satisfied little grin once you settle, your body curving around his bent knee like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

“You always run warm,” you muse. “I’m jealous.”

Wonwoo blinks, a little dumbfounded that you’ve noticed — not that he should be, really. He’s obviously picked up on a lot of trivia about you since you took over his former roommate’s lease several months back. If he knows the order of your skin care routine, it’s not weird for you to know that he can’t sleep without a fan on.

Should he have noticed this about you by now?

Curiosity makes him bold, apparently. He pulls his palm off the mattress and touches his fingertips to the back of your hand. “Goddamn,” he whistles. 

His hypothesis is proven the second he touches you — you’re freezing — but Wonwoo admittedly gets a kick out of the temperature disparity. He can’t help but run the pads of his fingers absentmindedly over your skin, tracing nonsense patterns. You can’t help the pleased hum that slips out of you as you watch his ministrations; or the way your heavy eyelids start to interrupt your view. 

Even when he’s sure you’ve been lulled to sleep, Wonwoo keeps doodling. It’s got to be exhausting to exist in a body that always aches, and you deserve whatever rest you can get. Truth be told, he could probably stay like this for hours if that would help. He’d be doing the same thing at his PC, anyways, holding a mouse instead of your hand.

Yeah, he thinks, this is a much better set-up.

[alrightieaphroditie]

just checkin' in | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ series masterlist

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ 2.4k an *:·ﾟ it's here! the first part in a series i am veeery excited about!! this installment is pretty much straight fluff, but i had a blast writing it and getting back into joel's character. i cannot wait to see where this series takes me, and i really hope everyone enjoys reading it! this is slightly edited, but if there's anything huge that jumps out at you, please let me know! check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ even when joel is miles away, he never fails to check in on his girl.

after checking for what quite literally had to be the millionth time, the folded-up letter was still sitting right where joel had set it before he left; propped up against your bookstack on the end table in your living room. not that you were expecting it to suddenly grow legs and run away or anything. but today was finally the day that you could open it, as specified by the man who wrote it himself, and by god, you wanted to make sure you knew where it was when you finally sat down to read it. 

in the beginning, when you and joel first started up this little tradition of writing each other letters when he'd go off on the hunting trips, you would eagerly rip open his notes as soon as you were able to. joel always left very clear instructions to not open them until a certain date, and you always obliged, even though it wasn't like joel would really know when you actually opened them. you wouldn't be surprised if his senses started tingling if you even dared to go against his instructions, though. joel had a way of being so omnipresent with you; so attuned to your own being that even when he was gone, you swore you could still feel him with you.  

after a little while, though, you learned to tame that eagerness and make a dedicated time for reading his letters. the excitement never left you fully, and you found that opening the letter was still all you could think about on the day of, all these months later. you spent your morning helping in the greenhouses, thinking of what joel could have written. you cleaned up your house during the afternoon, eyes gazing to the paper with your name on it, written in his surprisingly nice handwriting, far too often. and when you had dinner with ellie that night, all you could do was smile as she mentioned opening her own letter that morning, your foot tapping against the floor as you impatiently anticipated getting to open your own. 

now, you were fresh out of the shower (ellie made one too many jokes about how much you had stunk after working all day, to the point where you couldn't really tell if she was joking or not), your hair done up in two braids, wearing one of joel's t-shirts and stirring some honey in your cup of tea. the window in your living room was cracked open, the crisp early spring winds causing your gauzy curtains to flutter across the hardwood floors. now, you finally tucked yourself into the corner of your couch, an ugly green thing that was shockingly comfortable, and tugged the blanket hanging on the back of it over your legs, getting comfortable. 

balancing your mug on the arm of the couch, you reached over and finally pulled the letter into your lap. just seeing your name on the front had those silly little butterflies float through your stomach; something you felt far too often with joel. you steadied yourself with a deep breath, and, after taking a small sip of your tea, settled back into the couch, unfolding the crisp paper. 

just checkin' in on you, sugar. 

the first line of his letter was always the same, and yet it never failed to make you smile. he'd say those same words in person, too, when he came by to visit while you were out working, or when he'd stop by your place early in the morning before he went out to do his duties. you'd never get sick of hearing - or reading - those words. 

hope you've been doin' alright. i can't believe they're makin' me go out again even though i just got back from another trip. swear these men can't do shit without me, especially tommy. i know he's the only reason why i'm out in the middle of nowhere, sleeping in a damn sack when i could be in your bed instead. 

you couldn't help but snort at joel's irritation with his brother. the sibling rivalry between the miller brothers was never ending, though the majority of it was in good fun. joel was right, though. tommy was, in fact, the sole reason why his brother left for another trip so close to returning home from one; maria had told you that tommy complained that the group he was going with couldn't aim for shit and needed at least one more man who knew how to handle a gun. 

the good thing, though, is that they're lettin' me get out of the next couple trips after this. i'll get at least a few good weeks with you, uninterrupted. as much as i like writin' these letters, and as much as i love reading what you've written me, i'd much rather be able to talk to ya in person. that way i could see your grin every time i say somethin' sweet to you, just like i bet you're doing now, huh?   

once again, joel was right. 

i gotta go pack up now, but i'll be back home to you any day now. take care of yourself for me, baby, just until i can get back to doin' it myself. i love you. 

a wave of emotions hit you at once when you finished reading the letter. happiness, for his approaching homecoming. excitement, for those few weeks he'd be getting off. love, for the way he knew you and how he loved taking care of you. and, however faint, loneliness, for how much your heart ached to see him. he had been gone for a week now, and before that, the two of you had only had one day together after he had been gone for two. only a few days remained in this trip, though it still felt like forever. 

you wouldn't let yourself dwell on that miniscule amount of pain, though. joel wouldn't want you to, so you knew better by now. instead, you reread his letter, hearing that slight drawl of his in your head, and grinning again just like he predicted. you held it to your chest as you sipped your lukewarm tea, as if your skin could absorb his words and cement his love into your bloodstream. 

later, after your tea had gone too cold and you dumped it out in the sink, you carried yourself to your room, the hem of joel's shirt brushing delicately against your thighs. kneeling to the ground, your knees hit the worn wood floor as you dug underneath your bed, pulling out an old shoebox. inside were joel's previous letters, the box almost stuffed to the brim with them. you couldn't even imagine tossing them out, these little symbols of his love for you, so this was where you stored them, safely tucked away. 

after placing the most recent one on top of the box and putting it back under your bed gently, you snagged the flannel joel had left from his side of the bed and put it on. now wrapped in his clothes, his scent, you felt closer to him. that silly thread of loneliness fluttered through your heart again, ever so briefly, but you brushed it off as you pulled back your quilt blanket and climbed into bed.  

outside your window, you could just barely make out the moon high in the pitch-black sky and you wondered if joel was awake still, looking up at that same fixture. it was the comfort you felt at that thought that allowed you to close your eyes and drift off, and joel's lingering scent on the flannel was the last thing you remembered thinking of. 

somewhere in the woods, miles away from the walls of jackson, joel sat on the damp ground, propped against a fallen tree log. his hand was in his jacket, his calloused thumb and forefinger brushing against the smooth paper folded into bits in the pocket. 

he had requested first watch tonight, hoping to have at least some time to himself so that he could read your words. unlike him, you never gave any instructions for when to read your letter. you said once that he should just read it whenever he missed you, and he didn’t have the heart to tell you that if he did that, he’d be reading the letter the moment he stepped out of the border around town. 

you had mentioned in passing, however, that you made a little ritual out of reading his letters, and so joel started putting off reading your letter, waiting until the date that he specified for you to open his. he knew it was silly, that the probability of you both reading the letters at the same time was slim, especially when he had to wait until the dead of night, when he had a small moment of free time. but it kept him going, so he continued to do it. 

the last man in the group had just walked back to his sleeping bag, and joel was finally out in the campsite alone. he gently pulled your letter from his pocket, the jagged edges along one side showing him that you wrote this in your journal before ripping it out. the paper was smooth under his skin, and for a moment he simply stared at his name plastered on the front in your handwriting; the way the 'l' at the end of his name sloped off into a small heart. 

a deep sigh parted his lips; somewhat from exhaustion, but mostly from the way his heartbeat kicked up just at the thought of you drawing that. 

he had to shift against the wood slightly, sparing a glance around the site to make sure no one was paying him too much attention, just so the moonlight could hit the letter just right. he still had to squint slightly to focus, but that was more because of his age than the lack of lighting (you kept teasing him about trying to find some reading glasses, and now he wondered if he did actually need them). 

with nimble fingers, he unfolded the letter and immediately his mouth quirked up in a small smirk. 

hey there, cowboy. i hope the camping life is treating you well and not wreaking havoc on that back of yours. i'm starting to wonder if you're getting too old to go on those trips. surely having a senior citizen like yourself tagging along slows y'all down, no? 

joel forced his sudden laugh into a cough, shaking his head at your attempt of a joke. it was no secret that joel was older than you, but that had never really brought up any strife in your relationship. everyone thought that you were both lucky to find something like what you had given the way the world was, that kind of storybook love people dreamed about. the kind he never imagined for himself.

you were the only one who continuously brought up the age difference, solely to crack jokes at his expense. ellie adored it, and your comments made him laugh, so he didn't really mind it. 

seriously though, i hope you're taking care of yourself out there. i know you do, but i can't help but worry a little. you're needed here, so i just want you to do whatever you need to do to come back home. i mean it.  

while you guys are gone, i think we're going to be setting up the patio area again in town since the weather is warming up. i heard maria talk about hosting another dance soon, so i'm putting it into writing that i want to dance with you at least once, miller.

 i'll beg if i have to. 

heat flamed his cheeks, his skin turning warm despite the cool breeze of spring floating through. his head tipped back, resting against the tree trunk as he closed his eyes for a moment. the two of you had only had one night together between his trips out of town, and ellie had spent the night at your house with joel that night, too. not that joel regretted that; he loved spending time together with his girls. 

but god, did he miss touching you, feeling your soft skin underneath his rough hands, your weight on top of him, underneath him, your hair between his fingers, your lips against his. all of it. the first thing he did when he got back into town was remedy that, he'd swear on it. 

i hear you coming down the stairs, so i have to wrap this up. geez, your footsteps are so loud. i love them, though. i love you, too, joel. stay safe, baby. i'll see you real soon! 

a small heart followed the last word, and his gaze lingered on it for a moment while he absorbed your letter. reading your words was like a breath of fresh air to him, letting him fill his lungs with your love even if you weren't physically there. these letters gave him the energy, the will, to continue on. to make a point to go back. 

for years, he never had anyone to return to, no one to really miss him if he were missing. he grew to accept that, felt comfortable being alone in this great, big world. he never imagined anything different, always felt he had no right wishing for something more. and now, somehow, he had two people who were eagerly anticipating his return. 

joel brushed his knuckle against the corner of his eye, collecting the small gathering of water that had collected there after finishing your letter. clearing his throat, he sat himself up against the tree, gathering his gun into his lap to be more prepared for the evening watch. he never let go of your letter, though. the feeling of rubbing it between the pads of his fingers brought him a great sense of calm. 

later, when tommy woke up to relieve joel from first watch, after he set up his sleeping bag and folded his jacket underneath him to act as a pillow, he reread your letter again and again, hearing your sweet voice in his head as he did. when he basically had it memorized, he let his hand fall to his chest. as the wind whistled through the trees, your note close to his heart, he finally allowed himself to fall asleep. 

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

[ladyloveandjustice]

Summer 2024 Anime Overview: DEAD DEAD DEMONS DEDEDEDE DESTRUCTION

A giant mothership is hovering over Tokyo. The aliens haven’t done anything or even made themselves known yet, but Japan and America are already trying to blow that UFO up, and show off who has the best weapons, causing many civilian casualties along the way. While all this happens, two girls are just casually living their lives. But are they as normal as they appear?

One thing I want to say is if you watch this anime and care about being intensely spoiled, do not watch "episode 0" until you've finished episode 16. It actually slots chronologically between episode 16 and 17, and that's where the episode took place in the manga, so I have no idea why they did that. Fortunately I had someone to warn me about that, so I will be that someone for you.

Dead Dead Demons DeDeDeDe Destruction or De x 8 as I will be calling it, can be really tough show to watch—not because it’s bad, it’s very good, but because of how depressing and visceral it is at times, and how devastatingly accurate it is to the shitshow of our world. This tends to be balanced a bit by the touching friendships (and possibly? More?) of the very likeable cast of teenagers…but you also feel a huge sense of dread about their safety as things ramp up and their stories deepen.

The anime goes hard on criticizing the military industrial complex, Japan’s government, America’s government, xenophobia, treatment of immigrants, rich people, and conspiracy theorists. All things I also hate, so that’s great. What hurts is how you could easily see the events happening—waging war on the aliens despite no provocation, people using an app to to hunt down and slaughter them...

It shows how even some of the protestors of the genocide use their movement to cover their own selfish motivations, meanwhile countries taking the situation as an opportunity to vie for power and dominance, rich government officials lie to their people and abandon them��obviously there's a lot of commentary here on how we dehumanize immigrants and minorities and enable genocides for capitalism and political power.

It's very bleak, and there were a lot of episode that had me just feeling sad, especially comparing it to current events. But there's also this interesting focus on normal people trying to live their lives during this alien "invasion", and the kids who still go through the dramas and upsets of everyday life. And especially the “I’d burn down the world for you” intense emotional relationship between Kadode and Ouran, the two teen girl leads.

Ouran is the main lead, and she’s a chuuni beyond chuuni, acting wacky and cheerful and spouting nonsense-- except if you pay attention, she's saying some pretty valid things—critiques of capitalism, war, government surveillance—but then following it up with something wild like “and that’s why I should rule the world”. You get the sense she’s cloaking an awareness of how shit the world is in humor, and as the show goes on and as her surprisingly intense and weird backstory unfolds, it becomes clear why that is.

The relationship between Ouran and Kadode is the center of everything--their bond IS the show. It's that kind of ride-or-die, I'd-kill-for-you, I'll-be-by-your-side-even-if-the-whole-world-is-against-you, in-every-life-i'd-find-you-and-love-you, soul-bonded, fiery devotion and love. They are the most important person in each other's lives, full stop. It's those kind of relationships that are so transcendent it goes beyond simple definitions of romantic and platonic. In other words, my kind of shit exactly.

But, as far as romance goes, Ouran, at least, is definitely queer and the depths of her determination to keep Kadode safe in a world that wants to destroy her girl that would make Homura Madoka Magica blush. (Kadode is more ambiguous, but she’s definitely soul bonded with Ouran. And honestly should just date Ouran because god she needs to be rescued).

There’s also a gentle empathy for marginalized people underneath all the horror—the girls befriend an alien trying to survive in the guise of a human, and it doesn’t seem like a coincidence that the first person our alien tells absolutely everything to is the gnc/potentially trans person of the group, Makoto (To be specific, they seem to still be figuring out their identity, but they definitely present feminine and specifically came to Tokyo because their small town wouldn’t be okay with how they like to dress). The way Makoto immediately shields their alien friend from others when they make the reveal that they saying “Don’t let them see, it’s not safe” and how it’s followed up by the alien reassuring Makoto that their friends will be okay with it if they take their wig off to swim...it makes the metaphor extremely clear, and it’s always nice when a series can explore marginalized characters both textually and metaphorically.

Through the kids, we get kernels of hope in this story, a reassurance there are kinder people in this world, and a hope that kindness will endure.

As depressing as the story can be, what it has to say is important and it doesn’t hold back in making you see what it’s going for—from the “Cool Japan” logo flashing right before the  Japanese government gives a weapons demonstration that will later kill citizens and destroy innocents...

...to the Trump-alike American President (and let me tell you it’s startling to be watching a show in Japanese and suddenly Donald Trump impression in perfect English) *(had to use the manga here because Crunchyroll didn't close-caption this part :/)

Then there's the American tourists, who were clearly va’d by someone really good at English, potentially a native speaker, and it’s incredibly funny how much of their dialogue has “fuck” in it and seeing the subtitles skip over that. Also much of their dialogue is treating the devastated Japan as a tourist attraction and saying how funny it all is to them. Logan Paul has entered the chat.

De x 8 very clearly hates America and recognizes it as a blood thirsty colonial power, which is correct, but the show is just as hard on it’s own country, saying the Japanese government would happily get back on the colonizing horse if they had an excuse, and many citizwns would mindlessly support them.

A small thing I appreciate is far from the usual anime aesthetic where everyone is blandly cute, the anime gives a ton of people ridiculously cartoony features that make everyone distinct—and being goofy looking is not meant to indicate a character is stupid or ugly—Makoto’s a super sympathetic character with giant cartoon buck teeth and one character that’s even pointed out as pretty has like, a pig snout nose. (It also makes it so the character noted as being drop dead gorgeous...actually is, instead of coming off as just as conventionally attractive as the rest)

Soooo a lot of good stuff going into this story. Let’s talk about some caveats.

There’s a continuing storyline between Kadode and her adult teacher, who takes her to his place to have sex with her. When he does, she ends up ditching him because of her feels for Ouran (gay) and I thought that would be the end of it, but nooope he’s a groomer, they pick up dating again when she’s in college, literally months after the previous encounter. The dude is presented as a scumbag, he cheats on his girlfriend, he seems generally apathetic, his clear discomfort with Kadode calling him “sensei” shows that he knows what he’s doing is wrong …and ultimately the relationship is shown to be unfulfilling, with Kadode directly stating so and acknowledging he’s just advantage. That doesn’t stop it from being uncomfortable though, especially since it’s confirmed he and Kadode have sex eventually (offscreen, thank god) and honestly, I felt it dragged on way too long. The first encounter pretty much demonstrated everything we needed to know about the whole thing in my view.

And of course there’s a ton of potentially triggering content in a story like this—from genocide to suicide to child murder to almost anything you can think of. Also like, one character has a sister complex, but on the milder side for anime. One where it’s conceivably platonic, and it’s not like he goes after her boyfriend Yuri Forger style, so it doesn’t bother me too much. There's also a good dose of fatphobia. And finally moment where a woman reveals she has ADHD (which I've never actually heard anyone say in anime so I actually got a little excited the more fool me) and then is almost immediately shown to be faking it.

The ending…is another big sticking point for me. It feels disconnected from the rest of the series, mainly focusing on a character we barely know and likely don’t care about and spending very little time with the characters we do, presenting an interesting status quo and immediately abandoning it, and while earlier episodes of the series presented "actions have consequences and we gotta live with them" as a major theme, it was suddenly like, actually they don’t!

The ultimate ending, again, hinges on a decision from a character we don’t care about and honestly feels like a deus ex machina. It felt almost like the author really wanted a happier ending but knew that wasn’t in line with the story he’s told so far, so he just tacked it on. Or maybe it was an editorial mandate, who knows. I think the most satisfying way to see watch episode 1-16 as its own pretty satisfying complete story (which works really well), and then treat episodes 0 and 17 as their own separate thing, a potential additional ending but not the definitive one. At least that’s what I did.

Overall, De x 8 is a show with a lot to say and it gives you plenty to chew on. While it is often depressing, it is very rewarding. The unbreakable bond between two messy girls, as well as the moments of ordinary joy and small human/alien journeys are the core of the show, and what makes it shine. I definitely encourage you to give it a watch. It's being really slept on, and it shouldn't be.

[moonlesslights]

Red thoughts (Sanemi x f!Reader)

Summary: After being kept apart from the Wind Hashira by your master, a mission suddenly brings the two of you together into a heartwarming path with dangerous twists in between that end up putting a bulge in Sanemi’s pants.

Warnings: Smut with plot. This is somewhat long but i’m really in love with this man so I also needed some fluff here. Minor character death and choking kink.

(If there’s something more you consider should be in Warnings, please let me know!)

A/N: I hope you enjoy this, because I truly enjoyed writing it. A lot of fun, love and smut with a happy ending, so don’t worry. Love y’all!

...

“So you’re the little flame.” The Wind Hashira grins at you, mockery dancing on his eyes. 

His white hair stands out against his pale skin full of scars that cross his face from side to side. A tug on one of the corners of your lips occurs when you are now able to observe that classic extravagance in each of the Hashira.

“Is a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.” You bow, slowly, and his smile disappears at the sight, drawing you to your full height again with the doubt that you've done something wrong.

You frown at his irritated gaze, glancing quickly at your own clothes for anything that didn't look entirely presentable. But you just can’t find a single stained o wrikled spot on your kimono, and the anger on his face is starting to freak you out. Was this what Kyojuro meant with his warnings about this man all this time?

"Has anyone told you how weird it is to introduce yourself to someone after spending a week in the same place as that person?" His voice now carries a hint of bitterness and irony that makes your stomach sink. "I've seen you loitering around the compound for six days and I think I'm the only Hashira who doesn't know your name."

Your eyes widen in surprise before you can do anything about it. He had seen you? For six days? Your mouth opens only to close again without having managed to bring a single word of excuse to the tip of your tongue. Gods, how disrespectful has it been to have overlooked him all this time? Now you have to feel your face heat up at the thought: How much have I ignored his presence that I've only seen him for two days?

His large eyes continue to examine you, piercing through every layer of courage it took you to even appear in his domain. Your heart is already beating faster than you would like, and each blow to the chest makes you lose more and more composure in the face of his insistent, too insistent gaze.

But it's not your fault! It's not fair that any opportunity to have a healthy friendship relationship with him slipped away before you could even notice because of someone else, because of...

 “I was looking foward to talk to you for some days now” You rush to say, narrowing your eyes in his direction. You're not going to let the first thing the imposing man knows about you is the fear his presence seemed to exude for everyone else. “But Master Rengoku… Mhm…!” Are you going to say it?, was it right? Your lips snap shut, gods, how were you going to explain that now?

"Oh." There is no need, you realize. No more words are necessary for the Hashira in front of you to understand your reasons at once.

However, you are not sure if that knowledge makes you happy.

You shift one foot after the other, playing with your balance as you remember how many times you asked to meet Master Shinazugawa and how many times Kyojuro talked you out of it. It were his words as your superior that you respected enough to carry out his wishes...

At least until Oyakata-sama himself called for you to ask you to join the Wind Hashira on a hunting adventure that had come his way.

"I'm sorry!" You exclaim at the top of your lungs, bowing.

Sanemi frowns even deeper, but this time with confusion. His voice is next to appear:

"What are you doing?! Stop you idiot!" A weary sigh calms you enough to look back at his face. You shrug, a soft smile painted on your lips. "Whatever. Wait for me here, we'll be gone in a moment."

Your enthusiastic nod only elicits another groan from him. His figure turns around and disappears into his residence, giving you the opportunity to observe the large trees and the huge garden that surrounds the wooden house.

It looks like a quiet, comfortable home. Definitely much quiet than the place you shared with Kyojuro as his tsuguko, and with three guys a little too hyperactive.

Your eyes roam the neatly arranged room, the fine armchairs and china arrangements on fully stocked bookcases. You can't help but smile at how long such order would last in your own residence with your 4 favorite walking disasters present.

"But why can't I go too?"

"I don’t need you."

"If it's an easy one they shouldn't send a Hashira..."

"Who said it was an easy one?!"

Your attention flows into the structure, watching two tall figures walk towards you.

Sanemi is wearing his classic outfit now, instead of the training uniform, and the boy next to him, Genya, his brother, frowns at the shout the Hashira just let out.

"Idiot..." The younger of the two murmurs under a sigh, but continuing on his way next to the white-haired one.

"I don't think it will take too long." Sanemi replies, giving him a death glare. "Take care of the place while I'm gone."

"As if I ever hadn't." Genya murmurs, arms crossed.

A simple smile is drawn on your lips at the scene, attracting the dark-haired boy's gaze faster than you would have liked.

His eyes widen in surprise and his mouth falls in reflex as he turns to his brother with raised eyebrows.

"And what are you lookin at now?" Sanemi spits out, almost baring his fangs.

Genya gently shakes his head, widening his eyes even further: "Isn't she who...?"

The Hashira's huge hand shoots at his brother's head, holding it in a threatening movement for several seconds until he finishes whispering something into his ear.

A threat that, more than scaring the minor, encourages him to let out a mocking laugh and to say goodbye to both of you with a huge smile that seems to warm up the top of the ears of your companion.

...

Traveling to the northern village began as a journey nothing if not heavy.

Sanemi was not someone who was easy to strike up a conversation with, and you had to realize that sooner than later.

Monosyllables. That's the only thing you can expect for an answer. A "yes", a "no", a shrug of the shoulders or an irritated sigh; and, if the Hashira is feeling generous, maybe he'll give you an "Enough already"

Was that he was still angry about the incident with Rengoku?, or is it his nature that prevents him from trying to be the least bit nice?

Whatever the case was, it is gettin in your nerves. And maybe that’s why you get along so well with the guys and Kyojuro: they just never shut up. And neither do you. So how is this supposed to work now?

“How about we play a game?” You try now, giving him the most unstable smile he could have seen in a while.

His eyes travel to yours, slowly. He tilts his head with an almost imperceptible movement and your smile is now threatening to split your face in two.

“Mhm.” Sanemi shrugs and turns to the road again.

Your blood boils in your veins. You’re not going to be able to stand the next two and half hours of travel this way. Agh!

“Just answer me, would you?!” You snap, abruptly stopping. “I’m sorry about what happened with Master Rengoku, but I'm here now and I’m trying to make it up for both of us!, I wanted to talk to you too, I actually wanted to see your training, I WAS JUST FOLLOWING ORDERS, ASSHOLE!”

The silence after your scream cuts the air. The crow above your heads squawks between the discomfort as you feel your teeth pressed together. The wind caresses your skin, cold, and you swear this is how he would feel.

“I see something… yellow.”

It takes you a moment to restart your brain cells. One blink, two blinks. He’s standing right in front of you, not even looking in your direction; one hand on the Katana’ handle and his breath as calm as you have ever heard.

… Is he trying to play?

Your mouth feels dry. Your heart in the throat still. Of course.

“That yellow flag…”

“No.” He answers.

Both of you continue walking in silence, soft steps directed to that still far destiny.

“The curtains of that house.”

“No.”

“The dress of that girl.”

“No.”

“Haven’t we passed it already?” You ask, looking back to see if something yellow made it out of your sight.

“No.”

The shoes, those doors, the ornaments, that house, the hair of that man…

“No.”

“Agh! I don’t know. Screw it, you’re impossible…” You groan, looking at him. “What is it?”

He then turns to you, grin on his face and bright eyes of someone who just won. Well, at least he looks more happy now, it doesn’t matter if…

“The sun”

This mother…

“The sun it’s not yellow!”

“Of course it is!”

“No! Look at it now, do you see it yellow?” He frowns, glancing at you like you were crazy.

“Of course I’m not looking at it, I’m not stupid.”

That’s debatable.

“The sun is not yellow, that game wasn’t fair.”

“Everyone draws it yellow.” He shrugs, ignoring the looks of other people on the two of you.

You clench your jaw. Does he feel like he won?, let’s show him how stupid he really is.

“My turn.” You rush, looking around you. “I see something… White.”

“The clouds.”

“No.”

“The wall.”

“No.”

“If this is some kind of joke…” He looks at you as you spread an innocent smile over your face. “That doll.”

You turn your head as you actually thought about it, but then: “No.”

Ten more objects passed over his lips movements, his patience running low with every response your gave him.

“Do you give up?” You ask, leaning in his direction.

“No. Shut up.”

Another ten objects and the town it’s left behind, making him grow angrier with every step. C'mon, everything in the woods was brown and green, what the hell would be your excuse for cheating now?

“Do you give up?” You ask again, confusing his thoughts.

“Screw you.” He sentences, avoiding your gaze.

You take that as a yes.

Your smile widens and he lets out a sight, irritated.

“That.” Your hand raises and points to his head. “Your hair.”

His face… priceless. His clenching fist… threatening. He feels the anger raise up to his system as his eyes fix on the white strand falling to his face, smacking reason into him.

Nah, that should have been cheating, it wasn’t allowed, was it?, choosing something of one of the players. It wasn’t fair because… because he didn’t even thought for a second his hair was the thing you were seeing. Fuck off…

He looks at you, frowning and with his canines showing; but in the moment you burst out laughing, his walls crumble.

The joy that emanates from your throat is… lovely. He had never got the chance to hear it before, always too far from you, always too distracted. Your eyes are almost close as your smile spreads across your face, and then…

“Don’t look at me like that, neither of us can beat the other!” You let go your body to his, dropping your head on his shoulder with a soft movement. Then he learned your first love language: touch.

And it was bad, it was too bad, because he loved the touch, he craved it, but most of the time he didn’t know how to ask for it. So when someone he finds lovely takes ahead, he just can’t help it: he doesn’t want to lose it.

His hands raise to your shoulders and brings back your body against him, brute. Chest to chest, skin caressing skin, and cold wind messing his stupid white hair.

His eyes are glued to the distance in front of him, refusing you the possibility to look at his face. And maybe it was okay, because you would have got scared at how uneasy he looked, what the hell is he doing?

His brows are strongly furrowed and his arms are shaking with the idea of the mistake he just made; but he doesn’t seem to be able to lose the grip on your body.

And he just hates it, he hates it until you let out a soft happy sigh and rub your nose against the skin on his collarbones, he hates it until you let your head rest on his shoulder and your arms climb to wrap around his neck.

“This is nice.” And he doesn’t hates it anymore. 'Cause you murmur with your lips touching his skin, easing the crawl of anxiety you got every time you went on a mission.

So he lets go, lowering his arm to your waist, applying comforting pressure to your body. His head drops to your shoulders and he swears the rhythm of his heart calms as your essence surrounds him.

Another squawk echoes from the sky and his hands tighten on the fabric of your kimono.

"You know that the Demon in that town could be a Kizuki, right?"

"Mmm... Mhm" You nod.

"Genya doesn't know anything, I didn't want to worry him... He's always been affected a bit more than the others." Sanemi sighs, his cold hands giving a pleasant chill to your skin. "I'm not your master and I don't give a shit about oaths... If things get ugly, you're out, do you understand me?"

"No, wait..."

Sanemi stands back up to his full height, his arms still around you and his face inches from yours; widened pupils that don't leave your eyes for a second.

"I don't want you to play hero, all you'll do is embarrass yourself. I want you to get out of there and bring Rengoku or Tengen with you, do you understand?"

You shake your head, looking down. This is not how it is suppose to work.

"That's an order."

"Genya would never forgive me. If I came back without you, I would never forgive me... Not if this is our first mission together."

The Hashira shakes his head in amusement.

"He will. You will. It's an occupational hazard."

Your eyes go up to his, how can you fit in so well with someone you've only just met?, how can you feel it under your skin?

"I don't need you to promise me that you will..." He whispers, his lips brushing your cheek now and his lashes caressing your temple. "I need you to obey."

Your heart pounds in your chest, throwing you off balance. You have no choice but to nod.

...

The village... The village was not in the form you expected to find it.

There were no bodies on the sidewalks and no blood running down the streets. No screams or terrified people. It didn't look at all like what Oyakata-sama had described as "a village subjugated by a demon".

The only thing that seems to warn of danger is the strange atmosphere in which everyone seems to move. Pink particles that float through the entire town and begin to blur your vision just 10 minutes after your arrival.

"What is this?" You whisper, reaching your hand out in front of you trying to catch a few between your fingers.

Sanemi shakes his head next to you, tapping your wrist to stop you from doing that.

"I have no idea, but I don't think it's the best to stick around too long to find out what happens if we keep breathing this shit." A man walks in front of you, smiling a little too friendly, lowering his eyes to your entire shape. "This thing keeps them calm and happy one way or another. We need to get to the Demon before this lowers our own defenses."

After a few comments, you both agree that the best way to find the responsible for all of that was following the path to the biggest concentration of pink particles. But with every step you keep taking to the big house on the edge of the town, your head feels more and more light and your feet start to move on their own.

You two need to finish this as quickly as possible or you won’t be able to fight right.

“Let me take the front, you enter from the back. Let’s take it by surprise and cut its head off once for all.”

Sanemi smirks at your plan, nodding.

“Whatever you say, little flame.” He agrees, taking his katana. “Just try not to die before I get there to save your ass, got it?”

You smile as you see his frame disappear when he turns to the next lane, white hair floating between the darkness. He’s going to do his part, you’re sure, and you need to do yours if you want to prove everyone and yourself that you deserved to be the next Fire Hashira.

The front door creeks at your intrusion, letting you observe with apprehensiveness the first hall on sight. Your steps appear to make too much noise and your ears keep warning you on every little noise you’re aware of.

Katana on hand, it is the only thing that makes you feel ready to whatever it’s coming. That said, your movements are clumsier at every minute that passes, and the amount of concentration of pink dust in that house was crazy. You could barely see two steps ahead of you.

“C’mon, c’mon..” You mutter, rushing your steps upstairs. “Where are y…?”

“Where is your lover?”

You stop every single movement of your muscles at the voice breathing on the back of your neck. A chill runs thought your spine. Shit, you couldn’t even sense her smell by now.

“I’m sure he was with you on your way here…” She continues, starting to walk into your sight.

“Do you mean that white haired guy?” You ask, raising your katana in front of you, furrowing your brows.

“Yes!” She exalts, smiling with bright fangs. “Where is he?, did he left you? Already?”

Her pretty face shrugs in confusion, looking at you like she was really concerned about your answer. She’s tall, a lot more than you, and her dark hair seems to float around her pink dress, giving her an strange aura you have never felt before… But that could be just the amount of pink particles you had inhaled by now.

“It was about the guy you kissed months ago?, Is he jealous?” Her bright eyes give her a childish, almost innocent appearance.

You step back. How did she managed to know about that?

“You kissed him too just a couple of days ago, isn’t?!” Your eyes fly open at her statement, felling like an idiot the moment your face starts to turn red. How could you be blushing in a moment like this? “But you don’t feel the same way… Is it because this new man?”

Her voice trembles and you force yourself to look at her eyes. You feel your chest let go at the realization: She wasn’t a Kizuki. But the way tears start to build up under her eyes tells you that her explosive personality could be the real problem.

“But then why did he leave you?! Didn’t he know you want him?”

“No…” You try to calm her. Your hand tightens on your weapon, getting nervous at how every rush of emotions lets out another wave of pinky particles. “He’s not my lover, he just had things to do.”

“N-No… But you two… I was sure…” Her knees buckle, looking at you with hidden pain in her features.

“It’s okay.” You coo. As pacific as her death could, the better.

“No… No, no!” Another pink wave hits you straight on the face. “You’re lying!, or you don’t- you don’t know how he… Where is he? Where is he?!”

“I’m here.”

Both pairs of eyes fly to the the back door of the room, widening with different emotions at the white haired figure brandishing a katana on its hands.

“Yes!, he came!” She looks at you with evident excitement and you need to hide the amusement at the confusion written on Sanemi’s face. “Now I can tell you how he feels, now you can know I wasn’t wrong!”

That seems to activate something in the Hashira. Sanemi clenches his jaw, tensing up.

“Fuck this.” He whispers, rushing towards the demon with a clean movement, seeking to cut off his head in one move.

However, the smile on the girls face only gets bigger and bigger. Jumping aside, the blade misses her neck for inches.

You get on action now, taking advantage of the distraction caused with Sanemi intervention to direct your katana to her feet, hitting below her knees with almost a perfect technique. Still, your legs feel weak at the sudden movement and your fantastic success is quickly overpowered by your face crashing on the floor.

Before the demon falls, her crawls aim to Sanemi, who just in time steps back and brandish his katana so the entire hand of the girl is cut off her body.

You had seen it before, a thousand times with Rengoku: the only thing that could make a Hashira spend more than three minutes with a demon is a number on its eyes. Anything else, they would tear it apart.

The demon in front of you… She wouldn’t stand a chance.

And she appears to knows it, too early, too easy.

Sanemi’s blade doesn’t stop for a second, it redirects to her neck, letting the flesh slide through the metal, dropping an amused head to the ground with a soft thud.

Her body stays still on the air, frozen in time, just a few centimeters above the wooden floor; still connected to the Demon emotions.

A prostitute, you realize.

She was a prostitute, a girl too innocent for that kind of job. A girl without family, without friends, just her and business. A girl who dreamed of another life, a beautiful life, with a house, a dog and a man who loved her above anything else. She spent her last minutes as human believing she would find true love with one of those men she had in her bed.

And on her last night, she did. She fell in love. But the beast there saw another kind of potential for her, another job. So she took his blood and never got tired of it.

He never loved me…

“Flame, step back!”

Between those sheets, I never found love…

“Master!”

“But you…” She raises her gaze, smiling so pure that your heart drops at the sight. “You are going to find it. It’s really here…”

Her body twitches on the air and her skin starts to break on even more pink cracks that threaten to split at any given moment.

“I’m so happy for you two… I’m happy now.”

“Get down!”

Sanemi’s voice is the last thing you hear before her whole body exploits into uncountable waves of red particles, washing over you with so much strength that your own body is thrown to the nearest wall.

“Master?” Your voice is barely a whisper and yet, your throat aches at the minimal effort.

Your lungs tighten every time you breathe and your legs feel weak, too weak. Moving out of the room can’t even be in your plans right now.

Everything you see is just red.

…

“You stupid idiot, where are you?”

It is Sanemi. His voice is what brings you back now, again. His steps seem to be still far from you, but you can tell he’s getting closer.

The red dust has almost disappeared by now, only a few particles remain floating around you and your hair. What a disaster…

“I’m still here, Master.” You answer, trying your best to get on your feet again.

“Yeah, no shit.” His mad voice echoes trough the walls before his tall frame appears crossing the back door once again, too. “Lucky you…”

“Lucky me?, I have no idea how much of that red shit I just inhaled…” You frow, raising your face to meet his a few feet from you. Yet, the one thing that catch your eye is the enormous hole on the room’s window. Oh… “Lucky me, I guess”

He huffs at your realization, taking a few steps ahead, watching for himself from how high he had fell. A new record, it seems.

“Are you hurt?” You ask, shaking off some more dust from your clothes. He doesn’t respond, still looking through the window. “What is this shit anyways?”

You start to walk closer to him, muttering some more questions under your breath. Nothing really important as you try to convince yourself that the Wind Hashira is tough enough to take that fall, that he would be okay, that Shinobu would make sure of that.

By the way, you need to send a crow as soon as possible so they can know about Sanemi’s state…

“Stop”

Eh?

The Hashira’s hand is raised up to your chest, indicating you for don’t keeping getting any closer to him.

“What?”

“Stop. Just fucking stop” His voice cracks at the last word, turning on all your alerts.

“Sanemi?, are you felling unwell? Does something hurt?” Your hand reaches out for his shoulder and you take it back almost immediately.

He was burning…

“Sanemi?, are you…?”

“Get away from me. Now.”

His voice is harsh and doesn’t leave space for questions. You had only heard him using it on another slayers, leaving them with wreaked knees and whole body trembles.

Still, seeing the way his eyes shut close, almost painfully, you just couldn’t seem to obey this order.

“Why?, what do you feel?” You coo, leaning closer to him.

His response comes with another tremble.

“I’m hot. I feel like I’m burning alive…”

Your heart sinks, drowning in impotence when you don’t find anything you can do immediately to take that pain away from him.

“It’s okay, I’ll send a letter to Shinobu right now, I’m sure she will know what to do.” You try, taking him from both shoulders.

“No. You go…” He shakes his head, getting your hands off of him. “I want you out of this room.”

“No, what are you talking about?, I’m not leaving you.” You reach for him again. “Come on now, can you walk?”

You raise his arm on your own, trying to lock it over your shoulders to help him move, but his head starts to shake in denial the moment you step closer, struggling with each other.

“No. No, it’s okay…”

“Let me help you…”

“No, leave me.”

“C'mon now, just let me…”

“I told you to stop!”

The next thing you feel is your ass crashing down the floor, hard. His movements were too sudden and his strength too much for you. You need to look up to him to realize how far he had just pushed you.

However, any hints of anger wash away when you focus on his face:

White salty hair sticked to his even more pale skin, unmatched breath and open eyes with extremely widened pupils.

Oh.. and a bulge between his legs.

It hits you.

Hard.

That’s what that red dust was: an aphrodisiac. A powerful one for what you could see. You feel stupid for have just realized what you had let Sanemi gotten in to. He probably was in an even moren affected state since the beginning.

You start to remember your way to this house, how the men seem to be in an perpetual infatuation’ state. Even the Wind Hashira looked approachable under that pink dust. You bet women loved how easy was to deal with men under that spell.

Gods, you and Shinobu should start a new project right away…

“Out.” Sanemi orders, avoiding to look in your direction. You open your mouth just in time to be interrupted again: “Get out before I do something we will both regret tomorrow.”

You begin to shake your head as soon as his words hit you in the throat. His pain is evident, his face is red and his fists clench around nothing, digging his nails to his own flesh, so hard that you fear it’ll start bleeding.

Did he plan on you leaving him like that?

“Look at me…” You ask. “Look at me, Sanemi.” The way his eyes lift at the mention of his name dropping of your lips gets you walking to him in no time. “If I get out of here now I won’t be able to come back for at least three hours, you sure you can hold on until that?, you sure you won’t do something mad out of desperation before that?”

“If you do not leave this room right now I’m sure I will do something mad.” His eyes have turned bestial and his knuckles are white, clenching now so hard on the window frame you’re sure he will break the wood under his fingers soon.

Your heart pounds on your chest and your brain is working at full speed. You should go, you should start running as soon as possible and bring help here, but again, how long would that take?, how much suffering he would have to bear when you…?

“Fuck!” The pain that exudes his voice is the breaking point for you when you watch him fold on his stomach, bracing himself like he would die right there.

“Would you really regret it?!” You exclaim, looking down to his widened pupils.

He shakes his head, unsure.

“I don’t want to mess up whatever is going between you and Rengoku” He admits, frowning.

“What?, what are you talking about?, there’s nothing going with me and Kyojuro.”

He starts to try to stand straight again, still clenching to his stomach. You do your best to help him, letting him use your shoulder as a support and then getting your hands under his, so your arms avoid him to come down again.

Still, he lets out a desperate groan when your chest and his own rub through the movements and his hot skin touches your cold.

“That witch said you kissed a guy, right?, wasn’t it Rengoku?” His head drops to your shoulder. Hot breath running chills against your sensitive skin.

You nod, letting Sanemi's essence surround you.

“And she also said I didn’t feel the same… Remember?” That was the first time you admitted that out loud. “So tell me now if you will regret it so much so I can go out and bring help…”

“I would kill for having you in my arms the whole night, flame.” His lips brush against your neck, igniting your hear in only one sentence. “But if we do this, if we do this right now..” he lets you feel again the bulge pressing against your lower stomach. “I’m not letting you go back to him. This won’t be a one night stand, flame. I’m keeping you… so you tell me if it won’t be you the one who regrets it tomorrow.”

You smile, felling his head moving out of the crock of your neck to look at you directly on the face.

You get on your tip toes, pushing both of the tips of your noses together. His lips brush against yours and you start to wonder if that red dust didn’t affect you too. But with the growing tension, the only thing you can do is closing your eyes and crave for him to close the space that still remained between your bodies.

“I need words, little flame.” He grins, and when you open your eyes you swear you haven’t seen such a beautiful man in your entire life.

“I won’t regret it.” You smile, sure, running your fingers through his white strands, trying to make him certain of your decision. “Let’s do this.”

“You won’t run away?”

“Where else could I be, idiot?”

The way his lips crash against yours lets you feel how much pain was still running trough his system. The way his hands clench to your hips, forcing your body to curve into his, lets you feel how much desire he is holding on.

Your legs wrap around his waist when he lifts you from the floor. You can feel that he’s moving, but his hot lips dancing against yours, letting his wet tongue explore your mouth, avoid you to acknowledge anything else.

His neck then curves to lower his head, placing soft wet kisses to your sensitive skin from your jaw to your collarbones. Your mouth falls open, letting out a low gasp at the way his huge hands start to browse your body. You feel him everywhere.

Still, it is how his teeth crave into your skin what brings you back to what was really happening. No matter how much you would have wished this to occur under different circumstances, you can’t let the joy of the moment distracts you for what you need to do right here, right now, this time.

You drop from Sanemi’s embrace and plant your feet on the floor again. His confused face doesn’t last long after your hands push his chest and force his body to fall onto the bed of the room he had brought you two to.

“What are you…? Oh, fuuuuck.” Your tongue tracing the fine line of hair from his pelvis to his navel makes him arch his back with a loud groan falling from his clenched teeth.

Your hands travel around his exposed torso before you push your body up, straddling his hips with your legs. He takes you by the neck and pulls you into a kiss, devouring your mouth as you roll down your hips, applying friction on his crotch. The hardness in his pants rubs against your clit just right and you let a moan fall from your mouth, making him groan.

“Fuck, please, Flame…”

The desperation in his voice takes you by surprise when he takes by the waist and applies pressure down on him, forcing you to feel how bad he needed you.

You leave one last kiss on his jaw before kneeling down, looking at him when your fingers pull at the edge of his pants. Sweaty white locks glued to his forehead and a slight brush of pink across his cheeks and nose gives you every answer your needed. You pull down the fabric and he finishes to toss it off his feet, freeing his cock in front of you.

Well, his idiocy is definitely not the only big thing about him. Shit, is that really going to fit inside you?

You take him with one hand, giving it a few strokes, unsure. You are a virgin after all, you are not quite confident that you are doing it right. You move your hand up and down, applying pressure and registering Sanemi’s reactions; and when you pass your thumb across the tip and he throws his head back, you know you did something right.

“Just like that…” The white haired murmurs, supporting his weight on his elbows, closing his eyes, enjoying the soft caresses of your little hands of him, not sure if it was the red dust what was making his body feel surrounded in flames or  just how much he had dreamed about this from the first time he saw you...

God, this shit is getting on his brain, he needs to make sure it doesn’t get to his tongue.

Tongue...

“Fuck-... Flame!” His hand tugs at your hair as the wet contact of your mouth wraps around him. 

His eyes dart to look at you between his legs, your lips just a few millimeters from the tip and dove eyes looking in his direction. His breathing gets stuck in his throat and suddenly, Sanemi feels guilt pounding in his chest.

“Did I do it wrong?” You ask just above your breath and he swears he could die right there and now. 

“No, no... It’s just... We should change positions, c’mon, I want to make you feel good too...” He starts shifting his body before you press a hand on his chest again, shaking your head. 

“No, Sanemi...” You climb up to him without letting go of his cock, also raising your free hand to his shoulder. “Tonight is about helping you, besides...” You press your lips to his ear as you whisper: “You’ll make me feel good in a bit too.”

And you swear you can feel him throb in your hand. 

His eyes are glued to you as you lower down to your knees again. You let your tongue fall out your mouth, pressing along all his long shape before wraping your lips at the top and taking his balls and the bottom with your hand. 

The first few moves you try are just testing, because you can't get him deep enough before you gag. So when his hands tangles on your hair again but instead of pushing you away bring you closer to him, you know you’re fucked. 

“Relax your throat and stick your tongue out... Yes, like that.” His hand starts pushing you down and you feel your eyes getting watery as his tip hits the deep of your throat. “Juuuust like that. Good girl.”

You take a deep breath when he goes all the way back again and, before you know, he’s pushing into you with a new found rhythm. Your hands grasp at his hips, trying to mantain a little control over your body as brutal groans scape from his lips and the thrusting becomes even more erratic. 

You gag one more time and look at him with those lust-filled eyes and he truly believes he has never seen anything hotter. His hips stutter and he lets out a soft moan after a deep groan when he pulls you out just in time, ‘cause not even understanding what was going on, you followed his movements and now your pretty face was splattered in cum. 

He was wrong, there was something even hotter. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He’s not. Do not believe him. 

You smile and grab your kimono’s sleeve to wipe it off only for him to pull at your wrist and stop you. You open your eyes big and look at him closing the distance between your bodies. His thumb comes at your face and colects the cum with a couple of movements. 

“Open.” He orders, tapping your lower lip with his knuckles. 

You obey him, letting your jaw fall down just enough so he could push in his thumb, letting you taste him as he pressed down your tongue with malice. A grin appears on his face as your lips close around his finger. 

“Stop being so goddamn sinful, little flame.” 

A genuine smile breaks your act. You got caught. He pulls away and you let out a soft laugh, looking at him with bright eyes. God, how could this feel so right?

 “How are you feeling?” You ask, soon enough your features are full of concern again and he hates the sight of it. 

His big hands grab at your waist and pull you up to his lap, wraping his arms around you. You blink with curiosity at him when he frowns and press his index right between your brows. 

“Don’t do that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

You let out a loud laugh before pressing your own index on his forehead too. “But you are doing the same, idiot.” He looks up and huffs, letting his hand fall again to your hips. “Besides, smiling also creates wrinkles, here...” You touch both side of his eyes.

“Those I don’t care.” He complains, narrowing his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask again, preoccupied that the pain from the begginind hadn’t stopped. 

“Better. I can stop here, I feel good enough to wait for Shinobu if that’s what you’re asking, Flame.” Sanemi’s lips are now brushing agaisnt yours with every word his lips drop. “But I don’t want to. So tell me if I need to stop right now, we’ll do whatever feels okay with you.”

Your red face is the only thing that doesn’t feel okay. For fuck’s sake... C’mon!, what happened to all your confidence? No, why did you have to sit there?!

“Did you listen, little flame?, it’s okay if you want to stop here.” 

You shake you head at his suggestion, looking down. He tries to tilt your head up with his fingers but you refuse it, bitting your lip before your are able to speak.

“... This feels okay.” You whisper, rocking down your hips with his hard cock. His hands tighten on your skin and you are still wondering if he knew how wet you got of feeling him growing underneath you all this time. 

“Fine.” Is the only thing he says before he turns you around and drops your back against the mattress.

Sanemi undresses you quickly, big scratchy hands that run over your body without any shame. Your kimono slips off your shoulders when your breasts are exposed. Sanemi is fully hard again and... He was lying to you. He wasn't okay, every second tested his ability to keep his hands to himself, every time you touched him he ignited, just how much pain was he willing to take if you believed him?

His eyes follow each of your agitated breaths and you now know perfectly well that the red dust is still running through his entire system. His lips wrap around your right nipple while two of his fingers pinch the left one, creating electrical currents down your body. You let out a gasp, feeling his tongue dancing on your skin, but not satisfied with that, he presses his teeth down your nipple, not letting go until you whimper under him, and with that, he crawls to your lips again, demanding for his tongue to be taken into your mouth.

“Sanemi…” You whisper, cupping his face between your hands.

As he works with your lower lip, one of his hands loosens the skirt of your kimono and takes it down your legs, letting you push it off your feet to the floor. His fingers then trace down your leg up to your inner thighs, pressing his thumb slowly on your bundle of nerves and forcing a moan out of you straight to his lips.

“Let me prepare you, little flame.” He says, pleas, as his digit works on you, making your squirm under him.

“Mhm..!, Sanemi, no…”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Your panties finally come off and you are, now, completely exposed to him. He accommodates you on top of a pillow, letting your head rest as he backs up a bit, only enough to watch your entire body, dark pupils all over it, red cheeks calling for another thing but just lust.

“You’re so, so beautiful, flame.” He grins, hidden thoughts under his tongue. “I’m scared to stain you…”

“Sanemi-”

“Am I even worth to it, love?” The sudden pet name takes you by surprise, letting you silenced for his next sentence: “I don’t think I have ever hold something so precious, I-”

“I want it to be you, Sanemi.” You interrupt him, smiling. “I’m starting to suspect Oyakata-sama knew what he was doing putting the two of us in this mission.”

He lets go of a simple laugh, warming your heart. “Do you really think so?”

You nod, cupping his pale face between your hands to peck his lips three times. His hand rests above one of yours, bringing you closer to him, enjoying your essence surrounding him.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

You try to look at his face to talk him out of “thanking you” but you’re suddenly pushed back into the mattress, covered by his whole body.

“Now let’s do this right, shall we?”

“Sane- Oh, fuck!” His fingers start to play on your clit without a warning, pressing down on your skin, almost making spread your legs with no other thought in your head.

His pace is savage, delicious, bringing you closer to the edge only for him to stop, delighting himself with the way you squirm under him, noting how he was the first man to make you feel this way.

Soon, one of his fingers looks for your entrance, moving cautiously until he finds it, then, he curves.

“Mhmmm…!”

“Yes, right there, love, isn’t it?” He gives you a sided smile, taking a much faster rhythm and adding a second finger a moment later, opening you for him. “I’m gonna need you to tell me if something doesn’t feel right when I put it in, okay?”

You nod, biting down your lip. His words were like an echo comparing to the felling overflowing all of your senses. However, instead of positioning right, your master continued with his finger inside of you, pulsing every time harder and harder.

“Sanemi… It’s okay, I can ~ah~ do it now…”

He shakes his head. His pupils almost take the entirety of his eyes by now, looking down at you when he says:

“I need you as relaxed as possible. I don’t want to hurt you, Flame… So I need to take one out of you first.”

His left hand comes down on your throat, deliciously squeezing, as a third finger joins the pair inside of you and his thumb takes over your clit. It soon becomes too much to bear and you can’t say no more than “yes” every time a new motion brings closer and closer to your ecstasy.

And it comes sooner than expected: crashing, destructive all over your body, making you grip fiercely to Sanemi’s arms, arching your back on senseless movements.

“That’s right, little flame.” His praising words drawn another moan from you, taking you back from your orgasm sweet and gentle. Two words you couldn’t believe, described the Wind Hashira. “Do you feel good now?”

You nod, closed eyes and sloppy smile.

“Yeah.” You grant. He steals another kiss and looks at you in the eyes. “Come here, Sanemi…”

As you share a deeper kiss he finally positions between your legs, still playing softly with your clit, and pressing the tip into your entrance. You gasp to his mouth and his tongue takes the chance to come down in you, letting you taste the salt and forest in him.

Sanemi starts to slide in, bruising grip on your hips when he groans, murmuring under his breath “you’re tight…”. The sting that comes along alerts your senses, but the feeling clouds them again. The pain and the pleasure had never been in such a close line before.

“I’m… Oh, god- I’m gonna start moving now, okay?” His head is beside yours and his breathing sends shivers down your spine.

You lift your legs, interlacing them around his waist when you nod.

Slowly, he exits you only half of his shaft, and pushes in again. Both of you gasp at the feeling. Your nails look for his skin one more time, burying themselves and leaving furious red marks on him as he repeats this movement enough times for you to accustom his size.

That was seven minutes ago.

Now that you have given him green flag to start moving as he wished so, now he was on his knees and your hips lifted up to him, with both of his hands holding you up by the waist as he thrusted into you in what it seemed an unstoppable pace.

Your moans were loud, specially since, on a particularly hard thrust that made you clench on him, Sanemi had growled and bitted down your shoulder, hurting the skin but sending you on another uncontrollable orgasm.

You don’t think you can take one more.

“Don’t close your eyes, flame. Look at me.” He takes by the chin, forcing you to lock gazes with him. He grins and you can feel him starting to squeeze on your throat again. “Mhm! Fuck, you like that, don’t you?, I know you like it because you squeeze me down here… and you moan, shit, you moan so sweet, little flame.”

“Sanemi…” You whimper, arching your back and pressing your fingers on his biceps, giving him exactly what he needed.

“I’m gonna cum, love. Oh- I’m gonna…”

“Inside.” You bring your arms around his neck when your back finally meets the mattress again and his body comes closer to yours.

“I-I can’t, flame. We can’t.”

He’s not lying. He might be dying to impregnate you and get his seed deep into you, hell, he can get completely turned on only with the thought of fucking a baby into your tummy, but…

You shake your head, pleasure clouding your reasonable brain when your legs find their own way to lock behind Sanemi, mumbling one more time “inside”

Well, fuck it.

The white haired resumes his brutal thrusts, continuing brushing your clit with the thumb of his right hand and pressing down your throat with his left.

He edges you for some more minutes, keeping you moaning into his ear and screaming his name as he wished so; but finally, his hips start to lose control and the big dom man above you soon turns into a mess of grunts and low whimpers almost asking you to make him cum.

“Oh, please, please, pleaseeeee… Fuck!, Ah! Fuck… So-so good.”

You wished you could have laugh at the moans of your master, but you weren’t in an exactly better state right now. If worst, you could barely speak and your legs were trembling intensely with your tummy still having spasms every three seconds, bringing another gasp out of you.

Sanemi moved out of you and to your side like a big cat that had been just fed and was ready to take a deserved nap.

“Are you okay?, how are you feeling?” His arm comes under your body, bringing you closer to him.

“I’m okay, how are you feeling?” You repeat, concern still hidden in your voice. Was he still in pain?

“I’ll survive.” He smiles, tilting his head, but the answer doesn’t sit right on you and he can almost immediately tell. “I’m okay now, Flame. I swear. Believe, if a need another little dosis of help, I’ll let you know.”

This time it’s you who breaks into a smile, smacking his chest playfully while you shake your head. At the action, he throws his head back, laughing with his eyes closed. He had never felt this happy before, he didn’t remember how good it felt. To love. To be loved.

It is really here.

And you have never seen such a beautiful thing before. If you could burn into your pupils a permanent image for the rest of your life, this would be it.

To want to hold something forever.

“Sleep, little flame, we have a big journey tomorrow.”

You are already yawning as he speaks, nodding and not even protesting at his words. Your legs were jelly, your vocal cords sore and the tiredness of the fight was finally catching up to you.

“Mhm-mhm, good night, Sanemi.”

He grins, placing the covers on top of both you.

“Good night, love.”

His lips pressed on your forehead are the last thing you feel before finally surrendering to your heavy eyelids, but you can still swear you hear the soft and lovely laugh of that little demon somewhere out there.

She’s glad you’re happy.

You’re glad she’s finally in a place where she can be too.

[lovings4turn]

୭ 🗝️ ✧ ˚. 🪩 rum and revelations . . . (l.s.)

— after one too many drinks at a party, logan forgets how to keep his own secrets. but drunk words are sober thoughts, right? (1k words)

+ inspired by this ask from my lovely dolly — i know this was a sugar n spice saturday ask but it just made my mind go BRRR so i had to write a full fic!

+ contains fluff, drinking and drunk behaviour, mentions of vomiting but no one is actually sick. divider from cafekitsune

“woah, sorry!”

before you can react, logan is slumped against your side, essentially placing his full body weight onto you. high-pitched laughter escapes his lips as he attempts to steady himself, placing a hand onto the wall you’re both leaning against as he regains his balance.

there’s no mistaking it. he’s drunk. absolutely shit-faced, to be more precise. 

but you can’t really blame him. all of his hard work and determination had finally paid off, and just a few hours earlier he’d earned his first points of the formula one season. what kind of friend would you be to deny him the chance to celebrate? especially when such a large party had been thrown, a friend of one of logan’s friends offering up their house to host.

“feeling okay?” you ask, an amused smile tugging at your lips as he lifts his head.

“never better,” he responds. 

even his voice suggests he’s a little worse for wear. his accent has somehow grown thicker, and his words are a little sluggish, slurred together in a blur of vowels and consonants with a meaning wrapped up somewhere in the middle. a couple of glasses of champagne paired with tequila shots and rum and cokes will do that to a person, you suppose.

any conversation dies on your tongue as logan slumps forward once more, warm forehead resting against your shoulder as he emits a low groan. if it weren’t for his shoulders shaking with laughter, you would have been concerned. 

“this is what you call ‘never better’?” you tease. 

without thinking, you lift your hand to his hair, carding your fingers through the blonde strands in a motion that you hope is soothing. logan’s response comes in the form of an incomprehensible groan, and you can’t help but laugh yourself.

“i think it’s starting to hit me,” he admits, removing his head from your shoulder. 

his eyes are a little glazed over, and though he’s smiling, there’s a far away look on his face that indicates the copious amounts of alcohol is starting to catch up with him.

“alright, let’s get you some water,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

you and logan are no strangers to taking care of one another. you had been best friends for the past five years or so, so you’d had your fair share of looking after the other when they got a little too carried away at a party. still, you don’t think you’ve ever seen logan this bad.

you take his hand in yours, lifting his arm until it’s draped around your shoulder in an effort to support his weight. he stumbles alongside you, mumbling inaudible comments to himself and bursting into gratuitous laughter as he trips over his own feet. 

some divine force must be on your side, as you’re able to find an empty room without trouble. god knows how you would have reacted if you’d… interrupted something between two other partygoers. 

you lead logan over to the queen sized bed, sitting him down despite his protests that he’s perfectly capable of doing it on his own. luck was certainly with you, as the room you’d selected bore an ensuite bathroom. 

“wait here,” you instruct, striding over to the bathroom and filling a glass with cold water.

as the crisp water fills the glass, you check yourself over in the mirror. when you think about it, you’re not sure why. sure, you don’t want to be walking around with smudged makeup, or your hair a mess, but it’s also just logan. he’s seen you at your very worst sober, so why should it matter how he sees you now, when his vision is likely double? 

you thrust the glass into his hand, cupped palm coming to sit under his chin as he greedily downs the liquid. a few droplets hit your hand, and you hold back a shiver at the cold temperature.

“y’okay?”

“i’m not gonna vomit, if that’s what you mean.” he jokes, and you smile back. 

it’s quiet for a moment, until logan speaks again.

“thanks, y/n. i’m sorry, you should be enjoying yourself. yet you’re here taking care of me.” 

logan exhales, throwing himself backwards until his back hits the mattress.

“don’t apologise, logan. if there’s any night for you to get shitfaced, it’s tonight,” you reason, giving him a smile. “anyways, ‘m happy to do it. long as i know you’re okay.”

“you’re too nice,” logan mumbles, his tone once again far away, as though his mind is somewhere else entirely. “y’know, this is why i like you so much. you’re always so nice to me.”

suddenly, your heart is in your throat. 

“what?” you ask, forcing out a laugh.

he’s drunk. you reason. he has no clue what he’s saying.

“i mean, y’always there for me. at every grand prix, even when i’ve fucked a race, you’re in the garage for me. you always answer my calls, and you’re just really nice. and really pretty. my god, you’re so pretty,” logan mumbles.

his eyes are closed, and it’s apparent to you that he has no idea what he’s saying.

“oscar’s tired of me talking about you, actually. though he promises it’s not your fault. it’s mine, for talking about you so much. oscar thinks you’re great.” 

you’re glad he’s out of it, because it would be impossible to hide your flushed cheeks and dropped jaw. 

“of course,” you respond, begging your tone to stay even. “we’re best friends. and i’m fucking amazing.”

logan scoffs a laugh.

“yeah, ‘best friends’. not like i’ve been in love with you since we met or anything.”

it’s clear his tone is begging to be joking, but the alcohol prohibits him from being convincing. your heart is in your throat, and you swallow it down, praying it doesn’t try to crawl back out. instinctively, your hand finds itself in logan’s hair once more and you sigh, biting back a smile.

“we’ll talk when you’re sober, yeah? i think you’ll be quite pleased with how the conversation turns out.”

logan nods at this, leaning further into your touch. when he finally responds, his voice is thick with sleep.

"mm, sounds good. love you."

your heart skips a beat as you smile.

"yeah. love you too."

🏷️ tags : @faerieroyal @starriesworlds @itscrzy

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAu - A Step Forwards

I am back! And After some thinking I have decided how I wanted this drabble to go :3

We are back with a Dream centered one <3 Boy is going through a lot.

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No beta or edits <3

@spotaus welcome back :3

*------------------------*

Dream wants to cry again as he looks around the very empty and abandoned living room.

So many things just.. left behind.

Cabinets full of movies and games and all kinds of different game consoles, some very exclusive versions from other universes.

Dream rubs another tear away as he looks around. The pictures on the walls also hurt. They are all of the gang and a few of them has Nightmare in the background. Looking confused with his skull slightly tilted. Killer is often the one who clearly took the picture selfie style.

Dream pauses at another picture. It is Nightmare but he is reading. Clearly distracted. He is sitting on a large chair, tentacles just laying all over the surface of the chair. Nightmare fully distracted as he reads a book while sitting cross legged on it.

Dream remembers that Ngihtmare would always sit cross legged. Spine in a curve as the read.

He had once asked how that could be comfortable. Nightmare had just said it felt nice...

One day he stopped sitting with his spine curved and instead would lean heavily against their mother.

Dream slowly removes the picture from the wall and hugs it close. How could he not have seen that his brother was still there? Just within reach? But Dream had once again not seen it...

A hand on his shoulder shakes him out of it and Blue looks worried at him "Dream?"

Dream leans against Blue "How can I just... not notice? Be so blind and stupid and..."

Blue frowns at him "Dream..."

Dream stares at him "Why didn't I just listen?" No wonder Nightmare left as soon as he could... With them no longer being gods of balance... Nightmare is actually free to do whatever he wants... Why did Dream think Nightmare would still want to be near him after everything?

Blue frowns at him "Becuase you believed it was the right thing to do."

Dream glares down "That is the problem isn't it? That is always what happens. I thought heloing the villagers was the right thing to do but ti wasn't. I thought spreading positivity was the right thing to do but it wasn't. I thought that Nightmare needed help and changing him was the right thing to do. And guess what?! IT wasn't!"

Blue just keeps looking at him "You were a child."

Drema shoots him a glare but Blue continues "You were a child. A child who had a mother who was, I am gonna be honest here, not a good person."

Drema feels bad as he shakes his skull but Blue holds up a hand "Dream. I read that book. I can see the clear favouritism a mile away. But that? That isn't your fault. The way the villagers acted? Wasn't your fault. You were a child. A child who trusted his mother. Who trusted those who were nice to him because why wouldn't you? Why would you think someone would hurt your brother? That idea probably hadn't even come to mind as even a possibility."

Dream glares at the ground and hugs the picture closer "And what about me making the disbalance worse? Me acting as if i knew better when i didn't know anything? When i didn't even realise what my actual title was?"

Blue tilts his skull "Well... who taught you those things?"

Dream opens his mouth "That woman who broke me out of stone and lied- ... oh..."

Blue just smiles sadly "You were surrounded by people who used you for their own needs and wishes Dream... People who hated your brother for no real reason... I am not surprised those some people would tell you lies and poison your ideas on how stuff works."

Dream shakes as he leans against his friend, his best friend. Maybe his one true friend in the multiverse. Mostly as he doubts Nightmare ever wants to be friends again.

Blue rubs his shoulder "She raised you right?"

Dream gives a slow nod "broke out of stone the same way i was when i went in... She got me out and... well... raised me... made sure i trained and would keep repeating how nightmare had caused all the pain adn that they had always known it would happen..." That Dream shoudl ahve stopped Nightmare sooner. that Dream's lack of worry and saying that Nightmare wasn't that bad caused the pain. That it made Nightmare able to destroy their home.

... okay Dream is starting to think Blue may have a point on this.

Blue looks at him "What now?"

Dream stares at him "What?"

Blue gives him a look "You need to make a choice Dream. Because from the looks of this?" he waves around "The gang has moved ages ago. THe fact we haven't heard about any raids or any sus things? They are probably doing something else. Nightmare must have figured out he was successfull in rebalancing the balance and decided to leave it behind."

It only stings a little to hear that. But Blue is right. It had been Nightmare who rebalanced everything. They had seen his office. Files upon files and reports upon reports and so many schedules... all to keep track of the tiny shifts in balance.

Drema had just been running around the Omega universe and doing chores to help people...

Blue continues looking at him "What do you want to do now? Do you want to continue looking for Nightmare?"

Dream does want to continue looking for Nightmare but... He looks around again. Sees the home that had been made... A home for his brother... a home he hadn't been welcome in.

Dream looks at Blue and thinks "I want... I want to see him again... But I don't think he wants to see me..." he looks at the many pictures. and then to the crown they had found tugged away in a drawer "I don't... I don't think he even knows I love him... And that is on me... Even if other stuff isn't completely my fault that is my fault." his failing as a brother. As older twin.

Blue puts an arm tighter around him.

Dream looks at the picture in his hands. the one he is already planning on stealing and keeping for himself "I made a mess of so many things... And when he tried to explain I let lies others told me get to me instead of being brave and trying to understand... I made everything so much harder." he looks at Blue "I want to fix that first..."

Blue frowns "You mean...."

Dream nods "I am going to tell the council. Explain that I had been wrong."

Blue stares at him before smiling brightly "I will be there with you! I am so proud of you Dream!"

Dream smiles as he looks around the cold room. They will do one more search around this place. Look for anythings that Dream can keep save in case Nightmare wants them back... and maybe, like this picture and the crown, a few things that Dream wants to keep.

--

Dream set up the council to enable more universes to talk and interact. To help each other and to spread messages in case of emergancies.

Turns out that hadn't been the best idea.

Well!

At elast this way this should spread quickly!

Dream waits nervously before shooting Blue a look. Blue sees him look and smiles as he gives him the thumbs up.

Dream takes one more look around the table and is happy to note that Error and Ink are both here as well. This is good! Their truce will help set everything to be calm!

Dream rises to his feet and the group quiets. It is okay. He practised this. He smiles brightly "Hello everyone. Thank you for coming this quickly. I know it was shot notice."

Some mutters and someone asked if Nightmare did something again. Error huffs but remains quiet. Ink shoots him a curious look but Error jsut flips him off. Clearly a familiar interaction between them.

Dream takes a deap breath before speaking up "It is connected to my brother yes. Mostly. The balance has been restored."

Silence and Error actually sits upright.

Some mutters and someone congradulates him for his hard work.

Dream shakes his skull "You misunderstand. There is a balance between everything. including emotions. I may hav ebeen spreading positive emotions but All I was doing was unbalancing things. I was making the problem worse. For this I am sorry and we are very lucky my brother did know what he was doing and fixed my mess."

Silence before someone asks how him bringing happiness could be a bad thing.

Dream shoots them an annoyed look "Go you want to laugh and cheer the next time your human kills your brother?"

A long silence.

Dream huffs "That is the start what a multiverse without negativity would cause. I did not realise before I was making it worse and I apologise."

Some uneasiness around them as someone asks the question that most are not asking. If that means that what the gang had been doing had actually been helping the multiverse at large.

Dream nods "It was. And now we are talking about it. I was never a god of positivity. I was a god of balance who very much misunderstood his job." then lastly "Not that it matters anymore. With the balance restored I am no longer a god of balance. I will eventually get, pick or find a new calling but it won't be emotions again." fuck he hopes it isn't emotions again.

Some people keep trying to ask if they really need negativity and can't just get like a negative corner or the bare minimum.

Error grows annoyed and speaks up "This si why this shit is useless. It is like destruction and creation. Like life and death. YOu want your world to get overpopulated until you can't make enough food and everyone will starve? That is a world wihtout natural death. You want the multiverse to get so full with half finished and glitching universes? That is what happens when ou want destroy stuff and do clean up. You want to laugh manically when someone you love dies? That is what happens when you don't have negativity. It isn't that hard to understand." Error sees that everyone heard and lays back down.

Dream shoots him a smile but Error jsut continues to glare at him. Right. Error nad Nightmare had been friends. Dream turns back to the group "Error is right. THis is bigger than one of two universes. This is bigger than all of our worlds combined. But foremost it is important that everyone knows that my brother was never the villain."

Some people try to go against it but Dream just keeps repeating the same message. His brother is the reason things are stable and everyone can still feel normally. He is the reason the balance is fixed. He wasn't the villain.

And he will repeat it as many times as needed until the message sticks.

*------------------------*

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[moxfirefly]

Please please please with a cherry on top! I am in NEED of a thigh fuck with Raph xFemReader. I’ve had this scene stuck in my head of Raph and his girl making out and she’s finally had enough of him pushing her away when she’s about to bust so she straddles him on the lair couch. They’ve only made out with some semi-heavy petting before he pulls away and gets all “tough” and tries to change the subject. She’s a needy woman and she needs some attention and validation or at least an explanation as to why he’s so hesitant. She doesn’t get it because she’s been after him forever & now that she has him she’s not about to let him go. This could be completely filthy ❤️‍🔥 I just need my big boy to come undone (pun intended) No pressure but I just love your writing & have been going through and rereading all of your amazing stories! — Much love, Phera

Ngl this has been festering my noggin for a while because I’ve been in a big Raph mood lately. I hope you don’t mind but this is a combination of something I’ve been working on with like a portion of your request into it but I think you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Raphael always found the word “obsessed” to be a tad too exaggerated.

Whenever Donnie said he was obsessed with some new tech thing, or Mikey was obsessed with a new song, or even Leo was obsessed with some new form of meditation.

Obsessed sounded too big of an adjective to explain it.

Raph didn’t consider himself obsessed with his workouts or even knitting. He liked them sure, maybe even loved them because they brought some semblance of balance to an already complicated brain. But obsessed felt too outrageous of a word.

That all went to hell the second his eyes had landed on yours. Because suddenly the word began to ring out loudly in his brain in blood red caution style letters. Something chemically switched in his brain the very moment you had spoken. He felt sweaty, clammy and downright sick to his stomach.

How many hours in the day could somebody think about another person?

He felt like his ass was going numb from sitting on the bench thing long contemplating this situation. He’d only done one rep of his bench presses when he had to sit up and breathe and quiet his mind.

You were April’s friend, her latest and most stable roommate and somehow the idea of mutants in the sewers had been easier to swallow than he could ever hope for in human reactions.

He felt pathetic, a little dirty but overall weightless whenever you were near by. You’d stepped in several times to help whenever April simply couldn’t. You’d come down with groceries, hand me downs and all sorts of necessities simply because you wanted to help. Raph wasn’t some inconsiderate chump though, he was thankful, he’d (somehow) engaged in his fair share of small talk with you.

And sure your eyes had lit up with him.

Sure there were moments he wanted to do a double take because he swore your eyes had lingered on him.

Pesky pesky pesky ‘ifs’.

Quite often the sensation of your eyes lingering on him had taken him to places he hardly entertained. He didn’t want to place you in that box, that ‘potential’ box where he wondered what a normal life could feel like. He much less wanted to stuff you in the other box.

The one where when he slept and saw nothing but your eyes and mouth and hands all over him. The one where when he woke up and felt like a fever was burning him in the very pits of hell, all because he swore he heard you moan out for him. How many ruined sheets carried your name. How many showers he’s tried to burn you off of him only to simply get off to the idea of your skin against his own.

God he was obsessed wasn’t he?

The hypocrisy alone wouldn’t mortify him.

What would kill him is if you suddenly developed mind reading powers and saw one third of his thoughts on you.

From the fruity gushy romantic ones.

To the filthy debauched images he painted daily ones.

He felt sick again.

Sicker the second you walked in the shorts you wore when summer was approaching.

You had a scar on your knee cap he wanted to taste. He saw how skin spread when you sat down, the plushness, the softest of chubbiness that had him thinking how divine it would be to wake up to those thighs crushing his face. A tremble in his hand urged him to lay a palm on your thigh, just to touch, just to get a taste of human flesh against his calloused scales. Raph wanted nothing more than to feel you sit on his lap and ask him if he could be a good boy for you and-

“Yo bro if you ain’t taking a plate I’m eating it” When had Mikey gotten in front him and why was food being shoved into his face?

Oh, right, you brought dinner tonight.

He had mumbled a grunt of an apology and had poured the rest of his energy into eating.

Unbeknownst to him, you had felt that shift that could only be described as the earth shaking. Raphael wasn’t necessarily subtle, sure he’s gotten away with it a few times but there’s no way he expected you to not notice his eyes burning a hole through your thigh as you sat next to him.

And who said you couldn’t be a little cruel in your endeavors of letting him get the fucking hint that you wanted him too?

So when you had finished eating and Casey and Donnie had started up one of their heated debates, you had placed a hand on his knee to push yourself up from the couch.

You had dug just a little bit of nail.

You had let your palm slide on your way up.

If Raph could implode he would’ve.

If he could set himself on fire he would’ve lit a match by now.

That had messed him up for days. He had rutted against his pillow three nights in a row and none of it had been enough to silence the voice, the itch of his skin.

All it had done was open his eyes a little wider, to watch you like a damn hawk.

And he began to notice things. Notice the little games you played with him.

From the way you crossed your legs when his green eyes landed on you. To the way your smile felt just mischievous enough to let him know he had been had.

You knew.

God, could you read his thoughts?

He had been tasked one evening to walk you to the exit of the Lair. It wasn’t too late, but work and deadlines were impeding you from torturing him longer this evening. He had quietly gotten you to the latter that led closest to your place.

“Ya let us know when ya make it home safe” Came that gruff voice of his, that almost constipated pit nesting in his stomach. Just before your hands could grip the ladder, you had gripped the length of the white cloth that adorned his shorts. You twirled the fabric, gentle twists and a knowing smile that made him hold his breath.

“And you let me know the next time you’re thinking of me at night. I think we’re past this little game.” You didn’t give him a second to recover let alone form a coherent sentence before you were up the ladder and gone.

Raphael looked up, the beam of light as the cover was opened to allow you out into the buzzing city. It felt too much of a spotlight highlighting his desires. You watched him down below, the shadows hiding just enough but not the stunned hungry look. If he were a religious man, he could say that you looked like a god, above him all knowing and with the power to turn him into ash.

And how he wanted to fall to his knees and pray in between your legs.

He hadn’t slept that night.

He had watched the ceiling of his and Mikey’s shared room and contemplated your words. He turned them over and over, examined every vowel and consonant. He tasted the sounds in his mouth. Your haughty smile as the wind blew a few strands of hair.

He lasted a week.

Seven days of self loathing.

A hundred and sixty eight hours of working up the courage.

Ten thousand and eighty minutes of wanting to even the playing field.

So on that last day, last hour, last minute, he had snuck out after patrol and a shower and headed to your apartment. He had climbed up the fire escape with every intention of telling you how evil you were for making him so obsessed.

His simply texted,

‘Window.’

His tried to mask a neutral face as you pulled back the curtains and found him crouched there.

The second you smiled though…

He had lost.

You lifted the window open and rested your hands on the windowsill.

“Couldn’t stop thinking of me?” Your words stabbed him, and he loved it.

He wanted to snarl, wanted to show you that this was stupid of you to even consider. So when he moved forward, brought his face close to yours, you didn’t flinch.

“Don’t be such a coward and show me what kept you up this late?” Your warm breath caressed his scarred lips.

Raph blinked, taken aback on how easily you had taken hold of him. When your hand reached up, knuckles caressing his jaw before they rested on the lip of his plastron, he closed the distance with an innocent kiss. A pressing of lips that froze him against your mouth. He felt that hand run up his neck, a scratch of your nails bringing some life back to him as your lips moved against his own.

Just as his mouth began to catch up, to lose itself against the wetness of your tongue you had backed up into the room and beckoned him inside the living room.

And like a trained pet he slid inside and felt smaller than he had ever imagined he could.

And god, he loved it.

He let you lead him to the couch, watched obsessively as you straddled his lap and kissed him with every intention of devouring all the secrets he possessed inside of him. He can’t and won’t be able to forget the sensation of your hands grabbing his own and letting them hover over your chest.

“Do you want me? Do you want to keep doing this?” You had asked cautiously, adamant in letting him know this could stop the second he felt it needed to. It took every power in him to not yell out a resounding and firm ‘yes’.

“Good, that’s a good boy” And fuck his dick twitched and almost came undone right then and there. He felt his hands cup your breast, the soft tender flesh from above your sleep shirt, just as you rolled your hips against his painfully hard erection.

Between the kisses he groaned out a desire.

“Wanna feel more of ya, can I?” He whispered it against the corner of your mouth as desperate as he ever could.

Your reply came in the simple gesture of lifting your shirt and your reward came in the form of hungry eyes and lips finding your breasts.

He was gutted, how could something this beautiful also be perfect and soft and right now against his lips?

Raph felt your hand on the back of his head and the quiet little yelp as he bit down gently on your nipple almost be his second undoing of the night. He kissed the perked bud, wrapped his tongue around it and savored the texture, the taste, the way that with each suction you grew needier and wetter.

He could feel you so perfectly through the fabric of your underwear just gush against his clothed crotch. His hands held your waist as he devoured your other breast and delighted ‘ha!’ escaped your lips when he his bit down just a little harder than before. Raph’s eyes looked up, the flush pink of your neck, the sweat starting to form.

The two of you still needed to be quiet, you weren’t alone after all.

And this was simply still a taste of things to come.

“I want you, so fucking bad, but not here, not like this” You kissed it up his neck, felt those big hands grip your rear. His eyes held confusion and a stupor that could only mean he was drunk off of this.

“We’re gonna be a little creative and very very quiet” Your hands rested on his shoulders, to which allowed yourself the luxury of a good firm squeeze to the muscle. God he was a fucking sight to behold.

With a remorseful push you got up on wobbly legs and slid your underwear down and off. He had followed the path, mesmerized and hungry. Just to tease, just to be the cruel god you could be, you rubbed along your folds, gathered slick and offered up to his willing and devout lips. He sucked greedily, loved the way you slowly pulled out the digits from his mouth.

Next to his spot you climbed on the couch and rested against the backrest and urged him closer. “Y/n I um, I’m too big-“ And he wanted to cringe at the admission that there was no way this could happen like this without some lube and patience.

“Thighs, use my thighs Raphie” That stupid name sounded like salvation when spoken in your voice. Nervously but ever so in need he settled behind you, pushed his shorts past his hips and saw the mess he had become due to you, much like he did on nights.

His hands ran up the globes of your cheeks and found your waist. He slid himself between the thighs he had dreamt off for far too long and just as he hoped, they felt better than he could ever imagine. “Oh-fuck…” Was his breathless response to the first slide, your thighs locked up as tight as they could be. The move allowed his cock to perfectly slide along your core, rub against your clit and you tighten your lips in a muffled moan.

The next thrust wasn’t as gentle, as slow. But enough to have his navel slap against your rear in that all to familiar lewd slap he often heard in ‘videos.’

He fell slightly forward, massive arms wrapped around your stomach and lips at the top of your head. “God, Y/n, fucking wanted this” He grunted against the crown of your head. “Me too baby, me too” You braced yourself better, if he was like this…

The thought alone made your toes curl as he began to thrust, building a rhythm that had the two of you on the brink of screwing up and moaning louder than allowed. A hand clasped down on your breast as the couch began to protest with the force of his movements.

“Come on Raphie, just like you dreamt of, do just like you’ve always wanted to” You turned your head, did your best to catch a glimpse of his debauched features as he thrusted faster, that squelching sound combined with your moans making him lose control.

“Shit-I’m gonna…” He buried his face against the back of your neck.

“Do it, do it for me, make a mess” Your own undoing so close you could taste it.

It’s a gut punch, it’s like a bomb going off in his chest and stomach all at once. It’s the hardest he has ever cum, and he’s clutching you and not a pillow for once. He can feel it mix in with your own release, feel it drip down against your thighs and shot against the couch. He feels you slap against him as you ride your own wave whilst biting down on your forearm.

He feels dizzy, tired and drained.

He feels you against him. Sticky and sweaty and panting.

He feels so fucking obsessed.

He feels so fucking obsessed.

[bittybeanie]

oh boy! time to post a new fic! I can't believe it's been *checks calendar* ....oh. uh. oops. ignore that! it's the fourth and final installment of (this) aspec reigen series, complete with a lite™ version of a couple different kinks and finally getting to touch the peen! this one's real long, folks, clocking in at about 9,500 words, so you might wanna get a nice beverage and settle in.

content notes: thigh riding, themes of consent, drunk almost sex, a discussion about the drunk almost sex in the following scene, praise kink, a very loose (literally) definition of bondage, and so so many pet names. minors please don't interact!

also on ao3!

It takes more than a couple tries for you to get settled on the bed. You’re too close, then too far, and Reigen can’t get comfy, and your hand keeps sliding out from under you, and he can’t decide how he wants your leg angled, and there’s too many clothes, then all at once so few clothes that it feels like too much at once and you hastily agree to put your shirts back on, not wanting to break the already fragile layer of quiet hope.

Finally, finally, everything is perfect.

Awkward, stilted, and a little tense, and you’re not sure how long your leg will let you keep it just barely raised like this before it cramps up, but he’s here, embarrassed but steadfast, breath coming out in shivery gasps, hovering over your thigh, one hair fisted in the back of your hair. If he tips over, there’s no way you’re not going with.

Perfect.

His thighs shake as he holds himself up, deciding which direction he wants to move. You reach for the small of his back to steady him. "Does this count as keeping my hands out of the way?" He nods, so you test the waters by sliding your other hand up his thigh.

"As long you don’t- just no direct touching. Close to is fine, just not… well." He moves a hand back and forth across where he’s hovering over your thigh.

“Keep off the goods. Gotcha."

"The goods? Awful. You're awful, I swear."

You slide your hand up, just barely skimming your fingernails over his hip when you catch the hem of his shirt, and his cock twitches in his boxers.

"The goods don't seem to agree."

"Oi." Despite his protests, the laughter loosens him, and he relaxes enough to lean back into your knee. “Fine, fine, just stop saying goods.”

“Alright.” He raises an eyebrow. You lift both hands in surrender. “I promise! I will never again use ‘the goods’ to refer to your perfect, gorgeous, suckable-”

“I get it! I get it.” He grabs onto your shoulder - maybe in an effort to distract you, or maybe just to keep his balance - as he shifts closer. You can practically feel the heat radiating from his ears. “Here, actually, can you-? Hm.” He presses a hand against the inside of your other leg, thumb digging in as he gives a shove. He slides a knee into the newly free space between your legs, leaning forward to get a better angle. Your hands settle back on his waist.

“Better?”

“Much.” He lets out a little hum as he pushes his hips forward, and you have to stamp down a whimper at the feeling, his dick heavy and warm even through fabric.

“Didn’t mean to just push like that, though. Sorry.”

“S’okay. I’ll survive a little manhandling, as a treat.” You hit the last “t” sound with a click of your tongue, and he falls into your neck with a laugh. You trace patterns on his hips as he moves, tracking the motion as you press your fingers into his skin. “God, how do you get your hips to move that smooth? It’s sorta mesmerizing.”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know, I’m just- I wasn’t thinking about it. S’just what f- ha, feels good.” His breath fans out across your collarbone, warm and fast.

“Yeah? You like using my thigh, baby? No thoughts other than what feels good? Your own personal toy to get yourself off against?”

“Oi.” His hips stutter once before he falls back into a slower rhythm. His fingers dig into your shoulder as he pulls you closer.

“Too much?”

“That’s not how I think of you.”

You can’t help but laugh, a light chuckle coming out in a breath against his hair. “I know, ‘Taka, I know.” You slide your hands under his shirt, over his stomach and up to his collarbone. “But would it really be so bad to belong to you?”

“I- fuck.” There’s a moment of worry when he shoves you away, but then he’s scrambling for the hem of his shirt and pulling.

“Are you sure?” It’s a formality, uttered even as you’re already reaching to help slide the fabric over his elbows, but it’s one you can’t even imagine going without.

“Very.” He lifts himself off of you to push his boxers down, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he shimmies them all the way off. The mattress shifts and pitches him over, and you hurry to grab his arm.

He crawls back over to straddle your thigh, the tip of his cock tapping lightly against your side before he leans back onto his ankles.

“Do I need to get-?” You chuck his shirt into infinity and gesture vaguely to the bedside drawer. He’s technically never told you that he started keeping lube in there, but he hasn’t made much effort to keep the secret either.

He shakes his head. “I’m close. Won’t matter.”

He tries to go back to rutting against you, anchoring his hands on your waist to tilt his hips this way and that, but something about the new angle is off, and he can’t get any good contact.

“Oh no, now horrible, your dick is just so hard it won’t stay down on its own.”

He clicks his tongue at you as he scoots to sit closer, flush making its way from his ears to the edges of his cheeks.

“That gorgeous curve probably isn’t helping, either. In this case, anyway. Be an absolute treat to have inside me, though.” You press your thumbs in just above his knees, encouraging him to spread his legs more, and he jumps with a squeak, hands flying to grab yours. “Sorry, sorry, di-”

“No, it’s-” He pulls your hands together, just in front of his stomach, and the tip of his cock brushes against you. For a moment, you think he’s going to pull down, but he guides your hands back to his hips, pressing them into his skin as he rolls his hips. “Here.”

He gives up and puts his hand flat over his dick, pinning it down against your leg. He lifts himself to adjust the angle, just his tip dragging along your skin until he bumps into your hip, precum rolling out in a thin line over your thigh. When he pulls back, he grinds down insistently, coating his length and covering what isn’t already marked of your thigh so he can slide more easily. After a few impatient jolts of his hips, he settles back into a rhythm, smooth and fluid, and lets up on the pressure of his hand. He slings his other arm over your shoulder to pull you closer, and he falls forward to bury his face in your neck, whining into your collarbone.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was close, because it only takes a few drags of his cock against you for him to seize up, body tensing before going boneless, cum rolling over his hand and onto your hip as he slumps against you in a mess of pants and sighs. You slide your hands up his back to support his full weight, pressing kisses to his hair as he catches his breath.

“Just… gimme a second, I can cl- get you- god, my legs.” He rolls off of you with none of his usual grace, limbs falling everywhere at once, lightly smacking your arm as he goes limp.

You laugh and push his hair back from his face. You don’t bother to untangle your legs from his, accepting your fate of needing a shower later in exchange for getting to lean down to kiss his cheek.

“Eh, let it dry.”

“I’m starting to think you like it more than tolerate it.”

“If you haven’t gotten the hint by now that I want you to absolutely cov-”

He gives you a shove, rolling his hand so there’s no real force behind it, but you seize the chance to topple with a dramatic moan, one hand falling theatrically across your forehead as your eyes flutter closed. 

“Oh, stop it.” He crawls over and props himself up on his elbows. You can feel his breath fanning over your collarbone, stilted like he’s trying not to laugh. You crack one eye open, breaking into giggles when you see his forced serious expression, eyebrows pinched together and one cheek sucked into his mouth to keep the smile off his face. He breaks at your laughter, breathing out through his nose and pressing his forehead to yours. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Oh, you could take me anywhere, handsome.” You waggle your eyebrows suggestively, and he rolls onto his back with an exasperated groan. You laugh again and sit up, pulling a blanket over him so you can settle in without accidentally brushing somewhere he’d rather you didn’t.

“Hey, Arataka?”

“I love you, too.”

“That, too.” You chuckle. “But I have a real question this time.”

“Oh.” He turns his head. “Sure.”

“After you… when you took my hands earlier, were you…?” The fleeting moment of contact between him and your hands floats through your mind. You can’t help but wonder what he was thinking in the moment he hesitated, but it feels weirdly invasive to ask so bluntly. “Sorry, never mind, this is a weird line of thought.”

You lay down beside him, craning your neck to rest your head on his shoulder. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together as his thumb smooths up your wrist.

“Do you mean…” He takes a steadying breath, grip tightening almost imperceptibly. “Do you mean after the clothes came off?”

You nod. For a moment, he stills, not even breathing.

“I was… I wanted so badly to let you touch me. I thought if I didn’t have to say it, if I could just… imply, then I could get around it, but,” he sighs heavily, and he sounds tired when he continues, “I panicked.”

You’re both quiet, long enough that you startle even yourself when you finally break the silence.

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“...Panicking?”

“No, angel. Implying.” He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “Maybe you just have to imply for a little longer.”

“I’m not following.”

“What if you left your hand on top of mine? That way it’s like- it’s the same as when you do it, but it sort of, hm, bridges the gap? All the sexy, none of the surprise.”

For a long moment, you’re not sure if he’s quiet because he’s thinking or because he’s falling asleep.

He hums, shoulder rolling under your head, and he pulls you tighter against his side.

+

"Okay." You shift nervously, tucking your foot underneath yourself, then deciding against it and unfolding your legs. "Walk me through the zones again."

"I'm not a city planning map." He rolls his eyes, but he takes your hand. You’re not sure which one of you the gesture is supposed to comfort.

You shift back onto your knees.

"Here up, anything goes." He points at the middle of his chest. "But try to stay- so more like, well, from maybe..." He gestures to his collarbone and wags his finger up and down. "Here to here, really."

When he looks back at you, you can tell he's waiting for something. You settle for a small nod.

"Right. A-and then, here to here," he points from his chest to just above his hip, "Hands are fine. Doing... whatever." He steadies himself with another deep breath and rushes through the rest. "Legs, stay still, and anything... direct we'll do the- on the- yeah, got it, that's all."

You let him sit for a moment to make sure there's nothing he forgot. His grip on your hand tightens, and you swear he moves to pull you closer, but he must decide against it at the last second.

"Whose hand is going on top again? Sorry, we've swapped it so many times I can't remember if we decided."

"Oh. Right. Um." He hovers his right hand over his left, then swaps them, then swaps them again. “Yours under mine.”

“Got it.” You reach for him, letting him pull your hand up to his collar. "And you know you can tell me to stop at any time?"

"You tell me that every time."

"It's important every time."

He swallows thickly and traces a circle on the back of your hand with his thumb. "Yeah. I know."

You shift to pull your legs off to the side, then cross them again, then sit back up on your knees. Gently taking the collar of his shirt in your hands, you trail one thumb along the edge of the fabric until you reach the top button. "And can I do this, or would you like to?"

He nods before realizing there were two options in your question, then points at you, then at your hands, then flashes you a thumbs up. "Yeah. Go ahead."

"Well, now hold on, I have manners. I'm not going straight for the goods." He laughs and shimmies to sit up straighter, letting his legs straighten out in front of him. "How about the pants later?"

"Uh, right, that's, I didn't think about that. I mean it would make sense that you're going to be- I mean it's not like-"

"Arataka."

"Yeah." He swallows.

"I'm not going to be offended if you’d like to take off your own pants."

He pauses, staring down at his knee. Eventually, he shakes his head. "I want you to do it."

"And your-?"

"Just do it at the same time."

"Got it." You take a steadying breath of your own. "I won't stay there, but is it okay if I straddle you for a little bit? I wa-"

His hands are pulling at your waist before you can get your legs properly unfolded, and you almost tumble over him. He laughs an apology as you move on top of him, hovering over his legs to avoid making any real contact.

You brush his bangs back from his face, following through with the motion until your fingers tangle in the shorter strands of hair at the back of his head. He tilts to follow your hand, craning his neck to keep you from pulling.

"Ready?"

He nods slightly.

"I’d like a verbal yes for this one, lovely."

He swallows. You watch his Adam's apple bob.

"Yeah, yes.” He nods again. His hand jerks, taking yours with it, and he awkwardly lets your hand fall into his lap. You do your best not to move. “I trust you."

You drag your gaze back up to his face, searching for any last signs of reluctance. A bead of sweat trails down his temple, and you’re certain if you put your hand to his cheek you’d worry he had a fever. Sure enough, when you slide your fingers along his jaw, he’s hot to the touch, and the tips of his ears are turning brighter shades of red by the second.

He clears his throat, pushing his jaw into your palm. “Are you gonna-?”

“In a minute.” You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip. “I’m savoring.”

He scoffs at that, the same scoff he uses when he sees somebody do something stupid in public, and you take the opportunity to catch him by surprise, surging forward to push him down onto the bed. His hands go to your shoulders on instinct but he pulls them back almost immediately, hovering awkwardly in the space between you. Using your grip on his chin, you angle his head so you can lean down and kiss him without knocking your noses together.

Once you’re sure you can support yourself without falling on him, you allow your free hand to trail down, tracing down the muscles in his neck, across his collarbone and back, finally settling on the first button of his shirt. It takes a little effort to get it undone with just one hand, but you manage it, and you allow yourself to dip down as you settle into a rhythm, lips ghosting along Reigen’s skin as you uncover more of it.

He’s shivering, hand shaking where it hovers over yours on the last button of his shirt. When you slide your hand back up along his side, his hand falls back to the bed, pulling at a wrinkle in the sheets.

You kiss along his jaw, savoring the feeling every time his breath catches in his throat under your lips. Your hand trails down along his side, wrapping around him to hold his waist when he arches up into the press of your thumb. He hums, eyelids fluttering, and you dare to slide your hand down, ever so slightly, thumb brushing over his waistband and back onto bare skin.

He grabs for you, grasp tight around your wrist, almost painful before he slowly relaxes and drags your hand back up toward his chest. You push yourself off him, swinging your leg to kneel beside him.

“Here, let’s try this.” You guide him to sit up. Once he’s situated against the headboard, you settle in by his thigh, your knee pressing gently into his hip. One hand traces circles and patterns as you trail down to his stomach. “Still good?”

He hums, but he scrambles for your wrist again, holding on tighter and tighter the closer you get to the button on his pants.

“You’re allowed to change your mind, y’know. I can let you do it.”

“That’s not- mm.” He relaxes his death grip on your arm but keeps his thumb hooked around it. After a few tries to let go completely, his head tips forward into your shoulder. “I thought I would… I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and slowly pull away. “Nothing to apologize for.” You cup his face with both hands and gently turn him, but he doesn’t hold your gaze for long. 

“Do you want to keep going? Should I…?”

He opens his mouth, but says nothing. His expression is pinched, tight with something you’re not sure how to label. His fingers press together, thumb and index, thumb and middle, thumb and ring, thumb and pinky, over and over as you lean back, nodding softly.

“Stay in bed?” Your voice is shakier than you’d like. You swear he flinches, and you clear your throat. “Or move to the couch and watch something?”

“Couch.” He nods once, stiff and harsh, and swallows thickly. “Thanks.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, and slides out of bed, starting to button his shirt back up as he wanders into the other room.

You keep nodding as if in a trance, and you follow him out. 

+

Despite the now faint memory of some friend of a friend forcefully inviting you, there's not a single soul at the party you recognize. With the exception of a few people dancing by the kitchen, closer to the speakers, everyone has settled for taking a seat and awkwardly bobbing their head. You’ve repeated the same three lines of small talk more times than you can count, it's just cold enough that you've had the chills the whole time while still managing to feel overwhelmingly stifled, and the music is so awful you wonder how somebody hasn’t tried to change it yet. But there's alcohol, the good stuff that somebody is clearly very particular about, and lots of it. You can't remember how much you've had, and that fact is enough to tell you it was probably too much, but it doesn't stop you from taking whatever the host is passing out when they wander through.

You think Reigen might be the only person doing worse than you. He looks... woozy. His face is flushed and his eyes are lidded like he might throw up, pass out, or both at any moment. At one point he took a tumble when he tried to sit down, graciously ignored by everyone else, and you had to throw your arm around his waist to keep him from sliding down the front of the couch again. He's leaning on you for support every time he moves, and if there were anything left in his can you’re sure he would be spilling it on you right now.

He's restless at the best of times, you know this, but even through the fog you can tell something is off. Not wrong exactly, but he keeps giving you this sideways glance, digging his fingers into your thigh to steady himself and then yanking his hand away, knocking his head into your shoulder and muttering something you haven't been able to make out.

He laughs - way too loudly at something you're not sure was supposed to be funny - and stands abruptly. Your hand around his waist falls limp on the couch, and he sways without the support.

"I'm going to the re- the ba- I gotta piss."

Nobody but you pays him any attention. He takes a wobbly step forward, knocking his foot into the leg of the coffee table, but he doesn't seem fazed. His knees bend at a weird angle as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, then he straightens back up and whirls around to face you. The momentum sends him tumbling back down, and you manage to catch him before his nose smashes into your jaw.

"I guess you better help me there."

"Yeah." Your voice crackles from dehydration. You have to clear your throat and try again to get a recognizable sound to come out. "Alright." You do a quick mental scan of your legs to make sure they'll support you before you motion for him to get up so you can stand. He does, grabbing your wrist and pulling with the conviction of somebody who does not need help walking.

The gears in your head start to turn.

He drags you along, glancing over his shoulder as he rounds the corner into the hallway, only stumbling once when he has to screech to a halt and back up to yank a door open. He pushes you inside, pulling the door closed behind him after he follows you in.

It's pitch black, and you're not sure if the overwhelming lemon smell is coming from Reigen or something in the room. You reach out to find him, but your fingers brush against something cold and smooth instead, and it's not until it tilts and hits you in the head that you realize it's probably a handle for something. Reigen's hand whacks into your arm and he holds on tight, fingers digging into your shoulder as he pulls you forward.

"I don't think that was the right door."

"Hm? Oh, sure." You can feel the air beside you moving until eventually his other hand finds your face, one finger dragging across your cheek until it hits your nose. "No, I- yeah, I know."

"Then wh-"

He pushes, hard and sudden. You fight to keep your balance as you adjust to the weird backwards lean you find yourself in. Reigen hisses as he pulls his fingers out from between you and the wall.

"Dumb, that was so dumb. Sorry." He fumbles for your waist to guide you backwards, and you feel his hips press against you when he reaches past your head to lean on the wall.

Everything clicks together all at once.

Your hands fly to where his waist should be. Once you find him, you're not sure if you want to shove him away or pull him in closer.

"You're super drunk. I don't know if-"

"Tha's the point." The hand on your face slides around until his thumb catches your bottom lip. He sways, like talking about it has made him remember how much he's had to drink. When he leans against you, he's heavier than normal, like he can’t support his weight anymore. "Liquid courage."

"I’m drunk." 

"Mm. Shit." He pulls away, just barely, and he nods. "Do you mind?"

Your mouth drops open uselessly. All your thoughts feel like static, indecipherable noise screaming for you to do something, if only you could figure out what. He's squirming now, like it hurts to stay still. You realize he's whimpering at the same time you realize he's grinding his hips against your leg.

“M’fine.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and drops his hands as he shuffles around. You take the chance to stand back up. When you finally bump into each other again, he wraps his arms around you and squeezes, his breathing coming out in pants against your chest.  He hooks one leg around yours, tapping his foot against your heel to bring your leg forward. You make a strangled humming sound when he grinds against your thigh.

"Hey, where's your hand?"

"My...?" You suddenly remember you have hands. You allow yourself a moment of silence for all the time you could have been holding onto him before you push one hand forward. It smacks into what you think is his stomach. "Sorry. Here."

"S'kay. Stay put." You keep your hand pressed against him as he leans backward. You're not sure when he stopped holding onto you, but one of his hands is suddenly over yours, and a loud zip cuts through the sound of you both breathing. He slides his hand down, dragging yours with it. Your fingers glide along his skin, smooth and soft, until you brush against a patch of hair.

A sobering panic cuts through you.

He must realize what he's doing at the same time you do, because you both freeze. His grip tightens. He guides your hand away from him slowly, stopping when he makes contact with your side.

"Stay... stay put."

He turns and scrambles for the door. Something falls beside you when he misses the doorknob, then you're squinting as light floods in from the hallway. You can make out the silhouette of him sprinting into the room diagonal from where you're standing, and then there's the unmistakable sound of vomiting.

Your place is only two blocks away - no more than a ten minute walk.

You call a cab service.

+

It smells like coffee.

When you try to sit up, the room spins. You end up in a sort of half sit, half lean as you grab onto the side of the mattress, willing everything to stay still. You take stock of the things that are clear enough to look at, slowly making sense of what happened once you got home.

You're laying on top of the covers, still in your clothes from last night. One shoe is in the doorway, and the other is nowhere in sight, probably somewhere closer to the entrance. The coffee smell, growing more enticing by the second, is a good sign Reigen's in the kitchen.

You slide onto the floor beside your bed, not trusting yourself to stand up without falling just yet, to rummage for more comfortable clothes. Once you manage to get changed, you stand up slowly, and make your way to the kitchen.

Reigen must have grabbed a set of pajamas at some point last night, though you can't remember when. His back is turned to you; he's lazily stirring something on the stove. Two steaming cups of coffee sit on the counter beside him. Before you can decide whether you want to say something and risk startling him, he seems to sense you standing there, and he turns around with a weak smile.

"Hey."

"Morning?" It's both a greeting and a question, because you have no idea what time it is.

"Yeah." He lets out a breathy chuckle. "How, um, how you feeling?"

Your head is throbbing so bad your teeth hurt, your legs and back are sore, and you have a looming sense of guilt.

"I think I should be asking you that."

"I'm fine, really." He clicks off the fire and reaches for a bowl. "I told you, I felt basically back to normal after I- well, um, you know. Thanks again, by the way, for car- for carrying me."

You nod softly, feeling a little useless as he hands you what looks and smells like a very delicious soup.

"Reigen, I am so-" "I didn't mean-"

He reaches for a second bowl. "You first." When you start to shake your head, he rolls his wrist in a "go on" motion. "Please. I'm not actually sure how to say mine yet."

"Right." You swallow thickly, fidgeting with your spoon. Deep in thought, you miss Reigen slipping past you. He clears his throat and gestures to the seat across from him. You slide into the chair. Your spoon clanks against the bowl as you set it down. "I, um. Shit, I'm so sorry."

He seems surprised, a spoonful of soup halfway to his lips.

"What for?"

"Wh-" You blink. "Every... thing? I- I know sorry doesn't even cover it, but I-"

"Whoa, hey, okay." He shakes his hand in front of him. "Never mind, I'll go first, because I think you got the wrong idea and I'm not gonna let you apologize for anything that happened."

"But you trusted me, and I-"

"And I still do. That's- that was the whole- look, I-" He sighs. His spoon clanks as he sets it down, abandoned in favor of wringing his hands together. "I set you up."

"You-?"

"I didn't mean to! I thought- It was stupid, and I should have just told you what I was trying to do, I know , but I- I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, and I thought if I could speed up the process, then- I mean, there's only so many times you can put up with almost getting to- if I could- ugh, sorry, hang on."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You swear your headache is reacting sympathetically, because pain shoots between your temples, dull but persistent. He goes to retrieve the coffees from the kitchen, just cool enough to drink, and you down some as soon as he hands you a mug.

"You've been so patient, and I know you would never do anything I didn't want, but I... I keep overthinking it. And I thought it would be the perfect excuse to... to not have to think about it at all. I mean that's- that's just what people do at parties, right, and- I mean, it was... ugh." He sits back down, his posture unnaturally rigid. He chooses his next words carefully, pausing between words as if he’s testing out different sentences in his head. "I trusted you… to not take it further than I was comfortable with… more than I trusted myself to… not panic over nothing. So, I- I saw the chance and I..." He gestures weakly, hand falling back to the table with a soft thump.

"Liquid courage."

He takes a sip of his coffee and slumps forward, holding his chin with one hand.

"You... got drunk on purpose?"

"Not originally, but, uh."

You nod slowly. Your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven't actually eaten any of your soup. You take a reluctant spoonful, chewing slowly as you take everything in.

"When you froze up, it- I realized how little I had thought it through. I- it wasn't fair to you. You didn't do anything to- I never should have put you in that position in the first place."

"I... would have appreciated a warning, yeah."

"Sorry." He runs his hand through his hair and leaves it against the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry."

"Apology accepted." Reigen relaxes into his chair. As he stretches his legs out, one of his feet bumps against your ankle, and you laugh softly. "I'm still sorry, too. I should have asked more questions. And I didn't... I think I noticed something was wrong but I didn’t realize it was that frustrating for you. Before, I mean. I never wanted to make you feel like you had to do something like that."

"It's exclusively a me problem, I promise. I thought something would have worked by now. I don't... I don't really know what’s getting in the way." He shakes his head, breathing out sharply through his nose.

“I mean, literally speaking, your hands.” You laugh and take another sip of your coffee. He tilts his head. “Because, you know, y-you always grab my hand before I-?” He stares, unblinking. “Sorry, too soon to joke, probably,” you mutter into your cup, taking another sip just to have something to do.

When he moves again, it’s with a jerky start, sitting up and leaning forward. “My hands.”

“Yeah, I-”

“No, my hands.” He throws his elbows onto the table. The bowls clatter and his coffee sloshes; his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. His wrists come together in front of you, palms up and fingers curled loosely, as he stares, silent, waiting for a glimpse of recognition to cross your face. It takes a moment, but when he finds it, he grins. “My hands.”

“If you want to stop-”

“Saying so has always been enough.”

You stand, leaning to match his eye level. You consider him, searching for hesitation, but you find none.

You take his hand, and you start pulling.

+

“This is… mine?” An old black tie lays across Reigen’s palms, the ends hanging loosely over his thighs.

“Yeah, you left it here. A while ago, I guess.” You shrug. “You never really liked it, though, plus you’re here all the time anyway, so I didn’t get around to giving it back, and it’s just been here ever since.”

As you slide the drawer closed, he catches a glimpse of an old t-shirt he left on his first night in your place, folded neatly in the back corner, under a small collection of his dress socks. 

There are signs of him everywhere, really, if he looks. His toothbrush in your bathroom, a blanket he bought you for your birthday draped over the back of the couch, his favorite sweater of yours hanging on the handle of the closet, never out of service long enough to make it in with the rest of your clothes.

He’s struck with the realization it’s not just in your things, your home, but in you, the way you gesture with an extra dramatic flourish that wasn’t there before, the unwavering, tight smile that settles on your face when you talk to clients, the softness in your voice when you welcome the kids into the office, quietly clearing a table for them to do homework on, the flashes of movement in the kitchen as you dash back and forth whenever you make recipes he taught you - favorites from when things were harder and uncertain and cooking was his escape, before even the hardest parts of his life were laced with joy.

He’s wearing off on you.

He’s known it for a while, but he’s never put it all together like this, never seen it all so neatly represented in a single black tie, satin and unassuming and full of possibility. You kick your abandoned shoe out of the way, pushing the door shut with a soft click that startles him just enough to draw his attention.

“Still okay?”

He wonders how you’ve worn off on him, which parts of him weren’t there before that he doesn’t notice, can’t notice.

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’m ready.”

He smooths his thumb over the fabric, watching it wrinkle and crease where he applies pressure. It slides across his palms, dragging slowly as you wrap one end around your hand, until he’s left with empty air, hands outstretched between you.

He feels light.

You take his hands in yours, turning them in toward each other, and start to lay the tie across his wrists.

“Oh, wait!” You pull back right away, and he holds up one finger. “Not- we should take my shirt off first.”

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” You laugh and settle back onto your knees. “Yes, okay, let’s- yeah.”

Reigen stops halfway up. The fabric stays bunched when he lets go, and he pulls your hands to the exposed patch of skin. He can feel the tie, still wrapped around your palm, pressing against his side, cold and smooth, and he swallows thickly. As you drag your hands up, it slides up with you, and a shiver wracks through him when you finally pull the shirt off his arms.

He cups your face, pulling you into a kiss, fingers coming to press at the back of your neck to keep you against him as he topples backward. You catch yourself on one hand, the end of the tie flipping to rest over his shoulder as you climb to straddle him. He’s insistent, both hands tangling in your hair, little sighs and puffs of breath against your mouth as he refuses to pull away for air.

You press a kiss to his cheek to soothe the loss when you lean back. He drapes his arms over your shoulders, locking his fingers together behind your head.

“We could stay like this? My hands are… close-ish together.”

“I can’t see behind me to tie it, but,” you pull his hands around your head, “I’m sure we can figure it out after that.”

He nods. You turn his hands back toward each other and his fingers curl, knuckles pressing together as he relaxes. You drape the tie around his wrists, trying a few different ways of looping it but not finding anything you’re satisfied with.

“Sorry. I just wanna make sure you can get out if you need.”

“It’s alright. I like the attention.”

You freeze, a wobbly grin taking shape as your face heats up.

“‘Taka, I’m supposed to be the composed one!”

“I’m just trying to be honest!” He flexes his wrists, pressing his knuckles together to crack them.

“Don’t worry,” you press both ends of the tie between his hands and motion for him to hold them still, “I like giving you attention.” You fold the middle of the tie over to make two loops and start twisting them in on themselves. “And I wanna hear about it as much as you can bear.”

“You seem plenty composed to me.” He pinches his thumb between two fingers and squeezes.

“Quick recovery. I learned from the best.” You wink and put your fingers through the loops. “Here, hands in here.”

He flattens his hands to squeeze them through, stopping to let you shimmy the tie the rest of the way over. You hold the ends of the tie and give a quick tug before tying them together.

“There, it’ll have to do.” You slip a finger in each loop, making sure there’s enough room to be comfortable without him being able to slip out without meaning to. “It’s a little loose, so don’t pull too hard, okay?”

“Sure.” He folds his elbows down, letting his hands come to rest on his chest. He jerks one hand up toward his hair, pulling his other hand with it, and the tie snaps taut. He has the courtesy to look sheepish. “I’ll try.”

You roll your eyes, smile still wide.

“Hands above your head, please.”

“Hm?”

“I’d like to get at your neck.” You press up on his elbows, and he unfolds his arms. “Those were in the way.”

“O-oh. Right.”

You lean down, tilting his chin up with one hand, and press a kiss to his throat, savoring the way it moves as he swallows. You trail down until you reach his stomach, dragging your tongue along his skin on the way back up. He exhales sharply, breath moving your hair as you get closer to his face. He forces out a laugh, and he rolls one shoulder.

You glance up. The tie is already starting to come loose, untwisting in the middle, but his hands are clasped together, the tie held in place between his wrists, fingers over the ends.

You kiss him, quick and breathless, and slip your fingers under his waistband. When his breath hitches, you smooth your thumb along the bone there, a reassurance you won’t move yet. You can feel him tense under you, pressing up into your touch, then slowly settling back onto the mattress.

You’re both reluctant to acknowledge the fact that you have to get off of him to take his pants off. You do your best to shimmy them under you, and he lifts his hips to help, but you need both hands to make sure his boxers stay on for now, and you want to make sure he can move his legs, so eventually, begrudgingly, you climb off him.

He takes the opportunity to stretch, his back arching off the bed as you throw his pants off somewhere to worry about later.

“Ooh, pretty. Think you can do that for me again?” You press a thumb to the inside of his thigh, at the edge of where his boxer leg has ridden up, and he jumps, hips rolling against your touch.

“Trickery.” He squirms, a whine that refuses to come out shining through in his voice. “Not fair.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get plenty more chances.” You trail your fingers up his thigh, along the “v” of the bone, up his stomach. He shivers when you trail back down, your fingers catching on the waistband of his boxers to drag it over his skin before letting go, settling your hand lightly over the bulge in the fabric. It’s slightly damp against your skin, and Reigen chokes back a moan when you press down. 

You pull, grinding your palm down on his cock as the waistband moves until you can see the base of it, then you slide back up, tracing the outline of him with your fingers. When he whimpers, you’re too slow to hide your grin, and he glares halfheartedly.

“Having fun down there?”

“Oh, lots, thanks.” You slip your thumb below the elastic. “Seems like you are, too.”

“Hm.”

“Sorry, what was that?” You lift your hand with mock alarm, and he scrambles to reach for you, slowly lowering his arms to his chest when he sees your smile.

“Yes.”

“So, just to make sure, you are having fun?” It’s just as sarcastic as it is serious, and he seems to take it in equal measures, because he scoffs at the same time he nods. Both hands are on his hips now, both thumbs in his waistband, and you pull up gently to get him to lift his hips.

“Good boy.”

You’re not sure you would have felt it if you weren’t holding him, but he definitely shudders, trembling where your fingers press into his skin.

“Arataka.”

“Hmm?” He sounds breathless, and his chest heaves with effort, the rest of him as still as he can keep it.

“Should I keep calling you a good boy?”

“Um. If you want.” He jerks his hips up, and you take the hint to slide his boxers off, keeping an eye on his face as you do. You climb between his legs and lean over him, wrapping your hand slowly around his cock, firmly but gently, your thumb over the tip.

He squeaks, and he tenses, but he doesn’t reach for your hands.

“You’re doing so well, ‘Taka.” He swallows, and he shifts his hands, twisting the tie so he can lay his arms closer to his hair. “Such a good boy for me.” Precum oozes out of his slit, and you feel it roll down your hand.

“Mhm.” You lean back on your heels. “How about this? You tell me what feels good, and every time you do,” you pull your thumb down, spreading the precum along his length, “I’ll let you know just how much I appreciate it. Sound good?”

He nods, and you stop moving.

“Can I hear you say it?”

“Yes,” he breathes, pressing his wrists together, “yes, sounds good.”

“Good job.” When you lean to kiss him, grip tightening to keep his dick down against his stomach, his knuckles brush over your hair. “So perfect.”

You start slow, focusing more on touching every inch of him then keeping any sort of rhythm. When you trail up the vein on the underside, he shivers, and he gasps when you squeeze the base, and his hips jerk up when you pass over his slit, one leg coming up to press his ankle against your side. It’s not until you slip your other hand around him, though, arm passing through the space created by the bend of his knee to settle on his outer thigh, that he says anything.

“Fuck, that, more of that. P-please.”

“This hand?” You press your fingers into his thigh. He presses back.

“Yeah. I need… just, hold onto me.”

“Okay. Yeah, of course, sweetheart.” You scoot closer to wrap your hand tighter around his leg, spreading your legs to slip your knee underneath him. Once he relaxes, the full weight of his leg on yours, you press a kiss to his knee. “Good boy.”

“Shit,” he laughs, squirming closer to you. “S’not close enough.”

“Let me try something, then.” You slide backwards, reluctantly letting his leg fall to the bed, and you shimmy onto your stomach. When you pull his leg over your shoulder, he immediately hooks his ankle into your back and lets out a breathy moan. The pressure makes it a little harder to reach back around his thigh, but he relaxes into it easier, and the view is incredible. “There you go, perfect.”

You start up a little faster this time, twisting your wrist as you move up and down, and he bucks up into your hand. You risk a kiss to his thigh and his hands fly to your hair, the ends of the tie flowing down against your cheek.

“Sorry, too much?”

“Not enough.” His voice is scratchy now, and he gives a little tug once he gets a hold of you. “Can you, don’t put it- but, closer?”

“You want me here instead?” You press a kiss to the underside of his cock, flipping the loose ends of the tie out of the way to lay across his hip.

“Y-yes. Yes, fuck.”

“Gladly.” Between words, you pepper kisses along his shaft, following the trail of your hand up and down. “Thank you for letting me do this for you. You look so beautiful like this, feeling so good.”

He starts to make a noise of protest, but it quickly shifts into a stifled groan when you press a kiss to his tip, just barely letting your tongue drag across his slit as you pull away.

He whines and bucks his hips to follow you, and you can’t help but let an incredulous laugh slip out. “Alright, love, I’m gonna give you a choice, okay?”

He swallows thickly, then nods.

“Option one, you can tell me exactly how you want me to make you come. If you want my hand or my mouth or to go faster or slower or anything at all you just have to say the word. But I won’t do anything you don’t tell me, so you’ll have to say exactly what you want.”

His breathing is ragged, and he twitches in your grasp. “And option two?”

You grin and lean over him, propping yourself up on one hand. “I do whatever makes you the loudest, and if you stop making those pretty noises for me, I stop.” He seems to flinch at that, and you brush his hair back. “Just for a little while.”

He takes a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed, and he pulls his arms in and down to drape one across his forehead. The tie was never really secure in the first place, but after quite a bit of pulling and flailing, it’s fully undone by now, nothing but luck and stubborn determination holding the loops in place around Reigen’s wrists.

“Both options, of course, come with all sorts of praise and admiration.” You slip a finger under the fabric and give a light tug. He lifts his hands to let the tie slide free.

When he opens his eyes, a shudder running down his spine, he sees you absent-mindedly tying the tie around your neck, uneven and loose, hanging down between you to brush against his stomach. He’s sure you just needed somewhere to put it, something to do with your hands, but it flips a strangely possessive switch somewhere inside him. Not because he’s seeing you in his clothes - he’s had the privilege of that many times before - but because you’ve taken the thing that was supposed to restrain his ability to fuck up the situation, taken something he left safe for you to keep track of without even realizing he’d done it, taken the symbol of his presence in your space and your time and your life, and you’ve put it on without a second thought. He thinks of his misguided reasoning that got you into this situation, that he trusts you with him more than he trusts himself, and he knows what he wants.

For once, words are failing him, which just makes the choice even easier.

“Second one.”

Your eyebrows raise a little, like you’re surprised at his answer, and he almost takes it all back, but then you’re grinning and leaning down to cup his jaw, kissing him like he’s giving you the only air you could ever breathe, and he moans into your mouth.

You lean away just enough to pull in a gasp of air, fingers sliding to tangle into the base of his hair.

“Just like that, gorgeous.”

He laughs, sucking in a shaky breath as you wrap your hand around him again. It pinches into a sort of strained whimper as he starts to quiet himself and thinks better of it, and you start moving.

“That’s it, good boy, just let me take care of everything.”

For all he got into his head before, breaking the seal of touching him seems to have removed any last bits of hesitation, because he relaxes into your touch almost immediately. Your experimenting earlier left you with a good idea of what will get the best noises out of him, and he doesn’t hold back. You’re silently thankful, not only because you get to hear him, but also because you’re not sure you could have followed through on your threat of stopping. And if he’s exaggerating for your sake, all clipped moans and raspy mumbling and bucking hips, well, you’re not going to complain.

After a particularly tight stroke up his cock and a brush of teeth up the inside of his thigh, he pulls one arm over his mouth, pushing it against his lips with his other hand. You’re still deciding if that counts as muffling his sounds enough to slow down when he bites his wrist and yelps, a loud, desperate, frantic noise that seizes what little of your attention isn’t already on him. His head tips back as he struggles to prop himself up on one elbow, hand flipping to clamp down over his mouth, and you can see the bite mark, lines pressed into the pale skin just below the jut of bone where palm meets wrist. It takes you a minute to realize he’s saying something, your brain struggling to piece his noises together into words.

“Can I have your hand?” You hum, scrambling to extract your hand from his leg. “I just- I need,” he opens and closes his hands, “something.” When you hold your hand up blindly toward him, he takes it quickly and holds on tight, fingers lacing together with yours. He gives a few tugs, and you hurry to sit up.

“Please, I need- I can’t take it anymore.” He looks frantic, eyebrows pinched together and his chest heaving with ragged, shaky breaths. His hips buck wildly, quick and shallow into your curled fingers. You realize you’ve forgotten to keep moving as you were watching him, and you quickly correct your mistake, reveling in the shiver that racks through him as your thumb swipes over his tip.

He’s begging now, your name falling out in pieces between gasps and cries; he’s still tugging at your hand like you can’t get close enough, pressing his lips to your jaw like he can’t quite remember how to leave kisses there. He pitches his hips up and presses against you, knees coming together to press into your sides, pinning your hand against your torso as he lets out a final shuddering whimper.

He comes across your fingers, his whole body tense as he holds himself up, back arched and head rolled to the side. He moves to wrap his arms around you, forgetting that his elbow is supporting him, and he pulls you down with him as he falls the short distance to the mattress.

You do your best to roll off him without letting go of him during the aftershocks, but you’re not exactly paying attention to where you’re still holding, and he yelps again from the overstimulation. You yank your hand away with half an apology, smoothing your hand up his side as you lift yourself up on your other arm.

“Nono, wait, don’t-” He scrambles to grab you wherever he can, and you intercept him before he can smack you across the face.

“It’s okay, ‘Taka, s’okay. I’m not going anywhere. I just didn’t wanna crush you. Let’s sit up so you can get some water, alright? All that noise can really make your throat sore, I know.” You slip your hands under him, one at the small of his back and one between his shoulders, gently lifting him toward the headboard. “That’s it. You’re okay. I gotcha.”

Once he’s upright, a glass of water in two shaky hands, you lean over the side of the bed to fumble for a washcloth. When he doesn’t slow down on his own, you start to reach for the glass, but he pulls away for a big gulp of air before you can.

“How you feelin’?”

He doesn’t answer right away, leaving you to fidget with the cloth, slowly reaching for his thigh. He lets his eyes slide closed as you start to wipe him off, smoothing an apologetic thumb over his hip when he hisses from the sensitivity. You wipe your hand on a mostly clean corner before you chuck it in the general direction of the hamper, silently relieved when it makes it in.

“I think I died.” His hands are still shaking as he goes to set the glass on your nightstand, and you gingerly take it from him, lifting yourself up to set it on the far corner where neither of you can accidentally knock it off later. “I understand you now.”

“You didn’t die, I promise.” You allow yourself a smirk and pull a blanket up from the end of the bed. “That’s high praise, though.”

“You’re high praise.”

“You’re the one that liked it so much.”

He rolls his eyes, too tired to argue. As you pull yourself up the bed to sit beside him, he leans over, one hand sliding behind you to rest on your hip. Now that he doesn’t have the distraction of everything else, you can tell he’s starting to think, because his ears are tinting pink and he’s fidgeting with a string on the edge of the blanket.

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy to oblige.”

You scoop his hand into yours, leaving the blanket’s seams to live another day, and examine the bite mark on his wrist.

“I can’t believe I did that.” He scoffs, shaking his head a little as you turn his arm over. “The hell was I thinking?”

“Obviously you weren’t, which is both the point and very hot, so hush.” He turns away stubbornly, but he looks pleased. “You could probably say a spirit did it. Biting seems like an evil ghost thing to do, right?”

“With clearly human teeth?”

“Maybe it… stole them?”

He laughs, pulling away from your grip to get comfortable against your side. Just as you start to drift off, soothed by the sound of his breathing slowing and his weight settling on you as he relaxes, you feel his fingers walking down your hip, making their way to your thigh. You crack one eye open, and he looks away with obviously fake innocence.

“Where you going with that hand, darling?”

He smiles, bright and daring, as his fingers dig in. “Your turn?”

You consider it. You’re not quite capable of fully ignoring how turned on seeing him like this has made you. There’s a bit of nervous energy, buzzing over what’s left of your hangover, excitement, the joy that bubbles up in your chest at seeing him smiling at you like that, everything coming together in an overwhelming, swirling feeling of wanting whatever he will give you. But there’s something else, a calm undercurrent to it all, coating the emotion in quiet and directing it all back to a single point, solid and unwavering and right .

More than anything, you are content.

He sees your expression and laughs, must know what you’re going to say the moment you decide, because he mouths the words along with you as he pulls his hand back up to your hip.

“Maybe next time.”

[lomlkenji]

༊*·˚ whipped | sky

★ summary : having a crush on your best friend while he has feelings for someone else is a whole level of hurt. but it's funny seeing how protective he is of you.

★ warning: language, fluff, teasing

★ word count: 0.8k

── ⋆⋅☆ main masterlist

YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HURTS MORE, watching your best friend fall for someone new, or watching him get back with his ex.

Either way, it hurts like a bitch.

You were having lunch with Musa, Bloom and Aisha when Stella suddenly came –demanding– help for her lost ring.

When Sky sat down beside Bloom practically giving her the biggest heart eyes, you wanted the ground to swallow you.

Then Stella called for Sky, intentionally touching his arm as a warning that he's hers.

You felt like you were going to explode if you didn't get out of there.

You abruptly stood up, taking everyone's attention to you.

"Where you going?" Musa asked. Although she can feel your jealousy, she didn't want you to go and leave her with them.

"Library." you said to her, sending a sweet smile that didn't seem real at all.

Musa understood that you needed space, so she just nodded and gave your hand a soft squeeze.

But Sky didn't get that though, he knows you better than anyone and you never go to the library. Not while planning ahead anyways. "Wait, why?" he asked.

"Not of your business." you unintentionally snapped.

Sky's face fell at the sudden outburst and before he could ask anything you already packed your bag and started to walk away.

But of course, you couldn't just make a smooth exit without something messing up.

In a rush, you didn't even realise a guy was walking to you. You guys bumped into each other and all of the guy's books fell to the floor.

You kneeled down and started to immediately apologise, "Shit! I'm so sorry! I didn't see you, and I was just-"

The guy chuckled and crouched down taking his books, your fingers brushing against each other. "It's okay love." he said.

Your head snapped up to look at him at the sudden pet name as the heat came rushing to your neck and ears.

Sky on the other hand, didn't like how you were blushing because of the guy, and the sudden use of word love, made a pit in his stomach grow as he clench his fists.

When Musa suddenly felt a wave of anger in the cafeteria, her attention moved to Sky noticing how red his face had gotten, she smirked.

The whole situation is just funny now.

The guy you bumped into was cute to say the least. He has these gorgeous honey brown eyes that make you melt and his charming smile. Let's not forget his dimples.

Oh my god the dimples.

You coughed and broke the staring contest you were in.

Your legs were jelly as you stood up, and with holding the books, you didn't have too much balance.

When the guy noticed you were about to fall, he immediately came forward to catch you.

But Sky was faster.

He always had this sixth sense if he's with you.

It was like he just knows when you will get hurt and no matter how many times you fall, it will always be Sky who caught you.

Riv said that it's because Sky is whipped for you.

Whatever the hell that means.

Just the thought of you hurting made the blonde's heartbreak.

His hands went to your waist as he held you up. Stella and Bloom looked at you guys in jealousy but not for the same person.

You cleared your throat and moved out of Sky's grip as you handed the boy earlier his books.

The boy awkwardly took back his books and looked at you, "Can I have a name?"

You smiled, "I'm-" but as you were about to answer Sky's arm went back to your waist.

"No, you can't. Now leave." Sky said as he gave the boy a deadly glare. The boy whose name was unidentified nodded vigorously and walked away.

Your eyebrows furrowed; it wasn't like Sky to be rude.

Sky's eyes trained on the boy as he left but you turned to look at Sky and punched his shoulder.

"What the hell?" you scolded him, trying to keep your face from forming a big smile with how his arms set protectively around your waist.

He looked at you, shrugging his shoulders and said, "Didn't like him."

"You don't know him, Sky." you chuckled.

Oh, how he would hear you laugh over and over again. And to just see your smile every day makes him so happy, and how to feel when kissing you-

"Sky?" you asked him worriedly as he continued to stare at your face.

Sky blushed, noticing how he was caught in the act and decided to play it cool. "You're just really pretty."

Wow. Cool Sky. Really cool. He mentally face palmed himself. 

"Thank you." you said shyly, giving him a smile.

And he melted right then and there.

Damn it, Riv's right. He's so whipped.

reblog for a kiss!

[wombatwisdom]

The Institution

In the version of the first vision that is most frequently quoted by church members, I find the question posed by the 14 year old, soon to be prophet, rather telling.

He does not ask a personal question, such "how can I be a better disciple of Jesus Christ?" Or even more biblical "what lack I yet?"

Nor does he ask a more general question like "how can I help people more fully come unto Christ?"

The question he poses is an institutional one: "Which of all the sects was right, that I may know which to join." (JS History 1:18)

It should be noted that this account was not drafted until 1838, and is likely not a perfect recounting of events but rather a recounting with a purpose. If you are trying to convince people that a church is the one true church of God, the question that initiated the vision had better be about churches.

I think, however, this institutional focus looms large in our church, exacerbated by correlation efforts in the latter half of the 20th century. In many ways, the church has survived and thrived off its institutional design.

As I see it, the church has two aspects that constantly create tension: the centralized institution (think church headquarters) and the local congregation (think your ward or branch). Historically, the church has oscillated between different approaches: at times highly centralized, others more localized. In the modern church, it has struck a rather successful balance between the two, and landed in what I like to call the "franchise model".

My mother likes to say she loves that church is the same no matter where she attends. And generally that's true--she knows she can share her testimony on the first Sunday of the month, she knows what class to attend for second hour, and she knows when to sit, stand, sing, and say amen.

In truth the structure of the church on this tightrope between the top down approach of the centralized church and the bottom up approach of the localized church is a marvel. The average member feels empowered at the local level while supported by a larger framework maintained by a centralized group. Local leaders are volunteers (sort of), so less likely to be swayed to corruption, while the central leadership is full time with the capacity to address sweeping and large issues.

But these two structures pull against each other too. Local congregations can veer too far from the comfort of Central planning and can have their autonomy reduced (see women on the stand in California). Central leadership can implement policy that is difficult to enforce at the local level that will just kind of be forgotten (see the countless examples of leadership roulette).

Central leadership's goal is to maintain the institution and keep the train on the tracks, where the local congregation's goal is to foster community. And between the two is the estuary of middle-management who are trying support both at the same time (a confusing and thankless task if there ever was one).

These goals can be tricky to support and are often contradictory but can be advantageous to the church as a whole.

You've probably seen this in action. If someone in your ward mistreats you and you offer this as reason for no longer attending, you are often reminded that the church is more than the local community, it is a global Church run by God and you shouldn't abandon it because of a less than stellar ward environment. Similarly, if Central Leadership proposes a policy that marginalizes you or othes, the defense is to remember how great a community of saints exists and how much you are loved.

This makes it difficult to criticize, advocate or create positive change in the church. While grassroots movements can work, it is important to see how both sides of the church work and in what ways they are interconnected and how they are separate. A movement solely focused on improving the community does not change damaging centralized policy or teachings, likewise even perfect policy will not create the desired effect if the local community is hostile or otherwise unable to implement it.

From the very beginning of the LDS tradition there has been an eye towards institutionalism. Much more can and needs to be said regarding how Christ fits into the institution, but this post is already too long to tackle that. So, I'll leave it here for now.

[alexandra-emerson]

Some Thoughts

(For readers horrified by what’s been going on in fandom who want to help)

Twats

I’m sad that some authors have been pulling their works from AO3, though I totally get it. But I’m not going to add to the “don’t sell fanfics” commentary much. I’m working with a lawyer to get mine taken down from Etsy, and it sucks, but I think this is an opportunity to talk about the fandom community as a whole. Specifically, what you can do to keep it alive and healthy.

I think it’s easy to sit at home, read about this illegal fanbinding drama with interest, run to AO3 to mass download your favorite fics, pat yourself on the back for not buying or selling fics illegally or not adding them to Goodreads, then move on with your life. But I would argue this passive attitude is just as harmful to the community, in some ways.

The Criticism Ratio

You all have probably heard that you’re supposed to deliver compliments and criticism with a ratio of 5:1. This is because negative comments stick in our heads more, so even if you were balancing the good and bad, or giving twice as many good comments as bad ones, the bad ones carry so much weight, they still seem to be winning.

With writing, I would argue this ratio is probably more like 10:1. Because it’s so personal. And most of us are so new to it. And it’s so much freaking work. I timed it once, and one chapter typically takes me 12 hours to write. That doesn’t include editing, or the hours my beta puts into editing. Then, to float all that work out into the world and get negativity back … oof, it makes embarking on the next 12 hours, and the next and the next VERY difficult.

My Experience

I’ve been an author of some popular fics in both the Harmony and Dramione spaces. On the Harmony side, I’ve dealt with personalized attacks, not just against my stories but against me as a person. And when that was going down, there weren’t a ton of fans speaking up on my behalf. I got a lot of DMs telling me those bullies were just the “loud minority” but from my point of view, with my supporters sounding like crickets, they felt like a majority. 

(Quick note to my Harmony readers: No I’m never writing Harmony again, get over it, and stop following me to every work I write next to ask me when I’m writing Harmony again. You had your chance to support me, and you fucking missed the boat.)

On the Dramione side, the public spaces are more moderated (thank God) so I’m less likely to stumble upon downright bullying. But this space is overwhelming in how BIG it is and how much conversation goes on about my fics. I always feel like the last to know when there’s some big Tik-Tok boom happening with one of my stories, when a story gets added to Goodreads, when there’s a reddit thread discussing the flaws in ‘Timeless’, when it gets posted for sale on Etsy, when someone popular binds it. It’s very hard to keep up with this giant fandom and it’s too much to handle at times. Which means if people don't send us things directly, we don't see it.

I also get this thing in Dramione that I didn’t get as much in Harmony where people act afraid or embarrassed to reach out to me. They’ll say things like, “I’m so sorry to bother you…” or “I’m sure you hear this all the time, and I know you don’t need to hear it from me too, but your works are great…” I think in Dramione people assume because it’s so big, other people are taking care of things, but that’s not the case. There is a lot of activity, for sure, but not much of that is making it back to the author.

My Ask

So anyway, think about the role you play in fandom. Are you contributing to the compliment bank, or the criticism one? (Remember, abstentions go with the majority. And in this case, every negative experience holds x10 weight).

Good things can be as simple as sending a quick note like, “Just letting you know I thought about your story today” or “Here’s another kudos because I just reread this gem!” It can be correcting a negative comment or review you see out in the wild, so that if the author ever stumbles across it, they see that their people are out there, sticking up for them. Ten people can instantly negate a bad comment with ten positive ones. Then if the author ever finds it, no harm done.

We all know the bad things that harm fandom, so there’s no need for me to rehash them here. But don’t forget that the passive things can be just as harmful. Things like: Rating a fanfic on Goodreads, because it’s already there, and you really want it to count towards your goal. Downloading a story, loving it, and never letting the author know. Reading rude comments online, complimenting yourself for not being that mean, then scrolling to the next thing.

My challenge to fandom is this: Let’s fill that compliment and support bucket so full that when an author does encounter a negative experience with one of their fanfics, they have a giant, fluffy pillow of endless love to fall back on. Let’s make those rare moments of nastiness truly feel like a minority to our creators. It’s not a ton of work. Our fandom is so flipping large, it just takes a tiny comment from each person to keep our community feeling like a fun, positive place to play.

[y-rhywbeth2]

I can't help but feel there's a chunk of lore missing from stuff about the Bhaalists. Most of the other evil gods you can generally work out why these gods are revered; the Gods of Fury are forces of nature (the ocean is terrifying but many are enamoured with it, storms will kill you and yet storm chasing is a thing, etc), Bane represents an idea of order and strength rooted in fear that fuels real world dictatorships, etc etc

Lay worship of Bhaal makes sense - either you're praying to be spared from death or if you're going to be deliberately killing somebody (revenge, self-defence, assassination, etc) you'll pray for success/give a fucked up form of grace.

And it's not necessarily so strange that they happily call themselves evil - Realms morality is not supposed to operate like the real world, evil is a recognised cosmological force and it's accepted as being holy, whether the average person likes it or not these gods are viewed as necessary parts of the universe; they won't blaspheme against it.

But Deathbringers aren't just in this for serial killing: "every murder committed strengthened holy Bhaal", their kills are "a pastime", but they are also "a duty". Death is holy, murder is holy, Bhaal being stronger is a desirable thing, and you love and revere your Lord of Murder for more than the power and wealth his domain brings you: there is a purpose here but what the fuck is it? You want Death Itself to be a revered and powerful presence in people's lives that they should be beholden to, but why? What's the reasoning?

The plot we're given makes little sense (conquering the world for Bhaal and creating a society in his image, sure. But Bhaal is notably very, very resistant to dying - killing the world will kill him, he's not going to do that), I do like this fucked up "the material world is a prison, everything should perish and be freed of it" philosophy for them (although it's also a touch too Sharran), but the actual apocalypse plan doesn't work out. I can also see how we ended up with it because how the hell do you fill these blanks if your "justification" isn't euthanising the world?

Bhaalists usually target criminals, so there could be a vigilante element to the faith, but Bhaal doesn't actually care who gets murdered and there's nothing about that in the doctrine - and that's Hoar's deal as god of vengeance anyway (although he and Bhaal are allies).

Bhaalist doctrine appeals to the natural world - all creatures destroy life on a daily basis, it's a necessary part of the turning of the world (although we're getting a little too close to Malar, god of predation here). There could be something about some kind of duty to a balancing act between the kingdoms of the dead (Myrkul) and the living (Bane) to keep either from becoming too powerful, although that's never come up. (That one actually has in-world scriptures with the Dead Three receiving their portfolios and announcing their plans, so for lack of a sensible answer I think I'll lean on that one for my personal Realms.)

Hmmmm.

(This is what happens when you split your death gods up: we could've just had a god of death and a god of the dead in one being and we wouldn't have this issue, Jergal.)