#* phantcsmic.

[unlore]

{ lap } : one muse pulls the other into their lap to finger them / play with them ( Iz / Az)

@phantcsmic

Izemrasen catches Azrael around the waist as they past, arm encircling their hips as he pulls them into his lap. He folds his book closed, setting it aside as he focuses on them, his other hand sneaking beneath their clothes.

Strong fingers trace along the scar on their side, sliding downwards until he reaches their hip, the waistband of their pants. He slips beneath, hand seeking their heated core as he spreads their thighs, settling them onto his lap as he leans up to kiss at their neck. "You are too tempting," he tells them, breath warm against their skin, "How am I supposed to concentrate with you nearby?"

[unlore]

our daughter's smile could fix the world (Val to Rosie <3 )

@phantcsmic

Something softens in Rosie's expression when he says it, some part of her bad mood erased by the simple statement. She's been agitated all day, snappish, on edge about something she cannot or will not explain, but now she reaches out for him, dark hand finding his wrist to pull him close.

"That is a foolishly sentimental thing to say," she tells him, an edge of admonishment in her tone. And nonetheless, she leans into him, presses into his warmth. "You are a beautiful fool."

[unlore]

i can't tell you how endearing it is to discover you have such a sentimental streak. (Az + Iz)

@phantcsmic

They get a dark glance over his shoulder as stands from the bed, perfectly naked and on full display. The look suggests he would really rather she not mention anything of the sort, and that's not far from the truth - sentimentality is not exactly something he allows himself to get into often.

"I trust you will keep it to yourself," he answers, apparently quite serious. "A man has his reputation to uphold."

And his, carefully constructed as it is, doesn't leave much room for the softer touch. Whatever of it Azrael has discovered for themself is a rarity, to say the least.

[unlore]

✧ sender tracks down receiver using the sound of their breathing. ✧ sender pins receiver's wrists with one hand and holds their throat with the other. (Zeeke + Silas <3 )

@phantcsmic

They both know how this goes. Zeeke is an excellent tracker, and it feels like no time at all before Silas can feel his approach - feel rather than hear; he's near goddamn silent when he wants to be. Still, he runs. The game is no fun if he just gives in.

Hence the struggle he gives Zeeke even once he is finally caught, forcing the other to pin his arms above his head in a position that leaves him squirming and exposed like a fish on a hook.

He flushes prettily pink, feeling Zeeke's hand close upon his throat in a way that makes his breath catch before there's even any real pressure there. Silas goes still, waiting, letting the moment string out long between them as he soaks his pants.

[unlore]

[scratch.] Azrael and Izemrasen hehe

@phantcsmic / [scratch.] sender rakes their nails down receiver's back.

Their nails skate over a landscape of muscle and inked runes, a shiver running down Izemrasen's spine but producing little in the way of outside reaction. Aside from the smile, of course: confident, languid, blinding.

He takes his time. Presses them back with a hand against the centre of their chest, his touch as irrefutable as continental drift. He stays close, leaning over them, shadowing their every movement with the slant of his body. Izemrasen kisses Azrael even as his fingers drift to circle their wrist, intent on pinning them where they lay.

[unlore]

<who has the money for frivolities like mental health?> Val to Fel. Doesn’t know the sign for frivolities so he spells it. Incorrectly.

@phantcsmic

It takes them a minute to figure out exactly what Val is trying to spell, but once they do, he gets a snort of laughter for his trouble. Quickly followed by a middle finger, Fel stretching himself out more comfortably in his seat as he watches Val.

<I have lots of mental health,> he claims, contrary to all the evidence. <I'm mental health rich.> A pause. <Cash poor.>

[unlore]

decency doesn't put money in anyone's pockets. (Val to Fel)

@phantcsmic

For a long moment, Fel just stares at Val, inscrutable. He's caught between two ideas - that of decency, the personal reality of justice and morality - and that of practicality. Money. All that went along with that, and with the necessity of survival. For a moment he wavers, unsure how to express what he's thinking in a way that will make sense.

<Want decency more than money. Don't care.> That's where the anger kicks in, the frustration, written in the way his hands move. In his sudden scowl. He repeats, <I don't care.>

[unlore]

20, sabrina and ankha. you know they’re being weirdly competitive about it

@phantcsmic / meme / 20

It really needn't be a competition, and yet - with her hand between Sabrina's thighs and Sabrina's hand between her own - somehow it is. Ankha moans, hips pressing up against Sabrina's dextrous fingers as they work her clit, concentration divided between her own pleasure and the way she has Sabrina's clit trapped beneath her own fingers. It's almost impossible to keep both in mind, and the pleasure wants to win out, only Ankha's willpower keeping her from orgasm already.

She's determined that the other finish first, however, even if that means the coiling heat inside her builds and builds to a crescendo she cannot at all ignore, washing over her suddenly as her treacherous body finally cums.