#࿔* : 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄

[novulen]

𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓 — *:ꔫ:*

A strong hold on your wandering hand stops you.

“Not here, sweetheart.” Nanami groans, gruff and utterly commanding. You feel yourself shiver involuntarily at his tone, body falling pliable in his hold in bitter defeat.

“But Ken…” you whine, your small, angry fists banging on his chest. “We haven’t done anything in weeks. You’ve barely even touched me.”

A drawn out sigh fills the expanse of Nanami’s office. Had you really come all this way, up two flights of stairs, for such a thing?

“We just can’t.” his hand reaches up to his temple, rubbing, and momentarily, his eyes flicker with sour jealousy.

But Nanami’s not stupid. He’s seen the way the men in the office stare at you–their gazes journeying the curves of your body as if you were on display. And, while he does put you up on a pedestal, men lusting over his wife is something Nanami doesn’t exactly find mirthful.

So, then why would he give them the opportunity to hear your sweet, sultry moans?

“My final answer is no, love,” his voice booms–a deep rumble that you feel ripple against your skin.

You frown. “I locked the door…”

Nanami shakes his head dejectedly. “Some of my colleagues have keys.” he hums, his chair turning towards his desk to resume his work, but you stop him.

With determination in your eyes, you place a delicate hand to his cheek.

Stroking his face, “Can I at least?..” you trail off, venturing your free hand down his sculpted body and rippling muscles to his belt. Your fingertips caress the expensive leather, waiting for a response.

Nanami exhales. You’ll really be the death of him.

“I–” he begins, his mind battling between right and wrong–morality or pleasure. But, surely, this wouldn’t hurt.

Right?

The slight nod he soon gave you was all you needed.

You start to undo the garment, succeeding and tossing it elsewhere. He stops you. “Under the desk.”

Swiftly and almost embarrassingly so, you comply, hissing as your knees make contact with the cold, ceramic flooring. Liquid heat and anticipation begins to bubble in your stomach, your mouth watering at the bulge poking through his khaki pants.

Slowly, you peel down his slacks and soon his boxers. His cock springs up, sturdy and excited, and your abdomen clenches fiercely.

“So big,” you mutter to yourself as you lean your head in to place kitten licks on his tip. Soft and supple against him, your hands twist around him, pulling out little whimpers from his lips.

“Mhm..take it all in, sweetheart.”

Nanami’s hips stutter upwards as you bob your head down his shaft, taking it in little by little. You gag as his protruding veins rub against your throat, the neatly trimmed hair at his base tickling your nose.

Breathing in heavily through your nose, fat tears swell in your eyes.

“Don’t back down now,” Nanami tilts his head, amused. His calloused thumb swipes at your tears, a bittersweet feeling of soft and rough against your skin.

Pleasure courses through the both of you. And although there’s no physical feeling for you, the satisfaction you get out of seeing Nanami finally wind down is just about enough.

Just.

Underwhelmed, you grind the balls of your feet against your core. Your shoes had been discarded long ago since you’d practically skipped into his office.

The moans you emit vibrate flush to his cock, a deep groan as his hands tangle in your hair.

“You—fuck, don’t do that,” he rasps, tugging your head backwards and watching as your tongue lolls out instinctively in an attempt to lick him. “I’ll be too loud.”

His cheeks flush a blush pink in realization…He’d just told you his weakness.

“Too loud, huh?” you grin, taking all of his girth in, purposefully humming around him. And it takes all of his strength not to cum right then and there—and he still fails.

Hot spurts of his seed flow into your mouth, bitter and warm on your taste buds and tongue. Nanami grips the armrest of his chair and swallows hard, head thrown back and mouth pressed into a tight line.

Through his orgasm, he still has the strength to order, “Swallow.”

And you do, proudly showing him your tongue after, clean of any residue.

Satisfied, you both take in a shared inhale. You stand to sit on his lap once again, humming into his skin. Silence as his fingers caress and he kisses your hair.

“Love,” Nanami breaks the silence, and you frown, knowing his next words. “I know, I know,” you interrupt, planting a chaste kiss to his lips as you get up and put your heels back on. “I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

Tasting himself on his lips, he moans, albeit faintly.

Giving him a sultry smile and wave, you exit. Your heart almost jumps out of your chest when you turn around only to be met with a certain white haired person.

“Gojo, fuck,” you whisper under your breath, clutching your heart and things. ‘What are you doing…”

“The same could be said to you,” He grins and arches an eyebrow, pearly whites on display. “Coming out of Nanamin’s office like…this.” He sassily looks you up and down, referring to your unruly hair and wrinkled clothes.

You place a hand on your hip and look up at the freakishly tall man. “And just what do you mean by that?”

“Hm, nothing. I’ll just be going now,” He shrugs, giving you one last look before he begins to strut away from you. Confused by the whole interaction, you stand there, wondering.

“Oh, and…” Gojo turns around to face you again. “There’s something white on your top lip.”

[virologikal]

anonymous requested: ♡ [ dolled up ] to get them dressed up for a date

Content warnings: nsfw, alcohol consumption, slightly explicit language, lingerie, slight powerplay 【 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 】

Strangely, the time passed between the two of them meeting in the late after-hours of their work days had passed by in unexpected speed, and there had been no apparent need to keep track of days, hours, or how often they met. For the first time, something in Wesker’s life felt natural, as if it was meant to be. Of course, simultaneously, it was anything but, all things considered. He certainly had not planned to allow any single one of his S.T.A.R.S. to occupy this much of his time, nor had he expected to find himself as infatuated as he was currently.

In fact, usually he preferred to keep such entanglements simple and unconditional, an exchange for one night and nothing more. And yet here he was, a bag of luxurious wear from one of the most expensive boutiques waiting atop his dresser, the thought of it being more patient at the task than himself utterly ridiculous - and yet true. Wesker resided in a two-story high-end apartment at the edge of Raccoon City, close to the trail leading up to the Arklay Mountains. A sought after neighborhood with its closeness to the vast nature, the hiking trails and spacious areas allowing for privacy. By all means it should have been too steep a rent to afford for a man of his official position, but if anyone ever had wondered about it, they never inquired about it. 

All features his place offered were well-needed, from the fortuitous position close to the Arklay Trails to the hidden rooms. Janus-faced as he was, working not only for the R.C.P.D. but for Umbrella, and lining his future up with yet another possible employer, he had thought of everything.. A time consuming life to lead, too - so much so one would not expect someone like him to meander through the excessive yet cleanly decorated rooms, making sure everything was well-prepared and ready for his visitor upon his arrival. Chris had been here before, more than once, but the Captain of the local police special unit still made sure his home was nothing but representable, just like he always made sure he himself was when he left it.  There was something about courting the younger man that appealed greatly to Wesker, and he found himself enjoying it in ways he had not with anyone else before.  Every time the other came over, he would make a point of dining him, preparing the opulent meals himself, sometimes even letting Chris help, or just watch. It stroked his ego, just like buying him expensive gifts. Like the one awaiting him tonight.

And like always, he welcomed him at the door, taking his jacket from him, walking behind as the younger man walked the by now known route down the marble hallway to the kitchen, where they would idly chat over their dinner - about work, their colleagues, recent events.  And slowly but surely, Wesker would start to let the tension build. Foregoing to wear his sunglasses in the other man’s presence, he would lock eyes with him a little longer. His lips would curl a little more than he’d be seen doing so at the department, allowing it to become a slight, one-sided smile painting crinkles around his eyes. His head would tilt when he listened to Chris, rapt attention only on him to observe even the most miniscule reactions to the small hints dropped here and there. And Chris became increasingly practiced at noticing them, and every time it would flush his face with excitement which, in turn, only served to urge Wesker on further.

After dinner, usually served with one or two glasses of wine, they would move to the living room, where Wesker would offer crystalline tumblers of expensive, rich tasting whiskey, the golden liquid glistening in the dim light surrounding them. By the time they emptied their glasses, the powder-red hue on Chris’ cheeks would be indistinguishable from heat, the alcohol coursing through his system, or actual signs of attraction. Wesker knew it was a luxurious assemblage of it all. “I didn’t take you for someone who would celebrate today, if I’m being honest,” the brunet murmured when he put his glass aside on one of the sideboards, his speech slurring only ever so slightly, but betraying his consumption of alcohol all the same. Not enough, however, to miss the confused blink of his blond Captain, who seemed to show a lot more facial expressions around him when they were alone than he usually would. It seemed so out of place for him, in fact, that Chris quirked a questioning brow. “Valentine’s Day?” He prompted, not noticing the mild pout his mouth started forming. Wesker made a sound that could have been mistaken for “Ah”, then tipped one shoulder in a one-sided shrug as he slowly stepped closer to Chris. “I don’t,” he said quietly, one hand coming up to let his fingertips brush over the back of Chris’ neck, feeling the shivers the air of a touch already managed to elicit. When he saw the disappointment in the younger man’s face, he chuckled softly - yet another one of those rare displays of genuine emotion not everyone got to witness. “Do I need a holiday to shower you in attention now?” He inquired in return, letting his hand rest at the side of Chris’ neck while bringing his thumb up to his chin, following the sharp line of his jaw with his digit. For a second, he had meant to call it affection, not attention - but the word felt so foreign on his own tongue, he swallowed it instead and replaced it. 

This dance of theirs was a delicate one, each and every time pretending they didn’t know where their meetings would go, and yet perfectly well knowing how much they wanted to steer it in exactly this direction, the outcome which was seemingly inevitable. The playful sparkle in amber eyes was not lost on Wesker, causing the vague smile on his features to turn into something more promising as he gave a slight nod towards the direction of the nearby stairs. “Speaking of which, I have something for you,” he spoke, letting his hand fall to his side as he turned, moving ahead, fully knowing Chris would follow like a puppy - curious as always, and fascinated by the things he experienced whenever he stepped through the other one’s front door as if it lead into a new, a different dimension. Upon entering the master bedroom, Wesker flipped the switch and allowed the soft, dim light expertly hidden to allow for indirect illumination to spread a warm, welcoming glow. The large bed was the centerpiece, as always draped in black linnen, appearing innocent in comparison to the things that had been done atop. Wesker waited for Chris to enter, then gestured toward the expensive looking lacquer bag standing on the dresser, just where he had left it earlier. Tonight’s gift was special, something maybe a bit risky even, but he didn’t consider Chris to be easily startled - at least not from what he had experienced from him so far. On the contrary, his willingness to experiment had always inspired Wesker to push the limits just a little more every time they came back here.

“Take off your clothes,” the tall blond demanded, not harshly, but with precise calmness, knowing that Chris usually followed his lead trustfully without question. Their eyes locked for a couple of heartbeats, the brunet’s flushed cheeks deepening in color, before he swallowed and nodded, slowly starting to pull off his shirt and tossing it aside. Under any other circumstance, Wesker would have scolded this behavior (in fact, occasionally he made it a point to draw out their little game by making the other fold his clothes neatly), but today his mood was of a different kind. Ocean eyes followed the other’s movements, utter patience exuding from him when in reality, he could feel a restlessness pool in his stomach, urging him to make quick work of it all. Knowing the reward of patience, he forced the feeling down and instead crossed his arms over his broad chest, tilting his head slightly as he watched the brunet slip out of his jeans, then his underwear, until he stood before him with nothing left. Nothing but Wesker’s rapt attention resting entirely on him.

“I should like it if you’d turn and place your hands flat on the surface of the dresser,” the blond spoke in his quiet voice. But now, a deep, uncommon purring sound lived at the bottom of it. Pleased to see the other oblige, Wesker let his gaze slowly wander over the muscles of Chris’ back, the gentle curve of the small of it, down all the way to the calves. Only when he was satisfied did he step forward, slipping his hand into the bag and procuring one of the things inside. “Step in,” he only said after he had kneeled, waiting for Chris to follow the command, before letting the cool silk slowly slip upward, further and further, watching how the texture caused the other man to shiver pleasantly, inhaling a quick, sharp breath when Wesker rode it up all the way, tugging to make the fabric slip between his cheeks. Remaining a second, he then allowed himself to let his left hand slowly glide over the firm roundness of Chris’ behind before stepping away, pulling something else from the bag. A moment later, the brunet could feel the cool touch of leather around his throat, a gentle but firm pressure when his Captain fixated what could only be a collar at the back of his neck, humming contently at the sight and causing a pleasant shiver to run through the younger man’s body. Surprisingly warm hands placed themselves on his hips and gently pulled, signaling Chris to stop leaning on the dresser and follow Wesker’s directions as the other man slowly steered him over to the full-size-mirror on the other side of the room.

There he stood, lips parted in both surprise and arousal, a hint of abashed shame flooding his stomach as Wesker leaned in from behind, leaning the side of his face against the soft, brown hair of the younger man while pale hands wandered, sliding from where they had rested at Chris’ hips slowly to the front. “You look mesmerizing,” the blond whispered in his ear, that hoarse undertone he always strived to find in his voice clearly present now. Chris was dressed in a black satin slip, its lacey strings riding up high on his hips, while the fabric seemed to constantly caress his sensitive spot, now clearly visible and undeniably excited in light of the current events. Beside it, Wesker let his thumbs ride dangerously close over the skin along the side of his length, causing it to twitch.  Utterly aware of ocean blue eyes piercing him, observing his every reaction, he allowed himself to let a sigh flow from his lips before swallowing hard once again, his throat straining slightly against the leather surrounding it. “...usually people go on a date today, you know…” Chris managed to hoarsely murmur in an attempt at cockiness, but only earning himself a swift, much too short brush of one thumb along his length, immediately causing him to moan without being able to suppress it. “I daresay I don’t care. I’d much rather put the leash I prepared on you and have you on all fours on my bed.”

[archoniic]

@yuelun // you have nobody but yourself to blame for this actually. the rite of parting. final goodbyes, letting go & forgiveness. inspired by : this version of lovers oath.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄; while many in Liyue were saying goodbye to their Archon and wondering what the future would hold for them without Rex Lapis. Zhongli was saying goodbye to his past. While sad for many of the residents, perhaps some were even a little fearful. For him, it was bittersweet. A chapter in his story finally coming to a close. Perhaps it had been long overdue, for how long had he held on to his past, clutched tightly within the palms of his hand. So tightly, he barely lived in the present. The people had long since proven to him that they were fine on their own; they no longer needed him to hold their hand or guide them. But what of him? Holding on the way he had done; living within a memory -- he missed so many things in the here and now. It was time to truly let go. While the thought had his heart ache in ways he could not even begin to put into words, it felt right. As though now was the time he'd been waiting for all those thousands of years.

Perhaps this was where it was all supposed to end. There was a smile upon his face, Goodbyes are never truly forever, after all. It simply marks the end of one journey; making way for the beginning of another. Had she not once said that to him? Many years ago? Her voice still as fresh in his memory now, as it was back then. Her laughter echoing in his ears as he allowed himself to recall memories he usually pushed further back in his mind. Remembering a time he knew little of mortal emotions; a laugh escaped him. Causing one of the residents of Liyue to glance to him almost scornfully. "Apologies." Eyes drawn to the glaze lilies, amazed they lingered; though now scattered across the land and far more sparse than they had been.

Memories of banquets held, laughter shared; debates had. A time where things had been both much simpler, and yet entirely more complicated. Morax had to learn to navigate the ways of the mortals to truly understand them, to become the Archon they needed and the one they deserved. With her help and guidance, he had done just that. Leading their people into a prosperous future, never once forgetting any of the things that she had taught him. And neither will they. Though our names may fade from their memories in the future; this land has become what it is, in part; thanks to you, Guizhong. I hope that you would be happy with all they have achieved.

A final look to where the lilies lay, the smell of the incense in the air; not known to many, but so hauntingly familiar to him. He was at peace with his decision, more than. Zhongli had no regrets in laying his past to rest, no regrets on finally ending the chapter that had prevailed for much too long. She could rest now, as could he.

Movement caught his eye from atop a cliff; her figure there, looking down over Liyue, over them, over him. Another smile would tug at his lips, how perfectly I recall you, even now. He thought, simply a memory; one he'd had many times over the years. How befitting that she should appear to him like that on this day of all days. Thank you, Guizhong. He would remain looking at that cliff edge for a while, not daring to look away in case she would disappear. But in the goodbye, in forgiving himself, he knew he had to.

One day our paths will cross once more... until then...

And he turned away, walking slowly through the crowd and making his way out of the harbour. He would not look back, after all; that was not the point of a goodbye. No, instead; he would simply look ahead. For he had all the time in the world now to see new things, new places; experience things he had yet to experience.

And when that time came that they would be reunited; oh, how many new stories would he have to share?

I will live this life for us both.

[alfvangr]

✧ REGALIA.

          One who does not care well for their weapon will eventually find themselves betrayed by it. Wise words imparted to you during the earliest days of your swordsmanship training, accepted with no less than the solemn understanding borne of a dutiful prince. Spending as many hours with a polishing rag in hand as you did honing your bladework, even turning to less favored armaments simply to broaden the scope of your knowledge; a diligence continuously rewarded over the course of weeks and months as told in sparsely-given praise. Menial work beneath a royal’s pedigree, others would say, but you had felt none of their discontent as your own. It would not have been taught to you were it deemed unnecessary—such was how it’d seemed to you then.

          Gold-hued edges gleam warmly under a critical eye, Fólkvangr granted its due maintenance even when many a day passes in which it is never drawn from the sheath. Delivered back into your hands after being purposefully left behind in Askr, you were at first resigned to stowing it away alike a thief’s stolen treasure; its existence only revealed to the world in such times of crisis that you could not conscience favoring a lesser sword. Your fabricated identity had little rhyme or reason to be in possession of a regalia weapon otherwise—and consequently, aroused suspicion among the keener-eyed of your peers.

          It is a mercy that an even smaller few, made privy to the truth through means beyond your control, have kindly turned a blind eye thus far. A lie of omission is still a lie, after all, and one you’ve maintained for nearly three years now. (Not for much longer, you’ve decided. It’s long past time to wake up and face the music.)

          Gloved fingers trace over the stone set into the blade’s guard, crystalline blue emitting a soft glow in response. You know it to be a weapon forged in the distant past, passed down through generations of Askran royalty...though little else is recorded of its history. Different from the numerous treasures spread across other realms in that it bears no legend of its own, yet still a league apart from ordinary arms; mystically attuned to its wielder to the extent you’ve wondered if it somehow possessed an approximation of sentient will. But any answers Father might have had followed him to the grave, and you rarely write to Mother if ever.

          All the same, it has served as a stalwart companion throughout your many trials, your brightest and darkest moments. Even stained with the blood of both ally and enemy, it has not spurned your hand, and amidst prayers for forgiveness you hope it will remain at your side even well into the future. So you return Fólkvangr to its scabbard once more, not to store it away this time but to wear it proudly upon your sword belt. Walking into the daylight beyond your little dormitory that it may shine unfettered and free.

[stclenrelic-a]

@captaincandycane​

It's not very often that Loki goes out. She doesn't generally like going to clubs. Most days she prefers to go to a local bar, order a few glasses of wine and spend the evening having conversation with her friends or her husband. Yet, considering how Loki felt their marriage had been in a little bit of a slump lately, her friend suggested trying something completely new: go out to a club, get shitfaced and party til the break of dawn. She had told Ben about their plans, using her friend's birthday as an excuse as she's not quite willing to tell him what's been on her mind, and told him to not expect her back until morning. A good thing, really, considering the events that followed. Instead of dancing, Loki finds herself stirring a cocktail of some sort. She doesn't even really know what it is, but it tastes fruity and it's helping her get shitfaced. As planned. But it doesn't make her feel like partying. At least not yet. What she does do, however, is complain to her friend about her relationship. "Ben is amazing.. He's perfect. He's a gentleman, he opens doors for me, he kisses my hand a lot, brings home roses... Hell, he asks about my day and actually listens when I talk to him. So why is it that I don't feel like I'm in love anymore? Why is it that I don't get butterflies when I see him? Or feel sad when he's gone.. like I cannot wait for him to come back. I know people say that the infatuation fades after time but---" But she doesn't WANT it to. Loki is a lot of things, including but not limited to: incredibly smart, beautiful, successful, rich and, if she has to believe the people she's slept with, also good in bed. But she also really hates how her life has become so incredibly bland. She craves chaos, passion and she longs to be excited about things again. Do something different. It's not her work, she knows that much at least. Being one of the best lawyers in the country she gets a lot of different interesting cases to dive into. So, the only thing it can be is her love life. Oh, and she didn't even mention the fact that Ben really wants to be a dad, and even the thought of it has Loki feel like she's going to suffocate. She's not even sure if it's because she doesn't want to be a mom, or because she doesn't want to tie herself to Ben that much. Her friend, who is equally drunk, soon points at a handsome stranger near the bar. "I tell you what  ---  you go kiss him, I won't tell Ben, I promise. And maybe that will give you some clarity on what it is you want." Now. Sober Loki would have immediately argued that that is a terrible idea, but drunk Loki thinks it is genius, and also loves the thought of causing a little chaos in her own life. She might regret it in the morning, but that's not a problem for present Loki. With a determined nod, Loki sets her glass down, slides off her wedding ring and hands it to her friend, before she makes her way over to the stranger. Or, Steve, as she learns soon enough. They chat for a while, share a few drinks, dance, and before she knows it... well, it technically still counts as a kiss, Loki just never meant to take it this far. Had her friend been sober, Loki's sure she would have stopped her. Alas, she doesn't. And so, Loki ends up going home with the stranger. They make out for a while and then end up having sex. Mindblowing, amazing sex that is definitely the best sex she has had in her ENTIRE life. As wrong as it may be, and as much as she would feel guilty about it in the morning, this moment... being here in bed with Steve and having such an incredible time.. it's the most alive she's felt in years. The next morning, however, she wakes up before Steve does. Luckily, because that is definitely not a conversation she is ready to be having. Her head is throbbing and she's feeling guilty even more than that, and while staying in the stranger's arms seems very tempting, Loki knows she has to go. She slips out of Steve's hold and out of the bed, quickly taking her underwear and dress back on. She fixes her hair in the mirror and finds her heels near the front door. When she gets home, she's sure Ben knows what she has been up to.. After all, she probably kind of smells like Steve, and she's sure she has a couple of hickeys, but... as mentioned before, Ben is perfect. And he proves that once more by not asking any questions and simply getting her a glass of water and some painkillers.

[uwps001]

𝐓ɦ𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 αᥣωα𝗒𝗌 𝗌ⱺꭑ𝖾𝗍ɦ𝗂𐓣𝗀۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐎𝐎𝐂

𝐇ⱺᥣᑯ 𝗒ⱺυ𝗋 𝗍ⱺ𐓣𝗀υ𝖾۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝚰𝐍𝐆

𝐒ɦα𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾ᑯ ꭑ𝗂𝗋𝗋ⱺ𝗋𝗌۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐘

𝐆𝗂𝗏𝖾 ꭑ𝖾 α ᑲ𝗋𝖾α𝗄۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐔𝐄

𝐒𝗂𐓣𝗀 ꭑ𝖾 𝗍ⱺ 𝗌ᥣ𝖾𝖾ρ ۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝚰𝐂

𝐘ⱺυ ᥣ𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍ɦ𝗂𝗌 𝗌ɦ𝗂𝗍? ۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝚰𝐂𝐒

𝐌𝗂𐓣𝖾 𐓣ⱺω ۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝗍ɦα𝗍'𝗌 𝖼𝗋αƶ𝗒 𝗍αᥣ𝗄۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊

𝐓ɦ𝖾 ɦ𝖾ᥣᥣ 𝗂𝗌 α ꭑ𝖾ꭑ𝖾? ۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐅𝐑𝚰𝐃𝐀𝐘

𝐀𐓣𝗌ω𝖾𝗋 ꭑ𝖾 𝗍ɦ𝗂𝗌 ۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃

𝗍ɦ𝖾 𝗌𝗍ⱺ𝗋𝗒۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

ᥣ𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 ω𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𐓣 𝗂𐓣 𝗍ɦ𝖾 𝗌𐓣ⱺω۰࿐·˚ ༘ 𓆛 〰 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄

[crylamby]

TAG DUMP 01.

[novulen]

ೋ 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

It's rare for Satoru to be like this.

Ravenous and crazed, pushing his cock into the deepest parts of you, watching through lidded eyes as your face contorts in pleasure and you moan—practically scream—his name over and over again. However, when he is, you enjoy every bit; the manhandling, the sex, the way his voice strains and he gasps out every sentence, a sheen of sweat covering his face.

"Mhm, yeah? Screamin' my name like that, must feel good, huh?" He grunts through gritted teeth, white locks swinging in front of his face as he leans down to your level, pressing his lips onto yours to suppress your sounds. He greedily swallows your moans, thrusting deeper and deeper with each stroke of his hips, caressing the innermost parts of you you’d never thought could or would be touched.

"S'—Satoru." you mewl as he pulls away, wild strands of white sticking to his forehead, his chiseled jaw falling slack when you clench around him so tightly, stealing his breath.

"Fuck, y'can't be doin’ that, baby. I won't last." he rasps out, easing his head back in pure bliss as two boney, pale fingers of his slide up to your lips and he thrusts them inside your mouth.

Satoru watches as you instinctively wrap your lips around his fingers, wet tongue hugging around them as you suck.

It takes everything in him, every ounce of restraint he has not to spill his seed into you in that very moment. Your mouth’s so hot, lips so warm around his knuckles, and pussy oh so tight—Satoru knows you’ll be the cause of his descent into insanity.

[virologikal]

┊ ┊ ┊ 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 𝟏/?

⸻ ⨯ 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐏𝐒𝐀. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐍𝐈𝐇𝐈𝐋 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 // 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐃 ⇨ 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐃 ⇨ 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ! ⸻ ⨯ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄. / QUEUE.

[archoniic]

the companion drabble to this.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌; where moments before had been sunlight through the clouds – now ominous in it’s tone. The crack of the thunder echoed through him; like it torched him where he stood and yet was nowhere close. Something settled in the very pit of his stomach; twisting there. It was rare he felt such foreboding feelings, followed by a gnawing sensation that something just was not right. The conversation he’d been engaged with was but background noise – even as they tried to draw him back into it. Zhongli could hear his own breathing; too loud in his own ears.     something is not quite right.   When was the last he felt like this?   What was it? He could not put his finger on it, brows pulling together as the ex-archon tried to focus on what it was. Made all the more difficult without the use of his Gnosis. Zhongli stands with no word to his companions, turning on his heel to seek a quieter place, all but ignoring the pelting of the rain against his skin; it mattered little to him at that moment.

The statue… 

A pull he had not felt since long before he’d handed over the Gnosis to the Fatui. Surely his connection to each of them had lessened to a degree; for all intents and purposes – and as he repeated to those who knew so often.  He was no longer the Geo Archon.  He held no power in that regard anymore; held no right to guide those who’d once held him on a pedestal.   He was living life as a mortal now.   Though his responsibilities to some had not lessened –  his time and importance to the land had.  The Geo Archon was no longer needed.  His role had ended and while Zhongli had found some semblance of peace with that; there was still a part of him that would not truly step away entirely.  Even if he could no longer offer the same protection and guidance he once had.

Yet why was the statue tugging at him now?

Zhongli's eyes closed; a deeper breath was taken as he tried to pinpoint its exact origin.   Where are you?  To any who came across him; it would look simply as though he was in thought. They would not see the tides of worry and confusion that raged within him. Nor could he quite fathom who was the cause of it. Perhaps handing his Gnosis over had been somewhat of an idiotic move. Handing over his tie to Celestia at that time had seemed like the best option, yet why he had done it would remain his secret to keep.

Luhua Pool.

Quite the distance from where he was, a journey he had not anticipated taking. Perhaps the one at the statue may feel his presence; as once there was a time he could do that. Project whatever needed to be pushed through, but this was a pull unlike one he’d felt in many hundreds of years.  There was fear.  But he could not tell where that originated from, was it himself or the one who was there? It was a call, familiar in its feeling. One he knew but it was frighteningly faint. He tried to keep it sharp in his mind; tried to keep that string tight within his grasp – but the more he gripped hold of it; the more it slipped from him.  Stay strong.  Could he get there quickly enough? He wasn’t entirely sure; would he already be too late? Even with the guidance of the Statue; that feeling was becoming harder to hold on to. Determination in the way he walked; he would not allow anything to tear his focus from this. It felt much too important. For perhaps the first time in a while; the persona he portrayed to the mortals gave way, something more akin to the Lord of Geo he once was rose instead.  His stomach clenched uncomfortably at the thought of whoever was awaiting him.  

And if you are too late?

How many had he lost over the years? Friends and foe alike; the goodbyes came and went as often as the seasons changed. Perhaps it should have been something he grew used to; but since allowing himself to appear more human, such things held much more weight in his mind and heart now, than they had done before.  Could he stand to lose more?  No. Of course, he would carry on as he had to; but even stone grew damaged with wear and tear over the years. Zhongli himself was no exception to it, and the cracks were already beginning to show for those who knew what to look for. 

The gleam from the statue caught his gaze, pausing in his tracks as that call faded into nothingness. The light fading itself;  too late.  

It did not stop him from approaching. “ Xiao… “ The rain still cascaded around them; the thunder echoed in his ears as the lightning split the sky above them. He bent at the knees, pushing the sodden hair from his face. Ah, the fear was from myself… He realised; the familiar sense had been Xiao and somewhere he had known that. His gaze traversed over him, watching for any sign that he was still breathing.  You do not get to give up today.  Taking off his glove to place his hand upon his forehead; his hand warm against the cold of the Yaksha’s skin.  You have fought much too hard to simply have it end here.  Even now, Zhongli struggled to connect each little thing in his mind; the sense of fear, worry and loss.  Slowly his hand moved; seeking out that pulse point and pressing gently.  Thump.  A breath of relief was released from him at the feel of his heartbeat.  I’d thank Celestia if I could… 

“ When will you stop insisting on pushing yourself too far…? “

Zhongli shrugs off his coat; the cold was not something he felt – and he knew full well he could not get sick, wrapping it around Xiao. “ Let us get you somewhere safe, hm? “  

One arm hooked beneath his knees, the other cradling his back as he pulled him into his chest. Turning then from the statue to begin the journey back to the Inn. “ Do not cause me to worry like this again. “ He admonished; knowing Xiao would not hear it. “ I’ve half a mind to tell you to take better care of yourself… though, I suppose it would do little good… ever stubborn. “ Liyue needed Xiao; in a way it no longer needed Zhongli. If, for no other reason than he needed Xiao to take care of himself so he could take care of Liyue.  

Though, is it still fair for you to ask that of him? 

That thought made him frown, perhaps it wasn’t truly fair. Yet he would continue to ask it of Xiao. He had no other choice; there was no other Yaksha left who could carry that mantle anymore. Even if there were, could you ask it of another?  The war had long since been over; though remnants of the old Gods remained. Could he tie another to the same torture Xiao faced? To the same fate that undoubtedly awaited him?  Yes… If I had to. But I do not have to.  Zhongli glances down at him, it had occurred to him many times before that setting Xiao free would have been the kinder thing to do.  You still have a duty to perform, old friend. The land is not quite finished with you yet.  Yet no apology for placing such a burden on his shoulders would ever come from him; would he have changed a single decision leading to this moment?  No.  Would he; if given the chance, choose the same over and over?  He knew he would.  Even knowing the pain Xiao would endure, knowing the fate that would befall each of the other Yaksha’s… Zhongli, Morax, would still make that very same choice.

Ignoring the curious stares as he ascended the Inn, a protective glance to anyone who deigned to come too close. Shielding Xiao from the view of many; he was sure he would not appreciate the looks. The innkeeper was the exception to that rule; “ make sure he rests. “ His tone was firm, gently laying Xiao down on the bed as they lit the fire within the room. “ he will likely not awaken for a few days… which perhaps is not a bad thing.”   aren’t you going to wait until he wakes up?  The question posed had him pause; looking back to the Yaksha with a deeper sigh. “ I think it better if I leave…” another pause, “ It would also be best if you do not tell him it was me who brought him here. A concerned stranger would suffice should he ask. “ 

He will know.

@sicsemper

[jencva]

Just how many steps were taken to get here? How many voices once crossed these halls in laughter, or in tears? Just how many times was she going to relive it, over and over and over? Time's repeated itself, like a power she couldn't grasp. Like a butterfly caught in a jar. There was something about this part that always scared her. Being dragged and stepped on, boots kicking her around. The officers masked themselves, and wore jade armor, gold trim polished and a hint of stained blood from her mouth. A being stood before her with a scroll unrolled in one, and a curved blade in the other, one she couldn't get out of her head. Jenova clenched her teeth, cool glass eyes staring up at the man as he read her sentence.

Able to barely shake her head, she groaned in annoyance. How many times has she heard this tune? The lines upon the paper. ▊▊❝ Uge. I've heard this before. If it's not too much trouble, I'd rather you just get it over with. ❞ Oh how Jenova wished for it to end. But even after this blade would make contact with the skin of her neck, so too did a mild vision of someone else. Some place else. A boy, who called to her. A vision that he was there to finish what she started. To take back the world. Hm. This is new. You, who called me Mother. Thank you... But who was she doing this for? Living until dying in this stuck butterfly effect? Who's dream was she living? This vision of the boy was short lived. However, The feeling of the blade was different. The boy wore no mask, but instead a smile. A relief of beheading before she was pushed back into this stuck reality. Jenova took a breath. ʺ𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘺 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵; 𝘣𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.ʺ Jenova's eyes widened. It... wasn't like this before. The death was usually by... beheading. What changed? Suddenly a sharp pain came from behind her. Visions of the boy she saw moments ago in a vision was looking back to a stranger dressed in soldier's clothing. That blade; it struck behind him. Jenova screamed and grunted in pain, whispers of these visions suddenly echoing throughout the sky. The sound of glass shattering, mimicked the sky beginning to open it's glassy grey sky. Jenova was witnessing it all happen at once. The boy would touch the broken glass and grit his teeth as she did. ---How dare you.

Go back to hell.

The wound, it did not bleed. It was like a shadow, a time that's yet to come. A bringing of color in this world of black and white. It's about time. From the sky, it fell. Like a meteor, at first. Once it fell in front of her, the catastrophic boom broke the pavement, separating her from the executioner. The crumbling cement and small puff of ash revealed it. A blackened orb; pulsing with power. Jenova knew of it, yet from a distant past. Or perhaps a distant future? When Jenova reached to grasp it. All the wounds she was dealt were slowly healed, skin patching itself up, bruises fading, and color returning to such pale skin. Through the blasphemy of all she's endured. This plague was over. ▊▊❝ My gift from the sky. It's finally come. ❞ With a heavy step she rose from one knee, looking as what was above began to open from it's heavenly bound cage. It was time.

[fantasmagorikal]

┊ ┊ ┊ 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 𝟏/?

⸻ ⨯ 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐏𝐒𝐀. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 // 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐃 ⇨ 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐃 ⇨ 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 !

[madame-fear]

For drabbles maybe prompt 14 with Enzo’s nose? 🤭 love all you do, hope you have a wonderful day

꒰ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 | 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄. ꒱

ೀ amira speaks! : you are so sweet nonnie, thank you, glad you like my works! 🥺 this is the first request I ever take of him,, so I hope you enjoy your reading! 💕 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : request above.♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 437.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : drabble, fluff, established relationship. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Enzo Vogrincic x (fem!)Reader ˗ˏˋ ꒰ prompt used : 14. tracing [character]’s features while they sleep, and vice versa.

→ click here if you want to request a drabble for my followers milestone celebration! drabbles open from February 14th, to March 1st.

Physical touch was something Enzo always craved for in your relationship — it was a love language already established in your relationship.

There was something in the way the tip of your fingers traced his skin delicately that helped him feel soothed by your warmth. With all the premieres, interviews, events, and other things related to his acting career, he was just tired. And sometimes, he didn’t have as much time to spend with you like he used to have — but, something Enzo often appreciated, was feeling your touch whenever he was just too exhausted.

You sat on the couch of your living room, as he laid on it and his head weighed on your lap; enjoying the comforting silence that loomed over the space. For you, it felt quite comfortable to have him that way, being allowed to trace his features as much as you pleased while Enzo tried to rest after a long, tiring day. The only thing he could possibly wish for at the moment, was to be taken care of by you.

The tip of your finger wandered mindlessly over his features, occasionally tracing small shapes on his skin. Your stare was fixed down on him, admiring every bit of his face as he calmly rested with his head on top of your lap. Enzo wasn’t asleep per se; his eyes might have been closed, yes — but merely because of the heaviness he felt on them from exhaustion. He was quite conscious of the way you took care of him. The feeling was soothing enough to help him fall asleep almost immediatly.

Softly, you moved your finger towards his nose. Your digit traced the outline of his nose, moving slowly as to appreciate the feeling of his skin against your own. The tracing movement you made was calm and leisure, allowing your index finger to explore his nose and pamper him in a sweet way. You knew he liked the way in which you took the time to caress every inch of his skin and his beauteous features, and you would do it whenever it was needed, or he asked you to do so.

A discreet, tired grin appeared at the corner of his lips, as you continued to move the tip of your index finger through his nose. You noticed it immediatly, smiling to yourself proudly. He felt as satisfied and content as you felt whenever you managed to explore his face with your fingers. His life by your side was quite fulfilled even with tender little moments such as these — and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[cynicalaltruist]

♫ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐖’𝐒: 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐓, 𝐃𝐔𝐁𝐂𝐎𝐍, 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍, 𝐍𝐎 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐊 𝐀𝐔, 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐈, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄 <𝟑 ♫

Stepbrother Shiggy is the worst.

The second your mom and his dad aren’t home, he’s got you spread open. In the kitchen, on the living room couch, in his bedroom, on the floor in the foyer—he doesn’t care. If the parents aren’t home, he’s on you.

Shiggy tugs down your pants and panties in one go, shimmies them down your legs until he can yank them totally off and throw them somewhere else. Then he gets a good grip on your thighs and dives in, pressing the flat of his tongue to your pussy. He groans loud and terrible, sounds similar to a wounded animal, but persists despite your cringing.

“Tomu,” you cry, arching your back in a feeble attempt to get away from his incessant movements, “C’mon- please stop- ah!”

Shiggy always slips a finger or two in when you get chatty. He licks around them, diverting to sucking at your clit while your pussy sucks his fingers in. He revels in the way you go silent, your mouth gaping as he curls his fingers perfectly to abuse your g-spot, tongue lapping at your clit in the way he knows you love.

“Good, huh?” He grins, catching his breath as your orgasm washes over you, and his fingers slow down, “I’ll never get sick of this.”

This being you, sweaty and debauched, pussy wet and twitching in the open air of the house, little reluctant hearts in your eyes as you look up at your step brother.

“I hate you,” you whine, and he just laughs.

“Whatever. We’ve got a few more hours before dad and your mom get home. You gonna repay me the favor now?” His hand moves down to his sweatpants, where his boner is shamelessly bobbing under the loose fabric. You huff sadly.

He’s relentless.