Touken Ramblings | Touken Danshi x Reader

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"Well then, master,"

Eyes narrow at your words, a smirk dancing across the lips of the Rai sword that sat next to you. Words pour from his lips like honeyed wine, and you desperately found your trails trailing down towards that part of his body.

What would it be like to kiss them?

How soft would they be against your own lips? What would he taste like? Like the mochi that Hotarumaru and Aizen made for him?

Of red bean and sugar?

Of dreams and bitter longing? Will he send thunder down your spine?

You stiffen when you feel his thumb against your bottom left, a ghost of a touch. "A-Akashi?" "If you want the last of the mochi that the others have made for me, you will have to give me something sweet of your own." You wanted to wipe that damn smirk off of his face.

But you couldn't. Paralyzed by his gaze, lightning striking you dead, cheeks aflame with the fires of Aizen's hair. "I-I-" "You don't have to, silly." Akashi chuckles out, his hand leaving your face as a sense of coldness seeps into your soul. It felt warm to his touch, electricity sending jolts up and down your spine, the sensation proving to be oh so addicting; as though you have just drunk something, tinged with wisteria ichor.

You missed it.

There is a look in his eyes, a sense that he regrets his actions. Akashi could not help but inwardly strike his sword against his skin, what the hell was he saying? How dare he even make such a statement.

A lazy good for nothing, a man who lies around and doesn't do work. How could he ever hold a candle to you?

But then there is a sudden kiss to his cheek, to the juncture where his chin meets his lips, thunder reverberating within his heart to the point it may burst and give out. There is a jolt when he looks back at the you, who only smiles a sheepish smile, cheeks still blood red as they stare down at the tatami mat they sat on.

"Is that...what you wanted?"

More.

Every cell, every organ, every neuron in his body screams at him; clawing at the walls of his mind, talons streaking against the grey matter of his brain, leaving indents that only serve to cause him to fall deeper and deeper into that abyss.

He never wanted to leave that crevice.

Akashi's own cheeks rivaled that of the festival lanterns that Aizen adored crafting, the sweet little treat on the plate forgotten. "Master..." his hand reaches up to place it against that tingling center where your lips had met – almost wondering if he could go back in time to turn his head and let them connect.

A shame he could not.

But there is a soft chuckle rumbling from the core of his gut as his cups your chin yet again, his thumb partly working to separate your lips from a thin line, the pad fluttering over your lips.

"May I have more?"