#mild citrus

[bigmammallama5]

happy supercorp sunday here’s a start to an underwear model au with @sango-blep today. maybe if pillowfort comes back we can do a part 2

[acrochetedgundam]

fluffbruary day 23 prompt: massage

quatre tends to trowa’s sore muscles. (mild citrus - making out)

His thumbs press into the tense muscle of his neck, rubbing in large, smooth circles. Slowly, he works his way up to Trowa’s hairline, before shifting his hands, fingers carding through his hair to tenderly massage his scalp. He doesn’t miss the soft, appreciative groan that escapes Trowa’s throat, nor the swell of pride that he feels at being able to draw it from him.

He had been practicing, after all.

Once he reaches the crown of his head, Quatre’s fingers shift back down, stroking through his hair, down his neck and spine, before he presses the heels of his hands into the small of his back. He works his hands in large circles, first, tending to any especially tight bunches of muscles he finds with smaller ones, methodically working his way up Trowa’s well-muscled back. He’d always appreciated the graceful curve of the other man’s spine, the long torso, the way his broad shoulders tapered down to a trim waist. A body the ancient Romans, and all their sculptors, would have envied.

He spends most of his time on those shoulders, treating them with extra care, knowing that Trowa carried most of his tension there. (It helped that those broad, strong shoulders were one of Quatre’s favorite parts of his lover.) He’d recently added aerial silks into his routine, and while Trowa made it look effortlessly elegant, smooth, he knew it was a big strain on the muscles in his shoulders.

He presses a kiss between shoulder blades, right at his spine, as his hands smooth over his trapezoids, coaxing the last of the tension loose.

“Where’d you learn that?” Trowa murmurs, his voice deepened with sleepy contentedness, and Quatre is grateful that his eyes are closed so Trowa can’t see him flush. He dips his head, pressing more kisses along Trowa’s spine, from his shoulder to nape, nuzzling into the soft, short hairs there.

“I asked Cathy to teach me,” he confesses, turning his head to press his lips against Trowa’s stubbled jaw, just below his ear. His hands slip back down to his waist, thumbs kneading into the soft tissue of his lower back. “You work your body so hard. I wanted to be able to help you relax.”

Trowa hums softly in acknowledgement, and Quatre kisses the corner of his mouth, smiling himself when Trowa’s lips quirk into a soft half-smile, when green eyes open to look at him.

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look up there, habibi?” he continues, sitting up straighter to return his focus to the hard muscles under his fingers.

“You’ve mentioned it,” Trowa murmurs dryly (though Quatre doesn’t miss the faint pink blush that fans against his cheeks), and Quatre laughs, fingers ghosting up Trowa’s sides, making him shiver slightly. The brunet shifts his body, turning to lay on his back, the blond straddling his waist, and catching Quatre’s ticking hands with a laugh. “Thank you,” he says, eyes shining with sincerity.

Quatre leans down to kiss him, and as his tongue slides into his mouth Trowa relinquishes his hands in favor of cupping his cheek and threading into his hair. Freed, he can resist touching the firm muscles on Trowa’s front, fingers grazing over the smooth planes of his abdominals, up to his pecs, thumbs brushing over pebbly nipples before he reaches those shoulders he loves so much. He slides his hands underneath him, between Trowa’s firm back and the soft mattress of their bed, gripping tightly as he lets himself lay on his chest, groaning when Trowa’s hand slides from his chin to his neck, down his side, then around to his lower back, pulling him closer. His lover shifts his hips, hardness seeking Quatre, who is just the tiniest bit too far away given their height difference. Eager fingers dig into his hips, urging him lower.

“Quat,” he groans as he pulls back from their kiss, lips skimming across his cheek before finding the sensitive spot behind his ear and laving his tongue across it, making Quatre squirm.

He smirks around a breathy moan. “I think I can help you out, love.”

Trowa nips at his earlobe. “Cathy better not have taught you anything about that.”

---

inspired by theboringbluecrayon's art (which was in turned inspired by another fic that I haven't read)

[ghostcat3000]

Isak’s adorably grumpy and reticent the whole way home. Strangely, it turns Even on, and he can’t keep his hands off of him. He slides the hand at Isak’s waist under his shirt and squeezes. “Why didn’t you want to introduce me?”

“Vilde's a fucking gossip.”

Even raises his eyebrows. A robot gossip. “I see.”

“How would you introduce me?” Isak asks. “To your friends?”

Even has no friends, not anymore, but Isak’s crossed his arms in front of himself and there’s vulnerability to that gesture, so he kisses his neck and answers. “I’d say, this is Isak, my boyfriend. Isn’t he beautiful?”

“Not the last part,” Isak says.

“Okay, the last part is implied by the way I’m looking at you.”

The arms uncross, head tips back, and lips part. Isak’s beautiful with his canvas bags full of vegetables, beautiful outside their apartment while Even tries to open the door without stopping his kisses, and beautiful above him as they fuck.

“Keep looking at me,” he gasps out and Even does.

since @irazor and I won’t be updating for a couple of weeks due to SKAM Big Bang duties, please enjoy a re-read or first read of our SKAM story The Boyfriend Experience. This excerpt is from chapter four, Let’s Give it Everything We Got.

[graveyardrumbles]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

“What are you doing?”

Lucio paused, voice quiet when he finally answered him, as if he was ashamed of it. “I wanna braid your hair.”

***

behold, fluff with a hint of lime

continuing the proud tradition of having these assholes be cute for no good goddamn reason

[skyeravenhelliquinn]

Please do Muriel headcannons of mc teasing him like idk cheesily grinding on him to music

He says he doesn’t dance, but that doesn’t mean he minds if you dance 

He did not know hips could move like that

When you pull him up to start grinding on him, his face turns a hot crimson that burns all the way up to his ears

He’s stiff as a board in more ways than one as you start to sway and caress your way around his body to the music

He looks adorably stunned as his emerald eyes remain transfixed on you

He eventually starts to pull you in close, keeping you locked on his hips, much to your surprise

Everyone thinks it’s because he’s starting to immerse himself in the moment, but really he’s just trying to hide the raging erection pushing at his trousers

Will definitely ask you to dance again in the privacy of the hut

[graveyardrumbles]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

“Desperation is very becoming on you, Consul,” A deep growl against his lips a moment after he was released, his breath hitching as the hand between his legs tightened its grip. “We have a deal.”

---

takes place in Nadia’s route, an indeterminate amount of time between Valerius failing at the coup d’etat and finding him in the Hierophant’s realm

mild almost citrus but not quite, to Valerius’ dismay

[erisacolyte]

Here's the picture requested by the 2nd place winner! Its a Destrachan from DnD - taken paintballing on her first date; she didn't win, but she seems fine with that. The next entry will be up, soon.  If you didn't win this time, don't worry! New contests will happen and, if you'd rather not try your luck, I'm also open for commissions! ^_^ Like what I do and want to support me?  Why not become a Patron: patreon.com/joephilliactheblack Or buy me a coffee: ko-fi.com/A2581GB3