#lnstinctive

[jawblade-blog]

"Hey, Shiro - happy ani no hi," a smile takes over his face at mention of the holiday they'd made, something better fitting of their relationship. Keith hadn't had a father to celebrate the day with, and Shiro had deserved a day of appreciation (not that he wasn't appreciated every day) - so, ani no hi. "Thanks for all you do."

兄の日    ➣ @lnstinctive / @grimesucker

     Drawn to a pause by the call of his name, Shiro lifts his head inquiringly and finds himself greeted by Keith and the wish of a happy ‘big brother’s day.’ For just half a tick he blinks in surprise before all trace melts away, replaced with an affectionate – if slightly embarrassed – smile. Ani no hi, a day that Keith had invented years ago to replace Father’s Day ( which neither of them had ever had much reason to celebrate, Keith’s dad gone and Shiro never having met his own ). It’s flattering when your little brother decides that you need a day to be celebrated, and Shiro does appreciate the recognition for the things he’s done, but he’s always told Keith that it isn’t necessary. All that matters to him is that Keith is doing okay, that’s all that’s ever mattered, and that’s all the satisfaction he’s ever needed to get for taking care of him.

            —But Keith has always been stubborn, and he has yet to let Ani no hi die.

     “ Thanks, buddy, ” he replies, a breath of a self-conscious chuckle following the words. Smile widening a touch, Shiro considers saying what he always does, that he really doesn’t need a day like this, but ultimately decides against it. His brother hasn’t stopped celebrating this day yet, and it’s unlikely that his mind will be changed now. Maybe this year he can just… let it go. Appreciate it without fighting it.

                                          It’s been too long since he’s seen Keith anyway.

     “ I don’t know how you remembered or how you know what day it is on Earth, but… thanks. ” Laugh more affectionate this time, Shiro reaches out and ruffles Keith’s hair, playfully but intentionally mussing it up. Somehow he thinks this is something that his little brother is not so thankful for him doing. “ I love you. ”

[silentconfliction]

the real question: how is shiro supposed to put an outfit together every day when he has a little brother and a gf who constantly steal and hoard away his sweaters?

[aquaeques]

neck bites from galra guard---???

@lnstinctive - @grimesucker // going out on a limb & saying this is bc of this (¬‿¬ )

al’zen couldn’t stop the moan from escaping him, back arching & hands scrambling for some sort of purchase, his eyes fluttering shut. it wasn’t the first time ke’itt had marked him like this, wasn’t the first he was subjected to the press of lips against his skin, of that tongue laving up & exploring, wasn’t the first he felt the pinched pain of those fangs penetrating his skin, wasn’t the first time ke’itt had done so with such posessive intent. but that didn’t matter, never would matter; each & every time continuing to send a shock through his veins, pleasure & pain mixing together in a striking cacophony that echoed through every limb, every nerve, every sinewy muscle & expanse of skin.

           “mieli,” he breathed, biting back another moan as he felt those fangs retracting, felt the soothing balm of tongue caressing over the damaged skin.

his hands found themselves in ke’itt’s hair, fingers tangling, tugging, tightening, with every kiss pressed into his neck, every new mark blooming, every bite, every lick. he whimpered under the attention, preening in a way he refused to allow anyone to see except for the galra curled around him, marking him as his for all to see.

ten thousand years ago, every mark that declared him as the galra’s had been covered, hidden, seen only between the two of them. & while that was enough, the knowledge that they were there at all, there were still moments wherein both wanted those marks to be seen, to declare to all of altea, daibazaal, to all the planets in their solar system, to the entire universe, that he belonged to ke’itt & ke’itt belonged to him.

if there was one good thing that came about their forced separation, it was the fact that they had no more need to hide. no need to hide their adoration for each other, no need to hide the marks & subtle ( & not so subtle ) touches. both refused to hide, not when they were finally reunited again. 

there was no need to hide their kradnia, their mieli.

the altean gasped, breath hitching as he felt those lips lightly tracing the shell of his ear, nibbling, before returning to his neck. he felt ke’itt wrapping his arms around his waist, tightening his grip & fingers bruising against his skin & al’zen could feel his knees shaking.

               “mieli, please——”

[frequencied]

A mop of black hair falls into view from the bed up top, hanging around a face wearing a rather PINCHED expression. " Matthew Holt, it is four-AM and I have ZERO interest in your Lloyd Jenkins shit." ( it's---it's Leroy Jenkins. He can't be bothered to remember that, though. ) " Turn off your laptop and go the fuck to sleep. Don't make me climb down there."

YOU’RE NOT MY REAL MOM.

the rampant clack of keys doesn’t so much as stumble even with the appearance of keith’s bed-tossed hair. his presence alone is a threat, the words only an extension of the implicit promise of bodily harm to himself ( or more worryingly: his equipment ) if he doesn’t stop.

        “ what? ” he blinks slowly, as if arising from some deep, moba-based coma.        “ no, that’s not… I just started. it has to be, like, two. tops. ”

he protests, but keith’s impatient glare suggests otherwise. somehow he manages to instill more fear in matt with what he doesn’t say in return. 

          he swallows hard. “ last game. promise. ”

[frequencied]

❣ platonic smooches, pls ;0;

MEME.  MEME TAG.  INBOX. ALWAYS ACCEPTING !

the door of the dorm hisses open somewhere in the small hours of the morning, presenting keith with the silhouette of matt, one hand on the threshold separating his body from the floor. he overshoots the two stumbling steps he needs to make it to the bunks, landing with a thud and a hiss when the metal bars of the bed hit his gut. but the softness of keith’s blankets, the heat of a body wrapped in sheets beckons to him, still chasing the night chill from his fingers and the folds of his clothes.

           “ keith, ” he nudges him gently, the scent of alcohol heavy on his           breath. “ keeeeeeeith. ”

fumbling hands search for a way onto the mattress despite obvious protests. his limbs are heavy with beer and coolers and god knows what else he and his other comm officers had decided to indulge in during their post-exam revelry, making it an awkward and difficult affair; but a drunk matt is not easily dissuaded, and eventually manages to force those drink-laden parts of him ( currently, all of them ) to snuggle up to and press a sloppy kiss into keith’s cheek.

          “ you’re my favourite person. ”

the top bunk is, at least tonight, an obstacle he doesn’t seem willing to surmount. 

A PLATONIC KISS.