and I was the one to kick us off! With a little bit of smut! Good for the soul. <3

soriku | pwp | established relationship | trans sora is a constant here

“Easy, Sora…”

Whatever words Sora had been trying to pull to the tip of his tongue sputtered out in a wheezy groan when the hands on his hips tightened, tugged, pulled him down at the same moment that Sora’s body went a bit slack and open. The combination worked together to bury Riku’s cock an inch and then an unexpected two deeper into Sora’s ass, sending the feeling of tight rocketing straight into full. Really, really full.

And Riku still wasn’t all the way in yet.

A hissed fuck preceded the bruising squeeze digging down to the bones of Sora’s hip and the weight of Riku’s sweat damp forehead dropping onto his shoulder. Cute. Sora jerked a hand up to cover Riku’s and squeeze, a tight laugh fading into dual deep moans when the corresponding jump of Sora’s stomach emphasized the tight feeling elsewhere. “Yeah,” he agreed, voice more breath than sound. “Me too.” 

Riku didn’t answer beyond a shudder quaking down his frame, too overwhelmed to do more than hold tight to Sora and try to adjust to Sora wrapped tight around his dick. Sora huffed another laugh, fondness only spiking when the motion rippling through his muscles drew another groan from the man pressed to his back, Riku’s breath scorching hot and damp against Sora’s skin.

It had been a while since they had enough time (and patience) for Riku to take Sora’s ass. The whole thing was overwhelming Sora a little bit too.

But not overwhelming enough to overcome his desire.

Hands braced on Riku’s thighs, Sora sucked in a deep breath, held it, then released as he lowered himself down more and more, moaning at the ever taut stretch of Riku’s cock pushing deeper until Sora’s ass is firmly seated on Riku’s lap. The remaining air in his lungs puffed out all at once in another, giddier laugh at the fullness, the rush of Riku filling his ass so perfectly. A please hum rumbled from Sora’s throat, his hips rocking back before he really registered it.

The hands at Sora’s hips gripped impossibly tighter, a broken moan breathed hot against his ear. “Fuck, Sora…”

Sora hummed once more and tilted his head to lean on Riku’s. “See, Riku? Easy.”

post-remind | riku pov | coping as best you can
cw: references to self-harm and related imagery, blood, and depression

Written for shiritori, the first piece I've felt proud of in a while.
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"He could say the most embarrassing things without batting an eye."

Riku laces the words with fondness, an easy feat when it only requires a swift swipe of memory’s blade across the flesh of his heart, let love and devotion bleed freely through the wound and into the body and from his lips. Easy and familiar, no matter how Riku tries to stop picking at wounds barely scabbed over, but maybe that was part of the problem? The part that feels familiar, like sun-warm brown hair and too-loud laughter that always, always broke into helpless snorting giggles that always, always settled over Riku like an old bed-time story told beneath a faded yellow blanket.

Familiar like a knife to his skin, and like clear water tinting pink before dripping down onto the porcelain white tub. Painful, dangerous, worth remembering.

Fine, warm fingers curl around the back of his hand - gently, slowly, like he’s still holding that knife in a white-knuckled grip - and it’s only then that Riku realizes he’d been rubbing at the space above his heart, pressing down and down with the heel of palm until it ached like a bruise he wasn’t ready to let heal. Emboldened by Riku’s stillness, the fingers sink down to brush the worn cotton of his shirt so that tidy, rounded nails can root in the space between Riku’s chest and his hand to nudge, just a little, until Riku takes the hint, takes the offer, and eases the pressure of his hand. Not much, but just enough for the other to scoop it up and out and away in a single fluid motion.

Riku already misses the pain.

Aerith must realize it, because the twitch in Riku’s left hand is quickly halted and soothed by Aerith’s free hand cupping over it gently. A simple tether they both know Riku could snap through easily, and one they both know he won’t. Those gentle, warm hands squeeze, just once, just enough, and in a shaky rush the breath Riku forgot he was holding spills out into the open air.

Easy. Familiar.

Riku’s surprised nothing red comes rushing out behind it.

“Riku-“

“Sorry.” The interruption sounds clipped, strained. Riku closes his eyes and breathes back in to avoid seeing the way stress looks in Aerith’s eyes. “I know I’ve told you this before.” And all at once the warmth around his hands is too much, too scalding, too kind, and as nauseating shame pools in his stomach Riku attempts an aborted, warning tug to prompt Aerith to release him. “I should get going any-“

Her grip grows tight but no less gentle or kind, a feat Riku has always been a little bit in awe of, and it frightens him enough to make him jerk his hands back again, the beginnings of a strangled yelp bubbling in his throat. “Riku,” she whispers with a voice that reminds Riku of soft yellow fabric draped around his shoulders and the warm glow of a flashlight beneath it. Familiar, safe.

His chest aches like a bruise, and he wants nothing more than to press down harder and harder and make the ache grow deep.

“Riku,” Aerith calls again, as gentle as before and too patient for Riku’s unraveling heart. He squeezes his eyes shut until he sees sparks behind his eyelids, pushes air out and pulls it back in as steady as he can, doesn’t feel the ache ease but feels the compulsion to make it worse fade the smallest bit. With conscious effort, Riku pulls his nails from the dried skin of his palm and forces himself not to dwell on the sting left behind. “You know he’s still there, better than anyone else. You know you’ll find him.”

He knows he remembers a too-loud laugh that sends a ghost of warmth curling around his heart, and he knows aches to hear it again.

One more breath. In. Out. Secure that hint of warmth and keep it from fluttering away. Believe in things nameless and one named. Feel the phantom heartbeat nestled next to his own that is truly no phantom at all. Set the knife down.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Know.

Riku opens his eyes.

“Hey, do you mind if I finish the story?”

It was once again my turn in that writing game I play! I managed to get something I kinda like, despite having a big struggle with writing recently. It's more of the experimental stuff I do sometimes, where grammar is made up and I do what I want, but I hope you like it anyway!

canonverse soriku | post-quadratum | you came home, but only most of you

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"Your voice can't reach us here."

But maybe it can one day reach home.

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He nodded again, and Riku’s heart felt trapped within the bars of his ribs. Maybe he could fracture it? Shatter his already bleeding heart and slip the pieces through rungs of bone, let them pile at his feet shard by shard until he could pool them in the palm of his hand, all the little pieces of him cradled with urgent care and quaking form until he could press them against the scars of Sora’s chest. Let them meld to his skin and infuse his blood with every drop of love Riku ever felt for him. Let that love heal and heal and heal and coax Sora’s voice back to a place it could reach Riku from.

Warmth traced the back of Riku’s hand, down the white knuckled fingers clenched into his palm to slip beneath the pinched creases of skin locking them in place. Sora made quick work (gentle, always so gentle) of coaxing Riku’s nails from his red welted palm, the pads of his fingers twisted for a breath to soothe across the marks before seamlessly sliding to twine with Riku’s own. It sent the sweetest shock through Riku’s arm, leaving a sour ache in its wake that still made Riku feel love and hurt and an overwhelming, painful desire to feel more.

The warmth that was Sora’s hand squeezed Riku’s once -waited a beat- then again, a plea (voiceless, voiceless, a voice that can’t reach-) for Riku to look up, to see, and Riku was always helpless to Sora. Always, with pride with devotion with carefearlovedesireagonygleepleasedontleavem- 

Riku blinked and swallowed the emotion choking his throat, the exhale that followed dragging a shudder through Riku’s lovelocked body with it. He looked up, found Sora’s eyes without needing to search, always together always a pair always everything Riku’s ever wanted and the only thing he needs and- 

Sora smiled. Sad, always sad these days, but full, kind, hints of that vibrant kaleidoscope of life and soul and heart in the corners and love etched into the upturned corners of his mouth and Riku loves him. Sora squeezed again, infusing a little bit of that resurrecting life into Riku with it. Riku squeezed back, a watery smile twitching at his lips, and found himself leaning forward toward Sora on instinct to meet in the middle with a bump of their foreheads.

Something twinkled in Sora’s eyes and he pushed forward against Riku gently, his mouth moving soundlessly but slowly, lips wrapping around syllables that Riku knew so intimately it made his heart seize in his chest with more of that sweet and sour ache.

And Riku gave his answer with no hesitation, gave voice to the words both of their hearts sang without end. (repeat, repeat, loop back to the beginning with no coda, play through again, with even more feeling this time) It made the life in Sora’s smile grow wider, brighter, and took some of the pain in Riku’s heart with it to leave him tasting sugar on his tongue. Sora came back. Sora would always come back. To home, to Riku, even when it took a while for some pieces of him to reach. But Riku could wait, would gladly wait, so long as the hand in his never left him again.

His next breath felt less like struggle, and only like relief.