#maybe I'll write a part two

[suspensefulpen]

Unconscious

TW: Creepy/Intimate Carewhumper, Implied Gaslighting

Emory stirred, flinching at the pained sensations across his body. Adjusting his eyes to the bright lighting above him, he noticed a face in his peripheral. When the room stopped blurring, he recognized the face as Athena. She looked concerned as she watched him carefully. It took him a moment to realize that she was holding him in her arms. 

He attempted to push himself into a sitting position. 

“No no no! Rest!” 

Reluctantly, he obeyed and returned to his relaxed position in her arms despite not wanting to. He shivered. “My head hurts… really bad. And my throat hurts too. What happened?” 

“You nearly bumped your head, Emy.” She said worriedly. “You were about to leave when you lost consciousness. I had to rush and catch you so you wouldn’t get hurt.” 

“I lost consciousness…” He echoed, once again attempting to sit up only to be stopped by her hand on his chest. “But how? Why–” 

“I’m not sure Darling but I’m glad that you’re awake.” Athena smiled softly. For some reason, that smile felt oddly comforting to see after weeks of seeing it as a threat. What if she was just playing the savior so Emory would let his guard down? After all, he has more than enough reason to believe that she could’ve had something to do with it happening in the first place. 

“It might be time to leave now.” She continued. “I’ll have your doctor check you over tomorrow. For now, we need to get you down the stairs so we can get back home.” 

Oh right, they were at this cursed party Athena had dragged him to. Emory began to once again question his safety. Now more than he did before he lost consciousness. 

Why couldn’t he just remember what happened? He could only remember walking down the hallway. When did he come to this room? How long had he been in this room? How long had he been unconscious? More importantly, why? 

“Listen, don’t think about it too much, okay Emy?” She said tilting his chin up, making eye contact with him. “Let’s just get you safely downstairs so we can go home, okay?” 

With no other choice, he nodded and allowed her to usher him to the car as she smiled and waved everyone off as she went.

[crowttore]

Anyway, you're dating Alhaitham while Kaveh is still living there. Kaveh is on a trip into the desert, should be coming home in two days, you and Alhaitham have just bathed and are having slow sex in his room. You hear the front door open and mutter out a confused "Kaveh?" - but poor Alhaitham... He thinks you just moaned his roommate's name. Suffice to say, his hands grip your hips a little harder and his thrusts grow deeper while his chest burns with a need to make you forget everything but him. Alhaitham is not a jealous man, he trusts you wholly, but he does appreciate being concise with words, so how could he possibly let you misspeak in such a way?

Poor Kaveh hears the bedframe creak and promptly backs out the door.

[toyboy-molloy]

The Pack gathered around the biggest table in the Den, observing the map Zizka had slammed in front of them. It was a crudely drawn blueprint of Pirkstein and, to some extent, Rattay based on Henry and Hans' descriptions.

"Right, the ceremony will take place here," Zizka indicated the spot on the map, tapping out each place as he continued, "the groom, here, the best man here and the priest there."

Samuel leaned against one of the beams, tossing a knife and catching it, "what about opposition?"

"Guests will be unarmed which just leaves the town guards and Kunstadt's personal protection," he explained, indicating where they would most likely be positioned, "I doubt they're expecting trouble. They're most likely there to show off Hanush's wealth."

Hans scoffed, "aye, that sounds like uncle."

"So, what's the plan?" Kubyenka chimed in, swigging from a tankard. Again, Zizka referred to the map.

"Dry Devil, Henry and Godwin will be at the ceremony as well as our reluctant groom," Hans gave a wry smile, subtly leaning into the blacksmith seated beside him, "and Katherine has managed to acquire a job as a serving girl which leaves the rest of us."

"Shame I won't get to crack some skulls," Dry Devil muttered, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table. Beside him, Janosh laughed.

"Your cousin get heart broken but you upset you not kill anyone?"

"Enough," Zizka exclaimed in irritation, "listen carefully, Janosh will cause a distraction outside the church, myself, Kubyenka and Samuel will handle the remaining guards inside and 'kidnap' the groom."

"Gently," Hans pointed out, folding his arms defensively. Samuel muttered something about no promises, thankfully unheard by the noble.

"It's important it looks as though you, Henry," Zizka indicated the blacksmith turned bodyguard, "have no idea about our plan. For your own safety."

Henry waved a hand, "don't worry about me. I made a promise to Sir Hanush I'd get Hans to the wedding," he shrugged, smirking, "I won't be lying. I'll keep my father and Sir Hanush busy."

Zizka nodded proudly. He looked around at the gang commandingly, "I never said it was going to be easy but we all have our roles and we have pulled off more difficult tasks. God willing, Sir Hans will be with us by nightfall."

The Lord in question was quiet, unusual for him. He looked at the map then glanced around at the pack, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You would all do this...for me?"

"You're one of us, lad," Zizka said without hesitation. Henry nodded enthusiastically beside him, squeezing his hand under the table. Even Dry Devil elbowed him.

The group soon dispersed, discussing the plan amongst themselves. Henry found Hans alone in their room a short while later. He was clearly overwhelmed, sitting on his bed contemplating what lie ahead.

"Are you okay?"

Hans nodded, shuffling across to make room, "sit with me."

Henry obliged, taking one of the nobleman's hands in his and kissing his knuckles, resting their foreheads together.

"It'll be alright," he reassured his beloved, smiling comfortingly, "Zizka is a genius. We'll be together properly. Just you and me."

"And everyone downstairs," Hans said with a chuckle but he took Henry's free hand, returning the kiss sweetly, "and I wouldn't have it any other way."

They remained in that position for the longest time, praying that everything would go smoothly and that they would truly, finally, get to be together. Free.

[ssseashell]

my newtmas headcanons (because i saw some people posting their own hc's and had to share mine)

these are mostly based on a modern setting scenario, but some can be pictured in canon aswell ^__^ 🐈🐈‍⬛

thomas has dimples, newt has freckles

thomas has brown hazel-ish eyes, newt has dark brown eyes

thomas’ cheeks are naturally red and newt’s cheeks are pale and, sometimes, they turn pink

newt collects vinyls and books, thomas collects comic books and mini figures

thomas’ love language is ‘physical touch’, so he’s always touching newt; holding his hands, massaging his back, playing with the lobe of his ear, temple kisses, love bites, whatever.

newt’s love language is ‘words of affirmation’, so thomas receives ‘i love you’s and any other sweet words like 50 times a day (he also makes sure he says it a lot)

eye contact, lots of eye contact. especially before they were together

small touches

arms brushing against one another

fingers rushing against one another

thomas still is determined to count every freckle newt has in his face

kisses. all types of kisses. smiles between kisses / slow kisses / messy kisses / following a kiss on the lips with a series of kisses down the neck / kisses that were meant to be gentle, ending up in devout passion / long kisses that leave them breathless and flustered

hugs. a lot of hugs. all types of hugs.

they know everything about each other

newt loves playing with thomas’ hair. he cut his hair once. never again

thomas has terrible memory, newt remembers everything

newt likes to draw and paint, thomas likes to make music (he knows how to play the guitar)

newt’s fav color is green, thomas’ fav color is red

they read together sometimes, each with their own book – but thomas is usually the one to get bored first, so he just lays on newt’s lap while newt plays with his hair and reads his book aloud for him

thomas likes to run late at night and when he’s back he just wants to sleep and cuddle, but newt won’t touch him until he’s showered

sometimes thomas comes home with some cut or injury from running and newt takes care of him every time

newt gets sick easily, so thomas had to learn how to take care of him. newt: don’t touch me, i’m all sick / thomas: i don’t care

newt, to thomas: if i hear you sing to heathers in the shower again i’ll join you just to drown you

every time they kiss in a stairwell, thomas makes sure he’s on a higher step so, for some seconds, he’s taller than newt

newt makes thomas trade their food when he likes the brunet’s better

thomas, when cuddling: “i’m hungry” / newt: “i’m not moving”

thomas had this bad habit of biting into his nails when he’s anxious or stressed, newt hates it

when newt is crying because of stress or anger, thomas licks his cheeks to catch his tears and never fails to make the blond chuckle

newt discovered he loves thomas on a random tuesday night. they were dancing and singing with their friends and thomas slipped on air and fell on his butt, and newt was like yeah, he’s so dumb. i do love him

they like to bake their friends’ birthday cakes together as part of their present (thomas is awful at the kitchen, so all he does is basically put the candles on top of the cake once it’s done

thomas is that person to be excitedly yapping in bed about his day and then, in two seconds, is falling asleep mid sentence because he’s so tired. and newt just giggles every time it happens, and kisses his forehead passionately before also falling asleep

sometimes newt feels so homesick it hurts, so thomas does all he can to cheer him up with silly little things, like watching newt’s favorite english movies or listening to songs he listened to when he was a kid, or having a tea party playdate where they pretend they are from the english royalty (yes, it’s so stupid

thomas: damn, it’s like my mom likes you better than me

thomas’ hand is smaller

they both love all rom coms, romantic comedies and christmas classics so, every week precisely, they buy all the sweet treats they want and make popcorn and choose something to watch together (even if it’s not christmas, even if it’s something they’d watched 1000 times already

[ffcrazy15]

I need a whole fic where the Cerritos is mistaken for the Enterprise by some type of alien with very high intelligence but very poor visual recognition, for whatever reason.

And Freeman either can't or is too scared to convince them that they're not the Enterprise, so she starts desperately assigning everyone to various roles. Boimler gets assigned as Data, and since he and Mariner are the only people on the ship who play string instruments, the captain orders them to put together some sort of "symphony" because the aliens have heard that that's a thing on the Enterprise.

And it's just Mariner and Boimler frustratedly trying to figure out how to combine her electric guitar skills and his traditional violin skills into something suitably "symphonic" (i.e. thematically trying to combine her more lax/modern way of doing things with his more strict/traditional way).

[not-brionnnne]

hey has anyone ever considered doing shinjiro smut for after the fade to black but he lays you across his lap, like has anyone ever considered the canon praise kink with him more—shinjiro who scolds you, calls you trouble and tells you to stay close to him like a "good girl", shinjiro who acts tough, pretends to be fed up with you pushing him around (he loves it, but that doesn't mean you're not gonna hear about it), ignoring what he wants, so two can play that game, and you think, god, he's not holding back anymore, he's going to kiss me, finally, we're going to— but no, he settles on his bed and pats his lap and tells you that you need to "take responsibility" for teasing him like that, messing with his feelings — "be a good girl." remember, you started this.

[the-gay-prometheus]

Would you people read a potentially five+ page essay about my Nightmare Realm theory or am I just going insane for no reason-

[faithandfairies]

Positions of Power

So, Interview with the Vampire famously examines the questions

What happens if one decides not to love or choose someone in a position of power who wants to be loved and chosen?

When the person in the position of power can then wield said power to decide the fate of the person that doesn't love or choose them as well as the fate of those that person does love? To hurt, destroy, help or save said person?

And it does this through all of its relationships although it's most obvious through the relationships between Louis and Lestat and Louis and Armand.

And it starts immediately with Louis the pimp. You see, Louis starts out in positions of power in all of his relationships. Or so it seems.

Lestat actually names them all starting with:

1.The stern landlord=the pimp/building and business owner

He is in a position of power as the pimp that governs his girls. We see this starting with ms. Bricktop Williams when she insults the alderman and Louis doesn't actually punish her for it. He also doesn't punish the girl who yells at his brother. He does punish his brother for making him look "weak" on Liberty street, therefore threatening his position of power. One wrong move in how he governs his girls or his brother could lead to him losing this position.

2.The deferential businessman

Louis has made it as a black man. As a successful black businessman he has made himself a place among the white businessmen but his position is precarious. It requires him to defer to them in order to keep that position. And once he stops doing that, once he stops "knowing his place" by having a white same sex life partner in plain view, who is richer than all of the other businessmen combined and then makes power grabs for businesses he shouldn't want ownership of, he eventually loses this precarious position of power he once held.

3. The loyal son

Louis is also in a position of power at home. He's the successful businessman keeping his family's heads above water and bringing them honor by taking care of them as a loyal son should. He controls the money for the family. He takes care of the family financially. He owns their ancestral home because his father left it to him. He even mentions to Daniel I believe that he's not just the eldest son, but the favored son. The caveat to him maintaining this position isn't what his business entails as in having a respectable business, but his loyalty to the family, to his mother. It initially seems like he's allowing for it to look like his mother is in control by having her take credit for financial purchases of his. But later it turns out to be the other way around, his mother was always in control. Because the moment he fails to fulfill his father's dying wish "to properly take care of Paul" and then also follows it up by moving in with Lestat and barely coming home, he loses the position of the loyal son and it is his mother that takes this position from him directly and gives it to Levi. And it no longer matters that the house belongs to him or that he was the one financially providing for his family.

Enter Lestat.

Who is fascinated by this man who has managed to crawl his way up to the top of the food chain in his world in spite of his race and initial financial state making it seemingly impossible.

Lestat is also at the top of the food chain in his world. In his world, he is in THE position of power and there's very little above him. Especially since he's apparently the only vampire in New Orleans at that time.

In relation to Lestat, Louis wields almost no power. Louis' is a black human. And Lestat is a white sadistic, manipulative vampire, a predator, with an endless supply of funds and to Louis largely unknown ancient powers he's been honing for over a century and no qualms about using his toxic traits against Louis. Louis' power lies in the fact that Lestat is in love with him but even that has its limits. The caveat is that Louis has to love him, choose him in turn. And Louis does, initially. When the power imbalance between them isn't known to Louis he chooses Lestat. He loves Lestat. As his friend. As his confidante. As his lover. For a brief moment Louis chooses to live in the fantasy where he and Lestat can choose each other without there being far-reaching repercussions for him within the society he lives in. Where he can be a black, gay human without it having major unwanted consequences for his businesses, his family and his life as a whole. And then he literally wakes up to the realization that he can't go back on that choice. And that he maybe never really had one. Once Lestat lays eyes on him, once Lestat loves him and chooses him it's game over. Lestat's inherently predatory nature means Louis' time is running out because Lestat's self-control is reaching its breaking point. Louis' only choice then becomes whether he wants nine unlimited lives or just one cut very short by Lestat.

When Louis rejects Lestat at his brother's funeral and then condemns him in the church, Lestat shows up believing himself an angered god ready and justified to dole out judgment on humanity. Reacting to Louis' actions by revealing the sinister side to his powers and clearly revealing the power imbalance. He reveals the breadth of his power in all of its terrifying glory and likens it in words to godly power through which fates of life and death can be decided depending on who is deserving of mercy or not. Showing Louis exactly what can become of him and those he loves if he chooses to (further) anger Lestat.

This, the power imbalance, continues on throughout their relationship. Louis' power comes from the fact that Lestat loves him which he uses to manipulate him and get what he wants out of the relationship. Lestat continues to manipulate Louis as well and continues to hold the power imbalance over his head by displaying said power in big and small ways to try to keep Louis in line within the relationship. Early on I think Lestat also realizes he can use sex to manipulate Louis. Offering it to Louis to distract from the power imbalance, presenting himself as more vulnerable to Louis, making him and Lestat closer to equals which is honestly what they both crave but can never truly achieve. Lestat also tries offering sex to others once Louis no longer has the energy and later the willingness to have it with Lestat, hoping to get Louis to bend to his will (and indulge) when it comes to his appetites. Hoping to restore their sex life and intimacy through it. Which is the one manipulation that doesn't really work. Which means eventually their relationship doesn't work since it hinges on them having similar appetites, human, the blood, each other.

In the meantime Louis tries to hold on to his positions of power in the human world even more so since he holds almost no power in his and Lestat's vampire world. Then he loses those positions of power.

Enter Claudia.

An eternal child, initially as innocent as they come, and physically the weakest vampire among the three of them.

And suddenly Louis is no longer the one with the least power in his and Lestat's vampire world. In becoming Claudia's parents, suddenly he and Lestat are equals. But also, as far as race, culture, history and humanity goes, Lestat is outnumbered. Suddenly Louis is in a position of power not only as the parent who has the most knowledge about Claudia's background having been human and a black human from New Orleans at that fairly recently himself, but to Claudia he's also the favored parent. Lestat allows it and everything is right with the world. Except that it's not. And over time that becomes abundantly clear again.

As a parent, Lestat initially softens more but eventually becomes even more the predator. He tries to regain some of the power he's lost by cultivating the vampire, the predator, within Claudia and Claudia is the eager and prodigious student. Except she isn't just a predator or a vampire, she is now a teenager with teenage human tendencies, wants and needs. Except she's not human. Incapable of and eventually not allowed to indulge in those human tendencies for fear of the human world she desperately wants to be a part of discovering and destroying Louis' and Lestat's little vampire world.

This is when Claudia becomes aware of power. That she has it, much more than the average human, but can't control it and as an eternal child realizing that it pales in comparison to that of her fathers and she will never be able to wield it in the same way that they do. The power she possesses is practically useless to her. Where Lestat was able to wield his love and vampiric power to get what he wanted from Louis initially and Louis was able to wield his power of both his own love for Lestat and Lestat's love for him to get what he wanted, she cannot do the same. Her vampire powers continue to fail her, her love for her parents and their love for her isn't enough for them to give her what she wants and needs to feel fulfilled and she has no love of her own and seemingly very likely never will.

She exists to fulfill Lestat's and Louis' wants and needs, as their daughter, to even out the power imbalance between them in order to improve their relationship with each other. She is not allowed to have wants or needs of her own. This is eventually enforced by Lestat any time she chooses to forget it. Although initially when he thinks she's done her part he allows her to leave, until the 7 year drought makes him realize that in order for Louis' and his relationship to somewhat continue to work and Louis to not peace out permanently from vampiric life and life with Lestat Claudia needs to keep inhabiting the role she has been. Also her leaving again and traveling to Europe of all places could also expose them all to Lestat's actual coven leader, Armand. Lestat's power does not extend to Europe and he knows very well what Armand does to those who disobey the great laws. Her chasing after what she wants could mean death for all of them and Lestat knows this.

And for Claudia to get what she wants from life she needs either

a love of her own

a different role that gives her useful power of her own and/or

for one of her parents to love her enough for it to make a difference.

Claudia, ambitious as she is, goes for all of the above.

Commence the power struggle.

Claudia decides that she already has a love of her own in Louis, the parent that even in her 7-year absence, chose the memory of her over a very there and present Lestat. So Claudia returns. Commence the power struggle. It becomes a game to Claudia, one she thinks she's already won even before it starts. She just needs to tweak the companionship a bit. Instead of simply being his daughter, she'll be Louis' Grace, his Lestat. She won't sleep with him of course, but she'll be all that he needs by loving him better than Lestat or Grace ever did, by being more devoted to him than either of them ever were. And luckily for her, with Grace recently out of the picture that position has just opened up. And Claudia is certain of having what Lestat doesn't know he has and certainly hasn't felt he has in a long time. Louis' love. Given that, all Claudia needs to do is convince Louis to leave Lestat.

Only it was never a game. And if it was, Lestat was never just a player, but the gamemaker. Something that Claudia never realized until she did and Louis had forgotten until Lestat made him remember. In doing so though, by exhibiting his power in all its terrifying glory again in order to keep everyone in line he crosses lines he drew up himself in order to keep Louis with him and preserve the authenticity of as well as reduce the power imbalance in the relationship as much as possible.

Lines such as:

No eating black people or if yes, no letting Louis know about this

Physically hurting Louis and his family members is off limits

No limiting Louis in his human hobbies

No forcing Louis to have sex even if sex is desired

Because the one thing Louis can still do is choose to walk away regardless if Lestat then decides to kill him for it. Either way it will mean Louis is lost to him which is the one thing Lestat doesn't want.

Commence the reset.

In Lestat acting out and treating Louis like a rag doll for trying to protect and potentially choose Claudia, the power imbalance between him and Lestat once again becomes glaringly obvious and in such a way that there's no going back to the way things were. There's no sense in pretending. The illusion of Louis having a choice has shattered. The inherent "Choose me and love me or die." that was barely concealed subtext when Louis became a vampire is now undisputed text. And has turned into "Hesitate to choose me and die." seeing as Lestat didn't even wait for Louis to choose this time.

Lestat almost kills Louis and there's really no coming back from it. Lestat then tries to regain the power and Louis initially by trying to create the illusion of completely giving away the power to Louis. But it doesn't work. Acting powerless doesn't actually make him so as evidenced by past events. The only thing that might constitute a reset is Lestat dying at their hands.

For Claudia it's a continuance of her original plan but instead of just leaving Lestat behind she now decides to completely take him off the board.

Once again it's a power struggle. But I think what changes here is that Lestat no longer really wants the power. He makes half-hearted swipes for the power but his heart just isn't in it. He just wants Louis and whatever will make Louis want him again in return. And Lestat's starting to realize all the power in the world is not going to get him Louis back. Technically Louis has all the power but Louis doesn't really want it either. Louis hands the power over to Claudia. And Lestat grudgingly allows it even though it also irritates and low-key terrifies him. He trusts Louis. He does not trust the mini version of his own sadistic self he raised in his image that is Claudia to wield any kind of power over him.

But the one thing he does trust is that he can outsmart Claudia. Until she wins a game. And then Lestat doesn't know what to think. For the first time Claudia holds the power but only because both her parents are allowing it. And not because it has anything to do with her. No. But because they're trying to find their way back to each other and all their power play has done for them so far is destroy them and alienate them from each other.

With the power in Claudia's hands, without their power struggle between them, Louis becomes numb and retreats into himself and Lestat becomes increasingly antsy and paranoid. Claudia realizes that her parents are like a bottle the top is about to pop off and if that happens there will be another power grab from one of her parents, most likely Lestat. So she tells Louis to pretty much go back to the start. To rekindle the love. With Louis' focus on restoring the love he and Lestat initially had between each other at the very beginning and Louis' heart blown open to Lestat and showing and sharing that love in all the ways between them I think for the first time since their initial courtship Louis and Lestat settle into peace.

And Claudia becomes the odd one out. And even with all the power it is at that point in time useless to her. Both her parents are lost to her, too focused on each other, belonging to each other once again, with her once again stuck in the role of the daughter simply bearing witness to their love for each other, with no love or lover of her own. Even though having fulfilled her role in their lives by removing the power play completely between them by advising Louis to simply allow himself to love Lestat without reservations and pushing him to take her advice. And Lestat following Louis' lead. With Lestat having what he actually wants, which is all of Louis, he becomes less of a threat, which is the goal. And with Louis having all of Lestat, Louis I think realizes this is what he always wanted. For Lestat to not be a threat to them sure, but not because he was dead or incapacitated but because he was completely in love with Louis with no room for anything else.

And so when it's time to eliminate the power source, Louis takes back the power from Claudia forcefully and chooses a reset instead. A reboot.

[reading-writing-dying]

Finished editing next chapter of the Hotguy/Cuteguy Love-square fic, now the question is do I post now or wait until my original planned date of Friday/Saturday?

[backpackingspace]

I am once again thinking about my swinger! con artists! Odypen and diomedes being their much younger bratty thrid au

[inkykeiji]

just a lil daydream i had while on a run a few days ago and i absolutely had to write a lil something for it ehehe

character: akutagawa ryuunosuke x fem!reader warnings: messy kisses, blood, aku is mean a lil virgin with a big crush, mention of mori, size difference, no explicit smut but still 18+ only please! words: 2.2k

It’s loud, too loud, so loud the walls seem to be breathing with the bass line, pulsing in time with the steadily building beat, amplified by the strobing neon lights, and it’s making Akutagawa’s head hurt. 

He can’t stand events such as these. He doesn’t want to be here—fucking despises noisy spaces and rowdy crowds—and if it were entirely up to him he wouldn’t be, but as it turns out, it isn’t, and he has a duty to fulfill. 

Because some grand deal has just been sealed, something monumental for the Mafia, something that calls for celebration, and Mori has ‘requested’ the presence of several high ranking members to join him at one of the clubs he owns in commemoration. 

Akutagawa doesn’t really know many of the details pertaining to the negotiation, most of the more intimate specifics kept private for obvious reasons, but he supposes it doesn’t matter either way; Mori never really needs an excuse to throw a party.

And what Mori wants, Mori gets. Always.

So he’s here, like the good boy he is, because he never disobeys a direct order from a superior no matter how badly he wishes to; he was raised by his master to be respectful, after all.

Doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it, though. 

Stuffed in a dark corner and shrouded in shadows, Akutagawa glowers at the mass of bodies on the dance floor, features screwed up in a disgusted scowl. It’s hard to believe anyone considers this a good time, that anyone could have fun in such a sweaty, stifling environment, that anyone actually likes being packed onto a grimy dance floor like overstuffed sardines as the bass rattles your teeth and ruptures your ears.

It’s entirely barbaric, as far as he’s concerned. 

He’s so absorbed in his own loathing rumination that he doesn’t see you until you’re wedging yourself past a wall of gyrating bodies, spit out from the crowd like a spare tooth, skin dewy with exhilaration and chest heaving with breathless amusement. 

God, you’re beautiful; so beautiful it’s almost revolting, so beautiful it makes his stomach churn, acid burning as it bubbles up his throat.

Your eyes sweep across his corner once, gliding over his hunched form before snapping back to his face, your gazes connecting. 

Sharp bolts sear through his gut, a cliche kick of electricity that ripples his flesh and spikes his blood, that zips up the notches of his spine and forces each vertebra into submission, snapping them back into a straight, rigid line.

Before he can even make sense of it at all, you’re marching toward him, mischievous determination hard on your face. Before he can even ask you what the fuck is going on, your hands are wrapping around his arms and tugging them free from his body.

Your touch shocks him, another irritating jolt coursing through his body, blood cracking with electric currents, buzzing through his veins and shot straight to his brain, short-circuiting his synapses. 

Everything has gone numb, his limbs languid, his senses dulled to everything but you as your delicate fingers flex around his slim wrists, rendering it exceptionally easy to string him along back toward the crowd, his own feet dumbly obeying your motions irregardless of the fact that he’s desperately telling them not to. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” 

And he hates the way his voice trembles, words fractured by the nerves, his question coming out weak and needy instead of firm and authoritative, like it should. 

If you notice his incompetence, you don’t acknowledge it, that gorgeous smile still painted wide across your cheeks, response blithe and bright.

“I want to dance with you!”  

“No,” he says automatically, instantly, and he isn’t sure if he’s denying you or denying your statement. “No,” he repeats, firmer this time, molars grinding together. “Let me go. I don’t want to—I really, really don’t want to.”

He commands his arms to jerk away from you, but they do nothing, hanging limply in your grasp. Anxiety-tinged adrenaline rushes through his body, procuring waves of little thorns that sprout beneath his flesh and leave his body quivering. 

“Enough of this, Goddamn it,” he growls over the music, lip curled in a sneer. “I am not going to dance with you.”

He attempts to plant his heels, to root them to the floor, to pool his blood and weigh them down, but his feet aren’t taking no for an answer, and neither are you. 

“C’mon,” you pout, and Christ, it’s lethal. “Just one dance, Ryuu? Pretty please?” 

And it’s the way you’re staring up at him—with startlingly sincere eyes that glitter even in the dimmest of lights, beseeching him—that makes him stop, that has any protests withering to ash in his throat, burnt up in your bonafide flames.

His tongue melts in his mouth, sticky and choking, and he finds he can no longer form the word no anymore, drowning in his own blistering spit, white-hot and boiling beneath your blaze. Denial is something his hazy mind is unable to comprehend, irregardless of how zealously he tries to stitch together a fraying protest, incapable of refusing you no matter how badly he wants to.

Which he does want to, right? 

He isn’t afforded a moment to further meditate on his question, though, because he suddenly finds himself deep in the ocean of people, unable to see or feel anything or anyone but you.

Panic sets in, barbed and paralyzing, his hands beginning to shake as frantic eyes dart around your face erratically, desperately hunting for any clues on how to proceed. 

It’s all so foreign, a torrent of intense, inexplicable emotions clashing within him, roaring over one another as they surge through his rickety frame. Terror roots itself in his stomach, thick and icy, while a fog of confusion encases his brain, dense and stifling. Exhilaration floods his veins, fizzy as it washes over everything else, washes away everything else, a spark of cautious excitement igniting in his chest.

It is all so utterly infuriating. 

You’re looking at him peculiarly, a question shimmering in your eyes, and he snarls at you. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he tells you honestly, body slouching slightly. 

“You dance!”

“I don’t know how to fucking dance,” his face puckers, as if the confession sours his tongue, as if he’s offended you’d have thought otherwise. 

But you’re still brilliant as ever, that megawatt smile back on your lips as your hands encircle his slack wrists.

“I’ll teach you,” you’re telling him, easy, effortless, as you place his jittery palms on your hips, pressing them into your body as if sticking them to yourself, ensuring that they won’t peel off. 

Your flesh is grounding, soothing the tremors wiggling beneath his skin in a mere instant. His fingers spread, splayed long and wide, desperate to gather more of you within their grasp, the tips of his pinkies resting on the swell of your ass. 

You don’t seem to mind, though—or maybe you just haven’t noticed yet—your hips beginning to move in rhythmic little motions, body swaying to the beat of whatever’s blaring through the speakers as your hands run up his chest, leaving thick trails of chills in their wake, despite how sweltering it is submerged this deeply in the crowd.

A shiver ripples his flesh as you drape your wrists over his bony shoulders, fingers idly playing with the tufts of hair curling at the base of his skull, pushing into the tresses and scraping your nails against his scalp before twirling strands around your knuckles. 

An embarrassingly needy moan pries past his lips and his head falls forward, forehead knocking against your own, allowing your fingers more room to move.

If you didn’t hear his moan, you sure as hell felt it, rumbling behind his ribs, vibrations seeping into your body; sure as hell felt the way his body molded further into yours, deliquescing beneath his craving for more. 

He knows you did, because he felt the sweet giggle that chimed so delicately in your chest, he felt the soft huff of amusement that spilled from your lips and soaked into his, warm and tingling.  

But it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care how pathetically eager he may seem, how pathetically eager he is, how fucking dumb he must look now, after so vehemently attempting to reject you and so miserably failing at it, his pitiful spurns now rendered absolutely useless as he keenly vies for more; more of your body, more of your touch, more of you.

Because as inept as he must seem, it all feels so good, and his eyes slide shut as he lets it overwhelm him, lets it coil around his ankles and plunge him into its depths, swamping his brain and his rationale—giving in, giving up.

Eventually, he comes back to himself, lids lifting when he realizes his body’s practically fused to yours—chests pressed flush together, thighs slotted between one another, arms wound tight, tighter, around hips and necks, further grinding your bones together, a tangled knot of an entity. 

His hands flex on your lower back, squeezing you to him further, fingers snapping blood vessels beneath their grip, staining his name into your flesh in tiny bursts of navy and violet. Your palms are pressed flat to the back of his skull now, keeping his forehead in place against yours as your bodies move as one, both hands buried in strands of ink, fingers rubbing little circles into his scalp. 

Your pupils are gaping, shimmering black holes that seem to consume everything they touch, and Akutagawa finds himself drowning in them, engulfed in the way they’re gazing up at him with such potent adoration it feels fucking choking, like he’s a fucking god, like they want to devour him whole.

And he goes willingly, readily, desperately. 

There are dewdrops of sweat caught in his lashes, little crystals that glisten as they catch on the intermittent neon flashes, that stream down his cheeks and streak his skin with glimmers of teal and fuchsia. Tendrils of ink and ivory are sticking to his temples and his neck, clumped together and saturated with salt. You’re soaked, too, sweet little dress clinging to your curves and contours, clinging to his damp palms, clinging to his sopping shirt, the both of you drenched in each other’s perspiration. 

Your body throbs against his own, so close he swears he can feel your heart beating against his, so close he swears he can feel the blood thrumming through your veins, sirening to his own, ebbing and flowing with his breath, with the beat embracing you both. His nose bumps against yours again, smearing and slippery, and you laugh, nothing more than an echo in your chest and a sweet puff of breath against his own mouth, melodic sound suffocated by the building bass.

It’s all so fucking heady, he feels so fucking high with it all, his lips parting, ravenous for just a taste of you even if it’s phantom, tongue chasing the little ghosts you exhale against him, mopping them up, breathing them in, swallowing them down. 

And, oh, it’s so sweet—sweeter than he could’ve ever imagined, stinging his tastebuds and staining his teeth, and something buried deep and dark inside of him growls, suddenly voracious, a vicious sort of hunger that eats through his veins and infests his mind.

Craving turns to necessity, an urgent desire that claws at his flesh from the inside, shredding muscles and tearing tendons, and he can’t fucking take it anymore, positive he’s going to fucking starve if he doesn’t have you right here, right now, a large palm cupping your jaw abruptly, tilting your face up to his and smashing your lips together.

It’s borderline barbaric, it’s fucking bloodthirsty, his tongue raiding your mouth roughly as it bursts past your lips and curls around your own, sucking hard enough to dispel a cute little yelp from the back of your throat and siphoning it into his own mouth. The jagged edges of his teeth scrape across the slick muscle, harvesting excess spit and coating his teeth with your essence. 

Tongue furling around your bottom lip, he draws it between rows of sharp ivory, teeth latching onto your flesh and burrowing until the skin splits, pungent copper searing his tastebuds. A resounding hiss is hurled into his mouth and he gulps it down greedily, the tip of his tongue laving over the four indents carved into your lip, little craters rapidly pooling with blood, and sopping it up with unnecessary vigour, forcing more to ooze from the wounds. 

“More, more, more,” he’s practically spitting the words onto your tongue, weighted with saliva, cracked with desire. “I need more.” 

His mouth is slippery against yours, lips shimmering and stained with your shade of crimson, his demand smearing blood-tinged drool across your chin. Blunt nails bite through the fabric of your dress, gorging themselves on your flesh, clawing at you as if they want to tunnel into you, bury themselves beneath layers of tissue and veins and live in your bones

“Yeah, yeah,” you’re nodding against him, and God, your confirmation tastes so delicious, airy and saccharine like candy floss. 

It has another moan spilling from his throat and into yours, his tongue sweeping your mouth in yearning, dragging over the dimples of your molars and the divots of your cheeks and drenching them in him.  

“Let’s get out of here,” he growls, the sound razored, a large hand clamping around your wrist, fingers squeezing once. “Now.”  

[ashes0909]

taylor swift lyrics / prompt list

You'll be flushed when you return

If it feels like a trap, you're already in one

They got no idea about me and you

Stress and holiday shopping traffic

Get it off my desk

No, nothin' good starts in a getaway car

I saw the dimples first

But I didn't pour the whiskey

I think he did it but I just can't prove it

But this is gonna take me down

They say I did something bad / Then why's it feel so good?

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room

Of you touching my hand in the darkened room

If you're coming my way, just don't

It hits different 'cause it's you

Dancing with our hands tied

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

The worst thing that I ever did / Was what I did to you

You are the best thing that's ever been mine

At least I'm trying

One single thread of gold tied me to you

I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you

I know they said the end is near

So this is me swallowing my pride

Up on the roof with a school girl crush

On sinking ships / You showed up just in time

You're talking shit for the hell of it

Still got scars on my back from your knife

He looks up grinning like a devil

I should've slept with one eye open at night

I bet you think about me

Some guy said my aura's moonstone / Just 'cause he was high

I get drunk on jealousy

A dwindling, mercurial high

Welcome to New York

[koyacyi-vode]

what if i.... got obsessed with Star Wars again??

[bonestrouslingbones]

i have never been immune to listening to cool songs and imagining my characters performing them because its cool as fuck but not actually being a canon part of their arc. however i think i fucked up and listened to fluff's playlist too much because now that might end up actually for real being a canon part of his arc

[adhdtsukasa]

(tl by takoyaritsu on twt) another adhdtsukasa moment has hit the me tower.......

[umem1ya]

what if. what if I did a whole post abt ex-togame what if.