I actually passed out from a mini heatstroke today at work though lmao ( I'm fine as ya'll can see ) but that does mean replies on hold til tomorrow because *brain resting*
🐀 @nocturnique sent 'and where do you think you're going?' // arakita for yuki
↪ MEME &. 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.
He's swimming amidst the comfortable haze that always dawns in the aftermath of physical intimacy, the sort that leaves his limbs pleasantly heavy and his thoughts slow, content to simply exist beneath tangled sheets alongside Yasutomo. However, this time feels slightly different, there's a tightness in his chest materialised not from exertion of a night spent in abandon, but an old, unfortunately familiar ailment, courtesy of a pair of fragile lungs.
Ah, he needs a breath of fresh air.
Untangling himself from the thin, lanky limbs knitted around his hips, Yuki crawls from their makeshift bed; a slightly moth eaten mattress rolled out on the floor of an abandoned home, tinged with the faint, musty scent of decay.
His stark naked form is illuminated by the faint hues of morning sunlight filtering through grimy windows, casting a soft, ethereal glow on skin that was once unblemished, now marred by a patchwork of nicks, scars, and multiple bruises. A shiver ripples down his spine as the cool air kisses his bare skin, but Yuki ignores it, focusing on drawing a deep, cleansing breath into his struggling lungs.
"And where do you think you're going?"
Yuki pauses at the sound of the question, casting a violet gaze at the other male over his shoulder, eyes catching the light in a way that makes them gleam with mischief.
"Oh? I figured you'd had your fill."
He speaks with playful confidence, already suspecting the answer.
His gaze sweeps appreciatively over Yasutomo, still nestled in the crumpled sheets; hair tousled into a wild mess, eyes lidded with the remnants of satisfaction. He really is handsome, Yuki thinks, especially with the marks of their passion scattered across his chest.
"But if you're asking me to come back." Yuki turns fully towards Yasutomo now, a slow rotation that is both an offering and a dare.
🐄 @bloodofthefates sent [ eye contact ] sender holds eye contact the entire time they’re going down on receiver [ canon I fear....]
↪ MEME ⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐦𝐞. 𝐧𝐨𝐰. (VERY USFT!!!!) 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 - send ‘reverse’ for the sender and receiver to swap. adjust wording as needed!
His hips buck freely into the heat of Rin's mouth, fingers curling tight around the spill of her raven locks as a familiar, hot shiver coils deep in his stomach, indicating how close he is to release. But Haru doesn't want to let go yet, not when her velvety lips clench around his length so agonisingly tight and her dark, bewitching gaze doesn't leave him for a second, pinning him like a stud on one of his chokers ( as if he'd ever want to escape this ).
He feels his resolve unravel further with every bob of Rin's head, the urge to grab her face with both hands and fuck her throat in a desperate pursuit for pleasure almost too painful to defy. But Haru wills himself to behave...even if she usually enjoys that.
"Nng…Rin…I-I'm close…" Still staring directly into the two, obsidian pools gauging his soul, Haru considers; does he want to come into her mouth, feel the pulse of her throat milking every last drop? Or would he rather make a show of that pretty face, painting her porcelain cheeks and the bridge of her nose in sticky, pearly trails? He'd be lying if he wasn't swayed more towards having her swallow, the intimacy of it, the way she always accepts him wholly, letting his cum drip down her smooth, pale chin…
🥁 @brcidablik sent ❝ if you want more, use your words. ❞ Natsuo to Akihiko
↪ MEME ⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐦𝐞. 𝐧𝐨𝐰. (VERY USFT!!!!) 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 - send ‘reverse’ for the sender and receiver to swap. adjust wording as needed!
Akihiko's laugh is a low, breathless rumble, the crimson flush creeping across the bridge of his nose betraying his pathetically weak resolve more than he would have liked. It spreads down his neck, staining his collarbone as he shifts against crumpled sheets, the cool air a cruel tease against his overheated skin.
He's not exactly used to being the one 'using his words' as Natsuo so aptly puts it, but fuck if that white haired medical hunk of a student didn't reduce him to the same whimpering kind of mess Akihiko usually inflicts upon his own bottoms victims.
"You're really gonna make me work for it, huh?" Another raspy laugh, edged with a needy tremour he can't quite suppress. His body is practically shaking in anticipation now, the goosebumps rising along his arms and thighs aren't just from the chill alone, they're a map of his longing for more of Natsuo's touch.
"Fine…I want you closer." The confession comes with the slightest parting of his thighs, just enough to create a space that begs to be filled. "So come…inside."
🥋 @echolaliia sent [ whisper ] — Hatori / Kazuma ( but it’s all PG self care that has him quaking )
↪ MEME ⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐦𝐞. 𝐧𝐨𝐰. (VERY USFT!!!!) 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 - send ‘reverse’ for the sender and receiver to swap. adjust wording as needed!
"You're exhausted." Kazuma startles, having not expected Hatori's mouth to suddenly hover so close to his ear, just as he's innocently sipping tea in front of the chabudai table aptly placed before the wide open screens of his abode, allowing the mild summer breeze to drift in as much as it can. The warmth of the ceramic cup cradled between his palms had been a comfort, but now the heat from Hatori's breath eclipses it, quickening his pulse against his will.
"I can see it in your posture. If you let me, I'd have you sit in a quiet room, just for a while. No interruptions, no students, no responsibilities."
Kazuma chuckles, more abashed than amused, but Hatori continues as though he hasn't detected the fine hairs on the dojo master's nape stand on end, a primal response to the intimacy of the gesture.
"I'd make tea, because you'll suffer from mild poisoning if I let you brew it yourself. I'd wait until it had cooled enough that you wouldn't burn your tongue, then I'd hand it to you before you realised you wanted it."
A shudder ripples down Kazuma's spine under the weight of the doctor's clinical attention, making him acutely aware of every inch of space between them ( or lack thereof ).
"Hatori..."
"I know." Again, barely above a whisper, and so, so close to his ear still. "You'd tell me I'm fussing, and I'd ignore you. Then I'd work the knots from your shoulders until they finally relaxed and I’d remind you that caring for you isn't an obligation."
The whispering has devolved so much in volume, Kazuma almost has to strain to hear it.
"It's something I want to do."
Kazuma swallows thick, because somehow the thought of Hatori wanting to perform those minor, ordinary tasks for him leaves the man infinitely more shaken than any grand declaration ever could. He can picture it all too vividly; the quiet room, the carefully brewed tea, those skilled hands working the tension from his tired muscles with determined patience…
🦇 @echolaliia sent [ mirror ] — Trevor / Alulucard ( Technically a foursome!)
↪ MEME ⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐦𝐞. 𝐧𝐨𝐰. (VERY USFT!!!!) 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 - send ‘reverse’ for the sender and receiver to swap. adjust wording as needed!
The mirror is a relic of a bygone era, once bearing witness to Lisa Tepes' nightly rituals, healing digits combing through the flaxen whorls of her unbound hair after the day's burdens were shed. It is an old thing veiled in thick dust now, untouched by any reflection for years, until now, when its clouded glass beholds the intimately entwined forms of two men.
Trevor's grip is iron upon Adrian's slender hips, each pull drawing the dhampir back onto the punishing rhythm of his thrusts, tearing hitched, breathless sounds straight from the dhampir's throat. A nearby candelabrum provides the sole source of light, its flickering flames catching the heavy beads of sweat pearled along Trevor's brow, the taut flex of powerful shoulders as he drives forward and the pale expanse of Adrian's back, arched in a painful, elegant bow.
His knuckles blanch ( whiter than his already ghostly complexion ) where he braces himself against the mirror's bronzed frame, golden gaze locked with the reflection of the man behind him. Trevor's impossibly blue eyes, usually clouded with lazy defiance are pinched with predatory focus as he lurches forward, the searing heat of his exposed chest blanketing against the cool of Adrian's skin, and sinks his blunt human teeth into the muscle where neck meets shoulder, immediately earning a ragged gasp from his eager lover.
Adrian pushes back into the sensation, a desperate grind that defies the submission of his posture, meeting Trevor's fervour with an unspoken demand for more. The mirror reveals everything; the flush spreading like wildfire across his own pallid cheeks, Trevor's perfectly sculpted abdomen clenching with each stroke and the dark head of hair bowed in worship at this most profane altar.
Trevor shifts his angle suddenly then, and the change is immediate, static. A guttural cry tears from Adrian as the change sends a jagged bolt of pleasure through his core, wringing another desperate cry from his lips. The sounds of the dhampir undone seems to ignite something primal within Trevor, who abandons one of his hand's bruising grips against Adrian's hip, slipping around to instead encircle the weeping, flushed length of him.
The Belmont’s calloused thumb swipes across the slick, swollen head with a torturous lack of pressure, not stroking, just holding, forcing Adrian to fuck into his clenched fist with a reckless abandon. The friction is exquisite and raw, Adrian's reflection shudders, his body a taut string vibrating between Trevor's skilled ministrations.
And then comes the moment that truly drains him of breath...some brief, fleeting seconds where their worlds narrow to a single point of contact; that endless blue clashing with molten gold in the dust laden surface of the mirror. Trevor no longer a sweat sheened hunter, locked on his prey, Adrian no longer a blushing, debauched mess, mouth hung agape in needy, lewd pleas.
Their gazes meet, and akin to dawn breaking, Adrian smiles at him, a slow, genuine crescent of pleasure flushed lips. Trevor reciprocates in earnest and warmth and something flutters violently beneath Adrian's ribs, bubbling all the way up to his chest, a fragile moment where love overthrows lust, if only for the lasting of a few heartbeats.
🎴 @lightsideofseoul sent ❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜ /. ɪɴᴜɪ & ᴡᴀᴋᴀsᴀ.
↪ MEME &. 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.
This is, in fact, very interesting information, not that Wakasa allows an ounce of his now heavily piqued curiosity to filter through that perpetually sleepy expression of his. Though, that's not to imply that he's not already imagining all the scenarios Inupi might be hoping to get out of him by sharing this revelation.
"Really?" His head angles to the side, ever so slight, a gesture that could be mistaken for disinterest, yet his gaze floats calmly towards the ceiling.
🎴 @lightsideofseoul sent ❛❛ I know you don’t like hugs, but… I could really use one right now… ❜❜ / ɪɴᴜᴘɪ & ᴡᴀᴋᴀsᴀ.
↪ MEME soft caring sentence compilation
"Who says I don't like hugs?" A single, fine brow arches in confusion, lazy curiosity dancing in his half lidded eyes as he wonders how Inupi has come to that conclusion. Swift to disprove the theory, Wakasa rises from his seat, crossing the small space between them--a mere three steps before his hands find the curve of Inupi's waist, reeling the blonde's body in flush against his.
"See? I like 'em just fine." Just not from like…everyone.
Mydalej did not bother moving, he could sense that even if the other tried - he won't get far. So he made sure everything was in reach for him, and looked over to the other. Watching him collapse only a few steps in.
" So stubborn. "
The angel let out a soft sigh. He moved again closer to Soubi. " What's even the point of refusing the help? Not like I charge for it. Do you actually seek death from those injuries? Or do you just hate relying on someone else? "
Mydalej took the opportunity of the other's weakened state, to get a better look at the injuries. And then would grab the others shoulder with a firm hold, to pull him into a position he could actually treat him in.
The world tilts on its axis, a nauseating spin that turns the gray concrete into a blur. Damn it, his body really had chosen betrayal at the worst possible moment…By the time the stranger's shadow looms over him anew, Soubi's already trying to push himself back up, palm scraping against the rough asphalt.
The hand on his shoulder stops him dead, and in an instant, his head snaps around, cold azure hues flashing with hostility. His own hand shoots up to seize the man's wrist in a surprisingly firm grip, nails biting just enough to dimple the skin.
"Don't."
His warning isn't loud, it doesn't need to be, but Soubi realises then the gesture had been spurred entirely by instinct programmed into him over years, rather than an actual need to protect himself. The man's hand is gentle, lacking the punishing press of a master's will ( that makes him even more uncomfortable ).
He doesn't want the help…but he doesn't want to bleed out here much longer either. The choice curdles in his gut, a sour compromise. Slowly, the tension in his arm unravels and he yields his grasp, letting his broken body slip back onto the ground.
Yuki tolerates exactly four pats, a generous allowance by his standards. On the fifth, his left eye begins to twitch in barely contained ire. By the sixth, the smile gracing his lips has become so unnervingly placid, it verges on sociopathic. Slowly, he ascends a hand and wraps elegant fingers around Kakeru's wrist, peeling the offending appendage away from his head, all the while reminding himself that violence is generally frowned upon.
He smooths his silver tresses back into place with painstaking precision, flattening each rebellious lock that Kakeru had the audacity to ruffle up. Then, his gaze drifts to the salad; a veritable avalanche of pine nuts.
"...I see." A slow nod.
"If pine nuts truly make people smarter, then I suppose someone in your condition would require a rather significant amount."
Before Kakeru can so much as blink, Yuki reaches across the table with startling speed. He plucks an extra unopened packet of pine nuts, tears it open and in fluid motion fwoosh! dumps the entirety of the packet upon the salad, leaving not a single leaf in sight.
"There, I've adjusted the dosage accordingly." His expression remains perfectly pleasant, tone a velvety whisper.
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